#large ceramic vases

[whisperinghomes01]

Shop Vases Online: Big Terracotta & Ceramic Vases for Stunning Home Decor

your living room decor with big terracotta and ceramic vases from Whispering Homes. From rustic terracotta to sleek ceramic designs, these vases blend artistry and function to enhance any space. Whether you're creating a boho vibe or modern minimalism, these versatile pieces make a stunning addition. Browse our collection and buy vases online for a decor upgrade you'll love.

[arinewman7]

Large Vase Decorated with Panthers

Galileo Chini

1906-1919

[brothwizard]

A collection of some things I’ve been throwing lately. Been practicing throwing big at the second studio I work at bc they let me use the clay for free there (and also it’s low fire so I get a whole new collection of glazes to experiment with)

[warmlydesign]

https://www.warmlydesign.com/shop/large-ceramic-vase/

[thewidowsledger]

Rumpelstiltskin

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, bad writing, smut, fluff (kinda), top!Natasha, virgin bottom!reader, cunnilingus (r receiving), Natty is an empath demon who gives you reassurance😩

Author's Note: I wrote this in a rush and changed some parts, but I hope this turned out as what you expected sweet potato! 🍠 Request

⧗

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.”

⧗

You were lounging on your couch, your small form a tiny fitting. You absentmindedly swiped your hand across the coffee table, knocking over a potted plant in the process. The ceramic pot shattered on the floor, dirt spilling everywhere as the plant lay broken and lifeless.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the plant was one of Wanda’s favorites. You knew how much she cared for each of her plants, treating them like precious children—well your best friend loved her plants more than you. So you immediately sprang into action, frantically gathering the broken pieces of the plant and trying to scoop up the spilled dirt. You panicked, knocking over a nearby vase in the process, causing it to shatter on the floor as well.

The room was now a mess, with shattered ceramic, spilled dirt, and broken plant parts scattered everywhere. Your panicked attempts to clean up the mess only made it worse, causing you to knock over a lamp and send books tumbling to the floor.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

You let out a heavy sigh as you looked around at the remaining mess. You knew you couldn't afford to leave anything undone, not with Wanda's keen eye for detail. So you started to clean the broken lamps, put the books back in place, but you have no idea how to replace her favorite plant! Her children!

“She’ll know, won’t she?” you shakingly muttered to yourself, running a dirty hand through your disheveled hair. You looked around at the mess, knowing you still have a night ahead of you before Wanda comes back.

You whined softly to yourself as you vacuumed the rug, your imagination running wild with scenarios of Wanda’s anger. “She’s probably going to kill me...or worse, sacrifice me to have her plants back!” you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest. You stopped your tantrum. Suddenly, an idea struck you. You bolted upright on the couch, your eyes wide with realization.

“Sacrifice...summon…” you whispered to yourself. An evil grin spread across your face as you formulated a plan.

You rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out a dusty, ancient tome from the section Wanda had labeled “Cursed Spells & Failed Experiments” you had a vague recollection of them attempting a summoning spell from this book before, with comical results.

You flipped through the brittle pages, your eyes scanning for the summoning incantation. You paused, remembering your previous attempt—Wanda had mispronounced a keyword, causing a burst of colorful smoke and a very confused parrot to appear instead of the demon they intended to summon before you two bursted out laughing.

The spell was there, marked with a crude drawing of a demon and a large X through it. You snorted, remembering how Wanda had insisted that the X meant “extra powerful” rather than “do not attempt.” You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the strange feeling brewing in your stomach, you’re not gonna summon a demon right now, instead an entity that can revitalized Wanda’s plant, some creature of sort.

You laid out the required component; a candle, a small dagger, and what the book vaguely referred to as “essence of the earth.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the incantation, your voice low and gravelly. The ancient words felt foreign on your tongue, but you pressed on, determined to see this through.

“Spiritus sylvarum…”

The very fabric of Wanda's home began to tremble and shake. Pictures rattled on the walls, and the furniture groaned as if the house itself was protesting the unnatural summoning.

“Exumbrae ad me…”

You didn't stop, eager to complete the ritual. Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as you spat out the final words.

“Revigorare plantae et herbae, in nomine terrae matris…”

The darkness in the room seemed to coalesce, growing denser and more intense.

As the final words left your lips, a shockwave of dark energy exploded outward. The refrigerator rattled violently, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. You expected to see an ethereal nature spirit materialize before you. Instead, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with malice and amusement.

The figure solidified, revealing the demon in all her terrifying glory. Her skin was pale as bone, her features sharp and angular. Her auburn hair braided and she was clad in black armor that seemed to absorb the light. Her gaze fell upon you, her expression one of utter disdain.

Her gaze returned to you, her eyes roaming hungrily over your form. Her crimson gaze was like a physical caress, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the length of your legs. Her lips peeled back from his teeth in a predatory grin.

She is hungry.

Her gaze never left yours as she crossed her arms over her chest, affecting an air of nonchalance despite the hunger burning within her.

“Why am I being summoned upon, princess?”

You backed away involuntarily, your breath hitching in your throat. Her presence was overwhelming, her power pressing against you like a physical weight. You stammered, struggling to find your voice.

“I-I... I summoned you because... because…”

Your words tumbled out in a rushed, panicked mess.

“Ididntsummonademon!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged, your voice thick with desperation. You weren't sure if you were more afraid of her terrifying presence or Wanda's wrath if she found out you'd tampered with her precious plants.

“Why am I being summoned upon?” She repeated again, much firmer and scary this time.

“Pleasefixmyfriendsplant!”

She watched you with a cruel smirk, clearly enjoying your distress. She took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Aww, is the little mortal upset about a silly plant?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Her laughter echoed through the room, cold and mirthless. “You expect me, a mighty demon, to fix a mere plant?” she threw her head back, laughing harder at the absurdity of it all.

“Stupid, stupid humans,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Risking their lives for something so trivial.” She reached out, her long, pale fingers caressing your cheek, tracing the path of your tears.

“How adorable.”

Her laughter subsided, her gaze once again turning hungry as she took in your terrified state. Your fear was intoxicating, feeding her hunger and satisfying her more than any pleas for help ever could.

“Oh, princess, you don't know how much your fear pleases me,” she purred.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You know what else would please me?” She whispered, her voice a dark, seductive purr. “If you'd make a bargain with me. Anything, in exchange for fixing that pitiful plant.”

Her eyes glinted with eager anticipation as you nodded dumbly, your fear clouding your judgment. “Excellent,” she hissed, her voice barely containing her glee. “A contract, at last! I've been so hungry for one.”

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.” She paused, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She licked her lips, barely concealing her excitement as you nodded eagerly, surrendering yourself to the contract without a second thought. Your desperate obedience only fueled her hunger.

“Now let me see the thing that's worth risking your soul for.”

You turned around, pointing a shaking finger at the pathetic plant sitting on the table. Its once-vibrant leaves were now shriveled and brown, the pot cracked, and the soil dry and lifeless.

“Magical, but finicky little things, aren't they?” she observed, circling the withered plant like a predator. “Out of the soil for too long, and they'll perish in an instant.”

In a blink of an eye, the plant burst back to life, its vibrant green leaves unfurling as if they'd never wilted. She sneered, satisfied with her handiwork. She snapped her fingers, and Wanda's living room indeed, her entire house—was restored to pristine condition.

“There,” You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape. “And I've done more than you asked of me,” she purred, stepping closer. “I expect the same eagerness from you, princess.” Her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face up.

Your hand flew immediately to your neck, fumbling with the delicate chain until you pulled out an old, intricately carved locket. Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched it to your chest. “This... this is from my grandmother. She gave it to me before she passed away because it will protect me.”

Her green orb eyes narrowed as she listened, a flicker of interest sparking in their depths. She stepped closer, looming over you. “Your grandmother's necklace, you say? How... sentimental.” Her voice was a low purr, tinged with dark amusement.

The demon’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. She saw the pain and longing in your eyes, the struggle between your attachment to the heirloom and your desperate desire to have your friend’s plants restored.

“And how was this trinket supposed to protect you?” her voice was gentler, curious. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“My noo—my grandmother was a wise woman,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “She told me that as long as I wore it, I'd always have her love with me. That it would shield me from darkness.” You looked up at her, tears spilling down your cheeks.

She listened intently, studying your face as you spoke. A flicker of something almost like sympathy crossed her features before being quickly masked. She turned the delicate necklace over in her hands, examining it closely.

“Your noona... she’s found peace, princess. A paradise beyond the reach of this world's sorrows.”

You stared at her, shocked. Your jaw hung open, and your eyes widened. You had grown accustomed to her cold indifference and mockery. But this... this was something else entirely. A demon, an ice-cold demon, was comforting you?

She uncurled her fist, revealing the unscathed necklace. To your surprise, she stepped closer, her chilling presence enveloping you. Gently, she lifted the necklace, her fingers brushing against your skin as she secured it around your neck once more. She lingered for just a moment, her hot breath ghosting over your skin as she fastened the clasp with a soft click.

“There,” she said, her voice back to its usual detached tone. “Now, keep that... memento of your grandmother's love. I want something else in return.” Her gaze sharpened, refocusing on you. “Something... that you possess,” she finished, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion.

“A promise, perhaps. Or maybe a secret." She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I... I'm... I'm still pure,” you stammered, your cheeks flaming red as you confessed. It was the truth and a secret that not even your best friend knows.

Her eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across her face before her expression returned to its usual unreadable mask. “Interesting,” she murmured, leaning even closer. “So, all this time, you've been... untouched.”

She reached out, her cold fingers gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze once more. “And why is that, little one? Why have you kept yourself...pure?” her voice was barely a whisper, her breath chill against your lips. “Is it because…you're waiting for someone special?” She finished, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Or perhaps…” her other hand came up to rest on your waist, her touch searing even through your clothes. “...you simply haven't found anyone worthy of claiming your innocence yet?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You felt like she was peeling back layers of your soul, exposing your deepest fears and desires. Her hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you found yourself leaning into her touch without even realizing it. “Tell me, little one, have you ever toyed with your own innocence? Caressed your own flesh? Discover the secrets of your own body?” Her words were like velvet-covered steel, coercive and alluring, drawing out the truth you'd never spoken aloud before.

You turned your face away from her but her green orbs seemed to glow brighter. She leaned in closer, her gaze boring into yours, and suddenly, you felt a strange, invasive pressure against your mind. She was looking into your thoughts, seeing the truth laid bare.

She saw...everything.

She saw the night you’d snuck into your room, fingers trembling as you’d reached under your shirt to touch your small, untouched breasts. He saw your frustrated attempts to relieve the ache between your legs, your fingers fumbling and ineffective as you’d struggled to find any sort of release.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk as she withdrew from your mind, leaving you feeling violated and exposed. She brought her hand up to your face, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you poor, frustrated little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“All that fire, all that need, and nowhere for it to go. You’d touch yourself, so curious, so eager to learn... but your inexperienced fingers could never quite bring you the relief you craved, could they?”

Your reaction was immediate and visceral. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your heart skipped a beat as she spoke about your deepest secret.

“I will take your secret…and so is your purity.”

Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam as she sensed your hesitation and the war raging within you—the desire to submit to her dark temptations battling against your ingrained purity. She pressed her advantage, her hand sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt.

Shame and disgust at allowing a demon such intimate access warred with the undeniable pleasure of her touch. You felt pathetic, weak, as if you were betraying everything you stood for.

You shivered at the touch, your breath growing shallow as the cool air hit your bare chest. She leaned down and whispered, “No one will ever care for you like I will, my precious little human.”

Her eyes gleamed with dark triumph as she finished unbuttoning your shirt. She pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “That's right, my sweet. You're mine now, bound to me by contract until the day you die.”

“What a delectable prize you are.” She traced patterns on your chest, her fingers dipping down to your belly, then lower, to the tie of your pants.

With a sudden, brutal move, she pushed your legs apart and shoved you back onto the couch, pinning your shoulders to the cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, she was kneeling between your spread bare thighs, her face mere inches from your dripping pussy.

“Look at you,” she hissed, “So open, so ready. You may have sold your soul, but your body was made for me.”

She lowered her head, her cold tongue flicking out to lap at your heated flesh. You gasped, your hips bucking forward, only to be held down by her strong hands.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as you gripped them tightly, torn between the urge to push her away and the insidious pull to spread wider and invite more of her touch. You had, after all, sold your soul to her, hadn't you?

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as her cool, silken demon tongue delved into your wet folds. She licked up your juices, then pushed the tip of her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it as she sucked hard on your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as she ate you out with a fervor that left you breathless. The sensation of her cold, demonic tongue inside you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you found yourself pushing back against it, desperate for more.

“Oh God!”

“Even God won't help you right now princess…”

Your back arched, your body tension as an overwhelming wave of sensation crashed over you. You screamed, your voice hoarse with passion, as you convulsed against her mouth. She drank you down, her hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place as she continued to lap at your over-sensitive flesh.

She crawled up your body, she kissed and licked her way up your body, she left a trail of dark marks - hickeys and bite marks that would serve as her claim on you. She suckled at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your lower belly, the undersides of your breasts.

As she marked you, the dark bruises and hickeys seemed to glow with a faint, eerie light. The marks pulsed softly, as if infused with demonic energy. She claimed you as hers, marking you in a way that would be visible to all, a testament to her ownership.

“Mine.”

She slipped off you, her eyes never leaving yours. “I want you ready for me, always,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “When I come around, hungry...I expect you to be prepared. Understand?” She leaned down, her voice a silken growl against your ear.

“What's your name?” you asked, still weak from the pleasure.

“You’ll never know,” she said, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness.

In a blink of an eye she vanished, leaving behind an icy chill and an empty room. One moment she was there, her presence overwhelming, the next—nothing. No trace she'd ever been there, except for the glowing marks of ownership on your body.

You quickly gathered your scattered clothes, dressing hurriedly as you dashed out of the room. The cool air against your skin did little to soothe the heat that still coursed through your veins. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

Kneeling before the ancient book you had used for the ritual, you frantically flipped through the yellowed pages, your hands shaking. You scanned the text, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I have to break the contract…” you muttered, tears forming in your eyes as it darted back and forth, desperately searching for an answer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read the words, the implications washing over you.

“The contract can only be severed by a single path, when the summoner grasps the true name of the evil being they've bound, and utters it forthwith.”

“You’ll never know.”

⧗

Author's Note: I hope it makes sense why Natasha's name was not mentioned one bit in this fic...if not, here's an explanation.

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek VI?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing? 

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone. 

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you. 

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove. 

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny man training beside a satyr and a pegasus. 

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god. 

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented. 

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations! 

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to. 

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!” 

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike. 

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location. 

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating–– 

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help. 

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!” 

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist. 

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved. 

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––” 

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning. 

However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company. 

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull. 

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.” 

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!” 

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.” 

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful. 

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.” 

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done. 

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.” 

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?” 

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when Thalia runs out of jokes to tell.” 

Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus? 

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.” 

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate it || Young!Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"I sit and watch you reading with your... head low"

Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with. Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), social isolation, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I was listening to Evermore after watching tbosas and Tolerate It was just SCREAMING Snow vibes. I was fidgeting with the gold charm of my pearl necklace while anxiously looking over at my husband whose nose was too deep into a book to seem to care about me. I dropped my gaze from him to scan across the table and room. Our large dining room was red with gold accent pieces I had spent the morning dusting decorating the walls. We both sat at opposite ends of the long table, ever too long to just seat two people but it seemed the man couldn't do anything at home if he was within five feet of me. A bouquet of roses I placed in a ceramic vase sat between us on the table. He loved roses, he always did, so I placed them there to brighten his day and maybe even spark up conversation between us. I polished the plates we ate on delicately and even spent the afternoon painting designs onto the back of them. I had done all this in hopes I'd receive some sort of compliment from him but alas, there was none. I sat back and reminisced on the days of our love before it was like this. Truly, when I had first married Coriolanus I had felt like my life had started a new chapter. We dated in the spring and summer time of the year after we graduated from the academy. He was top of the class and while I never matched him in intelligence he had seemingly randomly taken a liking to me. We were acquaintances at most before that and then he started talking to me any chance he could get. I would gush to my friends about his charming smile and posture and they would warn me of the rumors that went around about him. They would tell me to never get to close to him as all those who got did would end up disgraced, missing, or dead. In some masochistic way, I truly felt enthralled by his magnetic aura, danger, and the mystery that surrounded him. His bright red coat was as red as the flags that man was but the danger of it all excited me. He wasn't the nicest man out there but when he was nice to me, I felt unique. I was the exception to his coldness.

We'd go out on dates and he would shower me with sweet nothings. He would tell me how I was the light that lit up the darkness of his life. He said my beauty could turn a man to stone. I will never forget the way he kissed me on the busiest street in the capital under the dancing streetlights and how I felt like time had stopped in that moment. The way he stroked the side of my face so delicately and told me I was the only one who had ever made him feel so alive. I was holding onto every breath that man had exhaled hoping he'd inhale me further into his life. We'd spend days together and call at night. I didn't notice it at the time but in retrospect it was tactical. I spent every moment of my waking days with him and soon my life started to be built around him. Every phone call from a friend I received that spoke about him in any negative way made me push them away and out of my life even further. He was the only one I talked to. He is my world. We were two seeds that had gotten dropped into the same pot and were growing into each other.

In the fall, I fell for him harder than I ever had before. It came to a height when we were walking through a park and watched as the changing leaves fell from the trees. He held my hand in his and he held me so tight as if he was afraid I'd float away and leave him. I would never of course, my life would bend to his will. My head rested against his arm like the red coat he always wore. He'd recount to me stories of his life that would make me laugh and smile. His strikingly blonde hair blew in the wind softly and I noticed every detail of how his icy blue eyes would crinkle when he'd smile at me. He was like a beautiful painting whose artist was unknown. I remember thinking that all I would ever want to be in this life is as significant to him as he is to me. I remember the earth shattering halt my heart felt when he turned to me and dropped down to one knee and proposed. A smirk plastered his face when I said yes. He stood back up and pulled me in by the waist. One hand on my chin and the other on my lower back. The feeling of his warm, soft lips on mine and the feeling of his hair tangled between my fingers. I remember the ecstasy of the moment and the feeling that my friends were wrong, the world was wrong, no one knew Coriolanus like I knew him. He wasn't a cold, calculated, and constantly plotting man, he was just misunderstood. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered in my ear that he would live a thousand life times if it meant he got to love me in the next. I remembered everything.

That was the first night we spent together. He snuck me into his house and we giggled in his bedroom when he shut the door. We told each other secrets and moved the furniture so we could dance. My head was placed onto his chest and we swayed to the sound of the music playing from his grandmothers record player. We shared moments of passion in his bed, fell asleep in each others arms, and woke up tangled in bed sheets. I remember thinking he was truly mine.

We married shortly after in the beginning of December. The ceremony was lavish and beautiful. I remember the way his fingers tucked my hair behind my ear. A single tear fell from his eyes and he leaned in and kissed me. He must've been so taken aback from my beauty as I was with his. Only one of my friends attended the wedding but I was too happy that I was marrying the man of my dreams to care. The first weeks of our married life were wondrous. He had risen to power and we had moved into the absolute gargantuan mansion we live in today. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off me and I was the diamond of his eyes. He loved to show me off for the cameras and crowds. Then one day, winter came and roses don't survive.

It started off small. He didn't want to talk or cuddle in bed at night anymore. I assumed he was just tired from working so hard. Then he stopped complimenting my outfits or hair, trading them with passive aggressive comments and ways I could improve myself for him. He no longer wanted to talk at dinner. We stopped speaking at some point. He wouldn't want to hear my voice unless it was to service him. In public, he still was my adoring husband but in private, I felt like I was living with a stranger. At night, I can hear him whispering sweet nothings to the air and humming melodies and I can only hope he's dreaming about me.

These days, I haven't been sleeping, I've been trying to listen in and see if I can make out the words he is saying in his sleep but I haven't been able to make out any other words than lines about trees. While he is having his meetings all day, I am constantly doing new diets, trying new makeup, new hair, decorating the house differently, leaving loving notes on his desk, anything to try and earn a compliment from him. Even if a compliment is too much, I am begging for a word from that man. I love him. I still love him. I don't believe it is possible for me to stop loving him. I can't dare to think of loving any one else. He is so much wiser, and smarter, and more beautiful than I am and I find myself becoming the moon to his earth. I spin around him, pulled in by his orbit except, I'm not his moon. I'm just a star in his sky that is begging to be his sun. I just want a footnote in the story of his life. Even an annotation on a page of his story will be enough for me.

The sound of him placing his heavy book onto the table pulled me out of my trance and my eyes met his blue ones once more. Instantly, I am struck frozen. His eyes had such a way of pulling you in. I looked down at his lips as they pressed a small smirk and his eyes squinted a little while he picked up his fork from the table and looked at me. He examined my appearance and I sat up straighter. The thick tension in the air put me on edge. Finally, his lips parted and he spoke.

"Is that a new hair color?" he asked, keeping his eyes laser focused on me.

"It is... d- do you like it?" He looked me over again and leaned back in his chair contemplating what to say next. Then, shortly, sweetly, and sharply, he muttered the word,

"Tolerable"

~

PART TWO PART THREE

[arthistoryanimalia]

#Baturday :

Edmond Lachenal (France, 1855-1930)

Vases in the Form of Lanterns, c.1885

Glazed earthenware, Hand painted earthenware

Now on display at Philadelphia Museum of Art “Firing the Imagination: Japanese Intluence on French Ceramics, 1860-1910”

“In 1870, at age 15, Edmond Lachenal apprenticed himself to the renowned ceramist Théodore Deck. At the Deck studio in Paris, Lachenal learned both production techniques and the non-Western styles and ornamental traditions which Deck was beginning to incorporate in his work. Lachenal brought these approaches with him when he established his own workshop in 1883. There he produced small and large Japanese-inspired plaques, vases, and sculptural objects.

Shaped like Japanese paper lantern[s], th[ese] vase[s] [are] decorated with two sculptural brown bats. Lachenal may have been influenced by the work of the Japanese potter Miyagawa Kōzan (1842–1916), whose prize-winning ceramics were displayed at the Paris Universal Expositions of 1878 and 1889. Kōzan was celebrated for his decorative technique taka-ukibori (sculptural relief), in which he decorated the surfaces of his wares with realistic three-dimensional high reliefs and sculptures, such as a crab climbing on the edge of a bowl.”

[billielolly]

Sims 3 Build - Relaxation Retreat

A vibrant family home full of opportunities for fun and relaxation, with plenty of space for a budding gardener. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, on a 30x40 lot.

Watch the speed build: https://youtu.be/-7bnRL8bAsA

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Exchange:

Expansion packs:

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Store content:

Stones Throw Greenhouse - Greenhouse Window, Greenhouse Roof Center

Custom content:

heaven - Neutral Slate Roof with White Trim

missyzim - Neoclassic Build Set (Tall Wide 2x1, Tall Wide 1 Tile, Counter High 1 Tile, Tall 1 Tile)

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Angela - Aiden Buildset 3x1 Arch

Martassimsbook - MyCupOfCC Hot Tub

Onyxium - Jena Bathroom Accessories (Reed Diffuser, Soap Dispenser, Toilet Brush, Tooth Brushes)

Mutske - Toiletroom Aria Toilet Paperholder

Gosik - Kobe Bathroom Towels 2

Martassimsbook - cmdesigns Anemone Bathroom Set Candle

Martassimsbook - Ars-botanica Cup of Pansies

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild Dahlia and Delpinium Vases

Mutske - Plant Palm Large

sim_man123 - Emerson Ficus Tree

Martassimsbook - novvvas Planties pt3 (Ficus Lyrata V1, Ficus Elastica, Monstera Deliciosa)

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild My Home Set (Hanging Pothos Plant)

ATS3 - Kitchen Herbs (Basil)

ArtVitalex - Mayorka Ceiling Spot Lamp

johziii - Irene Lamp

NynaeveDesign - Lyne Curtains (Curtains 1x1 Left, Curtains 1x1 Right, Curtains 2x1, Curtains 3x1, Rod)

ArtVitalex - Kalkgrund Mirror

Onyxium - Gibsonton Bed

Martassimsbook - Lorelea Floral Paintings

ArtVitalex - April Kitchen

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Angela - Michelle Bedroom Mirror

ArtVitalex - Hampton Dining Chair

sweetdevil - More Planters (Prickly Planter)

sweetdevil - More Planters Part 3 (Fancy Box Planter)

Wandering Sims - Wildflower Mix Pattern 4

missyzim - French Country Paintings (Country Floral Painting, French Country Paintings 3, Provencial Painting)

Mutske - Liatorp Palm in Basket

Angela - Simspiration Issue 01 Watering Can

ArtVitalex - Upland Bathroom Accessories (Toilet Brush, Soap Dispenser, Toothbrush and Paste)

Twinsimming - Single Serve Hammock

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ArtVitalex - Rowlett Hallway Extra (Key Bowl, Umbrella Holder)

Julietsimscc - Dark Landscapes Artwork

ArtVitalex - Doyle Pen Holder

Lulu265 - Bedford Bedroom Wall Art

deeiutza - Cottage Reading Corner Books

Martassimsbook - Pinkboxdesign Kitchen Clutter Set Dishsoap

Martassimsbook - Syboulette Millennial Kitchen Fruit Basket

ATS3 - Ceramic Canisters

Dhalsims - EA Ceiling Smoke Alarm

ATS3 - Wall Rack IKEA Fintorp-like

ATS3 - Washing-up Wooden Dish Rack

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild 500 Patrons Gifts Notebooks

Kerrigan House Designs - Belle Epoque Vanity

Martassimsbook - novvvas Mid Century Modern Living Room Books 2

QoAct - Lina Cushion II

sim_man123 - Celea Lily Vase

ATS3 - School Notebooks

ATS3 - Parisian Bistro Chair 4

bioniczombie - Tom Berry Knife Block

Martassimsbook - Chicklet Modern Lenai Patio (Chair, Box Deco)

Martassimsbook - Marvell Breeze Collection Plant

PralineSims - Contemporary Carpet 22

PralineSims - Big Flokati III

PralineSims - Classic Carpet 3

(Optional) zoe22 - Flower Arranging Mod (Table Used)

[literary-motif]

In Pieces

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You break the vase.

Warnings: panic attack

You were dusting the hallway. 

Isaac was right, the first week had been the most exhausting. Now that you were slowly growing familiar with the house, and had given everything a thorough cleaning already, it was much easier to go about your day. 

The most annoying thing of all was the dust. 

It was to be expected in a home, you knew. Still, the little flocks of gray had no business reappearing every few days on the ancient mahogany furniture, staining the air with their presence and making you sneeze continuously. 

If there was a little inconvenience that tired you out immensely, it was dust.

Still, you felt both ridiculous and incredibly classy as you moved the feather duster over the edge of the large bookshelf. When Isaac presented you with the cleaning utensils, you noticed the antiquity immediately. You had been excited to try it, as stupid as wanting to try out a duster might sound. 

You were stuck cleaning this place every day, including ridding every surface of the dust that would not stop accumulating. You might as well have a little fun with it. 

“James!” you said in imitation of Miss Sophie. “I think we’ll have white wine with the fish, James.” 

Why was that particular line from Dinner for One in your head? You could not say. It had been years since you’d seen the comedy sketch, but something about having the duster in your hand, comfortable in the attire Isaac had picked out, brought out a playful side of you that had been buried for so long. 

“Same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?” 

You might not have been a butler, but a housekeeper was not so far off. Maybe there would even be a little scene between him and you. He did not seem the type to have many acquaintances — whether he had outlived them or otherwise. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you dusted the top shelf. 

“Same procedure as every year, Ja—”

You stepped back, colliding with something against your lower back. The image of the green vase flashed before your eyes. The pillar wobbled. 

Your eyes widened. You spun around in the split second it took for the pillar to tilt. Holding the marble in your shaking hands, you watched with a racing heart as the vase slipped. Horrified, you saw the ceramic tumbled to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

The sound echoed through the silent house, ringing in your ears long after the last shards had stopped moving. 

What had you done?

You stood frozen, staring down at the broken ceramic at your feet. 

What had you done?

“Pickle?” you heard Isaac call, his deep voice filling the hallway and making you want to crawl into a hole and hide. 

It had not taken long to realize how attached Isaac was to everything in the house. He did not want a single thing out of place, as if trying to freeze time in keeping the objects as static as possible. You figured you were not allowed into the study because it was his father’s, if not his grandfather’s. How many people had he lost? How large was the gap he tried to bridge in keeping the house as it was — as if the ghosts of the people he had buried would show up one day, and he was ready to profess his love for them in showing them how little had changed from when they had last seen it. 

As if trying to convince himself they had not truly left him. 

Your presence was disturbance enough, you figured. You had not dared to shift the toaster in the kitchen — afraid that he’d notice, afraid that he’d change his mind about wanting you in his space — and now you had destroyed his property.

What if this vase meant much to him? What if it was a priceless relic he had received as a gift from one of his clients after a job extraordinarily done? What if it was a family relic? 

What if it was his mother’s favorite vase?

The footsteps came closer, but you did not hear Isaac’s concerned call of your name over the rushing of blood in your ears. 

You dropped to your knees, hands hovering above the pieces. The pit in your stomach left you nauseous. The footsteps coming closer and closer made you want to dissolve into nothingness. You did not know what to do, uselessly staring at the proof of your incompetence with your hands frozen in mid-air. 

Pathetic. He would send you away for this. He would make you pay for this. 

Isaac would hate you for this. 

Polished dress shoes appeared in your vision, snapping you out of your downward spiral. You looked up at Isaac, his image blurry from the tears in your eyes. “Isaac,” you whispered, hands beginning to shake as your bottom lip wobbled. “I— it was an accident, I swear.”

“Hey, look at me.” His voice sounded gentle — that could not be. His tone was soft, and you saw the outline of his hand hesitatingly reaching out to you before he touched your shoulder. At first, only his fingertips made contact, gouging your reaction to his touch. When you did not pull back, he slowly let his whole hand follow, until his palm rested against your chest fully, feeling the heart racing in your chest. 

“It was an accident,” you repeated, hands balling into fists. 

As if knowing your intention, Isaac took both your hands in his, guiding them to rest against his chest before you could reach out toward the broken pieces on the floor. 

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to, I swear. It was an accident, Isaac. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please,” you sobbed, tears finally rolling down your cheeks as the feeling of utter helplessness overwhelmed you. “I’ll replace it— I— I’ll piece it back together, I promise. I’m sorry. Please don’t send me away!”

You were the happiest you’d ever been here. It was a comfortable life, one you never thought you would have. Knowing that you could live here, watch after the house, and do a little cooking for protection and the certainty to never need to look over your shoulder again made your heart burst with gratefulness. Isaac had peeled you from the brink of death, and you could not believe you messed up your second chance at life because you had been careless, allowing your happiness to steer you amiss. 

“I’m sorry, please,” you croaked, feeling your chest burn. The lump in your throat was painful, your tears felt suffocating, and the all-devouring fear of waiting for Isaac to break his silence — waiting for his anger, waiting for his disappointment, waiting for his dismissal — made you feel like you were drowning. 

In your panic, you did not realize he had been speaking this whole time. 

“—ickle, it’s alright. I need you to breathe with me now, can you do that? Hey, listen to me. Try to focus on my voice. Everything is alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Hey, that’s it” — he squeezed your hand when he noticed you trying to mirror the deep breaths he was taking, keeping his voice soothingly calm — “just like that. Perfect. Think you can hold it a little longer this time? Excellent, my dear. Focus on this now, just focus on me.”

You felt your breathing slowing, the feeling of sinking into the ground receding as you held onto Isaac tightly, allowing his words to guide you through your panic. You could not say when, but sometime during your panic attack, Isaac pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you securely. You had rested your head against his shoulder, melting into the embrace and letting your eyes flutter shut as you cleared your mind of every thought, concentrating only on the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

You had not seen his gaze soften as you leaned your head against him, but you felt his sigh of relief when your breathing finally evened out, the tears long since dried on your face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, keeping his voice low. 

His words seemed to break the spell, and you suddenly realized you were still caught in his embrace. You cleared your throat, wiping the tears from your eyes before you drew away from him, putting a little more space between you.

Your gaze immediately fell to the vase shattered on the floor, the familiar feeling of guilt and fear resurfacing again. 

“Don’t mind that,” Isaac said, using his forefinger to tilt your face upwards for your eyes to meet his. “My mother hated that vase anyway. How are you feeling?”

“Really?” you asked incredulously, perking up. “I— Did I not break something valuable?”

Isaac smiled. “No, you did not. She had meant to get rid of that vase for ages, but never got around to it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, a crushing weight lifting off your shoulders.

Isaac continued. “But even if you had broken something important, that would not mean I would throw you out. You work for me now, you are mine, in a way. It was an accident, and I would recognize it as an unintentional act. I won’t abandon you, Pickle. Not over something as fickle as a vase, not over my grandfather’s favorite copy of Pride and Prejudice. Never. You have my word.”

“Oh,” you breathed, a little stunned at his confession. “Thank you, for your trust and for— for calming me down.”

“Anytime,” he replied, holding a hand out to help you off the ground. “You can finish dusting tomorrow, I would rather you rest. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll take care of it.” 

You nodded, begrudgingly agreeing. Isaac’s hand on your wrist stopped you as you stepped towards the little closet on the other end of the hallway, meaning to retrieve a broom and clean up the mess. 

“Rest,” he said, the characteristic sternness returning to his voice. “I’ll deal with this.” You hesitated, opening your mouth to argue. “Don’t make me tell you again, Pickle.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, giving him another moment to change his mind before walking up the stairs toward your bedroom. Truthfully, you were tired. The crash of adrenaline had left you exhausted. 

Isaac watched you walking away, his gaze sinking to what had once been his mother’s favorite vase. He would never tell you that. 

[three-realms-archive]

Checking In

“Remind me again, why Serenity Manor wasn’t an option…”

You ask this question for the fifth time that day, stumbling into Beel. The sixth-born Avatar of Gluttony motions for you to hand over the three luggage bags you were currently attempting to lug into the lobby of an extremely grand hotel. You watch, catching your breath, as Beel lifts the bags with much more ease; walking calmly over to the nearest human bellboy. You can’t help but find him so adorable, oblivious to the bellboy’s nervous surprise at the demon’s superhuman strength. The bellboy’s voice is, unluckily, the only sound that isn’t coming from your boisterous, troublemaking family.

You continue making your case to Lucifer as you turn away from Leviathan and Belphegor – who are stood behind you, enamoured with a fishtank built into the wall and some plush, velvet-lined sofas; respectively.

“Lucifer,” you start. “You know I love you guys… ”

Lucifer is at the reception desk and looking disapprovingly at Mammon and Asmodeus, who are ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ah-ing’ at a fancy-looking vase, at the same time as he rifles through his waist bag for a booking he insisted on printing. Even though it was so much easier to just show the online confirmation.

“… But we’re, like, historically prone to making a scene.”

As if on cue, the sound of pottery shattering echoes throughout the hotel lobby… followed by stammering from Mammon and a high-pitched squeal from Asmo. The bellboy shrieks and scurries away with the trolley of your luggage as soon as Beel takes his eyes off him - looking instead at his older brothers disapprovingly. Shaking his head, Beel jogs over to where they’re standing and immediately crouches down to tidy the shattered, ceramic hazard off the floor. He has the sweetest of intentions - declaring simply that he’ll take care of the broken vase shards so no one cuts themselves on them - but you have your doubts about his methods when you hear the sound of crunching and see porcelain pieces sticking out of his mouth. Mammon and Asmo not-so-subtlely stand over their younger brother, hiding him from view.

The hotel receptionist gives Lucifer a look. With a wordless sigh, Lucifer hands over his credit card to pay for the damages.

“I had hoped,” the eldest brother strains that word, the two of you watching a very large price appear across the till screen, “that your presence here would at least be enough to tone down their childishness. I see now that wish was just folly.”

Next to him is Satan, who eyes the reading material on the coffee table next to the sofa Belphie had deemed comfy enough to nap on. The Avatar of Wrath huffs. “Folly isn’t exactly new with you, Lucifer. But you still haven’t answered MC’s question: why aren’t we at Serenity Manor?”

“Unfortunately, this time, I don’t have a clear answer, myself.” Lucifer explains. Satan lets out a snort, which the eldest ignores. “Diavolo requested specifically that we stay at a hotel. Something about… ‘human, brother-ly bonding traditions’. Those were the words.”

At this point, Belphie has begun to chew on one of the sofa’s pillows in his sleep, feathers all over his face. The receptionist - hand outstretched towards Lucifer with the intent to hand back the credit card - freezes at the sight. The Avatar of Pride sighs again, motioning to the receptionist to just charge damages to the card.

MC suddenly paled.

“… Ah.” They stated tentatively. The winced a little under the powerful, combined gaze of Satan and Lucifer. “Then this… may have been… my fault…?”

“Explain.” Lucifer frowned.

“Well, Prince Diavolo and I had tea about a week ago. He asked about human families after I said that the Manor and House of Lamentation were a lot bigger than normal human houses and I may… have mentioned…”

MC’s voice got quieter.

“That brothers sometimes… share a room.”

Lucifer and Satan froze.

“So. We’re a social experiment for His Highness, then. Wonderful.” Satan concludes bitterly, ignoring a brief glare from Lucifer. Though, it’s not as if the eldest wasn’t sharing some of the sentiment himself, now digging through his waist bag of Beel’s food receipts and strangers’ phone numbers (given to Asmo) with extreme fury. He mumbles bitterly under his breath about how ”Lord Diavolo hadn’t mentioned sharing rooms”.

Satan tries to look to the magazine he had seen earlier for something to salvage the day…

… But Levi had gotten to it first. Now it has a few pages torn out. Manga-style doodles are on each page, including Henry and the Lord of Shadows holding hands and eating from the same ice cream in crudely scribbled boxer shorts - right out of a beach episode.

Satan looks at you. You look at the receptionist. The receptionist looks at Lucifer.

Lucifer sighs for what will certainly not be the last time today.

“Just… charge whatever you require to that card.”

(i wanted to imagine these guys on a family vacation, causing a scene in the human realm. i like the idea of mc just saying things and diavolo is just like ‘yes i like this i shall now make my subjects do it and they shall find it fun’.)

[janaem]

clay

just a reminder that the “___” is either your name or your crush’s name depending on the context

   [4:45 pm]

your crush decided to take you to your first ever private ceramics class. it was a beautiful autumn day and you both wore cozy outfits for comfort purposes. 

you two were taught how to make a small and plump vase--well you were being taught--your crush, on the other hand, had months of experience with pottery making. you couldn’t help but perceive in envy, while being on your third attempt of centering the fresh ball of clay that was crisp in your dampened hands.

you added water, pressed your elbows as tightly to you body as you could, biting your lip so hard it was sure to bleed in any moment, and hugged your finger as tightly around the mound as possible. unfortunately for you, the clay spun off and flew smack dab in the middle of your apron, your elbows splashed lightly with clay spots.

although you seemed calm on the outside, you couldn’t help but bite your tongue in frustration, your blood boiling throughout your body as you tore the mess from your apron.

you abruptly stood up about to put the wet heap of clay in the used clay bin, until you felt your crush’s hand tap you lightly. 

you immediately averted your eyes to him, and to the two freshly sculpted clay vases that sat flawlessly on his platter. was he fucking serious right now?  

his eyes gazed upon your subtly agitated expression. One thing you loved about ___ was how quickly he could read you like a book.

“___, sit down, i’ll get you a fresh one.” he said softly turning off their wheel whilst half struggling to get the mess from your hands. he stood up and walked over to the bin and tossed the old clay in and got some freshly cut clay from a counter by a large window. 

still standing, you couldn’t help but gaze upon his sunkissed figure as worked away with cutting away at the fresh block of clay whilst weighing it on a scale, adding and removing chunks if the weight wasn’t ideal. 

from afar he looked like an angel in the clouds of heaven crafting a new and mysterious creation.

it didn’t take them long before he was headed your way, the rays of sunlight trickling from each window that painted him with beautiful oranges and yellows.

his lightened eyes never left yours as he nodded his head, motioning you to sit. 

you do so, and after a brief moment of silence, you hear another chair scoot behind yours, immediately feeling the warmth of another body against your back.

you opened your mouth to say something, until ___ traces his fingers slowly across your forearm, while his other hand places the clay mound onto your wheel. warmth caresses your inner being, your heart rate increasing gradually once you felt the side of his face graze your ear. 

“just relax and let me guide you.” he reassures softly. 

your body goes limp, as if you were being taken under the care of a guardian angel. something about ___’s voice automatically relaxed you, and you certainly couldn’t say no now.

“press the peddle,” ___ directed, gently pushing your body forwards with his, “remember, lean forward and press your elbows against your torso...”

the wheel started to spin s you hesitantly pressed down on the peddle. both of ___hands were over yours now, the warmth and stability of his arms making you practically melt under their touch. 

you observed quietly as ___ helped mold your hands to center the clay properly, it was like teaching a kid how to ride a bike for the first time, only ___ was guiding you with his gently yet firm hands, directing your palms in whatever position needed. he  frequently reaches over by the jar of water and add it to the clay to avoid stickiness. 

moments later, ___ moves his hands up and gently slides his thumb across yours so that you both were pushing down onto the peak of the clay, which was caving in as it formed a whole. the tingling sensation in your stomach intensified as you felt his thumbs on your own, pushing and pushing further until you nearly reached the bottom of a now bowl shaped piece. how were ___’s fingers so light in such a difficult process?

“you’re doing good, ___, just a few more steps.” he said against your neck and you couldn’t help but sigh as they slide their fingertips up to your wrists reassuringly. his cool minty breath tickling the skin under your ear.

you nod absentmindedly, but you were focused on was the way  ___’s body caged yours, how his arms caged your smaller ones, and the way his hands guided yours with occasional massages from his thumbs. the contact alone instantly made you go feral, but you were sure good at hiding it. 

___’s  voice snaps you out of your sweet and savory trance, “i’m gonna let go now, just work your hands up like a showed you.”

you had no idea what they were talking about but your hands moved on their own. even though your hands felt feel empty without theirs, you could still feel him. 

well, he was still touching you, his hands glided across your arms and down to your waist, giving you a small squeeze, he was still leaned against you mumbling an occasional “mmhm” or a  “just like that”.

your mind was in two places at once, the magic work of your hands on the clay and the feeling of ___’s hands slyly moving up and down your waist as a way to calm you. this truly was a beautiful feeling, and you took in every second of it as his hands also made their way to your center, feeling you heart beat against your ribs. 

“your heart is beating so fast.” he commented with a small chuckle in the end.

“the clay is making me nervous, ___” you lied with small smile spreading across your face.

___ shook his head, “yeah, totally,” he the suddenly removes his hands from your stomach and onto your thighs, giving them a light tap, “stop the wheel.”

you pressed you heel against the elevated peddle, putting the wheel to a complete halt. 

you and ___ starred at the glistening vase before your eyes.

___wraps his arms around you tightly, waves of laughter rippled in between the both of you as you took in this moment of achievement. 

“you did it ___.” he whispered against your ear before planting a kiss on your temple.

[ladadiida]

a little sneak peak of my (angsty) aventurine fic ♡

a large bouquet of freshly picked flowers tied with a single piece of red ribbon sat on your right hip, cradled gently with both of your arms so as to not crush them.

you knew, after all, that the petals of a flower were delicate, fragile enough to fall apart with just a fleeting touch of a fingertip. you moved the bouquet closer to your chest to protect them, even though you were dreadfully aware that in a few days, they would rot and die inside an expensive ceramic vase with hardly enough water to feed themselves.

any onlooker would speculate that a yearning gentleman gave you the flowers in hopes for you to accept his love with the way you held them, like they were yours to keep and yours to treasure; and as your reflection in the mirror stared back at you with tender eyes, you began to feel that it seemed to agree with the thought. the vibrant colors of the bouquet contrasted the plain, washed out gray color of your uniform, but you allowed yourself to pretend that the flowers were for you and someone actually chose them for you with you in their mind.

slightly hesitant at first, you leaned in and moved your face closer to the flowers like a sophisticated maiden who just received a bouquet from a suitor, inhaling their sweet and earthy scent that reminded you of home. it was the same scent you would wake up to every early morning as you prepare to open your flower shop, placing them in their respective vases and pots while you water their sprouting leaves and budding petals, watching them bloom under your love and care.

you closed your eyes, imagining yourself inside your flower shop again. you would drink a cup of warm tea sprinkled with dried jasmine and lavender and arrange flowers together to create bouquets that would swoon the entire cosmos; and then a familiar pair of arms would wrap themselves around your waist, the mystery person placing his chin on top of your shoulder. you will try not to giggle when you feel the golden strands of his hair tickle your neck, and his purple eyes will sparkle with amusement as he began to open his mouth to whisper something in your ear—

"do you think she'll like it?"

your fantasy world crumbled down like crushed petals under your feet the moment you heard his voice. you forced the frivolous flutter of your heart to stop, putting on a neutral expression when you turned around to face him. he was already looking at the bouquet resting on your arms with a satisfied grin, taking off his tinted glasses to get a better look, reminding you yet again that the flowers he buys will never belong to you.

and it was obvious too. you tried to push down your disappointment as you scanned over the little gift you prepared. the bouquet consisted of red camellias (desire) that have the same shade as the streaks of a certain someone's pure white hair, and periwinkles (fondness) to match the color of her eyes. the flowers were screaming somebody else's name, but you dare not say it out loud.

without waiting for your answer, he took the bouquet from you, his gloved hands brushing against your bare ones, and you didn't fail to notice how the little action made your heart jump pathetically. observing the flowers, he hummed in contentment, "ah, of course she will. you are the most talented florist in the galaxy. i mean, look at this."

you blinked slowly, not letting the compliment get to you. you worked with him long enough to know that they were only a part of his facade. "i'm not sure about that. i was planning to get red roses but they were out of stock. i hope red camellias will make up for it."

he suddenly poked at your forehead with a finger, and this time, you failed to hide your surprise at his actions. the tips of your ears reddened, the shade becoming deeper the longer he allowed himself to touch you. he then met your wide eyed gaze with his empty and soulless ones, much different to the version of himself in your daydreams.

"don't fret. i can see you're overthinking. if my...tricks wouldn't work on topaz, i'm sure the flowers will. they always do. women tend to soften after a sweet and heartwarming gesture." he said, chuckling lowly and voice tinted with the schemes he's about to unleash.

the blonde pulled away from you and began to walk away, his touch lingering on the skin of your forehead. you didn't know what prompted you to do so, but you suddenly blurted out his name as his footsteps were beginning to sound far and far away from you like it always does,

"sir aventurine."

aventurine stopped in his tracks, his back continuing to face you. you itched to go after him, to take his hand and cage him in your arms and tell him no, that woman will never see you as i do, and she would never appreciate the flowers, don't go, don't go, don't leave me—

you forced a soft smile even if he couldn't see you at all, and said breathlessly, miserably, and hopelessly, "good luck on negotiating with miss topaz."

[wanderingsimsfinds]

WanderingSims Fave CC - Clutter Pt. 2 List

1 - Art Vitalex - Mid Century Modern Neil Vases (TSR)

2, 16 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Desierto Bedroom (Desenio Poster Vertical V2 & Vases)

3, 48 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 PsychicPeanutKitty January Clutter (Lamp Globe & Books)

4 - Kelly&Co - Scandi Wall Shelf

5 - simstiful - Incipit Console

6 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims Umalas Cermic Jar A-D

7, 57 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas MidCentury Modern Living Room (The Poster Club Square V2 & The Poster Club Horizontal V2)

8 - Onyx - Excelsior Reed Diffuser (TSR)

9 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims Raventons Dunes Set Vase A-B

10 - Onyx - Diego Painting Frame (TSR)

11, 14, 44 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 PsychicPeanutKitty May N3 (Small Vase, Wall Clock, Books)

12 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims Raventons Oken Set Glass Vase A

13 - Art Vitalex - Glen Mirror

15 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims Conversion Set 4 Ceramic & Wood Vase

17 - Kale House - 4t3 MXIMS Menu Afteroom Coat Hanger with Gallery Bag

18-19, 23 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sims-KKB One Room Set 6 (Cupboard, Books V1-V6, Files)

20 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Pinboxdesign Ceduna Set Cupboard

21-22 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Kirsal Set Part 2 (Candle A & B)

24 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Boho Deco Vase 1

25 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims Berawa Set Candle V2

26 - Over-waxedBanister - 4t3 Slox Bojo Shelves

27 - kitty-pixelz - hyschool book sv2

28-29, 33-34 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sundays-sims POP Set (Candle for Box, Candle B, A, D)

30 - Ameriko-Steelie - 4t3 Mechtasims Back To School Textbook

31, 37 - breadcrumbssims3 - Cosy Academia Books 2-3

32 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Kaihana Onyx Set Decorative Box Candle

35 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Kirsal Set Part 3 Candle Tray

36 - Over-waxedBanister - 4t3 MXIMS Soy Candle

38 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Leosims Free September 2023 Content Venus Books

39 - deggdegg - Kanken 1-3

40, 42-43, 45-47 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Rahat Set (Leaning Poster, Candle Box, Candle Closed, Décor, Jewelry Plate, Jewelry Holder)

41 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 KerriganHouseDesigns Ralph Lauren Hurricane Candle

49 - Mutske - Aria Study 6 Books (TSR)

50 - Over-waxedBanister - 4t3 Gleamer Isobel Wall Shelf

51 - Onyx - Gibsonton Pillow Storage (TSR)

52-53 - SimsDeoGloria - 4t3 Pierism Oak House Large Leather Shelf & Narrow Leather Shelf

54-55 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 MintyJinx VHS Set (Player & Player with Items)

56 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 MeinKatz Platform Tray by Muuto

58 - LemyLou - Curtains Eyelet Long, Mid, Short

59 - kriss - Savoy Curtains L&R Sheer & Tieback Versions (TSR)

60 - SimsDeoGloria - 4t3 Pierisim Oak House Part 1 Dining Room (Curtains Large & Low)

[shuugumi]

an! ive been busy with school & this acc is probably dead but i still want to contiune posting fics & drabbles because my mind is too creative & i have a whole bunch of drafts that are semi-complete that are ready to be posted! hope ygs enjoy the ex-husband!gojo series

ex-husband!gojo satoru who arrives at your doorstep with a bouquet of roses and you great him with a polite nod as you lead him into your apartment when kara starts to beam with happiness.

"daddy!" kara screams before jumping up into satoru's arm, crinkling the plastic wrapped around the assorted colored roses. "it isn't wednesday...why are you here?" you ask cautiously, walking and standing at the kitchen island watching the two embrace each other.

"was in the city for some meetings with the higher ups, thought i could come by and hangout with my girls." he says innocently, putting kara down and then the flowers on the kitchen island. you sigh, bending down under the sink to reach for the ceramic vase you and satoru had created together during one of your dates, many years ago.

"we should make another vase, with kara of course." satoru inclines once he sees you start to fill up the vase with water. "that's a good idea, you can take kara when you have her." you say, opening the bouquet of flowers and cutting the ends off before arranging the flowers into a beautiful arrangement.

"but it'll be fun as a family, y'know. want kara to have that family bonding experience we both never had."

he was right. growing up was never easy with distant parents who never wanted you. finding out you were pregnant with kara had every right to make you scared and have thoughts of giving her up. generational trauma was something you were scared of passing down to your daughter. satoru was right in everywhere to include everyone as a family even if you were divorced.

ex-husband!gojo who persuades you into going out as a family and you find yourself sitting across from your ex-husband with little kara sitting next to him in the cozy bistro.

the bistro had it's usual soft, romantic lighting that seemed to mock the awkwardness in the air. you wanted to be happy. happy because your daughter was happy but, it always felt wrong to look like a happily married couple out in public because you weren't married.

“what’re you gonna get suteki?” you ask, watching her pull and play at satoru’s white locks. “i dunno mommy. wan’ share strewberdy milfshake with daddy.” she says, presenting a smile at you as satoru makes kara sit down correctly.

(suteki is kara’s nickname; originally it had been yours given by satoru after seeing how beautiful you were physically and emotionally. a beautiful heart that was passed down to another beautiful heart.)

"we can all share a strawberry milkshake, how about we add some vanilla cake too?" satoru chimes in and kara immediately agrees. daughter like daddy. a major sweet tooth.

the waiter came by and asked if the three had been ready with their order, they placed their order.

time passed and the vanilla cake along with a large strawberry milkshake with extra strawberries on the side presented with three straws in the drink was placed onto the table.

conversations flowed effortlessly as kara blabbed on about her experience in kindergarten and how she's really not the happiest camper about learning english when she moves a grade above. satoru wore his blindfold like usual but, there was never a time where you never could not feel his eyes on you. feeling you get shy when you start to smile and laugh a little too hard when you see kara get annoyed at satoru's antics.

with kara knocked out due to a sugar crash, draped over satoru's shoulder as the three of you walk back to the station. satoru intertwined his fingers with yours and even though it took a little while for you to reciprocate the same action, you held his hand the entire walk back to the station.

"maybe we should try being a couple again...it wouldn't hurt right?" he says, squeezing your hand a few times before you looked up at him. "satoru..." you whisper and he sighs, his lips turned a slight upside down, "why not y/N...look at us right now. it seems so natural."

"i don't want to hurt you...again."

©shuugumi ; do not translate, copy, or plagiarize work

[reddeaddamnation]

Are you still taking requests? If so…some headcanons on Jacob freaking out during his child’s birth…I feel like he would be a completely out of his damn mind and end up doing…well Jacob type of things

♡ Doctor Nightingale took one look at the condition he was in when he brought you into the delivery room and was like "Hell nah you're staying out here."

♡ How is it possible that you, the person who is LITERALLY about to give birth be calmer than the dad who is freaking out as if he is the one who is gonna deliver the baby?

♡ Being stuck outside makes him even more nervous. What the hell is happening in there? How long is it going to take? He hates that he can't watch over you and hold your hand.

♡ But his pacing and loud voice is going to make the midwives nervous too and things could go wrong.

♡ "Jacob either stay still in your chair or stand up and go get some fresh air!" Evie scolded him. The fact that he was bouncing his leg up and down was driving her nuts.

♡ Yeah, he should just get some air.

♡ He was so deep in thought he bumped into an intern who dropped all his notes and books at the door and the wind blew some of them away.

♡ Despite the cursing of the intern, Jacob walked around the perimeter of the hospital, coming back every ten minutes to ask Evie if the baby is here.

♡ He bumped into another impatient father and in his efforts to apologize, he knocked over a large ceramic vase, which shattered into a million pieces.

♡ "Jacob...SIT DOWN AND STAY STILL!"

♡ "Why shouldn't I be in there? I just want to peek. To give some reassurance."

♡ Thousands of what ifs and scenarios that he babbles about and just makes Evie create her own little happy place in her mind away from Jacob

♡ "Sir, please stop talking, this is a hospital." One of the nurses scolded him gently.

♡ "Oh, right...right" Silence "But what about..."

♡ Florence Nightingale brings him his newborn child herself with a wide smile on her face, congratulating him.

♡ Jacob faints in his chair and falls back along with it at the thought of a baby this size coming out of you.

♡ Evie revels in the silence, holding the baby and whispering sweet things to them.