#Moccasins for women
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businesstoday360 · 10 months ago
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Showcase your love for Korean pop culture with The Quirky Naari's K-Pop Girl Slip-ons. Featuring vibrant K-pop-themed prints on durable canvas, these slip-on shoes are perfect for casual outings. The cushioned insoles ensure all-day comfort, making these stylish and comfortable slip-ons a must-have for any K-pop fan's casual shoe collection. Embrace your fandom with these fun and fashionable canvas slip-ons.
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libertynstyle · 22 days ago
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miquelzeoli · 9 months ago
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womenofwrestlingfashion · 2 years ago
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Hikaru is wearing the Rayon Plaid Long Sleeve Midi Dress in Olive Plaid from Max Studio (sold out) and the Maitrepierre Platform Leather Moccasins from Desigual (on sale for $162.50)
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uggsandmoccasin · 9 days ago
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Ugg Boots Australia Factory Outlet
Shop at Ugg Boots Australia Factory Outlet on uggsandmoccasins4all.com.au for premium UGG boots, moccasins, and slippers at unbeatable prices. Enjoy high-quality footwear with fast delivery across Australia and exceptional comfort.
Ugg Boots Australia Factory Outlet
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saintgcollection · 1 year ago
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Buy Women Moccasins Online Buy latest Original leather mules & leather moccasins at SaintG Pure Leather COD Easy returns and exchanges. More info: https://www.saintg.in/collections/women-moccasins
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draper-uk · 2 years ago
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Sheepskin Moccasins Slippers
Men and women can wear sheepskin moccasin slippers manufactured specifically for them, which are sheepskin-lined and provide warmth because they are lined with natural fur.
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rushnaf · 2 years ago
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Women's Cow Suede Genuine Leather Increasing Shoes Girls Flats Platform Loafers student Moccasins Slip On sneakers Footwear 2023
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simdertalia · 8 months ago
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👟 🥾 Animal Crossing Shoes Set 2 👞 👠
Sims 4, Base game compatible.
Lots of shoes to decorate your shoe store, closet, or wherever! I will be making a set of single shoes very soon, so there can be more variety with placing.
Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.
Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.
Set contains: -Cinnamoroll Sneakers (2 items, adult & child) | 15 swatches each | 784 poly -Cinnamoroll Sneakers (tossed) (2 items, adult & child) | 15 swatches each | 784 poly -Clogs | 7 swatches | 812 poly -Converse (3 items, men's, women's, & children) | 10 swatches each | 820 poly  -Embroidered Slides | 4 swatches |784 poly -Geta (2 items, adult & child) | 8 swatches each | 820 poly -Leopard Heels ("dress 2)" | 7 swatches | 804 poly -Lolita | 9 swatches each | 884 poly each -Bow Formal Child (I had to give the child version of above a different name because ew) | 9 swatches | 884 poly -Mens Brogues | 9 swatches | 820 poly -Mens Formal | 10 swatches | 812 poly -Moccasins | 12 swatches | 816 poly -Moccasins Child (has a different mesh) | 8 swatches | 820 poly -Penny Loafers (2 items, mens & children) | 12 swatches each | 804 poly -Sport Sneakers (2 items, adult & child) | 16 swatches each | 816 poly -Walking Shoe / Slipper | 16 swatches | 820 poly -Wedding Pumps | 9 swatches | 820 poly -Wingtips (3 Iitems, mens, womens, and children) | 12 swatches each | 812 poly -Winklepickers (2 items, men & women) | 14 swatches each | 812 poly -Womens Formal | 9 swatches | 788 poly
📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE
📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE
📁 Download on Patreon
Will be public on September 5th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET
Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):
★ Patreon  🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi  ☕️  ❤️ ★ Instagram📷
Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
@sssvitlanz  @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters  @coffee-cc-finds  @itsjessicaccfinds  @gamommypeach  @stargazer-sims-finds  @khelga68  @suricringe  @vaporwavesims  @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet
*Shelves coming tomorrow!
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businesstoday360 · 10 months ago
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Shine with elegance in The Quirky Naari's Golden Girl Slip-ons. Featuring luxurious golden-themed prints on durable canvas, these slip-on shoes are perfect for casual outings. The cushioned insoles provide all-day comfort, making these stylish and comfortable slip-ons a glamorous addition to any casual shoe collection. Embrace your golden style with these dazzling canvas slip-ons.
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psychics4unet · 7 months ago
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What Your Shoes Say About Your Psychic Energy?
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Ever wondered what your favorite shoes reveal about your spiritual vibe? 👠✨ Turns out, the type of shoes you wear can say a lot about your psychic energy and even your future! Heels? You’re channeling some serious boss energy, ready to take on the world. Flats? You’re all about staying grounded and keeping it real. Sneakers? You’re adaptable, always ready for life’s next adventure. Boots? You’ve got a strong, protective energy, ready to face any challenge.
Got questions or need some insight into your life? I'm here to help with personal psychic readings! For just $7, you can get answers to up to 7 questions! More info at:
Here’s a detailed look at what different types of women’s shoes might reveal about your psychic and spiritual energy:
Stilettos – 👠 Stilettos often reflect a strong ambition and drive for success. They suggest that you’re ready to face challenges head-on and climb the ladder of success with confidence and poise. 🌟
Ballet Flats – 👡 Ballet flats indicate grace, balance, and a down-to-earth nature. They symbolize a grounded and serene personality, someone who finds comfort in simplicity and elegance. 🌸
Ankle Boots – 👢 Ankle boots show a blend of practicality and fierceness. They often signify that you are both practical in your approach and ready to face challenges with a bold attitude. 🔥
Sneakers – 👟 Sneakers suggest versatility and adaptability. They indicate that you are always ready for new adventures and are adaptable to various situations, showing a dynamic and energetic personality. ⚡
Wedges – 👠 Wedges symbolize a steady ascent toward your goals. They reflect confidence and a strong belief in your abilities, helping you maintain balance while pursuing your dreams. 🏆
Kitten Heels – 👠 Kitten heels are associated with subtlety and elegance. They reveal a gentle and sophisticated approach to life, embracing beauty and grace without overwhelming others. 💫
Gladiator Sandals – 🩴 Gladiator sandals represent a warrior spirit. They indicate that you are prepared to fight for what you believe in and have a strong, determined character. 🏹
Loafers – 👞 Loafers reflect comfort in tradition and staying true to your roots. They signify a reliable and grounded individual who values stability and practicality. 🛤️
Thigh-High Boots – 👢 Thigh-high boots convey empowerment and a daring attitude. They show that you have a bold, confident personality and are not afraid to make a statement. 💪
Moccasins – 🥿 Moccasins suggest a deep connection to nature and inner peace. They reflect a person who values comfort and harmony and is grounded in their spiritual beliefs. 🌿
Platform Shoes – 👠 Platform shoes indicate boldness and confidence. They show that you stand tall in your beliefs and are not afraid to showcase your unique personality. 🌈
Mary Janes – 👠 Mary Janes are associated with nostalgia and simplicity. They reveal a love for classic style and a playful, yet straightforward, approach to life. 🌻
Espadrilles – 🩴 Espadrilles represent an easygoing and carefree attitude. They suggest that you embrace life’s pleasures and are in tune with the joy of living. 🌞
Mules – 👠 Mules signify open-mindedness and a willingness to explore new experiences. They reflect a person who is ready to take on new adventures with a positive outlook. 🌟
Chelsea Boots – 👢 Chelsea boots are linked to reliability and readiness. They show that you are dependable and prepared for any situation that comes your way. 🚀
Flip-Flops – 🩴 Flip-flops symbolize a relaxed and easygoing nature. They indicate that you go with the flow and are content with the simple pleasures in life. 🌊
Cowboy Boots – 👢 Cowboy boots represent independence and a love for adventure. They show that you have a strong, free-spirited personality with a taste for exploration. 🌵
Pumps – 👠 Pumps are associated with confidence and power. They signify that you are ready to take charge and assert your presence in both personal and professional settings. 🚀
Peep-Toe Heels – 👠 Peep-toe heels reflect curiosity and openness. They show that you are open to new experiences and have a playful, yet sophisticated, side. 🎉
Slides – 🩴 Slides suggest a laid-back and content approach to life. They indicate that you find joy in the simple things and have a relaxed attitude toward challenges. 🍃
Combat Boots – 👢 Combat boots symbolize resilience and strength. They reflect a person who is prepared to face any battle and stands firm in their beliefs. 💥
Oxford Shoes – 👞 Oxford shoes represent intellectuality and attention to detail. They indicate that you have a love for learning and are meticulous in your approach to life. 📚
T-Strap Heels – 👠 T-strap heels blend tradition with modernity. They show that you appreciate classic styles while also incorporating contemporary elements into your life. 🌟
Clogs – 🥿 Clogs reflect practicality and comfort. They suggest that you value a grounded, straightforward approach to life and find joy in simplicity. 🛋️
Sock Boots – 👢 Sock boots indicate a trendsetter with a unique style. They show that you are confident in your individuality and willing to stand out from the crowd. 💃
Slingbacks – 👠 Slingbacks signify precision and elegance. They reflect a person who pays attention to details and carries themselves with grace and sophistication. 💫
Rain Boots – 🩴 Rain boots represent preparedness and adaptability. They show that you are ready for any situation and handle life’s unpredictable moments with ease. ☔
Jellies – 🩴 Jellies suggest playfulness and nostalgia. They indicate a fun-loving spirit who enjoys the whimsical and carefree aspects of life. 🧩
Kitten Slingbacks – 👠 Kitten slingbacks combine sophistication with a practical approach. They show that you balance elegance with comfort and practicality. 🌹
Pointed-Toe Flats – 👡 Pointed-toe flats represent precision and directness. They indicate a sharp mind and a straightforward approach to life. 🗝️
Velvet Heels – 👠 Velvet heels symbolize luxury and sensuality. They show that you appreciate the finer things in life and have a refined, elegant nature. ✨
Boat Shoes – 👞 Boat shoes reflect practicality and a love for adventure. They suggest that you enjoy exploring and have a grounded, yet adventurous spirit. 🚤
Monk Strap Shoes – 👞 Monk strap shoes signify discipline and tradition. They show that you value structure and have a strong moral compass. ⚖️
Quilted Boots – 👢 Quilted boots represent comfort and security. They indicate a protective nature and a love for warmth and coziness. 🔥
Corset Heels – 👠 Corset heels combine strength with femininity. They reflect a focus on detail and a balance of power and grace. 💪
Espadrille Flats – 🩴 Espadrille flats suggest a laid-back vibe with a connection to nature. They indicate a love for simplicity and natural beauty. 🌻
Teddy Boots – 👢 Teddy boots symbolize warmth and comfort. They reflect a nurturing personality that values coziness and security. 🧸
Loafers with Tassels – 👞 Loafers with tassels indicate a playful yet sophisticated nature. They suggest a balance between fun and tradition. 🎩
Platform Sandals – 🩴 Platform sandals show confidence and a love for making a statement. They indicate a person who stands tall in their beliefs and style. 🌟
Over-the-Knee Boots – 👢 Over-the-knee boots represent boldness and a daring spirit. They show that you are unafraid to push boundaries and stand out. 🚀
Slip-On Sneakers – 👟 Slip-on sneakers reflect ease and comfort. They suggest a relaxed and casual approach to life, valuing convenience and simplicity. ☀️
High-Top Sneakers – 👟 High-top sneakers indicate a dynamic and energetic personality. They suggest that you are always on the go and ready for new challenges. ⚡
Espadrille Wedges – 🩴 Espadrille wedges combine comfort with a touch of elegance. They reflect a love for relaxed, yet stylish, living. 🌿
Brocade Flats – 👡 Brocade flats symbolize a taste for luxury and tradition. They suggest an appreciation for classic styles with a sophisticated twist. 💎
Lace-Up Sandals – 🩴 Lace-up sandals represent a free-spirited nature. They indicate a love for exploration and a connection to personal freedom. 🌈
Moccasin Slippers – 🥿 Moccasin slippers reflect a cozy, homey personality. They suggest a preference for comfort and a nurturing, relaxed environment. 🛋️
Pumps with Ankle Strap – 👠 Pumps with ankle straps show confidence with an attention to detail. They indicate a refined, yet bold approach to style. 💫
Glitter Boots – 👢 Glitter boots represent a love for glamour and sparkle. They show that you have a fun, outgoing personality with a flair for drama. ✨
Chelsea Ankle Boots – 👢 Chelsea ankle boots symbolize versatility and style. They suggest a person who is fashionable yet practical in their approach. 🌟
Platform Sneakers – 👟 Platform sneakers indicate a modern and trendsetting personality. They suggest that you are confident in your unique style and always ready to make a statement. 🚀
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st4rg1rl-16 · 1 year ago
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━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.
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𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ lewis responds to what arabella said in drive to survive starting a little rivalry between them
𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 31st march
𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ manama, bahrein
𝘄𝗮��𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ angst because bella tries to push everyone away, lewis being confusing and cursing
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ not an accurate description of a race (i don't really know how to write that so this will do) btw seb is not going to be in the grid until 2021 bc you know we need that seat for bella but he will appear so don't worry
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90
• — need for speed’s masterlist
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HER leg, clad in the red race suit, moved up and down. She bit the inside of her left cheek and played with the sleeve of her shirt. She was in her garage sitting on a bench that she had found, her car surrounded by her mechanics was not far from her.
She looked around her: this was definitely different from Formula Two.
Today was her second race in Formula One and for some reason she was nervous unlike the first one in which she felt nothing but excitement and adrenaline. Yesterday she qualified in fifth place so she had a good chance of winning or at least getting on the podium which was good news but the spaniard couldn't help but self-sabotage and think that she wasn't going to win.
Her anxiety began to take hold in her stomach and she couldn't help but think about her teammate. Last night they had confessed their feelings to each other and between kisses and whispers they fell asleep, which was special for her but when Arabella opened her eyes and quietly slipped out of the room to get ready to go to the circuit, reality crashed into her, giving her a slap all over the face.
Now she was in a relationship? –They hadn’t come to anything since they didn’t had time to talk but let's leave it at that– with her teammate which, according to the small print of their contract, was strictly prohibited so if they were discovered they could be fired in addition to the fact that it would be a scandal, they would call her everything and they would surely believe that it would be a point in favor of why there should be no women in Formula One and she knew that, unfortunately, Charles, just because he was a man, would not come out as badly as her.
She covered her face with her hands trying to block out the light and took in as much air as her lungs would allow before releasing it again. She had to talk to Charles and make things clear, but first she had to forget about that and focus on her career.
She called herself a fool in the four languages she knew. She was supposed to be smart, she had to think things through, know in advance all the possible scenarios that could arise as a result of her actions. She couldn't make mistakes, she was in the spotlight of thousands of people. She was Arabella Torres, the girl who had make it to Formula One at just eighteen years old and who was causing a sensation in the world of sports. She couldn't allow herself to make mistakes, not after everything she had suffered to get to where she was now, not after everything she had said. She couldn't make a fool of herself like that.
She would be a shame to her family, her friends and most of all to the women around the world that she represented. She wanted to make history and change it, she wanted to be the one who made the path easier for others but she couldn't do it if two months after debuting she was caught with her partner's tongue down her throat.
"Fuck," she cursed in a whisper in spanish, removing her hands from her face. Some leather moccasins were present in her field of vision, she looked up, meeting Alexander, her man of the radio, looking at her cautiously.
“You seem worried, are you okay?” The man, who was in his fifties and reminded her of her grandfather, asked.
She shook her head, releasing a sigh that she didn't know she contained. She faked a small smile "I'm a little nervous about starting in fifth position."
“You'll do well, I'm sure” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a couple of pats as a sign of support “Who knows, maybe you'll win this race.”
"I wish" her smile changed to a real one, winning would definitely make her day better.
The half brit half italian smiled back, tightening his grip on her shoulder before letting go and pointing to his ears. “Don't worry, I'll be with you.”
She smiled tenderly before opening her mouth to answer him but she was interrupted when she heard one of the mechanics say Charles' name, then she heard the others greet him as well. Immediately her leg resumed moving up and down on her spot.
Mierda. Shit.
A couple of minutes later the green-eyed man was walking towards her offering her a smile that she could swear was worth a million euros. She reciprocated timidly and lowered her gaze when he finally reached her side.
For his part, Charles felt that at any moment he was going to throw up butterflies. He took advantage of the fact that she diverted her gaze to the ground to observe her better, the sleeves of her race suit were tied to her waist, leaving her fireproof shirt that hugged her body to view, highlighting her figure, her dark hair was tied in a low ponytail, she was not wearing makeup, leaving seeing circles under her eyes that confirmed that what happened last night hadn’t been a dream and that it had actually happened.
“You left without saying anything” He leaned towards her and whispered so that no one else would hear him.
She felt how her cheeks began to heat up and how the feeling of guilt began to settle in her chest “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went to my room. I didn't want to wake you up” She lifted her right leg and bent it, drawing it toward her body and then placed her chin on against her knee so she could see him better. She furrowed his eyebrows “Are you angry?”.
He shook his head slightly earning a sigh of relief from her to which he laughed extending his arm to gently caress her back. It was true, he wasn't angry but he would have liked to wake up with her in his arms.
“You start in fifth position, how do you feel?”.
“I think I will get on the podium”.
“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, raising both eyebrows in a mocking tone to which she smiled amused “Do you think you'll beat me? I have the pole”.
She liked talking to Charles, he made her feel calm and helped her escape from her tedious reality. The monegasque, apart from being handsome and a good driver, was also a good person. He was the type of person who looked for a way to make you feel good and comfortable, that he adapted to the person with whom he had a conversation, taking into account what to talk about and what not to talk about. That was one of the things she liked about him.
“Mmmh, you'll see, Leclerc” She wrapped her fingers in the laces of her shoe and nodded, smiling at him mockingly, playing along.
The boy stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything, his gaze traveled quickly from her eyes to her lips and back again before leaning towards her again to speak in a low voice “You don't know how much I want to kiss you right now”.
"Charles!" She reprimanded him in a whisper, placing her hand on the boy's face and pushing his head back. She laughed because she thought it was funny but she tried to hide it "We shouldn't talk about that in public."
He rolled his eyes regretfully “Right.”
An applause was heard, drawing the attention of both, Arabella hurriedly released the monegasque's head when she saw Mattia Binotto approaching them at a quick pace.
“Good morning, guys!” A big smile covered the lips of the man with glasses “I hope you slept well because today we need you to have energy”.
They both shared a look and smiled slightly.
Wow, so sneaky.
“Charles, you are in pole position which is fantastic. I'm proud” He praised the boy who smiled and responded with a thank you. His gaze shifted to the girl, who shrank in her place somewhat nervously "And you, Arabella, are doing so well Fifth position in your second race! Great, simply great”.
“Thank you very much, sir,” She smiled politely. She felt the tension expelling from her body little by little.
He pushed up his left sleeve revealing a watch that looked like it was worth quite a bit of money and looked at it before covering it again "Well, I'm pretty busy today and since I won't be able to talk to you the rest of the day I wanted to wish you both luck” They both let out a thank you again, this time in unison making him laugh “By the way, I know you both want to win but whatever happens we will be happy and proud. See you guys”.
And without further ado he left, leaving them alone again.
“He was acting a little strange, don't you think?” With a frown and looking in the direction where the team principal had disappeared.
“A little, yes” He played it off, taking his phone out of his pocket to look at the time.
It was already eleven thirty in the morning.
“What are you going to do until lunch?” He locked the phone and returned it to his pocket while he mentally reviewed his agenda.
“I have a couple of interviews for a DAZN Spain. What about you?”.
"I don't know yet, I'll look for Emma and ask her" He shrugged and looked around the workshop in case he saw the publicist near her. When he confirmed that the woman wasn’t there, he turned to his team mate “Do you want to eat together?".
"Sure" She agreed before her own publicist approached her. She nodded when she told her that it was time for the interviews and she got up from the red metal bench, looked at the boy and raised her head in dismissal "I'll send you a text when I'm done."
He gave her a thumbs up, smiling at her, and stood up too, ready to go to his part of the garage and find his publicist.
Arabella looked at Elvira, her publicist, trying to look for any sign that she suspected something about the two drivers but the black-haired woman was too absorbed in her phone. She wrinkled her nose looking away from her trying not to be caught staring.
“Well, Albert Fabrega will interview you. It won't be anything out of the ordinary: he'll ask you how the car feels, if you think you'll win, he'll talk about your position in the standings and little else” She finally took her gaze off the phone, taking her index finger to her black-rimmed glasses, pushing them towards her face.
“Okay, and then?” She accepted the bottle of water that a Ferrari assistant offered her, thanked him with a smile when he walked next to her with an umbrella in his hand ready to cover her from the scorching sun.
“You'll talk to the DAZN Spain team for a while and ehm….” She looked again at the electronic device in her hands “There are some rich fans who have access to the paddock, you will take a couple of photos with them and you will sign whatever they want you to sign, then you can go to eat. You will met Charles for lunch, right?”.
“Yes” She began to unscrew the cap of the bottle and then take a good sip. She laughed "Do you know that the other day a girl asked me to sign her boobs?".
"Ew" Elvira made a disgusted face before waving her right hand "I'm so glad I'm not famous sometimes, anyway I think it's good that you go to lunch with Charles, so we can know where you are. I'll make sure Lando stays away from you, I don't want you two to start playing again” She looked at her accusingly over her glasses and she laughed guiltily, knowing she was referring to when she and the McLaren driver got together on Friday, playing tag and by accident they broke a sign.
They spent half an hour apologizing to Red Bull for tearing in half a poster with Pierre's face, who didn’t hesitate to make a dramatic scene about the situation.
But what could they do, after all they were just children.
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“I THINK I have a good chance of getting on the podium today, I'm starting fifth so...” She shrugged, giving the camera a toothless smile. Her right hand held the microphone they had given her while her left held her body against the railing that separated the drivers from the press.
The journalist nodded “And what about your rivalry with Hamilton? As you said in Drive to Survive, you will do everything possible to beat him”.
That wasn't in the plan. She bit the inside of her cheek and swayed slightly wrapping her right foot around her left leg. “Yes, I said that but I don't have any rivalry with Hamilton other than, well, the typical one on the track that I have with all the drivers”.
“Don't you know what Hamilton has said about you?” The question left her frozen and for a moment she was worried but quickly composed herself and denied, looking out of the corner of her eye at her publicist and manager, who looked at her just as confused as she was before taking out their phones. The interviewer approached her, handing her his phone; it showed an article from the spanish newspaper Marca which about her and the champion.
She read the headline "Hamilton makes it clear that he is not worried about Torres" and she frowned as she watched the Mercedes driver's words being recited more quietly.
"I don't think she's a rival for me."
“Do you have anything to say about that?” Because she had tucked the microphone under her arm so she could grab the phone, the journalist brought his own microphone closer to her face. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. "In the Melbourne GP you didn't get close to him, finishing in eighth place when he was second. Do you think you'll beat him today?".
She glanced at Elvira and Nicholas again, who shook their heads but she ignored them. “He can say whatever he wants. I'm not going to say that I'm going to beat him today because no one, much less me, knows what's going to happen today, but if I don't beat him today I know that one day I will. Maybe not today or tomorrow but one day I will and rest assured I will take the title from him.”
A smile was planted on the man's lips when he heard her. “Thank you, Arabella. That's all”.
“Thanks to you” She gave him a small smile that didn’t hide her annoyance and, after extending the microphone to the sound people, she turned around and walked away from there. In a second her publicist, her manager, the assistant with the umbrella and the Netflix team were at her side struggling to keep up with her.
Both adults looked at each other while the poor assistant was sweating profusely trying to hide it from the sun.
“Arabella...” She raised a hand stopping the woman, who with her mouth open looked at the girl's manager.
"I don't want to talk now, Elvira” She growled, heading to her room, ignoring everyone she found in her way. When she got to her room she locked herself in, putting the latch on, slamming the door in the faces of both adults.
The blonde knocked on the door. "Bells, don't lock yourself in. Talk to me”.
She was pissed off, very pissed off. One of her idols had underestimated her in public and she didn't understand why. Lewis seemed to be kind and good, she hadn't had the luck –or, now, misfortune– to talk to him yet but still the champion never failed to give her a smile when their eyes met. Was it all for appearances?.
She clenched her jaw, feeling how the tears of rage and frustration began to accumulate in her eyes, pushing against each other eagerly to slide down her cheeks. She swallowed and let her knees give way, causing her back to slide against the door until she was sitting on the floor.
It wasn't the first time they talked bad about her, it wasn't the first time someone was condescending towards her but damn, when he was one of the people you admire most in the world, it definitely hurt more than anything.
The sound of a notification rang from her pocket, she wanted to ignore it but she knew that it was most likely Charles looking for her to eat. Swallowing her tears, she took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the time, there were less than two hours left until the race, she had to go eat.
A single notification occupied the screen confirming her suspicions upon seeing the Monegasque's name.
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She smiled though her smile warped into a pout as she felt a sob run down her throat. She suddenly felt worthless and that she didn't deserve anything that was happening to her. She closed her eyes tightly, smashing the palm of her hand against her mouth, trying to silence the sob. She wasn't going to cry, she didn't want to cry, she couldn't cry. She had to be strong.
“Ma belle?” She heard a knock on the door and then she could hear the boy's shy voice. She shook her head, she didn't want to be seen like that, much less for Charles to see her like that. My beautiful.
She stood up, leaving the phone on the floor and hurried to grab the box of clinex that she had in the television cabinet. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt before walking to the door and bent down to pick up the phone, opening the camera app and looking at herself on the screen. She was more or less presentable.
"Bella, please," she heard him speak again, this time with a pleading tone “Can I come in?".
She took a breath in and out before faking a smile and opening the door, finding Nick, Elvira, and Charles behind it. The three of them were looking at her with concern.
“Well, are we going to eat or what?” She smiled wider before leaving the room and passing between them ready to head to Ferrari's cafeteria.
The three looked at each other and Nicholas let out a sigh, running a hand over his face before looking at the boy dressed in red. "Go to her, she won't want to talk to us."
The driver nodded before starting to run in the direction of the girl. When he was close to her he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her up, making her stop. "Hey, what just happened there?".
"Nothing, I got angry, I calmed down and that's it" Charles frowned in denial when he saw her smile that could be seen for miles that was false, he was beginning to get annoyed with her "everything is fine" attitude.
“I was in my room when you arrived, you were going like the devil was chasing you. I also heard the door slam. Don't lie to me, Arabella” The false smile that was on her lips fell to the ground as soon as she heard him, she looked around them. Some of the staff watched them talk.
She gently released herself from his grasp. “It's not a good idea to talk here, Charles.”
"I don't give a shit," It surprised her because, to be honest, since she knew him she hadn’t seen him like this, much less heard him curse. He continued, "You can't throw a fit, worry everyone, worry me, and then act like nothing happened. That's not how things work, Arabella.”
She looked at him in silence, he was right but she wasn't going to give that to him. She didn't like to talk about her feelings, much less when they were bad ones.
Charles looked at her too, waiting for her to say something, anything. He wanted her to open up to him, to trust him with her feelings like she had done last night, she wanted him to know that he was there for her.
"See you on the podium," She then told him in a serious tone, after she turned around and disappeared.
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SITTING in her car she felt like a king although the looks of the mechanics around her made her feel like she was a bomb about to explode. They looked at her, talked and even were cautious around her.
Apparently the word had spread..
She glued her gaze to the halo that surrounded her, the famous phrase "I feel the need, the need for speed" was printed in white letters. She clenched her jaw when she saw the cameras pointed in her direction, she knew that tomorrow people would be talking about her face.
Her tight jaw that highlighted her features and her intense gaze fixed on her halo would be something to talk about the next day. Some would say she looked attractive, other would would criticize her.
Fuck them.
Nicholas approached her with her helmet and the balaclava in her hands. He held them out to her and she took them. She looked at her helmet and with her index finger caressed the black 9 that stood out among the red and white.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw how the six foot man squatted next to her car to get a better look at her. "Good luck, speed. We are with you.”
The smallest smile of hers was present at her nickname and she raised her gloved hand formed into a fist, soon she felt the man's fist collide with hers.
“Arabella, you're out in five!” She heard someone shout and nodded, putting on her balaclava, someone helped her put on her hans and her helmet. She closed her eyes as she quickly crossed herself.
She pursed her lips thinking about her family. It had only been twenty minutes since she had called her mother to talk to them and say her goodbyes, something she always did before a race since she had that accident. She said goodbye to them in case she didn't leave the track alive, her parents weren't happy about it but she needed it, she needed to tell them that she loved them just in case she couldn't tell them again in person.
She watched as Charles' car pulled out of his garage as the lead car passed in front of them. She felt a small sting in her chest, she pressed her lips together knowing well that it was her fault. They hadn't spoken again since their "argument", they hadn't even eaten together like they had talked about in the morning.
She felt bad for pushing him away but she couldn't help it, she was like that despite herself.
Her jaw clenched again when she saw the black and white car pass by. She was going to win or at least get on the podium so she could shut up the Brit. She was willing to make her life in that race hell. She was going to make him fight for first place.
She watched as the flag in front of her lowered and hurriedly stepped on the accelerator to leave the garage. She followed Bottas being followed by Verstappen.
She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Well, here we go.
“Arabella?” She heard Alexander's voice on the radio “Can you hear me?”.
"I hear you," she replied without taking her eyes off the end of Valtteri's car.
She swallowed and lowered the visor of her helmet. The silence embraced her completely, the only thing she could hear was her own breathing. And then every red light turned green in a blink.
Lights out and away we go!
She tried to overtake Bottas but the Red Bull driver tried the same with her. She clicked her tongue when she felt the Dutchman's car pull up to hers.
"Get him off or you'll crash." She heard the man in her ears and she opened her eyes obviously, she wanted to respond with a sarcastic comment but knowing that the communication was being recorded she decided to remain silent.
“Copy” she tried to get away from him but in less than a second Verstappen was already next to her again. She cursed under her breath.
It seems that Verstappen is not making it easy for Torres.
“Not today, Max. Not today, damn it”.
“Carlos is trying to pass, take advantage of it and pass Verstappen” she nodded to herself and prepared to accelerate, she watched as Carlos made space to the left of the Red Bull car, causing the three cars to be stuck together, covering the entire road. When on the 33rd she saw that Sainz was trying to pass, she stuck to him, leaving Arabella alone, she pressed the accelerator and drove away from them “Very good, Bella!”.
She quickly passed Bottas. Her eyes fell on the other Mercedes not far from her Ferrari. Her right corner rose and she tilted her chin down decisively.
And Arabella passes Valtteri, thus remaining in P4. Will she get through to Hamilton?
She suddenly began to lose control of her car making her panic “I'm losing control!”
She felt how the car spun around on itself “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
She turned the wheel trying to get the car back on track, praying that neither Verstappen nor Sainz would approach her and take her in front of her.
She wasn't ready to die.
She's losing control! Verstappen approaches her with Grosjean close, that could end very badly.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and, swerving, managed to turn around and get the vehicle back on track. She sighed, her eyes so wide it seemed like they were going to pop out of it's sockets.
"Arabella, are you okay?!" She heard several voices coming from the radio, she distinguished Alexander's and Mattias's, she also thought she heard Nick in the distance.
"I'm fine," she confirmed and the sea of red polo shirts sighed with relief in the Ferrari garage. "I'm going to overtake Magnussen."
"Copy"
While she was losing control of the car, Hamilton had managed to pass the Haas driver and was now trying to pass the other Ferrari in the lead.
She approached the black and gold car applying a tactic similar to the one the Dutchman had applied with her, approaching from his left on the curve trying to intimidate him.
"Press as much as you can" she heard commotion from Alexander's side and frowned.
"What's happening?."
"It's Charles." Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately thought the worst. Worry filled her body.
"What happened to him? Is he okay?"
"He had a problem and he had to box, he will be out in a second. It's okay, don't worry, you keep going like this and we'll see if we can get you up to p2" he tried to distract her from the topic of her teammate.
"He doesn't get tired," she warned and the man nodded, watching her car from her screen.
"Keep pushing, you're going to pass through the pit exit in no time. Take advantage of the fact that Charles is going out and pass him."
"Okay"
She followed the instructions given to her and continued alongside the Haas car until they passed the pit exit. She calmed down when she saw the other Ferrari approaching to enter the track again.
Between the two red cars they caged the danish and Arabella took the opportunity to overtake. With her right hand she greeted her teammate, earning a return greeting before losing sight of him.
They quickly left the black car behind and were left alone, looking for Lewis.
And the two Ferraris are going wheel to wheel after Leclerc's problem! They are fighting for p2, what a show Ferrari is giving us today! .
She smiled competitively and accelerated trying to overtake her teammate but he also overtook although he couldn't overtake too much because apparently the problem he had had before had taken its toll on the car and it was difficult for him to do the overtake.
"P2 Arabella, you're up on the podium!" She heard the British man's shout and laughed in disbelief. Had the race already finished?.
"Good job, guys," she congratulated those who were listening to her from the garage with a smile on her face. She parked the car in the second space and took a deep breath before getting out.
She heard the screams of the fans in the stands and soon saw a sea of red polo shirts approaching her with screams. She was turned around and she was enveloped in a hug, she immediately knew it was Charles as she felt another hoof rest against hers.
"You've done it!" She heard him say, "I'm very proud of you, ma belle."
She smiled under the helmet before feeling multiple hands touch her back, arms, and helmet.
She raised her visor and saw her staff. Someone helped her take off her hans and she quickly took off her helmet and balaclava. Her hair flew loose, freeing herself from the hair band that fell to the floor when she tore off her balaclava.
The shouts of the tifosi among the stands increased when she saw her face revealed and she once again felt like a king on top of the world.
Her ear-to-ear smile shivered as she watched the winner approach her. She looked at him suspiciously as she raised her hand in front of her body. Lewis gave him a small smile. “Congratulations, you did good.”
She raised an eyebrow, looking down at her hand and accepting it in hers.
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whencyclopedia · 2 months ago
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Manabozho Tales
Manabozho tales are the stories of the trickster figure and culture hero of the Ojibwe (Ojibway/Chippewa) and other Algonquin Native American nations of present-day northern United States and southeast Canada. Manabozho is a supernatural entity, often depicted with god-like powers, but is not a god, even though, in some stories, he is featured as the co-creator.
Manabozho Pictograph as a Giant Rabbit
D. Gordon E. Robertson (CC BY-SA)
According to Ojibwe lore (as well as that of the other Algonquin people), Manabozho (also given as Nanabozho) is a Spirit Being sent to earth by the Great Spirit (Gitchee Manidoo or Gitche Manitou) to teach animals, and then people, the right way to live. He sometimes does so directly, through instruction, other times through punishment, or, as he is a shapeshifter, through trickery and deceit.
As with the trickster stories of other Native peoples of North America – the Wihio tales of the Cheyenne, Iktomi tales of the Sioux, Coyote tales of the Shasta nation, Glooscap tales of the Wabanaki Confederacy, and many others – Manabozho appears sometimes as a wise man, sometimes as a fool, can appear as a hero, or as a villain, or even act like a petulant and petty child. Manabozho tales, like those of the other nations, always feature some form of transformation.
He sometimes appears as a man but is often depicted as a large rabbit and, in this form, is known as Mishaabooz ("Great Rabbit"). He may appear in any form he likes, however, whether a leaf or a stump (a form he favors in several tales) or anything else. He is credited by the Ojibwe, and other Algonquin people, with co-creating the earth (or, in some versions, dry land after a great flood), naming all the plants and animals, giving people the spiritual precepts of their religion (Midewiwin, "the way of the heart") teaching the people to fish, and inventing the characters of the Ojibwe written language, part of the Algonquian language family.
Ojibwe Culture & History
The Ojibwe are Algonquin people, related culturally, ethnically, and linguistically to others of the region of southeast Canada and the northern United States, and are members of the Council of the Three Fires, which also includes the Odawa and Potawatomi nations. The meaning of their name continues to be debated, but one possibility is suggested by scholar Adele Nozedar, who suggests it "means 'to roast until puckered' or 'puckered moccasin people' and refers to the puckered seams of the moccasins the Ojibwe wore" (337). The other name they are known by, Chippewa, began as a mispronunciation of Ojibwe, though both names became used by the people to refer to themselves.
The Ojibwe, like other Native American nations, claim they originated from the earth and, in their case, at the mouth of the waterway now known as the Saint Lawrence River in modern-day Quebec. They were at first a hunter-gatherer society until the establishment of permanent settlements of homes known as wigwams, usually made of birch bark over bent saplings and woven reeds (wiigiwaam in the Anishinaabe Algonquin language of the Ojibwe). Men built the wigwam and women were responsible for furnishing it.
Ojibwa Village
Paul Kane (Public Domain)
As with other Native American nations, the men hunted, fished, protected the village, and made war while the women maintained the home, cooked the food, raised the children, tended to the crops, and engaged in trade with other communities. Their spiritual/religious belief, Midewiwin, emphasizes the importance of balance within oneself, between the human community and the natural world, and working to heal rifts when they occur. Midewiwin ceremonies focus on the relationship between the individual and the spirit world to encourage respect for the environment and other people. Although still practiced, Midewiwin adherents declined after the arrival of Europeans and the spread of Christianity.
The Ojibwe first encountered Europeans through contact with French missionaries in 1640, established friendly relations with French fur traders, and acquired firearms and iron weapons from them which they used to drive the Lakota Sioux from the region and down onto the Great Plains. They sided with the French against the British during the French and Indian War (1754-1763), with the British against the Continentals during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783), and with the British against the United States in the War of 1812. After that conflict, the United States attempted to forcibly relocate the Ojibwe west of the Mississippi River, but Chief Kechewaishke ("Great Buffalo", l. c. 1759-1855) negotiated settlement for the Ojibwe on reservations of their ancestral lands near Lake Superior.
The Ojibwe culture and language was adversely affected owing to the occupation of their lands by French, English, and Euro-American nations, but has survived, and the Ojibwe still live, more or less, along with the other Algonquin people, in the areas they occupied thousands of years ago. The language is still spoken and is used to tell the traditional tales like the three below.
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annwrites · 7 days ago
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⸻ colter. ⸻
· pairing: charles smith x fem!reader · type: part of a miniseries · summary: while the van der linde gang finds themselves stranded at colter, you go to charles to keep you warm & safe during the blizzard. · tags: forced proximity, angst, mutual pining, cuddling, fingering, p in v sex, creampie · word count: 3.6k · ꒰a/n꒱: i've wanted to write something for charles for a long time & got inspired to churn this out while reading where the lost wander by amy harmon.
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“Charles,” calls a quiet, demure voice from the open doorway, where winter winds howl and crest over the snow-capped mountaintops that surround this dilapidated excuse for a camp. Though, it is better than the alternative. None of you would have made it much longer, given the harsh conditions the wagon train now finds itself under.
Young Jack is too small and soft for such circumstances. And Davey, by Charles’ estimations, may, quite likely, breathe his last tonight. He does not speak such thoughts aloud, however. Spirits are low enough as it is. He will not be held liable for further decimating what little hope is now left.
He turns from the rickety wooden bunk he has just tossed his leather pack down onto, to find you staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, set above gaunt, hollowed cheekbones.
You haven’t been eating. Not as much as you should be, that is. It seems that unless he, or Mary-Beth, can coax you into taking sustenance, you all but forget you are meant to ingest as much in order to survive. You do not think of such things now. Not after what you have endured. It is no matter whether the sight of you like this—one who he still hardly even knows (even if he feels entirely otherwise)—cuts him deeply, like the sharpened edge of a hunter’s blade. He worries that you do it to punish yourself for still breathing, while your family rests six feet beneath tilled, earthen soil hundreds of miles from here.
He tried telling you one evening, as you nursed a bowl of broth he boiled for you from venison bone, in an attempt to try and calm your aching stomach, that they would not want to see you like this.
You had replied, simply, that they will no longer see anything at all.
He had not known how to reply…so he didn’t. Perhaps he should have. He thinks there are many things he should do differently when it comes to you. But when they have passed through towns, and traversed well-worn trails created by others seeking to make a new life for themselves in this strange land, he is met with scornful expressions and wary temperaments from those who do not look like him.
To couple their assumptions of him with the sight of a white woman clinging to him for protection and safety she now no longer receives from any other… He fears himself a coward for so often turning away from your awaiting, adoring eyes when so many others’ are upon him.
He is efficient on his own, but he admitted some time ago—begrudgingly—that this new world may be the least bit safer for him to travel along with welcoming companions at his side. So, he endures it.
“Yes?” he replies, watching as you shut the door behind you before traipsing forward.
Your boots, which he does not deem fit for winter weather—perhaps he should go hunting at first light, and take the pelt from his game to fashion you a warm pair of moccasins instead—scuff against the bowed planks of wood beneath your feet as you come closer.
Javier and Lenny talk quietly amongst themselves to give the two of you a moment of privacy.
You gaze up at him from beneath wet lashes, and he notes how you shiver against the chill which envelops the drafty cabin you find yourselves in. You should instead be with the other women, seated before a wood stove, or hearth, warming yourself until your bones stop aching and instead relax, and the warmth eventually lulls you to sleep.
“Can…can I sleep with you? Here?” you ask with a hopeful tone.
The men quiet for a moment, and he knows that they are listening, wondering if a soft young woman, with milky skin and an innocent disposition, will be joining them tonight. Though, that is not right. You are not here for them. You are not here for anyone except him. Not even for Mary-Beth do you stay with the gang, even if she is the one who found you, and brought you into their rag-tag fold of compatriots.
You come impossibly closer until your breasts are brushing against the wealth of his chest. “Please. It’s so cold. I’m…scared.”
He is a strong bull of a being. And yet, you always serve to decimate him to his basest form: a man who weakens to a woman’s touch, voice, and wants.
He knows you do not do it on purpose. That you are not so much as aware of the hold you have over him. He thinks that serves only to draw him in impossibly closer.
“You’re sure you don’t want to stay with the women in the other cab—”
You shake your head fervently, and he knows there will be no talking you out of this. Your mind was already made up, in terms of where you want to be tonight, before you darkened their door. Before you ever even asked him if he would have you.
Because you know that he will.
“No. I want to be with you.”
He does not understand why you have made him your chosen protector, but neither does he know how to shirk such a position, either. He does not want to admit that he doesn’t wish to—that it makes his chest swell with pride in knowing that you see him as a towering form of solidity; an immovable force. That a woman like you could see a man like him as being worthy of your love...is still yet unthinkable. Even if you have not yet verbally offered it to him, you have done as much in countless other ways.
It does not need to be said, for that is not how the two of you communicate. You do so in a platitude of other ways.
He feels it in the soft brush of your hand against his when you walk by to retrieve requested supplies for Susan. Sees it when you watch him observantly as you tend to the horses across the camp; brushing them down with handfuls of hay to keep their coats healthy and clean. Heard it one evening, after all had drifted off to sleep while he stayed up to keep watch—a fact you had been acutely aware of: his waking state—as you whimpered his name with your hand between your thighs in the dark of your tent he had pitched for you just that morning.
He had spent the rest of the night being as observant as he could, between thoughts of sinking between your legs and making love to your mouth with his own.
He nods, just once. “Alright.”
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The front half of you is burrowed into Charles’ chest, while your back faces the wooden wall behind you. Charles had deemed that he would sleep on the edge of the bed while you did so on the in, not trusting Micah—who snores loudly above the two of you—from trying to do something untoward. If he were to wake, only to find that scum’s hands on you, he would be losing far more than just the aforementioned limbs for trespassing upon a body that is not his to have.
He has noticed how the lousy excuse for a man looks at you, and it sets his blood to boiling, like that of a pot of Pearson’s coffee over a cookfire.
Charles has cautioned you to keep your distance from him, and you have thankfully obliged. You are not a stupid girl, he knows, but he cannot be too careful when it comes to matters of your personal safety. Though, he does admittedly always try to keep a watchful eye over you when able.
You nuzzle closer, and Charles tightens his beefy arms around you, ensuring you remain contentedly warm as you dream.
He is exhausted himself, but to have you so close like this…it makes rest nigh-on impossible to find.
You are stripped down to only your shift, leaving naught to the imagination. He had tried to encourage you to wear more layers to bed, but you had insisted that if there were too many, you would be too uncomfortable, and would not be able to sleep. He wonders if you did not just wish to be as close to him as you could possibly manage without undressing entirely.
One of your legs is slipped between each of his, and his erection rests just above your slightly-bent knee while occasionally stirring, looking for a way inside of you to keep warm.
His shirt is unbuttoned, granting you full access to the heat of his brawny chest, which your face is half-buried in. Each of your small palms are pressed against his heavy stomach, and they leave sweaty imprints from where they lay against his dark skin.
You stir, so he slips a hand into your hair, then gently massages your scalp to coax you back to sleep, which you desperately need.
And then the calm silence is interrupted by the whisper of your voice. “Charles.”
He groans quietly. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
You wriggle in his grip, ensuring every inch of your body meets with his own. “Can’t.”
He rolls his eyes. You are always impossible at the worst of times. “Try.”
You slide your hands up his chest until one rests above the carotid of his neck; allowing you to feel the way his strong pulse hammers beneath the thin layer of skin. And that is where your opposite palm is to be found: lying above his heart. “Why aren’t you?”
Because I can’t stop thinking of the countless ways to have you. Even if it is a fool’s fantasy.
“Is it your hand?” you press with a tone of concern.
He shakes his head. “It’ll be fine.”
You circle your hips and he grits his teeth. You are stoking his temper now, like the coals of a previously-dwindling fire that is now trying to be brought back to life. As well as his libido.
“Y/N,” he starts, until you crane your neck back to meet his dark eyes.
“Do you think Davey will die?” you ask worriedly.
He sighs. “Maybe.”
Your eyes roam along slowly, until they are looking upwards at he who lies above you. “It’s all his fault this happened. That…poor girl in Blackwater.”
Charles shooshes you soothingly while running a palm down your back. “It’s over now. Nothing that we can do. We just have to survive this storm, and once it breaks, we’ll be on our way east.”
“We’ll stay together.”
You do not voice this as a question. Because he knows you are not asking.
“Please,” you breathe as the bridge of your chilled nose swipes along the length of his neck. “Don’t ever go where I cannot follow you.”
He turns further onto his side, and heat pools between your thighs as the weight of him settles atop you.
Charles smooths tangled stray hairs from your face and he shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that right now—”
“Promise me,” you demand while cradling his face between the soft skin of your heated palms.
He grows silent as you wait quietly in anticipation. The cabin groans beneath the force of the freezing tempest outside its door, but you know you are safe so long as Charles is here beside you.
“I promise.”
You snatch those words from the charged air between you before they can float away and leave you wanting, and you clasp them away inside of you where they can never leave, like a mother would her children’s photographs inside a golden locket. Something so small, where an entire world of precious things is beheld.
You move your hand higher, until you’ve buried your fingers in the coarse, tangled hair at the back of Charles’ head, and you press your lips to his as your eyes slide closed.
He pulls slightly back, and you whine at the loss of contact between you. “Stop. You know we can’t—”
“Says whom?” you demand.
He sighs in exasperation while running a callused hand down his tired face. “Society, Y/N. And—”
“I did not know you to be a man who much cared what others thought of him. So, you can take me into your bed, just not in that way. I had thought I lost everything, until I found you, Charles Smith. I want to be yours. No,” you say, interrupting yourself. “I am yours. Whether you desire it or not.”
You’ve left him speechless; just declaring yourself as belonging to him. You do not so much as ask to. Maybe because you had considered it to be an already settled matter. He knows you are awaiting further objections to come from his lips. And if things were different—if you weren’t twined so closely together like this in the dark of night in the middle of a blizzard—perhaps he would have better prospects of forcing you to see the matter which lies between you more clearly. But you have him exactly where you want him. He is in no position to even attempt at making you consider otherwise.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he insists, doing his utmost to make you see sensibly.
“I know plenty,” you hiss while sliding your limbs around him, as if he is liable to go anywhere anytime soon.
Even if the sun were shining, the birds were singing, and grass spread across the ground outside as far as the eye could see, he fears still he would not leave this bed. Though, it is not the bed that keeps him from venturing. No, just the woman who lies in it, demanding him as her own.
You try to tug his lips back to yours, but he holds firm, even if he can feel his resolve giving way, like a mountain about to be blown to pieces by a chunk of explosive dynamite.
“You need sleep,” he presses.
“I need you,” you whine obstinately before  twining your fingers between his own and leading them down, between your spread thighs.
The heat of you is impossibly warm, and he is reluctant to refuse you any further now.
He has wanted to have you like this for so long. Like this and more. And to have you so desperately offering yourself up to him in such a way... He fears that hand of his is already infected, and said infection is spreading through his bloodstream, sending him into the recesses of his feverish mind. That none of this is real.
But if that is the case, he is prepared to die a very happy man.
“Please,” you beg while your hips undulate against him, beckoning him to touch you as he may.
Charles gently prods against you with his index and middle finger, and is taken aback to find you entirely bare between where you are spread open for him.
His eyes flit to your own and you nibble on your lower lip sheepishly. “Oops.”
He nearly snorts. Perhaps you are not as innocent as he has spent so much time assuming.
You throw one of your legs over his hip, and your own smarts for just a moment at how wide you are now spread open for him; at how large his body truly is.
You lean forward and press your lips to Charles’ once more, and his fingers slide between your wet folds, causing his cock to twitch between his legs. He is shocked by how eager you are to let him have you. Particularly with an audience present. Though, their snores and heavy breathing indicate that they are entirely unaware of what is transpiring mere inches from where they lie.
Charles circles your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, and you gasp against his plush lips while a chill runs up your spine.
He slides his hand along the soft inner skin of your plump thigh while painting a wet trail with his fingertips. “We should not do this here,” he states while beginning to tease you once more.
“There is nowhere else to go,” you whisper while sliding your hands along his shoulders, and down his arms, wanting more of him. Wanting him out of his clothes as well.
“They could wake,” he argues.
“Let them,” you say with a shrug before shimmying out of your shift and tossing it to the foot of the bed.
He pauses while leaning back—the bed creaking beneath his weight—as he studies the unabashed sight of your naked, womanly form.
You cup his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. “Please. I want it to be you, Charles. Take…”
He shakes his head, prepared to interrupt your offer—knowing where you are heading: the cliff you step toward the edge of.
“Take my innocence,” you sigh—a mere prayer.
You run a palm over his erection, and cup it firmly in your feminine hand. “I am yours already. So take the rest of me along with it.”
He mutters a low curse while sliding his hand along your naked hip, then grabbing a handful of your backside.
Your heart flutters in your chest, near to bursting with love for the man whose bed you warm.
He crushes his lips to yours once again, and slides his trained tongue along the inside of your mouth, as if he is first making love to it, so as to garner an idea of how the rest of you might be. You moan quietly and paw at his chest and stomach, wanting desperately for more of him to fill you where you are still yet empty and waiting.
It is in your nature, you realize, to never feel as if you have had enough of him.
You would crawl inside his body if you could, where you will be always safe and warm and never parted.
You think, sometimes, that you were once created as a whole, but split apart when you came to Earth to be planted in your mother’s wombs, but forced, nevertheless, to travel uncertain paths until you found that which had been always missing since your first breaths were drawn in the cold, unforgiving light of day. And then you cried and wailed for that which had been so cruelly taken away from you, fearing it forever lost…until you found each other once more.
Charles bows his head while moving his hand higher, guiding your back into a graceful arch, and then he takes up one of your taught nipples between his teeth and your body shudders in ecstasy.
You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him still as he drinks in every inch of you with his mouth and teeth and tongue, memorizing that which he’d been without for so long, even if he had not known exactly what was lost to him until it was inevitably discovered at last.
He trails his tongue through the valley between your breasts and up your neck as he surveys a new, unexplored virgin land none other has so much as beheld with their mere eyes.
“I’m yours,” you whisper before closing your eyes. “All yours.”
Charles reaches down and undoes his trousers, ready to free himself before joining the two of you together, but he must give you one last chance to renege.
“Are you sure?"
You cup his cheek in your hand and nod while gazing into his eyes. “Please, Charles. My heart is yours. As is my body.”
He maneuvers his legs until he has removed his garments, leaving himself as bare as you, and then he takes himself in-hand, and, with your leg still thrown over his waist, he rubs the weeping tip of himself against your entrance, and then he stills.
You have no protection here.
He deflates entirely, even as his erection strains to be inside of you, as if it has a wit of its own.
“I don’t care,” you state plainly, as if you have read the source of hesitancy within his mind. And with that, you sink down along the length of him, until you are one.
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The two of you are wrapped impossibly tight around one another. Your limbs are twined around the other’s naked form, refusing to so much as give an inch, lest you disappear entirely, confirming this to have all been a mere dream. Your lips stay planted upon each other’s as well, only occasionally parting as you heave for breath in your excursions.
Charles’ right arm is snaked beneath you and around your waist; his palm splayed against your back, while his other cradles the base of your skull to keep you close. Meanwhile, your right arm is thrown haphazardly over the thickness of his side while your opposite hand clutches at his chest as he eases in and out of your slick entrance.
You can’t understand how something can feel so wonderful; how it is possible. If this is how it is to make love…why would anyone ever do anything else? Including eating, drinking, bathing, or so much as leaving their beds. You wish to be like this always with him.
In this moment, you know with the utmost certainty, that he is that missing part of you you had spent so long searching for. Ever since you were a girl and you felt—as you gazed out across the golden, amber valleys of wheat, and over wide, raging rivers of clear water of your childhood home—that something more was waiting for you in the great unknown, that it was him all along.
It was he who was calling to you, and tugging at your heart strings, wanting for you to come to him.
You’re whole at last.
As his body shudders against your own and you come undone in his arms, feeling like you have just touched the heavens with the tips of your fingers as he spills his seed inside of you, you know that neither of you will ever be alone again.
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mathosapabeads · 1 year ago
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first round of color on this drum, i decided to change the women on the left and right, left will have a t shape ribbon dress with a belt, right will have an elk tooth dress maybe also belted. realistically i will probably simplify the beadwork designs on the moccasins but that is going to be one of the last steps, i still have more base color to lay down. this drum is inspired by lakota no faced dolls, particularly those by diane tells his name
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mybeingthere · 1 year ago
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Dana Claxton, Headdress, 2018-2019.
In her series "Headdress", Dana Claxton continues to extol indigenous cultural abundance. The personal collections of five womxn are featured: Jeneen’s collection of beadwork spans three generations from Old Crow Yukon, with designs that are specific to the Vuntut Gwich’in First Nation; Connie, matriarch of beadwork, adorns her own hand beaded pieces; Shadae mixes it up with hip-hop baseball caps, a Coast Salish woven cedar hat, and her husband’s pow wow/peyote fans; Dee and Dana wear pieces of the same inter-tribal collection made by beaders from the four directions. In these portraits, the beadworks cover and espouse the womxn’s silhouettes, becoming more than just objects: the beadworks are cultural belongings, and the womxn are cultural carriers.
Claxton has repeated the beaded veil motif in some half-dozen backlit transparencies, the most recent in the show being Headdress–Jeneen, a 2018 image of the acclaimed young performance artist Jeneen Frei Njootli. She is portrayed extravagantly draped in some 15 beaded objects from her own collection, including hats, bags, bracelets, necklaces, moccasins, barrettes and a small curtain of coloured beads that covers her eyes and cheeks. Here, the deflection of the viewer’s gaze is immediately understood, so that Frei Njootli is not the object of the portrait but the subject, collaborating with Claxton to maintain control of her image—an image of feminist, cultural and spiritual power. Claxton has spoken about the “transformative” nature of working with Indigenous women—friends and colleagues—in creating the “Headdress” series. She has also remarked on the unsettling impact on the viewer of covering the sitter’s eyes, which are, she said, “a place of spirit.”
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