#ineffable spring break

[maevemakt]

HELLOU

The 10inches4happiness Association is here to make an important announcement!

The Ineffable Spring Break is here to cheer your days. Everyone is free to partecipate by writing fics or drawing fanart or whatever you like best.

If you post your works on social media just remember to add the #ineffablespringbreak hashtag so we can follow and repost 💖

But if you don't like to share your works on social media, you'll find the Ineffable Spring Break collection on AO3 (yet to be created, but trust the process)

Starts on April 1st

Now sit back, relax and enjoy your journey.

Take all the time you want, you can pick one favorite prompts or doing all of them, the only purpose is to enjoy your time doing what you prefer!

[ceylonmoon]

in light of my goat dark cacao winning here is my offering to the purecacao fans :)

here, began all my dreams

Pure Vanilla/Dark Cacao | G | 2.2k

Tags: Pre-Canon, Pining, Sickfic-ish, Feelings Realisation

Summary: somewhere along the way, dark cacao realises something has gone terribly wrong in his friendship with pure vanilla.

ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63970171

In an increasingly rare moment of freedom between the two of them, Dark Cacao sets out to Pure Vanilla’s cottage on a journey to knock some common sense into him.

Given his abilities, it was the general consensus that Pure Vanilla would be able to avoid the illnesses that plagued the common folk. After all, it is the most natural and most sensible conclusion to arrive at when beholding his extensive experience. And it was true enough to some degree—but most cookies also could not account for Pure Vanilla’s deceptively vehement mulishness when it came to actually applying those skills to himself, or, oven-forbid, willingly accepting help from others.

It never ceases to amaze him how someone so brilliant, an unanimous magical prodigy even amidst prodigies, can manage to be so foolish. Harsh? Perhaps. Incorrect? Certainly not.

So, when a letter comes from White Lily the night that his battalion was set to return anyhow, he doesn’t hesitate to change his course upon ensuring his soldiers were settled. Would you be so kind as to ensure our dear, endearingly idiotic friend has not dropped dead in his own home, he has not responded to any of our messages in a month, has a certain sway to it, as it turns out.

The weather is brisk on the outskirts of the Biscotti Village; a spring cold lingers in the breeze and tinges the air with an earthy, verdant scent. With every step Dark Cacao takes comes the drip of dew, the soft, longing shape of the clouds for a thunderstorm, a siren song from a distant passerine. He drifts past honeysuckle florets and sugared clovers and rounds the corner where the forest and fog break upon the afternoon sun.

The plains of his homeland are indisputably more frigid than this; and yet, Dark Cacao suppresses a shiver nonetheless.

Dark Cacao arrives at the cottage with little fanfare and lifts his knuckles to the door, before considering the situation. In all technicality, there really was no need to do such a thing, as—

A salient, heavy weight within his pocket cries out yet again to be noticed, acknowledged. And Dark Cacao, for the first time since it has been passed into his possession, indulges the urge.

He fishes out a bronze key from his cloak, an ineffable emotion passing over him as he looks down at it. It is as lustrous as the day he received it, two years ago at Pure Vanilla’s housewarming party. He’d never had precedent to use it before, after all.

The peculiarity persists, as Dark Cacao unlocks Pure Vanilla’s door with suitable mundanity. Scattered slips of parchment and hastily dog-eared books dominated nearly every surface of the cottage that wasn’t taken up with a potted plant, but in a distinctly Pure Vanilla sort of fashion, where Dark Cacao can almost recognise the organisation of it all. In a distinctly Pure Vanilla sort of manner, he finds himself thinking with a startling amount of indulgence, that is as familiar as always. Still though, amidst the pale orchids and twisting vines, there is no Pure Vanilla himself.

Dark Cacao wanders about the first floor for a moment, glancing into open rooms and cracked doors before he turns, catches a glimpse out into the backyard, and heaves a great, heavy sigh.

“What are you doing,“ Dark Cacao says, flat, as he strides out to Pure Vanilla’s crouched form, hovering over his sheep.

Pure Vanilla does not so much as jump as he stands and searches for the source of his voice, smiling as he beckons him forward. Obligingly, Dark Cacao steps closer with purposeful weight placed into his steps. “Dark Cacao!” Pure Vanilla greets as soon as he is near enough, despite how his voice is as brittle as wizened maple leaves. “My friend, it’s been too long! It’s good to hear from you again.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Dark Cacao grumbles, nonetheless vaguely reassured that Pure Vanilla had not, indeed, keeled over and dropped dead in his own backyard. He takes in his appearance, now that he was close enough to properly observe him, and is promptly filled with the urge to sigh once more, even greater and heavier than the last. “You should be resting.” He pauses before elaborating, “Inside. It’s far too cold outside for your condition.”

Pure Vanilla laughs at him. Truly. The audacity. “There’s no need to worry so much! Really, I can hardly even feel it.”

Dark Cacao scoffs, staring at him in his creased, clearly thin sleep robes, and deadpans, “Pure Vanilla, you are shaking.”

“I‘m fine, Dark Cacao,” Pure Vanilla protests between chattering teeth, and swaying like a willow tree.

Dark Cacao laments, not for the first time, the stubbornness that all his friends seem to share, for better or for worse.

Dark Cacao shrugs off his cloak and wraps it around Pure Vanilla’s shoulders, fastening the clasp with a muttered, “If you are going to stay out here, at least attempt to keep yourself warm.”

Pure Vanilla shoots him an indignant look, but the effect is lessened by the way he immediately buries his face into the thick fur ruff.

“Fine, fine. …Thank you,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears pink. Dark Cacao stifles an exasperated furrow of his brows. He was cold all along.

“You never answered my question. Why are you out here? You’re ill.”

“It’s merely a mild head-cold,” Pure Vanilla counters, pinching his index and thumb together. “Besides. I need to water my flowers and feed my sheep. It’ll be quick, I swear it.”

Dark Cacao blinks. “Then allow me,” he says simply.

Pure Vanilla looks nothing short of appalled. “Absolutely not!“ he hisses, rasp more pronounced now in his vehemence. “I won’t have one of my dearest friends doing chores in my own home.”

“But you said it yourself. Two years ago.” Dark Cacao tips his head, flushes, suddenly grateful for his dark dough. “…Your home is as much mine as it is yours. So it would only be fair for me to contribute, no?”

“Ah. Well,” Pure Vanilla says eloquently, in an uncharacteristic stumble over his words. He stares at Dark Cacao with an inscrutable expression for a long, long pause, before he shakes his head, and judging from his wince, immediately regrets how it jostles it.

“Pure Vanilla,” Dark Cacao says with a frown.

“Dark Cacao,” he says back, leaning heavily on his staff. “While the sentiment remains the same, I still can’t allow it. Because—because…” Pure Vanilla looks suddenly triumphant, and blurts, “You’ve never watered flowers before, right? So I could not possibly place that sort of burden on you.”

“True enough,” Dark Cacao acquiesces. “But I am more than capable of learning. Tell me, Pure Vanilla,” he continues, voice softened, “is it that you do not trust my abilities?”

“No, no, of course I do!” Pure Vanilla sighs, will visibly weaker. “But my sheep…” he retorts feebly.

“Tolerate me,” Dark Cacao interrupts, quiet, and one of the ewes headbutts against his side in apparent agreement. “Rest, Pure Vanilla. I will return your duties to you the moment you recover.”

An indigo zephyr washes over the garden, saturating the silence with the halcyon promise of rain. The indelible deluge of sun-warmed fruits and transient ether. Then, with the now late afternoon humming, teeming with pollen-stars, Pure Vanilla at last accepts his arm.

“Must you be so stubborn, Cacao?” Pure Vanilla asks, eyes crinkled with laughter.

“Pot, kettle,” Dark Cacao replies, guiding him forward and rolling his eyes despite the lightness filling his chest to the brim, incandescent and gossamer, threatening to spill over into—into—

The thought vanishes into a puff of smoke, a forbidden, unsettling realm of mist, as Pure Vanilla turns to him, weariness apparent now that he was no longer concealing it. Yet his gaze is gentle nonetheless as he draws his fingers away from the crook of Dark Cacao’s elbow and returns the cloak to its place around his shoulders.

A murmur, “Hurry back, alright? I don’t want you to become ill as well on my behalf.”

Dark Cacao hardly hears his own muffled response as he watches Pure Vanilla disappear from view, then reappear but a moment later through the windowpane.

His cloak is still warm, he thinks, belated and feeling, abruptly, a little bereft. Dark Cacao pulls it taut and sets to work, brushing away the dawning sense that something has gone terribly, horribly awry.

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ ·

The days drift by, honeyed, amorphous reveries. Spring arrives in full, with the blackberry blossoms shedding their thin, papery petals and exposing the delicate fruit underneath. Dark Cacao brings the ripest ones he can find the day that they finally bloom to Pure Vanilla, hands sticky and nearly overflowing with them. They share them, at Pure Vanilla’s insistence, right there in the living room with the doors and windows propped open; though at Dark Cacao’s, he remains bundled in several blankets and a certain cloak.

True to his word, it really was just a minor head-cold—exacerbated by Pure Vanilla’s refusal to actually rest, that is. Thus, it takes a few more days than it really should have for the coughing to subside and the fever to calm to almost normal levels. All throughout it, Dark Cacao stays.

He had expected growing restless within the first day; Dark Cacao has never been idle for this long, watering plants and minding the sheep and cooking light meals, all the while tending to Pure Vanilla, despite the other’s reluctance. But they are already nearing the end of the week, and Dark Cacao is feeling rather restless about the lack of urgency plaguing him. It is all terribly mundane, terribly domestic. He isn’t sure what to think about it.

But Dark Cacao is sure that if it were not for his presence, Pure Vanilla would have already crawled out of bed and into his garden with the lambs and blackberry bushes and subsequently have succumbed to either his illness or the rain. So he stays, for his sake and the sake of their friends who rightfully worry about Pure Vanilla. As they say, healers often make the worst patients.

This particular morning, it is quiet yet again, but it is a quiet that does not stifle or choke. It is the first where Pure Vanilla has felt well enough to accompany Dark Cacao in the fledgling moments before dawn breaks; soon, he will not need Dark Cacao at all.

“I have been doing little but resting this entire week,” Pure Vanilla tells him, though not unkindly. “Allow me to at least rest in your presence?”

There he sits now, head in his arms and listening to the sounds of Dark Cacao puttering about in his kitchen. The remnants of moonlight continue to stubbornly cling to the horizon, so Dark Cacao works by way of that, unwilling to disturb the dimness with a candle. But again, there is that strangeness looming in the back of his mind, a nascent feeling that something within his dough has shifted. It unsettles him—yet he does not mind the emotion itself. Only the matter that he cannot understand it, cannot yet comprehend it.

Somewhere along the way, lost in his thoughts, Dark Cacao must have wandered by a particular cabinet, stepped on a particular tile, as Pure Vanilla stirs from his doze, and mumbles, “The lavender tea is in the cupboard underneath.”

Dark Cacao goes very still. “I thought you did not like the taste of it?”

Pure Vanilla lifts his shoulders in a shrug, and then, he says like the most natural thing in the world, “But you like it.”

The sun isn’t quite up yet, the slowly fading stars keeping it company for just a while longer. Muted sunbeams and starlight scatter across Pure Vanilla’s face, haloing him in a golden peach glow. It makes the slope of his nose soft, his cheekbones softer, and his slight, stained-glass smile even more luminescent. The normal, healthy Pure Vanilla would hardly look out of place, Dark Cacao thinks, off-kilter, residing in the crystalline-sugarwork windows of the cathedral, all honeyed, pale topaz and sapphire catching the light. And yet, here, fever-flushed and rumpled with sleep, Pure Vanilla looks nothing short of a little tired, a little perfect.

It has never been in Dark Cacao’s nature to want. He has never desired riches, or the glory of a great hero, or the fame of becoming king. But when he looks at Pure Vanilla—

The fog begins to dissipate, replaced with the beginnings of a knowing that is far more ruinous. Reveals that he is already standing at the precipice, that there is an understanding still lying beyond his grasp.

Dark Cacao turns away, white-knuckled grip against the countertop. “…Thank you. I will have some after I finish making breakfast,” he murmurs.

“Cacao. My beloved,” Pure Vanilla says fondly, and for a lingering, infinitesimal moment, Dark Cacao almost believes it’ll stop there. My beloved. Beloved. “My beloved companion. What would I do without you?”

“Have crumbled already,” Dark Cacao replies, absent, trembling. He exhales—one final shuddering breath—before releasing it into the misty daybreak. “Come. Sit at the table. I’m nearly done.”

Through the windowpane, the sun creeps up on the horizon, a blackberry dawn in its wake, pricked bruise-purple and rot-grey, fever-flushed—

(He was right, Dark Cacao thinks later, wry, as he brews his lavender and Pure Vanilla’s chamomile tea. Something terrible has happened.)

[ruby-gold]

Vacation mode activated as I’m melting under the Brazilian sun but I couldn’t leave without dropping this month’s Ineffable Card. My Patreon might be on a break this month but my delulu loyalty isn’t.

Have a lovely first month of spring(or cry in seasonal allergies) or, for all my Southern Hemisphere besties, bundle up and pretend winter is ✨aesthetic✨

[z4ync]

Hey its me again :p . Wondering if we could get single parent ranger? Idk just like the idea I them having a kid. Please.

THIS IS GONNA BE SO CUTE!!!! Vanderboom I'm going to marry you rn.

Ineffable

Ranger is implied masc because they got someone pregnant + my headcanons

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

Little talks by Of monsters and men ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

There wasn't a word in the dictionary that could define the feeling Claire was feeling.

When she first saw that same smile on their face that Ranger had on now the word was “forelsket” the euphoric feeling as you begin to fall in love. The second time was “vernorexia”, a romantic feeling inspired by the spring. And now… now had no word.

Now was the feeling of unrequited love that was respirated. Now was the inexplicable feeling of comfort and the breaking of walls.

▄︻デ══━一

Early that morning Ranger almost had to cancel the meet up they had planned with Claire but Claire had beat them to a replacement idea.

The phone had rang for less than a second before Claire answered “Ranger? Is everything okay?” She sounded tired— in all fairness it was about 6 in the morning.

“Claire, can we raincheck today? I'm really sorry, there was some miscommunication and—” they hadn't even finished their rushed thought before Claire interrupted

Right as Claire spoke a wail of revolution for the six year old— who was standing in the middle of the living room of Ranger's apartment in only his underwear as their parent stood holding a pair of blue jeans, matching the ones they were currently wearing— “I WON'T WEAR IT!” he screeched, overpowering the quiet voice from the other side of the phone.

Ranger made the equivalent to a groan-whine that the child made just a second ago. “Claire hold on, I'm about to fight a 6-year-old.”

Claire hadn't gotten another word out before she heard the clattering of a phone and the blood curtailing scream of a child followed by Ranger yelling “You have to wear pants to pet the dogs!”

About two minutes later the phone is picked back up and Ranger is breathing hard and Claire finally speaks, far more awake and now excited. “You could come to an animal shelter event happening.”

▄︻デ══━一

After about 2 hours of fighting with the young child, Ranger finally got in their car and to the den.

“And who's this little guy?” Beth asked, crouching down to the small child. Claire at her side, not entirely paying attention to the kid at Ranger's side. Ranger smiled up at her, tired and weak, but present and ever caring.

“His name is Wally, he's…” they trailed off for a moment, they had yet to tell the pack that they had an ex-girlfriend, let alone a child. “He's my son.”

Knight gasped loudly, an alarm for the mates to look up. “You have a kid?!” They exclaimed.

“Wait what? How come you didn't tell us?” Beth's mate asked, pouting ever so slightly. Eve followed in that, whining about not knowing.

“I don't like to talk about his mom” they rubbed the back of their neck. “And he isn't informed, he's too young to.” Their eyes never met Claire's, her gaze was laced with the betrayal of a secret not shared.

Ranger looked at their son, guilt crawling up their throat like bile. “Go play with the puppies, Wally.” As if a sign was above Claire and Ranger’s head that read “piss off, we need to talk” Knight, Eve, Beth, and Seer all left; showing Wally the small dogs that were running about the property.

“Why didn't you tell us… why didn't you tell me.” Sure, you may be saying “well, Claire, they don't have to tell you anything” and you'd be right, they don't. But it's the principle of it, Claire was fully convinced that the feeling that she felt was reciprocated, that all secrets had been shared.

“I wanted to, but I didn't want to scare you off… no one wants to da—” they stopped, going pale. Claire wanted to throw herself off a bridge.

“No one wants to what?”

“Nothing”

▄︻デ══━一

“You have to find them,” Knight said. “tell them or I think you'll lose them.”

It was a scary thought. To lose someone over something so little, just a secret that had failed to be shared. But at the end of the day, Claire's sibling had a point. To be upset about something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things and to ruin something so important to Claire was stupid.

“Do you know where they are?” Knight nodded and pointed to the room they stayed in when they were recovering from the wound that scarred like a flower opening in the spring.

The small noise of a phone playing quiet music was heard just behind the thick door. Claire was sure that Ranger hadn't heard the light knock, but they did, as they had gotten up and opened the door.

“Claire—”

“Please… can I talk, just for a minute?” They nodded, Claire tipped over the sea of feelings. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make such a big deal over it. Knight told me what you meant, I swear— I promise you— someone will love you even despite having a child… I will love you no matter what.”

The words made the silence deafening, Ranger stood there, just blinking at Claire like she'd suddenly shifted into the biggest wolf they'd ever seen in their line of work.

“I… I love you khakis, I love you more than imaginable, and—” Claire suddenly couldn't speak. It wasn't like she lost the ability to use her Larynx or like she suddenly lost her tongue but more as she couldn't move her mouth.

Her mouth had been taken hostage by another. Ranger’s lips… Ranger's soft and warm lips, Ranger's pink and beautiful lips.

Words couldn't say what the feeling was. Words could communicate that.

Selcouth— maybe.. while unfamiliar, and marvelous this was it wasn't the word

Kalon— certainly this feeling was more than skin deep, but it just wasn't right.

It was… ineffable. Impossible to describe, too sacred to form.

The way Ranger smiled when they separated, teeth shining and eyes squeezed shut like a toddler smiling for a photo.

“TWENTY BUCKS BETH!”

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

A/N. FINALLY. After re-writing this about two times I finally got the version I like. Sorry vanderboom and anyone else who I have been taking 20 years to get to, my writers block and spring time slump are attacking me right now!

[dalliancekay]

Prompt: Apology

Join in the fun!

Ineffable Spring Break Day 4: Apology

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64427035

[hikarry]

Why don't you like to write smut? And if you did, which dynamics would you like to write?

It just makes me uncomfortable?

I mainly write gay ships and, well, gay sex involves dicks and I really have a strong aversion towards cocks and anything related to it. I don't know why, but I've always been like this. I can't help but cringe or gag when a dick is mentioned so I just stay away from the topic (imagine what happened when I dated a guy. My whole body would recoil like a spring any time he hugged me from behind because, not only was I uncomfortable as all fuck, but there was a dick way too close to me)

I've never written a lesbian ship, so I have no idea if I would also be uncomfortable, but probably yeah. I just...I don't know?

I like to write my characters as sexual beings, mind you. I like to write the teasing and the way to the edge of sex, but the sex itself just...it doesn't feel right to write it. I rather leave it for y'all imagination

Anyway, Ineffable Husbands wise, if I did write smut, both Crowley and Aziraphale would be switches. They are switches in my head and I wouldn't have it any other way

Crowley being a service top and Aziraphale as a power bottom is a beautiful dynamic, but Aziraphale breaking the good guy facade and manhandling Crowley like a ragdoll and fucking the absolute shit out of him is what I live for. Cause yes, I might not write the smut, but I imagine the smut

For example, in the Time War AU there will be a scene that supposedly leads to smut. I have imagined the smut in my head and having Aziraphale abruptly grab Crowley's hair, pull it back and slowly lick his neck while sitting on the poor demon's lap will be something you won't have to imagine, because I will write it black on the white

The teasing will be there, always. Yall will just have to work a little bit to figure out the actual smut yourselves

[fogsrollingin]

Time for some more Good Omens fic recs! These are the most recent fics I've read and loved. For all of them, nav to https://fogsrollingin.neocities.org/recs/goodomens 😈🪽 Cheers and happy readings! 📚🥂

Ocean of Secrets (illustrated) by magicbubblepipe. Explicit, 16k words, Aziracrow. Summary: When Crowley uncovers a plot to sink a so-called unsinkable ship, he decides to take credit for it and collect a commendation from the safety of his London flat. That is, until he spots a certain flaxen haired angel with a weakness for expensive creature comforts boarding the ship. He's forced to take action, lest his beloved be horribly discorporated. TL;DR Crowley and Aziraphale were on the Titanic. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713294 The Titanic one - this one really stayed with me. It was such a lovely read, and I loved the epic horrifying proportions and backdrop of the Titanic. The author described the disaster very well.

Slow Show by mia_ugly. Explicit, 95k, Aziracrow. Summary: In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261 Okay as someone who generally dislikes celebrity AUs, but I love drug addict redemption stories, I gave this one a shot (with over 12k kudos, it wasn't a hardship). Very well-written (you just know it's gonna be good when the author starts with a Richard Siken quote). Some terrific heart-wrenching angst that I adored. I appreciated the way the author mixed scenes from Good Omens into the fake TV show they were in. It worked really well for extra visualization.

A.Z. Fell Cooking (aka vlogger au) Series by MostWeakHamlets. Rated General Audiences, 35k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. ___ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610359 Oh man I loved the first chapter of the second fic installment where it's written like we're voyeurs watching the heart-wrenching reality of Aziraphale caring for Crowley, who's super sickly and frail in the winter (is usually back to normal in the spring and summer). The amount of love and trust that goes into the relationship depicted in this fic is sooooooo This is mainly a South Downs curtain fic btw. It sounds like a social media AU thing, but the YouTube vlogging aspect is a side quest / cool awesome vehicle to give us some fantastic hurt/comfort

Honey, You’ll Survive by HotCrossPigeon. Teen+, 12k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Crowley only popped into the bookshop to say goodbye. He might not have been thinking straight, due to that bloody great big hole where his stomach used to be. Aziraphale, quite rightly, refuses to let the demon pop his clogs in his bookshop of all places, thank you very much. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790638 Aziraphale saving a fatally hurt Crowley and being super straightforward about wanting cuddles was the best thing in the world. Crowley was written really well in this fic - doing his best to be snarky and sarcastic, anything but sincere and vulnerable (but he gets there. Oooo how I love that 🥰🥰🥰)

Untouched by Etaleah. Teen+, 3k words, Aziracrow. Summary: A demon's life is a lonely one. What Crowley wants is so simple, yet he can never have it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20505689 Touch starvation. When Aziraphale finally hugs h Crowley and basically breaks him 😭 literally the best

Someone Reaching Back For Me by lorenzhellmangloucester. Teen+, 1k words, Aziracrow. Summary: Aziraphale tries to soothe, tries to rock him, completely unsure if he’s helping or not; he’s never seen Crowley lose control in quite this way. Sometimes Crowley lashes out in anger or hurt, and he’s seen him vulnerable before, but nothing like this. Nothing this fragmented, nothing this… shattered. It’s like watching Crowley break, this shivering, terrified creature clinging to him like he might disappear, and oh. Oh, Aziraphale thinks, feeling very small and fragile himself all of a sudden. In the immediate wake of the almost-apocalypse, Aziraphale realizes he's not the only one who was afraid of being left alone. https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241956 I really adored this - I love the concept of Crowley going snakey when he's upset & panicking, and especially that Aziraphale would just wrap him up in hugs and cuddles no matter how monstrous he's looking 🥰🥰🥰 I *love* it so much.

side effects by darcylindbergh. Explicit, 7k words, Aziracrow. You don’t have to do this, you know, Crowley said, somewhere around Aziraphale’s stomach. His hand was rough around the hem of Aziraphale’s jumper, tugging a little, like he was trying to convince himself to let go. I’m fine on my own. I know. Aziraphale touched carefully—he was learning how to touch, like this—searching out the place right above Crowley’s left eyebrow where the migraine lived, pressing on it. You don’t have to be, though. You can just consider me a side effect. https://archiveofourown.org/works/35166532 This was super emotional and so well written. The amount of hurt/comfort and nonsexual intimacy was amazing. There was a bit of sexual intimacy but it was... it was lovely. Definitely going to reread this one.

Recompense by Flywolf33. Mature, 21k words, Aziracrow. Summary: At first, he didn’t realize anything was wrong. They’d had a row, which wasn’t entirely unusual, and Crowley had stormed off with a few harsh words he didn’t mean flung over his shoulder. Aziraphale had flung a few of his own untruths, though he always knew they hurt the demon far more than either of them would admit. To his everlasting shame, Aziraphale didn’t start looking for another two years. By that time, the trail had gone cold and he couldn’t sense Crowley’s aura anywhere. In which Hell gets hold of Crowley and Aziraphale has to try to put Humpty Dumpty back together again - if Crowley will let him. This has nothing to do with my other GO stuff at all. This has been bouncing around in my head and I finally got it on paper. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471934 Aziraphale barging into hell 50 years later to rescue Crowley. The slow burn of recovery and angst (the scene where Aziraphale says he'll let Crowley go forever if that's what he wants and needs to feel better and recover) and love. The device-pulsifiers family supporting them was so brilliant too. Fantastic fic.

[mixedbag-o-beans]

hear me out ‘ivy’ by taylor swift fits ineffable husbands to a T if you imagine the ‘husband’ as heaven and hell.

my evidence?

“How’s one to know? I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bone, in a faith forgotten land”

“I just sit here and wait, grieving for the living”

“Oh, goddamn. My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another”

“My house of stone, your ivy grows, now I’m covered in you”

“I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed”

“Spring breaks loose, the time is near. What would he do if he found us out”

“Spring breaks loose, but so does fear. He’s gonna burn this house to the ground”

“How’s one to know? I’d live and die for moments that we stole, on begged and borrowed time”

“So tell me to run, or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become. And drink my husband’s wine”

“It’s a fire, it’s a goddamn blaze in the dark, and you started it”

“It’s a war, it’s the goddamn fight of my life, and you started it”

i mean COME ON. it’s literally perfect

[aceofintuition]

tagged by @silverjirachi and for once I feel like making an effort to actually answer one of these lmao. also fully copying ribbon in breaking the chain bc... i just hate scrolling honestyl i would hate having the full thing on my blog

3 ships: Hardenshipping -- Archie/Maxie from Pokemon. If you haven't guessed this from my blog IDK what to tell you

Ineffable Husbands -- Aziraphale/Crowley from Good Omens. Thanks neil

Wyllstarion -- Wyll/Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3. This one is more like, im lowkey enjoying astarion shipped with lots of ppl, but the last not pokemon fic I read was this pairing and i really love the dynamic

1st ever ship: good god, hell if I know? Spirk maybe? When i got into fandom I started out not really with shipping but with like, family dynamics I liked / found family stuff. I know what those are but I don't want to say bc they belong to the transphobic wizard franchise that shall not be named.

Last Song: Get Chemical by Polite Fiction & Audiodile (off my hardenshipping playlist alSO this is so unfair bc I constantly have so much music I want to rec and i don't just want to list the last one i listened to.)

Last Movie: I literally cannot remember the last time I watched an actual movie so let's just go with Good Omens S2. :]

Currently Reading: The Dead Sea Trilogy I've obviously been keeping my eye on, haha

NPC -- honestly I don't usually spring for rainbow rocket fics but I was caught by the focus on Saturn, couple chapters in and need to finish

A Little Mishap -- the aforementioned lovely wyllstarion fic I read a while back :]

i dont read books anymore im too tired

Currently Watching: Honestly its like... Baldur's Gate 3 let's plays and Distractible.

Currently Consuming: Popped Tart and Mountain Dew

Currently Craving: More hardenshipping content, because since I figured out the rest of Pyroclasm my brain has been fixated on One Thing Only

9 people to tag: no im too anxious :]

[maevemakt]

THE ROAD SO FAR

Hello hello hello wonderful people of the internet!

it's been 10 days since the #ineffablespringbreak prompt challenge began, so let's see what we have done so far!

i'll use colors for rating so you'll know: G T M E

In Vino Veritas:

By 10I4H

In Vino Veritas

By MaeveMakt (yay it me)

Call Me 

Rainy Day:

By Rei_Hino (language: italian)

Quando Dio non ascolta

Apology:

By DallianceKay

An Apology

By Donniegirl88 (language: italian)

Quando gli angeli cadono con le ali spezzate

Love Letters:

By 10I4H

Latest From Heaven 

By DallianceKay

I Miss You 

Reading Together:

By 10I4H

Reading Together 

By DallianceKay

As You Are 

Old Photograph:

By 10I4H

An Old Photograph 

By Donniegirl88 (language: italian)

Finalmente a casa 

By DallianceKay

Shades of Grey 

Invisible:

By 10I4H

The Blonde of the White's Club 

By DallianceKay

 “Then said Mary unto the angel, 'How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?'” Luke 1:34 

By Donniegirl88 (language: italian)

Serve la pioggia per fare crescere i fiori 

Rebel:

By Rei_Hino (language: italian)

L'uomo disse No 

By 10I4H

Midsummer Night's Dream 

By DallianceKay

Lunchbreak 

By Cesoia

Born to be Wild 

Woah that's a lot! Keep going fam

See you in 10 days for the next recap

[auconstructguides]

What Most Pool Owners Don’t Realise About Spa and Pool Heat Pumps (Until It’s Too Late)

Imagine stepping into your spa or pool only to be met with water that’s colder than expected — even in spring. It’s a common issue across Canberra and surrounding regions where temperatures can fluctuate dramatically. That’s where spa and pool heat pumps step in — but not all are created equal, and understanding the right setup for your space can make all the difference.

In this guide, we’ll explain how these systems work, what features to look for, how they compare with other heating methods, and why choosing the right installer — such as the specialists at Spa Pool Heat Pumps with ACT Spa Repairs — may save you from costly missteps.

How Spa and Pool Heat Pumps Actually Work

Unlike gas or electric resistance heaters, heat pumps don’t generate heat directly. Instead, they pull warmth from the surrounding air, compress it, and transfer it into your pool or spa water. This makes them highly efficient, especially in mild to warm climates.

They function similarly to reverse-cycle air conditioners — extracting ambient heat and pumping it into water. This process requires electricity but uses significantly less energy than traditional heating methods, making it ideal for longer-term use.

This efficiency is why many modern pool and spa owners opt for heat pumps, especially when they want to extend their swimming season without breaking the bank.

Key Benefits of Using a Heat Pump for Pools and Spas

1. Energy Efficiency Heat pumps can be up to five times more efficient than conventional heaters. For every 1kW of electricity used, they may produce 4–5kW of heat.

2. Consistent Water Temperature Once the desired temperature is reached, a heat pump can maintain it without large fluctuations, offering steady comfort throughout the week.

3. Lower Running Costs Though the upfront investment may be higher than a basic electric or gas unit, the operational savings over time make heat pumps a smart long-term choice.

4. Eco-Friendly Performance Heat pumps reduce emissions thanks to their efficient use of electricity and limited reliance on fossil fuels.

5. Compatibility With Solar Power They’re an excellent fit for solar panel-equipped homes, further lowering running costs and environmental impact.

Choosing the Right Heat Pump for Your Pool or Spa

Not all heat pumps suit all pools. Choosing the right unit requires you to consider several key factors:

Pool or Spa Size: Larger bodies of water require higher-capacity pumps.

Climate Zone: In cooler climates like Canberra’s, opt for models rated for low ambient temperatures.

Frequency of Use: If you want year-round warmth, look for models with smart thermostats and built-in defrost functions.

Location and Ventilation: Heat pumps need adequate space for airflow. Enclosed spaces or wall-blocked units may underperform.

Noise Levels: Quieter models are preferable, especially in residential settings.

If this sounds complicated, don’t worry — experienced teams like ACT Spa Repairs offers expert spa pool heat pumps services may assess your space, usage habits, and budget to recommend a unit that meets your needs without unnecessary features.

Heat Pumps vs Other Heating Methods

Let’s briefly compare spa and pool heat pumps with other common systems:

While gas heaters may suit quick heating needs, they’re expensive to run long-term. Electric resistance heaters consume significant power, often making them impractical. Solar systems offer free energy but rely heavily on good weather and often require backup. This makes heat pumps the most balanced choice for consistent, affordable comfort.

Installation Considerations

Getting the most out of your heat pump isn’t just about selecting the right model. Installation quality may dramatically affect performance.

An experienced technician may:

Ensure correct sizing for your pool or spa

Position the unit for optimal airflow and noise reduction

Connect plumbing without leaks or inefficiencies

Test electrical connections and temperature sensors

Advise on regular maintenance and seasonal settings

That’s why homeowners seeking trusted help for spa pool heat pumps from the team at ACT Spa Repairs often report better energy performance and fewer breakdowns. Their Canberra-based team understands local climate conditions and works with high-quality equipment that’s designed to last.

Maintenance Tips to Extend Your Heat Pump's Life

Like any appliance, a heat pump will last longer and work better with some basic care:

Clean debris from vents: Keep airflow pathways free from leaves, dust, and spiderwebs.

Check water flow: Make sure your pool’s pump and filter are running properly.

Monitor thermostat settings: Don’t set extreme temperatures; 28–30°C is optimal for pools, 36–38°C for spas.

Schedule annual servicing: A technician may inspect components and clean internal coils to keep performance at its peak.

For DIY care tips, you may want to browse Tumblr’s home and maintenance feeds, where everyday homeowners share how they handle pool upkeep and heating strategies throughout the seasons.

Environmental and Budget Advantages

Aside from being a practical comfort investment, spa and pool heat pumps are more environmentally friendly than other heating methods. When paired with renewable energy sources, their footprint drops even further.

If you're eligible for local rebates or incentives, this can also offset upfront costs. Ask your installer or check local energy websites for current programs available to Canberra residents.

Long-term energy savings, paired with high performance, makes this option a no-brainer for many property owners looking to extend their pool season and reduce ongoing energy bills.

When to Upgrade or Replace Your Current Heater

Already have a heating system that’s not performing as it used to? Here are signs that a switch to a heat pump might be worthwhile:

Your energy bills have increased despite the same usage

The system takes too long to heat or can't maintain temperature

Repairs are becoming more frequent or expensive

You want to integrate with solar power for cost savings

Upgrading to a modern heat pump may bring your spa or pool up to modern efficiency standards and future-proof your investment.

Final Thoughts

Comfort shouldn’t come at the cost of efficiency — and with spa and pool heat pumps, it doesn’t have to. These smart, reliable systems offer a practical solution for year-round swimming and soaking, even in Canberra’s cooler months.For homeowners who value performance, sustainability, and professional installation, Spa Pool Heat Pumps with ACT Spa Repairs deliver both peace of mind and poolside comfort. Whether you’re upgrading an old system or planning a new backyard project, their expertise may help you avoid common pitfalls and maximise your return.

[rajeshkumarcool]

The Best Times to Schedule AC Repair in NYC

Air conditioning is essential for comfort in New York City, especially during the sweltering summer months. However, many homeowners and businesses wait until their systems break down before seeking repairs, which can lead to costly fixes and discomfort. Knowing the best times to schedule AC repair in NYC can help prevent major issues and keep your system running efficiently year-round.

Why Timely AC Repairs Matter

Regular maintenance and timely repairs ensure your AC system operates efficiently, reduces energy consumption, and extends its lifespan. Delaying necessary repairs can result in:

Higher utility bills

Reduced cooling efficiency

Costly system breakdowns

Poor indoor air quality

Scheduling AC repair in NYC at the right time ensures your home or business remains comfortable without unexpected expenses.

Best Times to Schedule AC Repair in NYC

1. Early Spring (March - April)

Why Spring is Ideal for AC Repairs

Spring is one of the best times to schedule AC repair in NYC because temperatures are moderate, and HVAC companies are less busy compared to summer. Here’s why you should consider servicing your unit in early spring:

Avoid Summer Rush: Technicians are readily available, and appointments are easier to schedule.

Prepares Your AC for Summer: Ensuring your system is in top condition before peak cooling season prevents unexpected breakdowns.

Lower Repair Costs: Many HVAC companies offer discounts on repairs and maintenance during off-peak seasons.

Spring AC Maintenance Checklist

Inspect and replace air filters

Check refrigerant levels

Clean condenser and evaporator coils

Test thermostat functionality

Ensure ducts are free from obstructions

2. Late Summer (August - September)

End-of-Summer Repairs to Keep Your AC Efficient

By the end of summer, your AC system has likely worked hard for months. Scheduling AC repair in NYC at this time helps address any wear and tear before the next cooling season.

Key Benefits of Late Summer Repairs

Identify Issues Before Winter: Addressing minor problems now prevents larger issues when you restart your AC in the spring.

Potential Discounts: Some HVAC companies offer end-of-season discounts on repairs.

Ensures Longevity: Regular servicing helps your system last longer, reducing the likelihood of expensive replacements.

3. Early Fall (October - November)

Preparing Your AC for Winter Hibernation

Though fall is typically associated with heating system maintenance, it’s also a great time to schedule AC repairs. Taking care of minor AC issues now can prevent problems when you restart your unit next summer.

Why Fall AC Repairs Make Sense

Technicians Are More Available: Demand for AC services decreases, making scheduling easier.

Prepares for Next Cooling Season: Avoid unexpected breakdowns when summer returns.

Comprehensive System Check: Ensures your entire HVAC system, including the heating components, is in good condition.

4. Mid-Winter (January - February)

Emergency Repairs & Off-Season Advantages

Winter may not seem like the best time for AC repair in NYC, but it can be beneficial for non-emergency maintenance and repairs.

Advantages of Mid-Winter AC Repairs

Off-Peak Season Discounts: HVAC companies often offer lower rates due to reduced demand.

Shorter Wait Times: Faster appointment scheduling compared to peak seasons.

Proactive System Maintenance: Identifies potential issues before they become major problems.

Common AC Problems That Require Repairs

Regardless of when you schedule AC repair, it’s important to recognize common signs of system issues:

1. Weak or Warm Airflow

If your AC isn’t cooling your space effectively, there could be issues with the compressor, refrigerant levels, or clogged filters.

2. Strange Noises or Odors

Unusual sounds like grinding, rattling, or hissing could indicate mechanical problems, while musty odors might signal mold growth in the ducts.

3. Increased Energy Bills

A sudden spike in energy bills often points to an inefficient AC system that requires repair.

4. Frequent Cycling On and Off

If your AC turns on and off frequently, it could be due to thermostat issues, refrigerant leaks, or dirty components.

How to Choose the Right AC Repair Company in NYC

When scheduling AC repair in NYC, selecting the right HVAC service provider is crucial. Here are some tips to find a reliable company:

1. Check Licensing and Certification

Ensure the company employs licensed and certified technicians to guarantee professional service.

2. Read Reviews and Testimonials

Look for customer reviews on platforms like Google, Yelp, and the Better Business Bureau to assess reliability.

3. Ask About Warranties and Guarantees

A reputable AC repair company should offer warranties on labor and parts.

4. Compare Pricing and Services

Get quotes from multiple companies and compare their services before making a decision.

Why Choose Cool Air Inc Manhattan for AC Repair in NYC?

At Cool Air Inc Manhattan, we specialize in top-quality AC repair services to keep your home or business comfortable year-round. Here’s why clients trust us:

Expert Technicians: Our team is highly trained, certified, and experienced in handling all AC issues.

24/7 Emergency Services: We provide round-the-clock assistance for urgent repairs.

Affordable Pricing: Transparent pricing with no hidden fees.

Comprehensive Services: From routine maintenance to complex repairs, we handle it all.

Conclusion

Scheduling AC repair in NYC at the right time can save you money, improve energy efficiency, and prevent major breakdowns. Whether in early spring, late summer, fall, or even mid-winter, proactive maintenance ensures your AC system runs smoothly. Trust Cool Air Inc Manhattan for all your AC repair needs, and enjoy a comfortable indoor environment year-round.

[d4rk4rt5]

The Lunatic by Laxmi Prasad Devkota

The Lunatic

Surely, my friend, insane am I Such is my plight.

I visualize sound. I hear the visible. And fragrance I taste. And the ethereal is palpable to me. Those things I touch-- Whose existence the world denies, Of whose shape the world is unaware. I see a flower in the stone-- when wavelet-softened pebbles on the water's edge, In the moonlight, While the enchantress of heaven is smiling unto me. The exfoliating, mollifying, Glistening and palpitating, Rise before my eyes like tongueless things insane, Like flowers, A variety of moonbirds, I commune with them as they do with me, In such a language, friend, As is never written, nor ever printed, nor ever spoken, Unintelligible, ineffable all. Their language laps the moonlit Ganges shore, Ripple by ripple, Surely, my friend, am I insane, Such is my plight.

Clever and eloquent you are! Your formulae are ever running correct. But in my calculations one minus one is always one. You work with your senses five, With the sixth I operate. Brains you have, my friend, But the heart is mine. To you a rose is but a rose, It embodies Helen and Padmini for me. You are strong prose, But I am liquid poetry. You freeze, I melt, You decant when I go muddy. When I am muddled, you are clear. And just the other way about. You have a world of solids, Mine is one of vapour Yours is thick and mine is thin. You take a stone for hard reality, I seek to catch a dream, Just as you try to grab that cold sweet, minted coin's round reality. Mine is a badge of thorns, But yours is one of gold and adamant. You call the mountains mute, But orators do I call them. Surely, my friend, a vein is loose in my brain. I am insane, Such is my plight.

In the frigid winter month, I basked in the first white heat of the astral light. They called me crazy. Back from the burning-ghat, Blank-eyed I sat for seven days, They cast their eyes on me and called me one possessed. Shocked by the first streak of frost on a fair lady’s tresses, For a length of three days my sockets filled and rolled. For the Buddha, the enlightened one, touched me in the depths, And they called me one distraught. When I danced to the bursting notes of the harbinger of the spring, They called me one gone crazy. One moonless night, all dead and still, Annihilation choked my soul, And up I jumped upon my feet. And the fools of the world put me in the stocks. I sang with the tempest one day, And the wise-acres of the world dispatched me down to Ranchi. And once when at full stretch I lay upon my bed, As one but dead, A friend of mine pinched me so sharp. And said, "Oh mad man, Is thy flesh now dead?" Year by year such things did occur, And still, my friend, I am insane, Such is my plight.

I have called the Nawab’s wine all blood. And the courtesans all corpses. And the king a pauper. I have denounced Alexander the Great. And I have deprecated the so-called high-souled ones. And the insignificant individual I have raised, Up an ascending arch of praises, Into the seventh heaven. Your highly learned men are my big fools. Your heaven is my hell. Your gold, my iron. Friend, your piety, my sin. Where you feel yourself clever, There, there, I find you a stupid innocent. Your progression is regression to me. Such is the upsetting of values, friend, Your universe to me is but a hair. Surely, my friend, I am absolutely moon-struck, Moon-struck indeed, Such is my plight.

I find the blind the people’s pioneers. The cave-penancer do I find a runaway, the deserter of humanity. And those who climb the platform of lies do I declare to be but dancers dark. And I declare the defeated ones the splendid laurelled victors. Advancement is retreat. May be I am a squint Or that I am a crack, friend, Just but a crack.

Look at the strumpet-tongues adancing of shameless leadership! At the breaking of the backbones of the people’s rights! When the sparrow-headed bold prints of black lies on the papers, Challenge the hero in me called Reason, With conspiracy false, Then redden hot my cheeks, my friend, And their colour is up. when the unsophisticated folk quaff off black poison with their ears Taking it for ambrosia, And that before my eyes, my friend, Then every hair rises on end, Like the serpent-tresses of the Gorgons, Every one so irritated! When I see the tiger pouncing upon the innocent deer, Or the big fish after the smaller ones, Then even into my corroded bones, my friend, The terrible strength of the soul of Dadhichi--the sage, Enters and seeks utterance. Like a clouded day crashing down to earth in the thunderbolt, When man regards a man as no man, Then gnash my teeth and grind my jaws, set with the two and thirty teeth, Like Bhimsen's teeth, the terror-striking hero's, And then, Rolling round my fury-reddened eyeballs, With an inscrutable sweep, I look at this inhuman human world Like a tongue of fire. The machine parts of my frame jump out of their places, Disordered and disturbed! My breath swells into a storm, Distorted is my face, My brain is in a blaze, Like a wild conflagration. I am infuriated like a forest fire, Frenzied, my friend, As one who would devour the world immense, Surely, my friend, I am the moonbird of the beautiful, The iconoclast of ugliness! The tenderly cruel! The bird that steals the celestial fire! The child of the tempest! I am the wild eruption of a volcano insane! Terror personified! Surely, my friend, I am a whirl-brain,a whirl-brain, And such is my plight!

[violettesiren]

Narcissus, as light recedes and the year, growing febrile, revels in its loss, you, trailing green ribbons, bring us a gift of fragrant snow.

Who can say what we hoped for? We would have settled for spring again, those baskets of bloom, those pink cloudy candies, buds breaking like glass balls to show us our funny selves, looking back laughing.

Instead, Narcissus, you give us the heart bathed in its own exuberant fountain. Have you no message? Only this eager blossoming?

Even while we sleep and the household sleeps- animals, furniture, crumbs by the kitchen door-Narcissus, you stand watch, mute and dreamless during your one brief season, as if unwilling to miss, for even an instant, Being, the Whole that embraces us.

We wake and move between this and that in the glow of your doomed, waxy stars. Lessen our solitude, Sister, the hand stretched forth, serene novitiate from the ancient, ineffable garden.

Narcissus in Mid-December by Jane Flanders

[flemethinabighat]

Starfed we yet starved

Their mouths could open to swallow star systems, their throats could be wormholes to other, distinctly more gruesome universes. They are that vast in some respects. Yet, they do not take, they don’t consume, they don’t eat. Their hunger isn’t the kind that hollows red, ripened fruits to fuel their unimaginable engines.

From their emptiness they expel bright bands of radiating energy, their organs breathe the fires that births stars, singing the songs that expand the universe. But they are stone, they don’t grow or change. This would mean craving a fleshy diet, like the long lost mortals that dripped jeweled pomegranate seeds into raw earth from thirsty mouths, while the lean contours of their minds stretched outward toward divinity, starving for its perfection.

So these siblings remained unchangeable for years beyond count, minds locked in geosynchronous orbits with the star of their souls, ever sheltering a dark cold side of their consciousness. Their ears attuned to the whispers and hymns of the living universe, turning in shock as the many thrumming tones that weave through time began to thin to silence.

From this they knew hunger, from this they learned to fear and their darker halves turned towards the desperate light of their souls in question. They reached through the fire, burnt to bones to bring the music back.

Four siblings approached their mother on her throne of clouds and swirling stardust. She floated mightily above the platform before a giant doorway that sat silent and empty. Beneath her star cast shadow they glowed like deep sea creatures. She herself began to glow with a bright majesty, dissolving her own shadow as she absorbed the light of the stars she created.

Amani the starmaker loomed, but she didn’t wish to convey her disappointment. Merely the finality of the decision. Fresh hurt and wizened hurt at once behind her calm face, her beloved face. It made them each look away. Well, everyone but little Zymtesia. Nothing made her stop looking with large unblinking eyes, or smiling demurely with hidden thoughts. Her pink, diaphanous spider legs arching from her back twitched however, though what feeling exactly that betrayed was never obvious to her siblings. Her hands clasped before her, her feet poised like a dancer to spring, leap or twirl.

Each sibling hovered slightly too far apart and forced themselves in the hanging silence to meet their mother’s gaze. It took a gruesome effort.

“My dear ones,” she began at last, her voice a soft avalanche of sand, a rising thunder that lulls one to a dangerously deep sleep. “I think you forget, I was young once like you,” her face took on the expression they knew well, stars are a delicate business, growing from swirling dusts and chemicals heating and drifting. So easy to break, like molten glass. “We all must learn from the horrible magnitude of our mistakes to grow, to change and be more aware of our impact. Become what we must be, to both survive and serve the universe we conspire to create.”

They knew she ardently believed in serving the universe. Three faces turned away as each they fought conflicted thoughts, Zym stared straight ahead, smiling. “My children, who do you want to be, what do you wish to create?” She urged from her high cloud cover, her soft dark eyes framed by her jeweled headdress, she looked ineffably regal yet so tired.

She left the silence for their thoughts to fill, each of them knowing not to try to answer, with either genuine attempt or facetious quip. Even Pengamat remained silent, Zym eyeing him with her perpetual smile.

Her mantle of pink rough horns caught the azure light of a young star like a muttered joke, the black sclera of her eyes letting the cold silver of her irises shimmer with hidden thoughts he could nearly hear. He was glad he didn’t have a face to fight a smile, his giant blue eye, afloat in an orb of flame watered however and their mother didn’t fail to notice.

The doorway hung behind their mother’s cloud chariot, she gestured at it with a dry expression, knowing her youngest child’s mind just as well as Pengamat did. Thesalemeia crossed her arms as her one visible thick black eyebrow flattened over her eye from around the curtain of her long hair, falling in a shimmering viridescent sheet, ever sheltering half of her face. She glared at Zymtesia and whispered hush, though no one had spoken. The child’s diaphanous spider legs twitched again, this time with unmistakable defiance.

The doorway is opening, Amani said just as its ancient seal cracked and from beyond a screaming writhing torrent of motion became visible, palpable and alive, as if millions of little tentacles reached for them greedily. “Go now, visit the seer, Tesano, perhaps his wisdom will guide you. Perhaps you will answer the questions you’ve only begun to ask.”

Pengamat cringed internally, feeling the sharp teeth of his tie clench and shift as the jaw in his chest tensed. He disguised this by straightening his smart blue button up, that matched his eye, it’s half rolled up sleeves exposing his strong brown forearms in a fashion he felt was dashing while Zym teased him for his vanity.

All along the good child remained silent. Pengamat eyed his little sibling, adrift on their golden cloud, the very picture of their lovely mother. Keemasan the star shepherd hoisted their staff which was glowing faintly from its crystal, tossing its light over their silken hood. It began to pulse like a panicked heartbeat in the shifting horror of the avenue that lay beyond the doorway, the path they would have to walk.

“The council and I agree, my loves, it is time you made a choice. There is time enough yet to live, though our universe is in its last age.”

“Don’t give up hope.” The plea sheltered them in her love as much as her sorrow. Hope wasn’t a song they could hear anymore. Life was coming to an end, the universe was flicking off its lights and they had simply tried to keep them on. Why this upset anyone, including the Council was beyond the four of them, but Thesalemeia bore the shame of their actions the hardest, as the eldest and their ostensible keeper. She led the way through the door, and the path swallowed them.

[troll-skogur]

Gustave Flaubert said “I am gifted with an absurd sensitivity, what scratches others tears me apart”. I only see the world through a prism of radiant rainbow or darkness without a single ounce of light. I don't know half measures and when I dare, oh, when I dare to let my emotions speak, in my heart, it's a fireworks display of a thousand and one colors or an atomic bomb that destroys everything in its path, which wipes out all forms of life, for days and months. I am lucky because in my heart, it is a ginkgo biloba that grows and which, like the phoenix, is always reborn from its ashes. Always… ? This fear that one day nothing will bud anymore grabs my guts and turns my stomach so, little by little, I build walls around my heart. I think I lack technique, initially, I build walls of paper, easily destructible, walls of cardboard, walls of ice, walls of clay, walls of stone, walls of iron, walls of steel… No, it's true, I don't think I can create anything other than ice walls. And when my eyes and my soul rest on you, a human being whose spirit and smile create chaos in my thoughts, all this heat melts the ice. In a slow dance sometimes until the water runs down my body or in a chained tango which, inevitably, breaks the ice violently and pulls more. I have allowed hope to come into my life so many times but now I am tired. I'm tired because, by feeling things more intensely than average, I have the impression of having lived eighty years. I'm tired because when I put all my faith in the bittersweet feeling of love, I often delight in the sweetness far too quickly and then feel the bitterness for far too long... I am tired because I strive to always love the hearts that do not beat for me or those that could but who aspire to someone... better. Enough to fall in love with but not enough to travel the paths of time, weather storms and see sunrises and sunsets all over the world. Enough to spend hours remaking the world and philosophizing but not enough to lie down for a moment, contemplate the starry sky and declare your love under the intimate gaze of the moon. Apologizing, every day, for being yourself, for being too much and not being enough, for being too sensitive and not being strong enough, Apologizing, every day, for loving unreasonably and believing that nothing, oh no, nothing is impossible, Apologize, every night, for not being able to hold back my tears and for waking someone up because the darkness of the night is unbearable and the immensity of the universe makes me dizzy, Apologize, every night, for screaming to the heavens my complaints and my despair to find someone who, one day, will take the risk of seeing that each day is like the light at the end of the day, soft and warm, when we share our life with someone who loves us like that. I whisper, at the edge of the woods, let me, let me try to love you but you never respond so I hide, under the leaves, trying not you love you anymore. I have always made myself a knight of love, princess of hope and queen of wisdom but… My feelings of love are ineffable and probably too complex for ordinary mortals so, sometimes, when I think I have found someone capable of touching these feelings with their fingertips, I fall and I burst into flames. But always, I realize my mistake, and so all that remains is to let this love burn in my heart until it burns out and returns to the depths of the Earth. Maybe my struggles are over here and it's time to go away and rest. Maybe I took too many spear blows to the heart and one more blow would not allow the buds to reappear next spring. Maybe the forest is screaming my name to save me from humans, to save me from their shallow and dishonest feelings. Maybe I'm too wild for this world or maybe this world made me wild. Maybe I will finally be happy, there, lying on the tender green moss, hidden under the fronds of the ferns and among the heather. Maybe I will leave this foolish world to let the beings of the forest take care of my heart and repair it from these wounds that humans inflicted on it.