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crazysnakey · 4 years

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She-Ra season 5 thoughts and reactions [Spoilers]

Adora’s Dreams???? Is she trying to reconnect her connection to She-ra or smth???

Of course everyone argues about the Heart of Etheria. How can they not

Okay so there was that awkward af dinner scene, but Horde Prime confronting Catra on her feelings for Adora is 👌👌👌

Catra going to meet Glimmer several times. I think we all expected that.

Everyone telling Adora she’s not She-Ra anymore and her feeling needing to be useful... AAAAAAA

When they tied up a clone and he just started blabbering about how Prime is great and all and they’re like “was hordak like this” and Scorpia straight up being like “nah he just said get out a lot” like even Scorpia anknowledges that Hordak was like an angsty emo teen boy

Everyone being like “WTF DO WE DO NOW ADORA ALWAYS MAKES THE PLANS UGH”

Entrapta... good old entrapta going apeshit over the tech

Horde Prime really does that huh? Not only does he destroy planets and take their food he keeps their treasures and stuff as his trophies

GLIMMER GO OFF YEAH DON’T LET HIM USE YOU

Horde Prime calling Catra little sister... 😟 hell no you bleached octopus

Scorpia’s impression of Entrapta is so funny like... “Yay! Science! Tech! *crazy hysterical laughing*

ENTRAPTA CAN YOU PLEASE NOT WALK INTO THE WAY OF GIANT DRONES AND BOTS PLEASE ITS A STEALTH MISSION

Mermista taking charge with Adora gone, go for it girl

Scorpia, i love you

“hooray! Oh I take back my hooray. Never mind I reinstate my hooray! Hooray!”

ENTRAPTA SAYING THAT SHE WORKS WITH TECH BETTER THAN PEOPLE AND SHE WANTED TO HELP THEM THRU TECH 😢😢

Those clones really pop out of nowhere huh? They’re just stationed everywhere huh? Like stormtroopers.

Shadow Weaver, you tsundere. You still have an attachment to Micah as your student

That one clone who’s neck just snapped and twisted (with all the great sound effects, yay!) 😨

Okay so Prime can see and talk thru all his clones... shoulda seen that coming

Hordak??? Hordak is that you

Catra straight up telling Hordak that it’s reassuring to see a familiar face even if they weren’t on the best of terms... 🥺

Is Hordak starting to remember?? Is he gonna remember Entrapta aaaaaaaaaaa come on pls

Adora taking them all to the place in her dream... wow somethings up y’all

UH WHERE IS MADAME RAZZ IN ALL THIS?????????

Going to save Glimmer... good luck y’all are seriously gonna need it

Micah pretending to be She-Ra was so funny I don’t know why

Oh so Prime can’t track First Ones tech... thank god

Wow remember when I said Hordak might be remembering?? Haha we just got the rug pulled out from under us

The Horde clones are a literal fucking cult and their chanting is seriously unnerving like wow Noelle props to making it unsettling

Aaaaaaaaand Hordak was reset again (in a weirder way too with that bathtub of whatever the fuck is in there) think he’ll somehow remember again? Entrapta my girl I’m counting on you

Entrapta naming the ship Darla... I’m getting Emily vibes

CATRA GETTING FLASHBACKS OF HER AND ADORA AS KIDS JUST RIP MY HEART OUT WHY DON’T YOU 🥺😭

Okay but does Prime have no cameras or anything??? He’s got clones and advanced tech but no cameras or scanners in his own ship?? Probably bc his clones are his cameras or smth

CATRA APOLOGIZING AND SAYING SHE WANTS TO DO SOMETHING GOOD WHEN SHE SAVES GLIMMER... WOAH 😭

They really gave us Swift Wind feels huh? They really did that to us

Scorpia saying that Kyle told her he has a crush on Rogelio... awww

The Star siblings are so sweet. Also Adora stop eating all their food

Bow just helping and protecting Glimmer even tho he’s still mad at her... 😊🥰

SHE-RA?!?!?????? She-ra is that you

Adora saying she wants to go back for Catra and that she needs her... 😭😭😭

One of the episodes is literally named “Save the Cat” like 😂😂😂

BRAINWASHED CATRA AAAAAA NO TF

Somehow I knew that Prime was probably gonna brainwash Catra but actually seeing it is something else

Okay but Wrong Hordak..., crying, no idea what to do, really innocent just trying his best don’t hurt him

So the clones and Prime use a hive mind... cool coolcoolcool

Horde Prime uses vessels??? He just jumps in from one body to the other??? He can do that??? Literally if he does that to any of the rebellion people I’ll drag him out of there with my bare hands

Excuse me??? Horde Prime knew the First Ones???? He destroyed them????? HORDE PRIME DESTROYED THE FIRST ONES WHAT

Adora fighting Catra,,,, AGAIN

Catra slowly remembering ONLY FOR PRIME TO SCREW IT UP AND INTERFERE THAT DIRTY PIECE OF-

New She-Ra form

NEW SHE-RA FORM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NEW CLOTHES NEW POWERS NEW SWORD

WHERE TF DID IT COME FROM THO???????

They better have a good explanation of this and not just some asspull don’t do us dirty that way

Then screwing over Horde Prime and wrecking his shit. NICE 👍👏👏👏

OH MY GOD HORDAK FINDING ENTRAPTA’S PINK “LUVD” CRYSTAL AND GOING “Entrapta?” OHHHHH BOY WE GON GET SOME NOW

Everyone on the ship just dealing with stuff. Wrong Hordak continues to be the nicest person yet.

Micah is so funny he’s just like I want some cake and Frosta’s like UGH and he’s just like “Do kids not like cake anymore???”

Elberon. Hoooo boy that was weird and fucked up. Goosebumps. Honestly they should’ve seen it from a mile away that something was up

AAAAAAAAAH SPINNERELLA NOOOOOOOO

Catra’s new hair without the helmet is really nice. Kinda like her past being cut away and moving towards the future. I see she’s back with draping herself all over Adora and annoying her

Secret Underwater Party Adventure literally what

Scorpia’s song ❤️💖❤️... hot DAMN girl you are AMAZING and VALID and I STAN YOU

Glad to see the underwater people are doing great in these trying times

That montage of people with a grudge against Sea Hawk and Mermista beating them up is so fucking funny like “ANYONE ELSE WHO’S BOAT YOU’VE SET ON FIRE??!?”

DOUBLE TROUBLE?!!??!1?!1!??!???

Ironically DT was lying when they said Adora’s in space with a sword fighting but they didn’t know that’s what’s actually happening asdfjdn

Oh my god Mermista have you been chipped too

Literally everyone has been chipped so I guess no one’s safe idk what I was think. ing. 🤷‍♀️

How do those chips even work?? Does someone just slap it on the back of someone’s neck and that’s it?

EVEN MICAH’S BEEN TAKEN CONTROL OF?!?

That’s one heck of an anniversary....

Okay, Krytis gives me Krypton vibes. Anyone else??? It’s a planet, some superbeing’s weakness, and the name. Also it’s like, destroyed/abandoned has no life on it

Catra and the gang with their antics... she’s clearly not used to their carefree improvising ... laughing ... awww 😊 ~

Castaspella where have YOU been the whole time??

“How is it we’ve lost so many fine members of the rebellion yet we’re still stuck with you?” WOW Not holding back anything huH

Castaspella why are you even still wearing those longass robes and that cape

MAGIC??!? THAT’S THE SECRET??? THAT- actually makes sense. Prime uses science and tech so magic is something that’s probably out of his depth

Someone get me a shapeshifting cat please Melog is so cool

Wrong Hordak you’ve found your own truth go for it you spunky little boi

“Brother, I hope you too are full of love for Horde Prime and have no crippling doubt eating at your soul” GOLD. COMEDY GOLD I TELL YOU

HORDAK REMEMBERING THE ENTRAPTA RAINBOW SCENE AAAAAAAA

That montage where Netossa lists everyone’s weaknesses is so funny, Catra’s just like “I’m different. I’m a real threat.” Then Netossa just. Sprays her with water. Like. Wow.

Even in this troubling time, dad jokes persist. This is awesome. George and Lance have their priorities sorted well. Bow is so done with it 😆

HORDE PRIME WAS THERE IN PERSON THE WHOLE TIME?!

Literally what?????????? The heart can be taken WITHOUT SHE-RA???? Horde Prime ain’t screwing around babeyyyyy

Scorpia.... don’t lose to it AAA 🥺🥺🥺 and Perfuma is so positive and does the Fairy Tail thing where she believe in her friends no matter what

Shadow Weaver, the only one using actual logical deduction in the team while everyone else panics and makes puns

Okay Shadow Weaver’s speech to Adora might sound cruel but it’s actually logical and truthful. She’s being honest.

ENTRAPDAK REUNION. YES. YESYES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MY SPOP OTP HAS RETURNED HORDAK STILL BEING ANGSTY

“YOUR IMPERFECTIONS ARE BEAUTIFUL” Entrapta you’re killin me

Glimmer’s first meeting with Micah and THIS is how it goes?!? Wow

“Adora it doesn’t always have to be you!!” That gives me so many feels bc it’s kinda true

CATRA STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR PROBLEMS DON’T DO THAT THIS TIME YOU’VE COME SO FAR NOW NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Adora doesn’t want me! Not like I want her” number one that’s so sad, number two NO, number three GURL ADORA DOES WANT YOU BACK LIKE THAT SHE LOVES YOU

Entrapta girl, you can do it you spunky little gremlin

The memories,,, AaAAAaaaaaAAaAAAAA

Glimbowww!!!! Glimbow Glimbow Glimbow!

“You’re worth more that what you can give to other people. You deserve love too.” OH MY GOD THAT IS SUCH A GOOD AND POSITIVE MESSAGE TO GIVE NOT JUST TO ADORA BUT TO PEOPLE IN REAL LIFE

GLIMMER comin in to SAVE THE DAYAY and Seahawk ,, 🤣🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂😂 you’re the highlight of these moments I swear 😂🤣😂

“My oldest enemy”?? Does he mean She-Ra or the First Ones? also WHAT is that giant green tentacle monster

THE LITTLE ENTRAPTA LOGO ON HER SCANNERS AND TECH THAT IS SO CUTE

KYLE AND ROGELIO AND LONNIE ARE STILL TOGETHER AND THEY’VE ADOPTED IMP AWWWWW AAAAAA

George and Lance are so proud of their son ~

Shadow Weaver !!!!!!! AAAAA AND TAKING OFF THE MASK and then just. FUCKIN G DYING??!!!??? SHADOW WEAVER YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO GIVE ME THESE FEELS AT THE END

Double Trouble you little shit

Holee shit, THAT is the heart??? It looks like empty cubes or shapes or something...

GO HORDAK GO OFF

DID HE JUST KILL PRIME???? YES!!!

Oh shit, nevermind, they are a hive mind after all,,, ........ FUCK

CATRA GOING “I LOVE YOU I ALWAYS HAVE”

CATRADORA KISS

THEY GLOWED AND TURNED RAINBOW GAY RIGHTS

THEY PLAYED CATRA AND ADORA’S SOUNDTRACK IN THEIR BIG MOMENT

Hordak’s memory with baby Adora??? Like adorable????

ENTRAPDAK REUNION AAAAAAA THE HUG

“HI I’M DAD” WOW

ALL THE REUNIONS

Mermista’s just like slightly unsettled by Entrapdak. Begone Antis.

Literally Madame Razz have you been just walking around and dusting stuff

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL ENDING WHAT A GOOD WAY TO END THE SHOW HOLY SHIT WOW

All of my ships have become canon this season Catradora Glimbow Entrapdak Seamista thank you Noelle MY CROPS ARE WATERED MY SKIN CLEARED MY DEPRESSION CURED MY HOPE RESTORED THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO WORKED ON SPOP I AM BLESSED

#spop #she ra #my thoughts #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra season 5 #liveblog #wOW #text post #yeah #still im so happy for my ships #all the love confessions were so good like #I love you #WOW BEAUTIFUL #got nothing to lose so just spilling all the feelings out there huh

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gretchensinister · 7 years

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The Apotheosis AU, in order

I think that to do a top five list of the Eldritch Guardians stories wouldn’t present anything I wanted to present, especially since most of the stories in that masterpost are really part of one larger story. So, instead of a list, what I have for you under the cut is the current most canonical version of the Apotheosis AU (sometimes known as the Eldritch Abomination Polyamorous Whatever AU).

Note: There are a few inconsistencies, which aren’t fixed here, but would be if I find the motivation to put this AU on Ao3. (Also, somehow tumblr ate the italics in this post. The links might be clearer if you find yourself having trouble interpreting some dialogue.)

The chapter titles are links to the standalone fics.

I truly hope you will enjoy revisiting this AU, or giving it a chance for the first time. It’s one of my favorites.

Summary: On a beautiful blue world full of minds, two ancient, ever-linked spirits of light and darkness allow themselves to become entangled with a group of other extraordinary beings. Though these other extraordinary beings are often afraid of what they could become, they all find each other in the end and after the end.

Prologue: vaster than empires and more slow

vaster than empires and more slow

***

they do not caress with hands, though they might have caressed with something close enough to hands a billion years ago, or two

out of curiosity

but they were not young then either

young? they do not remember being young, they enjoy getting older, they enjoy seeing time as great syrupy drops flowing up and down and sideways that might stick on their notskin for the other which is also the self to lick off with a nottongue, they are glad to be free from the clickclickclick traintrack of time that all the youngthings with their sweat and bark and tectonic movement and hydrogen fusion are caught in like—well they don’t really know what like. there is always a way out from where they notstand and notlook except the youngthings are never patient enough to find it and sometimes they wonder whythem?

and the goldlightsweet one knows and the blackshadowbitter one knows and what they know is the answer to whythem? and the answer is lovelovelove

perhaps longlong ago they cried and bled and sweat and salivated and ejaculated like the youngyoungyoung ones and somehow all their water flowed into a cosmic glass and something even they will never understand tasted it and knew them and said these ones must nevernever die they know something about love they know something about hate and to put it in a way that will not make sense for a very long time even by my measurements:

they are the real jet-fuel.

but perhaps they made themselves the way they are because they could not actually fuck each other to death nor could they make sweet and gentle love to each other to death, oh candy mouths and oh knifish claws and oh stardust hair and oh whipcord arms and oh those ripe and ready hills of flesh and oh the valleys deserve a longlong tongue and oh none of this was ever lethal though perhaps they thought it might be at the time. and since this was the only way they could see themselves dying in the tracks of time (clickclickclick) they leapt from the tracks most spectacularly and dieddidn’tdie oh what is a body and perhaps in those first moments after that is where the confusion between I and you began and perhaps in the second moments I and you were discarded forevermore

but of course this is not how it happened because that sounds all too human does it not?

perhaps they were never anything like any of the youngthings but then, how would light and shadow have learned to make shadow and light gasp like inspiration and come like creation?

only youngthings care how they came to be and they are more concerned with caring that they are and they are perfect opposites oh perfect perfect have you ever seen a more perfect darkness oh perfect perfect have you ever seen a more perfect shine please do not touch the other that perfection is for this one to obliterate thank you very much and perhaps this time it will be cold fire or hot ice or broken plates and sunrises but what matters is the return the return the return

they spread out into the luxurious and fragileopen minds of youngthing sleepers my what a finefine bed so soft and smooth and warm and the feardark feels the joylight grinning already, always greedy that one and the terroreater grins back even while sinking into that patchwork of desires and says softsmoothwarm like beautyglimmer yesyes? and the other laughs (oh slumbering poets here is a gift please do not spend it all in one place you would probably be thought insane) because they love the way each seems to the other on these molassesdark nights inside a billion egglike skulls and yesyesyes each other

and if the youngthings could comprehend they would no longer be troubled by the lack of I and you between them for without I and you is the only way they can be

and they are the death by lightning strike and they are the bloom of roses the size of pinky nails and they are water so cold it makes you drunk and they are the ever-shifting dunes that hide everything today and nothing tomorrow and they are squeaking the springs of brains like blakes and beethovens and little girls who suddenly realize grass is translucent in the setting sun but can’t bother with paper

and in an age or a moment or both they do not care, they have world enough and time, they shuddershudder oh yesyes sometimes it is goodgaspinggood to have an ending like the youngthings have

and a cavewoman thinks of fire and a cypress tree is outlined on a canvas meant to be covered in stars and a gun is aimed toward a mouth and xocolatl is mixed for the first time and Cain is not sorry and a Swiss man takes an unforgettable bicycle ride and the girl watching the grass begins to bother with paper and learns how to create a universe and fill it with pain and she laughs and they lovelovelove all of this and each other

oh it is a lovely world so good for play and as they curl through each other they know they will stay a longlong time as the tracks (clickclickclick) go and it will be eternity and just long enough for them.

Chapter 1: Avalanche

He was going to die. North closed his eyes, preferring the dark created by his eyelids to the dark in the small (all too small) air pocket deep within the tons upon tons of snow and ice that had slid down the face of the mountain just a few minutes before. The last thing he had seen clearly had been the blindingly white snow rushing toward him, the edge of the avalanche blurred so that it looked like it should have been as silent and light as a cloud on a summer’s day. Instead, it had sounded like thunder and had knocked him off Petrov, thrown him up and down and around until, now, when he was still, he didn’t know which way he was facing. He knew what one was supposed to do in this situation. Spit into your hand. Dig in the direction away from where the spit rolls. But the avalanche had buried him too densely. His arms were trapped, his hands were numb. And it was very, very dark. He was probably too far down to dig himself out even if he did know which way to go. And so even though he knew what he was supposed to do, all he could think of was the other thing he knew: he knew that he only had a few breaths left. He began to grow afraid. How large had the avalanche been? There was a village nearby—had the snow buried it too? What had happened to Petrov? And—had it been his fault? Had one too-loud laugh brought the mountain down? Something seemed to shift around him and he opened his eyes, but, if anything, the air pocket was darker than before. still no self? not like others could becomebecome but need to live longlong ordinary first It was a voice. It was not a voice. It was the smell of smoke from a burning house, it was the sting of the cuts ice had made on his face and neck, it was the taste of someone else’s blood in his mouth. He understood it. curiouscurious what will you be have to find out is your mind like your tallstrongbrownbeardbody? goldkindness will laughunderstand but/still told you were one to watch was right right always right smug little but donotmind keep your eyesopen now –and without warning he was standing on top of the snow, Petrov’s bridle in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, and in the clear air he still felt unable to breathe. His hands shook, and what he knew now was that he was in the grip of physical terror. He had never felt it before. And something, something had never seen him that way before, and liked what it saw now. He made his way to the village feeling as if he was moving as slowly as the glacier in the distance, without uttering a sound. *** He invited both Old Men to become Guardians. Sandy said yes, and Pitch said no, and he wondered if their answers meant anything, and which one should concern him more.

Chapter 2: Wood, Breaking, Waking

Talking, talking, talking. Drowned Boy saying the name Pitch. Answering. Easy to keep this going, but Drowned Boy doesn’t seem to know about everything else going on, strange, strange, what did he think had happened three hundred years ago? Pitch watches him with eyes while the rest thinks and reaches out and finds oh how more than strange, there isn’t much of the Drowned Boy anywhere except that remade human body, does he think that’s him? How sad what torture and surely his anger is understandable now a sleepy voice near the core, so warm so good, shiver and uncurl on planes the Drowned Boy really isn’t aware of? Really? really yes really understand know what he thinks? oh now yes sorry sorry must have looked terrible but being so distant so long very unkind and hard to figure out otherways when shining bodyshaped could have asked sunlaughter black scales raising, black scales being patted down Can never think of that without…you? it’s okay it’s okay, no need for that word, didn’t hurt for very long, let it happen, saw understanding trouble (and missed this, feels sort of like inside, inside means a lot after wearing a body for a long time) summer nights as warm as arterial blood and Pitch asks the Drowned Boy to join him, barely remembers to call him Jack instead and maybe doesn’t get the tone quite right. More laughter beyond lengthwidthdepthtime but it hasn’t worked anyway not all bodies so easy shh shh if he thinks there was destruction then how will he agree? And when will he know? And… Pitch and the rest notice that the staff is also the Drowned Boy, is also real wood, too, not just the thought of it like the Drowned Boy’s body is the memory of flesh. Yes that’s the way maybe he’ll see then and what is there to bargain with? What does the Drowned Boy want other than what was offered? Oh yes here it is, a piece of one of the others. A miscalculation, and Pitch throws the piece away instead of putting it back with the others, and the Drowned Boy is talking more, always more talking, but he doesn’t have the staff anymore, or at least he doesn’t think he does. Bizarre. It really is only wood, though the Drowned Boy is in it. Pitch holds it near the ends and starts to bend it and the Drowned Boy groans. It hurts? How can he not understand that his body is only what he thinks it is, then? Pitch pushes and pushes and the wood cracks and splinters, loud in the Antarctic silence for a moment or two only, before Jack’s cries of pain drown it out. He’s doubled over, writhing in the snow, he’s screaming and why is he like this he let it go the ice left it only thing he’s had to hang onto his whole existence other than his name The crackling becomes audible again as the Drowned Boy’s screams turn to keens and whimpers and gasps. he’s not going to get it he’s never realized he died I think you should get it over with “I” the idea is painful and even if the Drowned boy doesn’t understand anything Pitch and the rest does and the staff is at once cracked in two, for Pitch has never been able to fix, this is the best Pitch’s hands can do. The break is usually bad, but never as bad as the process of severing. The two pieces of the staff are left behind and a little warmth returns to all of Pitch. will probably have to leave again before Jack understands couldn’t stand this permanently of course The lie and the disbelief of it are paired particles. just no “I” no more “I” then stop being a “you”, tarhorror *** When next seen, the Drowned Boy has made the broken staff whole again. He knows he’s been dead. when brightvision when?—The question asked from a used body to a new one. just a week just a week comes the thought from the fading dream we’ll have fun waking him up to himself and practice with your body beforehand, dearterror

Chapter 3: carefulcareful

He knows he is awake, for he is looking out his window at the lights and towers that form part of North’s workshop and seeing them with a clarity he would not have in dreams. This knowledge does not comfort him. He thinks he might have woken because he wanted to turn over, but he cannot do that. He cannot flex his toes, he cannot clench his fists. He cannot scream, though he wants to. He cannot make even that small movement. He feels like he is suffocating, but the feeling goes on too long for that to be true. Maybe—maybe he just cannot feel himself breathing. He thinks his heart might be pounding now, but he cannot feel that either. Is this permanent? He wonders, panic growing in his mind. What’s happened to him? Slowly, along with the panic, a chill and oily terror begins to seep into his consciousness. A large, large shadow flows across the window and his fear spikes. He knows, without knowing how, that the shadow is looking at him. Of course! That would explain everything. The Guardians had warned him about Pitch when Jack became one of them. Paralyzing Jack and then feeding off his fear would be something he would do, as much as anyone could predict what Pitch would do. He just needed to figure out how to call for help— His thoughts are interrupted when what feels like a cool and muscular tendril of flesh wraps around his ankle. If Pitch wants his fear, he’s getting all Jack has to give right now. Help! Anyone! Jack screams in his mind, and, almost instantly, he feels another presence enter the room. He spots a glimmer out of the corners of his eyes and feels golden-colored laughter splash into the shadows pooling in his mind. Sandy! He’s not the rescuer Jack would have expected or hoped for, but he’ll take him. carefulcareful The voice is quiet and echoes in his mind, and Jack can tell Sandy is speaking to Pitch, not him. he’s new why else here? replies an even softer voice that soundfeels like spider legs and makes Jack want to shudder, though of course he still can’t. am careful—can’t move Laughter like sunlight reflecting on water. but he’s awake getting clumsy and why that physical foolishness on his leg of course he’s awake that’s how this is done show what clumsy is later oldmanenemyloverotherhalfself and all his terms are physical right now he’s only three hundred babychildsproutnebula Jack is suddenly struck by memories of watching lightning in the distance and the taste of lemony sour-sweetness, and he has the uncomfortable feeling that Sandy has just kissed Pitch. would break him now then no matter what done Sandy’s voice is warm and comforting, but Jack wishes he could yell for North now more than ever. A wave of frustration from Pitch. new things so rare not fair have as much time as wanted Lavender and honey. shh shh will share learningknowingJack understand temptation very well is very strong meet him together soonsoon Pitch pleads. soonsoon Sandy agrees. being carefulcareful remember did not like what happened with Bunny not used to carefulcareful with mind not shinygoldkindpretty Kaleidoscope smile. physical first then but both oh shadowbruteimpatient Taste of licorice and joy of sinking toes into cool mud on a hot day. Jack’s not sure he wants to know what that was. Sandy again. so let him go now And suddenly they are both gone—along with the thing on his leg—and Jack takes a gasping breath and tries to scream, though it comes out as more of a wheeze. He throws off the covers and paces around the room just because he can. Sandy and Pitch are totally, completely gone. Shouldn’t beings like them leave some trace? Jack shakes his head. What the hell just happened? Now, he’s glad his scream didn’t come out. He has no idea how he would explain any of this to North. But he realizes after a few moments that he’s going to have to. It sounded like the other Guardians went through similar…initiations? And he wants to be as prepared as possible. He rests his face in his hands. How on earth was he supposed to start that conversation? “So, I think I’ve been recruited into a threesome with a couple of cosmic horrors—or you know, one cosmic horror and one cosmic joy, but close enough…”

Chapter 4: maybemaybe when you’re older

“Oops,” Jack says, pulling away from the gray-skinned, basically human form Pitch has taken on for this “experiment” and biting his lip nervously as he looks at the whitish spot of frostnip he’s left on the side of his neck. why’dyouwhy’dyou stopstop? Two voices, asking the exact same question, bloom in his mind and echo against each other and Jack sits up, alarmed. “W-will you quit that!” He looks from Pitch to Sandy, who seems to be a small, chubby, golden man sitting at the foot of the bed, with an expression of amused curiosity on his face. “You both have mouths now!” Sandy sticks out his tongue and Pitch laughs aloud, while Jack suddenly tastes durian and raspberries, falls from a great height, is brushed all over with feathers, bites something that was supposed to be soft and turned out to be crunchy, and watches light slowly seep through a prism until it splits into a thousand thousand colors, not in the usual order of the rainbow. In the real room—though how real it is he has absolutely no idea—he sees large shadowy fractal-like forms flowing out from the gray-skinned body flicker in and out of his view, as well as glimpses of the incredibly complex gold and crystalline architecture that surrounds Sandy in far more than four dimensions. He goes even paler than normal and presses his hands to the side of his head. A soft keening escapes from his throat. shh shh Sandy’s voice tells him, and something happens and the sensory onslaught ends, including his visions of the Dreamers as they really are. Sandy smiles and switches from sitting to lying on his belly, resting his face in his hands and kicking his little feet in the air. “hhhhwhyyyy should uzzze mouths when you sssssstopped using yours?” Pitch asks. “I—I got distracted while I was…kissing your neck…” Jack trails off faintly for a moment. Everything about that statement seems improbable when applied to Pitch, from the idea of kissing to the presence of a neck. “And I accidentally gave you frostnip.” Pitch glances at Sandy, who shrugs. “It’s an injury,” Jack explains, talking quickly. “When the skin gets frozen. It causes itching, pain. And it can discolor the skin.” ooooh want to see Sandy crawls up the bed and leans across Pitch’s chest, turning his head so he can look at the place on Pitch’s neck where Jack had been kissing him. Gently, he touches his tongue to it. cold! Pitch wraps his arm around the shoulders of his counterpart’s small avatar and Jack can tell he’s looking at the frostnip as well, though he tries not to think about what’s really going on that makes it possible for Pitch to look at his own neck without a mirror. veryvery interesting Pitch says. why not on goldsmoothdeliciousskin? just as distracted watched veryvery closely grayskin fragile fragile! Sandy nuzzles his shoulder and wiggles in his grip. no practice making body no knowing frost is cold tallterrortoy The sensation Jack gets from Pitch when Sandy calls him that makes him blush, but is also so incredibly inhuman that he starts shaking involuntarily. “Sh-should I go?” he asks, though he doesn’t know how they got to this room or how to leave. nono they both answer, looking at each other for a long moment before turning their eerie gold and silver gazes on Jack. make manymany more frostnips Pitch says, stretching out on the bed. Sandy nods. never that kind of painfeeling before time for more now make new grayskin if too much He possessively runs a slender finger along the line of Jack’s jaw. want you now veryvery curious not fair light have you while shadow did not Jack gulps. “So, uh, Sandy’s not joining us for this part?” Laughter like bubbles formed by an orca’s breaching. togethertogether would kill you if all enjoying Sandy says. maybemaybe when you’re older He pats Jack’s hair as he directs him to the other side of Pitch’s neck, before settling back to take his turn watching.

Chapter 5: All of Summer in an Hour

“Do you ever miss anything about being human?” Tooth asks, trailing her fingers in one of the Warren’s streams of sparkling clear water. More each day, Jack thinks, but doesn’t say. He’d rather not have that conversation with all three of them at once. Then again, it’s not like Tooth’s question wouldn’t have been uncomfortable even if he wasn’t beginning to discover just how far the consequences of his death truly reached. “I…I’ve been able to make up for most of the things I missed since I’ve become a Guardian,” he answers. “Surely there must be something you still want?” North looks up from the small carving he’s been working on. “We will find way to give it to you.” He settles back against the mossy boulder, looking more relaxed than Jack’s ever seen him, without his coat or boots, and with a few braids in his beard courtesy of the mini fairies. In a few moments they’re going to give him a flower crown—a little while ago Jack had caught Bunny whispering to them where the best flowers were. “Well…there is one thing I used to miss, but I think I’m getting over it now that—” a memory threatens to overwhelm him “—I have believers.” “Hugs? We’ll give you those, Frost, no problem.” Bunny grins at him and Jack smiles back. At first he had been surprised how quickly Bunny had warmed up to him after their rocky start when he joined the Guardians, but now, he realizes that everything about those three days had been enough to throw even the most stable being off their normal behavior. Then again, he thinks, maybe Bunny could already sense then the…potential…I seem to have. “I’m not getting over those,” Jack says. “But…okay, it has to do with why I like hanging out in the Warren so much.” He pauses for so long that Tooth has to prompt him to go on. “It’s like this.” He rolls over on his stomach and starts picking at the lush grass, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Ever since I got my memories back, I’ve missed…summer. I loved the long days, the feeling of the sun on my skin, the bright deep green everywhere, the thick blue of the sky overhead…it was my favorite season. I can’t go where the summer is now, though. It makes me feel sick. Weak.” Though maybe not for long. “So that’s why I like being in the Warren. I know that it’s more glorious than any summer outside, and it’s not too hot. But I still miss…I still miss the real summer sky.” They are all silent for a time, and Jack looks up, trying to gauge how embarrassed he should be. But North simply winks at him. “We will work on that,” he says. Jack smiles and flips onto his back again. If North can manage it, Jack’s sure he’ll do it right. Not like the— doyoulike doyoulike know you want heart’sdesire and this is the blue the gloryglory blue and he was drowning in it, the blue feels just like drowning, though yes it is glorious of course it’s glorious but with the sun in that summer sky surrounding him, speaking to him, touching, of course touching, his skin with a warmth so like his memories but burning like a brand— gift from Sandy. Beautiful and terrible, all of summer in an hour. And still he wishes he could stand the glory. And still he dreads the certainty that one day he will be able to.

Chapter 6: Patience

“Jack!” North calls, surprised and pleased to see the new Guardian standing in the globe room. “How did you get in? Usually the yetis will tell me if anyone is at the main entrance.” “By ‘anyone’, you mean the other Guardians, right?” Jack is more subdued than usual, though to North, something about his manner seems odd, as if he’s fighting to be subdued. He wonders if this visit had anything to do with the Old Men and decides to try to bring up the idea of his talking with them again. Now, though, Jack’s question deserves an answer. “I suppose, yes, that is what I mean,” North says, pulling on his beard as he walks up to Jack so they can have a conversation at a normal level. “But who else would want to visit? After all, when you were first offered Guardianship, you were right when you said we were all hard work and deadlines. The Workshop is wonderful, but it is always busy.” “North,” Jack begins, laughing once without any real mirth, “I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’d been trying to bust in here for years. The yetis—they always kept me out. And—of course I wanted to visit! For a long time, you were the only one, you know, sort of human, that I thought would be able to see me. I needed that. I…” “I’m sorry, Jack,” North says, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I know the past cannot be undone. Can you forgive me? I may be the most human, as you say, but as an immortal…as a Guardian…my thoughts have changed from what they used to be. Companionship is something I know I do not think about as much as I used to. I should have realized, with you so young… “But you say you needed that. Past tense. Are things better now?” Jack leans on his staff. “I’m not sure. Look, North, the yetis would let you know if someone came in through the main entrance. That’s where they always stopped me before. And they could stop me. But they didn’t tell you I was here today because I didn’t come in through the main entrance. I got in…I got in through one of the walls of ice.” “This is something you couldn’t do before,” North guesses, and Jack nods. “Before, the ice was always something I could use, but now it feels like a part of me. I didn’t know I could do it before today,” he adds quickly. “Is there anything else you want to tell?” North asks, his gaze shrewd. “You know your shoulder felt colder than it has. You also know who are the only others able to show up here uninvited.” “There’s nothing to tell that I understand,” Jack says, looking down at his feet. He thinks he’d like to keep them. He’s used to them. “I saw my body buried. I can’t forget that anymore. I want to be worried about it, but worry has always been difficult for me, and now it’s almost impossible.” He looks up at North and grins. “I think I’m growing up. I think I’m getting old.” “But the children? Your believers?” North refuses to show fear. “I’ll be a Guardian,” Jack concedes, and North can hear the wind in his voice more than ever before. “But when there aren’t any more children, I don’t think I’ll stop being what I’ve become.” He catches North’s eyes with the ones like those he had as a human boy. “And I think I might not be the only one. They like all of us, you know. But they’re patient.”

Chapter 7: Silver Strands

If I don’t do this now, I won’t be able to do it later. Jack paces back and forth on the frozen surface of a small pond far away from any human habitation. Fractal patterns of frost, like idealizations of ferns, spread from where his feet touch and vanish as soon as he takes his next step. He doesn’t look down at them anymore, though. When he had started pacing, he had watched the patterns form and seen that they were perfect down to the atomic level, even when the structure of the water molecules should have prevented that. He didn’t want to see those things, to know he could see those things. Now, he looks out at the evergreen trees and the distant mountains or up at the feathers of clouds tossed in long white plumes over the hard blue sky. He remembers when such a scene seemed infinitely complex, infinitely beautiful, joy in every angle of every needle on the trees. Now, it’s still lovely, but if he wants to see infinity in it again…well. He knows he’d have to open his eyes in a way he’s not quite used to yet. In a way that tends to draw a certain amount of attention. That’s the last thing he wants today. It’s not like they would be jealous—he’s pretty sure they can’t be jealous—but they aren’t him. He’s still separate, damn it all! And he has to go to Bunny alone. It’s the only way he even has a chance of getting him to listen. And that means he has to do it soon. *** “Hi, Bunny,” he says, leaning on his staff. He hopes he’s entered the Warren in some usual way—looking at Bunny, he’s so nervous, he doesn’t actually remember. Bunny turns and greets Jack with a smile, as he’s done more and more often recently. He’s been tending some of the plants in the garden, though, since it is a very old garden, all the work done there is really for pleasure, and not, strictly speaking, necessary. Though he knows he doesn’t have a physical heart, Jack feels his leap and pound. What is he going to say? He had a plan, didn’t he? “What’s up, Frost? Having a good day? Must be getting on Winter up there now, right? “Yes—” Jack has no idea what to say. Bunny is—Bunny is beautiful. Well, he had started to think that a while ago, but now—how had he not noticed? There’s a glow about him, a glow of pure life, and when he breathes everything in the Warren breathes with him, everything on Earth breathes with him. Jack can feel it washing over him, better than summer heat. And more than that, he can see now the silvery billions of strands of hope shining away from Bunny’s head and heart and they shimmer in the glow too and some are passing through him, Jack— “You’re so beautiful,” Jack gulps, because he really is, overwhelmingly so. “May I?” He asks, and reaches out his free hand to touch lightly upon the hopes—does Bunny do this too? He wonders. He must, and he must play the most beautiful music in the world upon them. Bunny frowns in puzzlement as Jack moves his hand through the empty air. “Uh, mate? What was that you were saying?” Jack looks back at him. “I mean it! And I’m not just saying it because—” he focuses entirely on summoning his courage—“I love you. But I do love you.” Bunny’s jaw drops and his eyes widen. Jack hopes that’s a good sign, and he sees the silvery strand wave like a ribbon in a breeze from his chest to Bunny’s. He blushes, and Bunny closes his mouth, his expression turning solemn. “Follow me, Jack,” he says. Still hopeful, so hopeful—can’t Bunny feel it? Jack follows him to a still pool. “Look down, Jack,” he says, and Jack does. He’s gone as clear as crystal, the shadows of his body only stylized marks of frost now. His clothes are gone, and within his living ice he can see slow drifts of snowflakes, like insects in amber, spiraling slowly out from concentrations where his brain and heart were when he was human. His eyes shimmer like the Northern lights, and as he looks into them, for an instant he doesn’t think he looks any different. After that instant, he gasps—though of course he doesn’t need to. Beside him and his light, Bunny barely reflects. “You’re beautiful too,” he says. “But I don’t think it’ll work out between us.” “But—Bunny!” Jack looks at him, eyes wide and frantic. Yes, outside of the reflection, Bunny still looks the way Jack saw him before. “No! You’re—if you could see what I see—” Bunny holds up one broad paw. “Jack. Please. Don’t tell me.” He looks into Jack’s eyes and smiles a little sadly. “I’m a bunny. I’ve worked hard to stay that way.” “I—I don’t have to be like this, Bunny! I just got—distracted.” “Jack. This is who you are now. And I know it wasn’t your idea. But I can’t take your love like this.” Jack hangs his head, the human gestures still most familiar to him now. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault, Frostbite. I’ll still—I’ll still talk with you about it. Not here, though. Winter—you’re managing to freeze parts of even this garden.” Jack bites his lip, looking down, and he swears he can see Bunny’s light shimmer off the movement of the pliant crystal of his face. Why won’t he let himself know? He nods. “See you round, old man,” he hears Bunny say, as he leaves the Warren slowly, physically—courteously. Still, he can’t help but notice that the strand of hope between them narrows, but does not break.

Chapter 8: Valentine’s Day

The liquidblazing light that cannot melt this crystal ice and the darkdrowning shadow that heats it press and seep and shiver and squeeze and tickle and tongue (a word quite ridiculous for all involved at this moment, none have had anything like a tongue for hours and hours now) and nip and caress all around and all through this new crystalthing, crystalboy nomore how limited limited! And feathersoft gold and stolenmolasses blackness are enjoying this as they ever have, even when the crystalthing didn’t even think he was a crystalboy and thought himself just a boy; inspiration and panic flowing in heavinggasping waves over a thousand million minds awake and sleeping, screams of terror and songs of joy all the moans they don’t make, free of mouths and throats as they are (save when necessary, such as to calm the crystalboy frostboy iceboy who when they started still had matter still had a taste and though that is little compared to what they could know of him if he let them it is still veryvery worth knowing and perhaps they were a bit too greedygreedy with him for both abandoning his face shivered his consciousness across the sky and he was so reluctant to let his body go then and they had had to wait sillyboy sillybody) But even in their ecstasy they are so soslow and careful verycareful now and even as light blushesrushes across gladly spangled shadow and even as the inky living night pours startled, startled even after thirteen billion years, give or take, giveandtake, sillyshadow sosweet, over the brighter than sunfire brilliance smirking in their noplace bower, they are bringing up the crystalthing, up and up, higher and higher, getting him to forget boy, forget frostboy, forget iceboy, forget crystalboy, become crystalthing because only crystalthing can withstand, only crystalthing can enjoy and doesn’t he want to take all they can give, give all that they can take? yesyesyes he says in a language they don’t quite know yet and they smile in all the ways they can because this is his language, his crystalthing language, he has forgotten the partial language he had always insisted on before, he has forgotten being anything else other than the crystalthing, prismatic ice full of sharp edges and curling fractals and joyjoyjoy. But they don’t just want him to forget what he was before in being what he is now and will be foreverever with them oh sharpcoollaugher how did they ever get by without him? They want him to accept himself the new way he is, to smile but believe them when they tell him he fills the universe. And so they stop. Everything. Just for a moment. Even the turning Earth stills under them. And suddenly they are swimming in a space like a wide-open blue eye that sees them both and his smile runs allover them and, still Jack, he’ll keep his name thanks, he pulls them to him, ice bolder than before surprising even steadybrightness into a flickergiggle. Impressedjealous midnight stops holding back at all at all; dreaming starshine does the same very same. Their grins are wicked as they reach out nothands to dimensions Jack hasn’t had until now, nevertouched. *** The blizzard that February sets records. The weather forecasters make jokes about it keeping everyone inside on Valentine’s Day and November babies. They’re right, but they wouldn’t have been if the blizzard had been alone, and people hadn’t been falling into the most delicious dreams and waking from the most fascinating nightmares.

Chapter 9: GrowRunGrow

They lie close together, facing each other, a strong but uncertain March breeze blowing over them. Above them, clouds stream past, and only brief moments of sunlight illuminate gray-green grass that hasn’t quite started growing yet–the real world isn’t as comfortable as the Warren, but without discussing it they’d both decided it was best that they should meet on neutral ground. “What’re you thinking about?” Bunny asks. Lately, he’s been feeling like he could find that out without asking, but that’s not something he’s ever done before, so he doesn’t do it. “Kissing you,” says Jack. “Oh really?” Bunny smiles wryly at him, and Jack looks away, making Bunny wish he could re-do his response. Even though Jack was always the one to pull away from their kisses–sometimes violently–that didn’t mean that he necessarily wanted to. “I wish I could explain,” Jack had said. “But I can’t. I just…can’t. "You want to try again?” Bunny asks quietly. “Yes,” Jack says, with a smile small but deep, a smile that looks like The Smile, though what Bunny means by that he isn’t sure, and he doesn’t have time to figure out because then Jack is kissing him. As always, Jack’s kisses start out light, tentative, but there’s something about today, about Jack, about Bunny, that makes him bolder than he’s ever been before. Bunny thinks he might even dare to put his arms around Jack, to touch his cool skin, even though the last time he had tried to do so Jack had stopped everything at once. And then Jack’s tongue is in his mouth and Jack’s fingers are digging through the fur of his chest down to the heated skin, and they forget themselves. *** icesmile and windlaughter and growrungrow so strong and warm this is lifenewing this is what it is melt the ice and drink the water take the worldjoy within hasn’t it been offered it’s in your mouth but no the exultingcold will not be melted the ice will not flow the ice is sending frost over all the sproutthoughts beautiful to perceive but still such delicacy is violence this sharpedged joy is the enemy why cannot it soften to languor to the swift free tongue of new swollen streams with blooming banks oh surely just a little more heat would melt it summer’s edge would cut it but the cold pushes back back back *** Bunny raises his head with what feels like a groan, feeling like one of the stone sentinel eggs has been jumping on him. Some yards away, Jack lies, or at least what Bunny’s going to call Jack to make things simpler. His skin seems to glitter, and Bunny can see the grass right through him, but he’s not sure if that’s Jack’s body or his own eyes. Jack shifts, and so does his body. Bunny calls his name, but only leaves fall from his mouth. He shakes himself, trying to get oriented, and when the wind from his doing so hits the grass, it turns a bright, healthy green, just like that on which he woke. “Jack!” This time it’s a sound, and he approaches Jack slowly, not wanting to shake himself loose. Jack pushes himself to his knees, then to his feet. His staff is somehow with him again, and he leans on it heavily. “So,” he says when Bunny’s about five feet from him, “you’re like me now.” “I…” Bunny looks down to see tiny flowers growing throughout his fur. “Not exactly like you,” he finally says. “I suppose no one could be.” The longer Bunny watches Jack, the more his skin looks like skin, but it never quite gets there, as if Jack can’t be bothered anymore. “I was worried that I would hurt you, before.” “You probably would have. But I think we’re even now.” Jack smiles sadly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.” “I don’t know if it could have been stopped,” Bunny says. “But I don’t think you did it. You were always so careful. I could almost forget that you were…becoming.” “So what do we do now, as Winter and Spring?” *** “If light and darkness can hold it together, so can we,” Bunny says decisively. He notices his armor is back on his arms and legs, but he doesn’t remember buckling it on. Jack nods slowly. “And…” “And so I’m going to ask. And what’s more, they’re going to answer.” He smiles briefly at Jack. “I think I don’t have to worry about surviving the asking anymore.”

Chapter 10: Going To Be

“I hope you still like hot chocolate.” Jack wakes to find Bunny holding a mug toward him, his whole posture stiff with embarrassment. Jack smiles up at him from their bed of soft grass. It’s surprisingly still lush and green, especially since Jack had been pressed against it in a rather heightened state several hours before. Usually, even Bunny’s magic couldn’t prevent vegetation from growing at least autumnal in Jack’s presence when they spent the night together. What did it mean that he’d solved that problem? Jack sits up, accepts the cup and wiggles his shoulders. He absolutely does not want to think about that question right now. He wants to peacefully have his chocolate, that’s all. Well, and then maybe, probably, have his Bunny again. “Absolutely nothing could prevent me from liking hot chocolate,” Jack says. “No matter how much—” damn it, he didn’t want to bring this up, why was it so impossible not to? “—no matter how much I change.” “Included that in the terms and conditions before you signed, huh?” Jack laughs in relief. If Bunny could make jokes about the change now, maybe they could actually talk about it, and not in the way they always had before, which was always so sad and serious and vague. “Of course! It couldn’t have gone ahead without a forty-page contract signed by all parties in triplicate,” Jack says. When Bunny laughs this time, it sounds bitter. “Good to know you knew what you were getting into.” “Aw, Bunny, come on, it was just a little joke. I mean, what else can we do? Is it really…is it really so awful for you to think about?” Bunny sighs, smiles at Jack a little, and flops down on the grass. “It scares me and it makes me do things that don’t make sense,” he says. “Like last night. I brought over the hot chocolate as part of my apology. I’m sorry I wasn’t myself when we were together last night. Remember that time we got together, a few months ago? When we were kind of outside ourselves, Winter and Spring instead of Jack and Bunny. That terrified me. I want to press my nose against your neck and smell your sweat, not—I don’t know—be the feeling of the first crocus of the season pushing through lingering snow, or whatever. So I tried to keep things as physical as possible and I pretty much lost it and was just an animal with you. And I’m sorry about that. I won’t do it again, no matter what else I’m worried about.” Jack takes a sip of his drink and smiles at Bunny from under a chocolate mustache. “You’ll notice I certainly didn’t stay awake to complain after we were done,” he says. “You’re very, very welcome to fuck me like that again—as soon as I finish my drink, if you want. But sure, I would like it if you didn’t try to be just an animal—it’ll probably be better for you and you can pay attention to me calling you Aster.” “Ah, there you go, but really, Jack—it was something I shouldn’t have done. I don’t want it to be meaningless when I’m with you, but that’s what I was trying, because meaning affects more than just our brains and hearts these days. And I’m scared. I worked hard to get used to this body and the powers I have. But then again…” he looks away. “The more I try to hold back any changes, the farther we drift apart. The more you lower yourself to be with me. I don’t like it Jack. I don’t like it at all.” His voice grows quieter. “How could Springtime go on if its Guardian isn’t so earthly anymore?” “You know…I’m scared too,” Jack says. “I don’t know how I’m going to be like the Old Men and still myself, either. But still…I know I’m changing. I know I’m changing a lot. Maybe more than you realize, because I haven’t shown you. It’s easier to hide and control than I thought it would be. The Old Men just don’t care, I guess.” He digs his toes into the grass. “Okay, where I was going with that was that even though I’m changing, there’s something about me that I know has stayed the same. Sometimes…when all I am is a miles-wide laugh and the wind is blowing right through me and I can feel every point of every snowflake forming…I feel like I’m only more of myself. If I…if I’m not making you change, somehow, if the potential is in you already…you’re not going to be destroyed.” He moves as if to reach for Bunny’s hand, then hesitates. “You’re going to be amazing.” “C’mere, Jack,” Bunny says, patting the grass in front of him. “You know, if you want to while I’m still just all right.” Jack gulps his hot chocolate and snuggles close to Bunny. “You want me to tell you you’re amazing now? I can do that. And…uh…so you’re pretty sure I’m not making you change?” “If that was the case, I’m sure it would be easier for me to notice,” Bunny says. He wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “And I know it wasn’t you that kept the grass green last night.” Bunny takes a deep breath. “Guess I was even less wise than I thought. I can’t even pretend to be just an animal anymore. And if I was counteracting what you usually do while trying to make it impossible for myself to realize I was doing something like that…I don’t know. Could’ve caught us both off-guard.” He rests his chin on the top of Jack’s head. “I want to make sure you’re safe, Jack, but what if I’m the one most likely to hurt you? You make me so happy, but I don’t know how to be with all of Joy, all of Winter.” “I guess I can only hope you’ll figure it out,” Jack says, nuzzling against Bunny’s chest. “Do you think maybe for now you’ll be able to accept that my laugh might be more like a late frost sparkling in a spring dawn and that my sweat might taste like snowmelt?” “I suppose so,” Bunny says. “Especially because I can tell already that you don’t mind me making you grow.”

Chapter 11: Hopscotch

They call what they do by the name of a child’s game, because there aren’t any words for it, and they haven’t quite let go of such things yet—Jack, because he loves to talk to more people than just the four or five or six (or maybe more, it’s hard to count them and really he is quite young) that could understand him otherwise, Bunny, because he can’t quite believe he’s following Jack on this path, and even sometimes leading. It’s better for a rabbit to lead games of leaping, isn’t it? There are all the neat numbers to follow, numbers of months and years, numbers that say this planet can bloom with a million million kinds of life, numbers that say yes but for part of the year there will be death, death to set off the life that stays like jewels, like the bright red berries that are part of what remains. These are the numbers that Bunny knew about always, but they are not the only numbers. There are numbers that say, this is the way everything can stay together even when it should be flying apart, this is the way that from a different view everything is flying apart. Bunny thinks those numbers have nothing to do with him, and maybe even not Jack; he won’t throw any stones onto them and he begs Jack not to either, he doesn’t want them to bring it all to an end by accident, especially not while waiting on Tooth and North. And Jack says—well, not exactly says, but he asks Bunny in a language clearer but more incomprehensible than words, how does he think he’s going to mess things up when even the Old Men haven’t managed yet. And Bunny grumbles as a thunderstorm and Jack laughs the rain to lashing. But there are more numbers to play with than this and they, amazingly, compromise more often now that they’ve become. There are the numbers that say six petals instead of five, two eyes instead of three, a beak shaped like this and not that. Numbers that say the treetops here won’t touch, but the treetops there will, that have the vine going one one two three five eight thirteen instead of anything else, that an apple will be sweet or sour, white or yellow or green or red or purple. These are the numbers Bunny will play with, though he never knew them as numbers before; if he can see them differently now, well, everything’s different now so what are a few numbers to everything else? And Jack wants to play, Jack wants to throw stones or whatever they’re really throwing onto these numbers, for them to leap and hop around and leave trails that no one sees but everything feels behind them. Bunny will play this game, yes indeed, it’s nothing but growth and change, and if it’s more than what he ever saw before, well, he’ll face that, he’ll laugh and leap through it before or after Jack, he’ll jump over the stones that aren’t stones and let them grow and change like the seeds they aren’t either, let them say seven petals instead of six. Let all the eggs hatch, let all the seeds sprout. It’s what he’s always loved, and if the way he loves is different now, it’s more a gift of Jack’s than the fault of his, isn’t it? And Jack, Jack, Jack the Drowned Boy, Joyful Jack, winterlaugher, this Jack, his Jack—if he’s playing at death now with the stones and seeds he throws into the numbers, he’s only doing so because he knows Bunny’s beside him, playing at life. No wonder he couldn’t stop asking, before. Much wonder that Bunny was so reluctant to join.

Chapter 12: Feather

North lets his eyes drift closed as Toothiana curls closer to him, carefully tracing her fingers over the tattoos on his arms. It’s a relief to feel the press of those delicate fingertips making their way over familiar paths, to have this quiet, calm moment, to know that they’re creating a peaceful space for each other in the midst of the turmoil of the outside world and the strangeness encroaching in upon them from every side. He feels himself floating off when something about Tooth’s hand on his arm makes his eyes snap open again. It doesn’t feel like just her hand anymore—it feels like feathers, other fingers, and other smaller hands all brushing and stroking the lines of ink. He looks at Tooth’s hand, then at Tooth. Her hand looks the same as it always does, and her expression is calm. “This is how we make love,” she says, raising her eyes to North’s. She continues, her voice dreamy: “Just this way, more than the moments before, as we followed such foolish demands as our bodies made of us.” “Tooth…” North isn’t sure what to say. In some ways she’s right, but he’d hoped… “Are we not our bodies, at least in part?” He gently presses her closer to him for a moment, trying to gain some reassurance from the smooth warmth of her feathers. She is still physical. So gloriously physical. So wonderfully present. He feels her sigh against him. “You are. I’m not.” Understanding what she means, he doesn’t speak, feeling a lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she says, resting her cheek against his chest. “I don’t know when it happened. But it was coming on for a long time, you must realize. The fairies—I’ve always been a network, North. Not as human as you. It’s probably why I didn’t notice the change until they were all there with me, welcoming me.” “How poor I must seem to you now,” North whispers. “Mere flesh daring to touch…” Tooth shakes her head and North feels the no ripple through the room. “Flesh isn’t mere and you’re not mere flesh. I know the second now more than I ever did, and the first—if flesh was worthless, would I remember it in such detail?” “You were starting to forget, as you touched my arm.” “No,” Tooth says, no no North feels in his head. “Your tattoos…they’re part of what makes you more than physical. I wanted to touch. I can’t explain it like this, air and tongue. If you’d let me, I could—” “Please, Tooth. Not now,” North says, knowing he couldn’t do anything to stop her if she wanted to. “All right.” Tooth pulls his arm towards her and lightly kisses the tattoos instead. “But I need you to believe, North. That I still love you. We all do, in all our different ways. They’re sort of jealous of me, actually.” He feels her smile against his skin. “We want you to join us. We know you could. And…it’s wonderful, North. It really is. You won’t lose anything.” North thinks of his Russian accent that never goes away, no matter what language he speaks, the calluses on his hands, the care he must take in trimming his beard, the pain he felt millennia ago as he was tattooed with nothing more than a single needle and ink made from burnt bones. “Yes, I would. I am not nearly ready, Tooth. You saw me, just now—I was surely nothing more than physical, thinking you were too.” They are both silent for a long moment. “You think we can’t be together like this anymore,” Tooth says, finally. “I can’t offer you what you should have. You can only offer me what I won’t take.” She looks up at him once more. “I want to stay here tonight, though.” “It’s arctic winter. Long time to dawn.” “I know.” She licks her lips. “And when I do go, will you let me kiss you as I am now? No pretensions?” North hesitates, then nods. *** In the faint light of the sun’s return to the pole, her kiss is every kiss they’ve ever shared—as she remembers them, as he remembers them. He knows she’s trying to make him ask her to stay, but in the sweetness of the memories he feels also their irrecoverability. They can’t create any new memories like the ones she’s showing him. She overwhelms him all too easily now, and he’ll never overwhelm her again. When she leaves (looking back with her eyes once, and more with her mind), North goes to a small reading room in the workshop. In a drawer in the desk there is a small glass case holding one of Tooth’s shed feathers. He checks the preservation spell and holds the box for a while, sitting in an armchair and staring out at the snow. If he opens the case, the feather will begin to age, and eventually crumble into dust. If he never opens the case, he’ll never touch one of Tooth’s feathers again. The corners of the box leave thin red lines on his palm long after he places it back in the drawer.

Chapter 13: Avalanche, Part 2

He is about to die. After all this time, he is the last. Jack went long ago, of course. Bunny had followed, a few thousand years later. Tooth had gone slowly, fairy by fairy, but now she is gone too. Well, not gone. None of them are gone. They’ve just…changed. North misses them, though, perhaps now they are more themselves than ever. They’re going to make him the same way. He doesn’t think about that. He thinks instead about all the wonders he’s seen of Earth over his decades, and then his centuries, and then his millennia. He thinks that there might well be more wonders to come, but he will not see them. Not as he is. The last of the ships left today, leaving in due time to escape the expansion of the sun. There are many places where it might go, both known and unknown. But North is not in any of those places, and now the globe is dark and he is about to die. Darkness uncoils from the silent corners of the room and flows over to where North is sitting in an easy chair he knows he will not rise from. The others do not follow, and he is surprised, even now. longlong time for you since the avalanche it whispers. “Surely it is long time even for you,” North says, trying not to notice the effort it takes to draw breath. The shadow ripples but doesn’t answer in anything like words. been veryvery patient you’ve been readyready for at least thousand years “No, I haven’t,” North says. “I am not ready now. I am…afraid.” that’s why here why only one “I am afraid I will miss myself.” The shadow doesn’t answer, and North knows that it’s never really understood words like ‘myself’. He can’t expect it to be able to reply. “I am afraid it is not right for me to come with you.” but…of course is right needyouneedyou whitebeard wonder tallwalking in redblue jets new new humansnothumans needyouneedyou too…still want to touch your mind the shadow finishes, almost shyly. North sighs, and blinks slowly. He loves Earth so much, the thought of leaving it to be devoured by the sun cuts him more sharply than any sword of his youth. But then, a thought flickers to life like a candle flame. “I could make it again,” he says, his toymaker’s fingers stirring slightly on the armrests of the chair, and the shadow smiles like scales and a smell almost like apples. yesyes you could “It will be wonderful,” North says, and closes his eyes for the last time. When he sees again the shadow is lightly brushing against his edges, still surprisingly well-defined. And since it has been such a long time since the avalanche, wasNorth decides he and the shadow will not go join the others immediately. For now, they have even more time than before.

Chapter 14: Apotheosis

They are finally all together, all six together, if any of them was the counting type, if anyone was around to count them. But they none of them like numbers very much, they do not need to make things with numbers to go places and understand things. When they want to go, there they are, and when they want to understand–well, they never want understanding. In all, they know that some part of them or one of them, if the two are different at that moment, understands, and if they are not on the foldwave of energy to have that understanding to themselves–why, it cannot matter. It is a game to not understand, it is never a matter of life and death. And so in this moment within the orbit of a single moon reflecting a toolarge sun, only one of them maintains an awareness of number, only one who can think of himself as he and one still, the newest one. But the others are patient. They spread his thoughts like giant soap bubbles or miniature nebulae, showing him how to expand into the space not space he’d never understood before. They soothe him, telling him it is all right that he does not understand yet, that it is not a matter of life and death. They use his own understanding of death to explain this, as it is strongest and most present. It feels like hard earth under a dark sky, and makes him sad and afraid. He fears that some sort of light has gone, he feels that he has died and he feels this is important. It is hard for the others to understand. North they whisper. NorthNorthNorthNorth They curl into his thoughts, finally large enough for them all, they’ve missed him so, oh why did he have to stay as he was for so long, touch us North, learn how to touch us without hands oh yes see you do not need your body. The awe that bubbles up around him tastes like salt and these are still tears, he is starting to understand but oh how can he not ache for that world of hard earth, that world with the sun too large now and no more children? Where will there be trees and lights and snow now? Where will anyone feel the rushing warmth inside of bitter cold and waiting hoping happy safe clearstars whitemagic mint and pine and fire on the darkest night anymore? Who is he to give to? What is he to make? And the others stop, long enough for the moon to change its face, but none of them note this. They pass thoughts between them like keys and marbles and origami birds and butterscotch candies and dead leaves until they piece them together into an understanding, and understanding that must come in pieces from all of them because they have been so long away. This understanding is not easy, but it does not fail. And so they know. This is important. The making and the giving. This is not a matter of life and death because such things are not for them anymore, but if they had to use such simple words, it would be a matter equal to this. They condense. They condense and the newest one can feel the brush of feathers, feathers like the edges of a galaxy, feathers like the one he kept in a glass casket for thousands of years to prove that not all feathers were like the edges of a galaxy. He feels a curl of warm fur and his heart lightens, that is how it has always been, his heart leaps to feel this margin between them, that they might oppose each other as equals again, and hope laughs or he laughs with hope. He feels a cool breeze join in that laughter, smoothsharpness of timeless youth, trustme trustme, asks the joy and he does, he does. For the drowned boy loved the world, too, otherwise they could not have stayed a boy as long as they had. And then, ah, then. Bright one and dark one, shifting like sand, always and forever, lovehateoneness, kissing over the knife-edge between inspiration and insanity. The dark one takes his fear and perhaps eats it, perhaps twists it up and wears it as a wedding ring somehow, the dark one would do that, North knows, he’s been terrifyingly loved and favored for a long long time. The bright one nuzzles against him and greets him with a kiss of mulled wine, a kiss that goes straight to his head, a kiss that goes straight through his head and dizzies him with laughter as it fades, as he tries to address them as he always has, The Old Men. The bright one tugs on the long white beard he hasn’t given up yet in his thoughts and they all laugh like a calm and sunlit ocean. What now, he asks. Be ours, says the Lady of Memory. And after that? You always had to be busy, one says, or they all say. His blush tickles them and he does not deny. It is rightnotstrange, the bright one says. Not just us forever, that is sogoodsogoodtoogoodterrible. They fall into a fractal pattern with the dark one, who is forced to agree through a simple sunset wave of embarrassed love. What are we to do, then? North asks again. You know, mostly the bright one says. He blushes again. It is too much, this thought, there is too much pride in it, but he wants to give, and he wants to make, and he misses the world when the sun was smaller and he could, hecouldtheycouldwecould The Lady of Memory knows his thoughts as soon as they pass and places a familiar hand on the arm he thinks he has. I remember everything, every detail, they say. I have the plans. You can fashion. The Drowned Boy’s whoop sets off a supernova ten thousand years early and the bright one and dark one separate enough to smile, to say, this way, and then they are no longer within the orbit of that first moon. The planet below them is only formless rock, but the sun shines on it a proper size and heat. Hope stands at North’s side and you know how to start? North points to the sun and stars and says, we are one day ahead already, we have time to plan, it must be perfect, it must be good. Absolutely not, the dark one says, the objection smelling like rotting fruit. And the bright one holds them closer and whispers like an orchard full of blossoms you always say that.

Epilogue: His Time

My time again! A soundless shout echoed through the world in cold breezes and startled leaves into giving up all their green. The leaves fell and dried and curled and when the people stepped on them their crunching reminded them of laughter. My time, my time, my time! Delicate panes of crystal clear ice swept across puddles and rain barrels and animal troughs and ponds, and every day the sunlight let it glitter longer before melting it for the next night’s work. Filigrees of frost grew on glass and metal and stone and leaves, and shadows lovingly sheltered them all day. Year turn to me, year turn to me! And it was all just as it had been since the beginning, and the people all knew it deep in their bones and felt a comfort in the chill, bringing out their knitted clothes and quilts with smiles, touching the stitches and the patches and remembering the love of making and the happy use of such things. Join me, join me, joy and me, joy and me! And all the work that started in spring came to fruition, the harvest heavy and hearty, the love letters of buds and blossoms and sprouts now answered in swelling fruits of every shade. My time and your time, my time and your time! And before the ice or frost could last all day, before the heavy snows of midwinter, the storms came, the awesome, wondrous storms with thunder like friendly sparring between giants, with lightning zipping and arcing through it all as if it had been waiting for such a chance to play all year. Tell all, tell all, it’s my time, my time! “Yes, it’s his time now,” the people said. “Whose time?” asked the children. And the people did not know, not in the way they knew how to build a house or bake a loaf of bread, but they knew by stories, by all the old and growing stories, by all the shoots of stories nurtured everywhere, in all lands. And they said, in many ways, “Jack Frost.” * The Drowned Boy was the wind and then he was in the wind. With a great whoop he first used his newly-formed lungs, and laughed and laughed and laughed as he spun in the wind to see once again his simple clothes and simple skin, still the same after uncountable ages, after journeys across unfathomable gulfs, after an end and a beginning. He laughed with all the joy that he ever was and would be ever, and called out to the others to join him as the wind carried him swiftly to the Autumn House. The Autumn House stood alone in the woods, a tall and sturdy eye in a brilliant hurricane of fall colors. As the Drowned Boy approached, he saw smoke already rising from the chimney and drew a loop in the air in happiness. That sign could only mean the Craftsman was already there, the Craftsman who had held onto his body until the very end and slipped back into it so easily. He would no doubt be going through the house now, doing the dear, unnecessary work of preparing it for the Drowned Boy and the others, as if he couldn’t say that the linens would be fresh and the rooms warm and aired and they would be. Ah, but he would leave all that aside once the Drowned Boy arrived! And wasn’t he taking just as many unnecessary actions, flying through the air to the house even though he was impatient to see the others as they were at the Autumn House? The cold wind slipped by him and he grinned, thinking of the Craftsman’s tall, strong, broad frame. Oh, the Drowned Boy may have lost his body long, long ago, but it was so, so good to put it back on, to have the chance to embrace the others with a form fragile and limited and bounded, yes, but also warm and solid and so easily, so happily overwhelmed. The Drowned Boy landed lightly before the House, his house, its form a memory of another world, another time. He climbed the front steps and walked onto the broad, wraparound porch. He smiled and paused before the door with its oak-leaf patterned window, savoring the last few moments of anticipation before he took on his second-oldest name, before he called for the Craftsman with the first name he had known him by. He stood there just long enough for three more leaves to fall, then knocked on the door and opened it. “North! I’m here!” * They had hardly broken their first embrace when the Storyteller and the Protector knocked and entered, crossing the threshold as Katherine and Nightlight, hand-in-hand. The Memory Keeper and Hope-of-Spring arrived soon after, and everyone exclaimed in joy to have the chance to touch Tooth’s feathers and Bunny’s fur again. “The season looks beautiful this year,” Tooth said, before leaning forward and giving Jack a lingering kiss. “The harvest is good, too,” Bunny said, as he nuzzled Jack’s neck. “Almost seems like we’re getting along, doesn’t it?” Jack laughed breathlessly, and Tooth went to kiss Katherine. “It always seems that way until we meet on the Spring Fields,” Jack said. Nightlight stepped close, kissed Jack’s cheek, and winked at him and Bunny. “Somehow you always seem to work things out there, too.” “True enough,” Bunny said, slipping his hands under Jack’s shirt and making him squirm. “Ah, before we get carried away,” North said, breaking his kiss with Tooth but still holding her, and Katherine, close, “we know we are still waiting for Pitch and Sandy, and there is a feast for us—” * The Shining One and the Dark One knocked on the door just in time for apple pie and ice cream. arethearethe bodies rightgoodreadyuseful? they asked, and then, slowly, “Are the bodies right?” “They look like they are so far,” Jack said, and embraced Sandy’s short, round form and Pitch’s tall, skeletal one. They gave him sweet, sticky kisses and Jack laughed and held them closer. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered to ears that still didn’t have ear holes. He knew they’d be able to hear him, anyway. “Love you,” said Pitch, signed Sandy. As if that was all there was to say, all that was needed to get beings that had long forgotten their original physical forms, if they had even had them, to take on familiar humanlike shapes just to indulge Jack. As if those words made it any less astonishing that the beings that had forced Jack to realize his body was gone, told him it was unnecessary, now understood how much corporeality meant to Jack and worked so hard and so long to make good, working bodies when Jack called. Jack felt his eyes well with happiness, not for the first time and not for the last. “We all do,” said Katharine, leaving her seat to join Jack, Sandy, and Pitch’s hug. “Happy Autumn, Jack.” “We’re always so glad to hear your call,” Tooth said. “To know that we’re going to feel time passing with you, to share a table with you, to be near and together with you and everyone, even if we’re in forms that could so easily feel lonely.” “Wouldn’t bear it without you,” Pitch said, and Sandy kissed him, then Jack again. Jack laughed softly, and looked around at everyone else. “Happy Autumn to all of you, too, then,” he said. He grinned wider and gave Pitch and Sandy an extra squeeze. “Now, let’s go upstairs and see what else makes physical bodies worth it.”

#apotheosis AU #rise of the guardians #rotg #ot+ shenanigans #ot+#sanderson mansnoozie #Pitch Black #Jack Frost #nicholas st. north #bunnymund #toothiana #if you like it consider reblogging #I live and breathe for comments #long post #very long post

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