#in my heart those are kraken socks

[workingforitallthetime]

(x)

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 26/26)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 25

Throughout his five years in professional hockey, Connor Whisk has been called a great many things.

During his rookie season with the Pittsburgh Penguins, the adjective most frequently used by ESPN was promising. (Editor’s note: we’ve counted. Yes, we’re nerds.) However, soon after Whisk’s abrupt trade to the newly minted Seattle Kraken, sensational and unprecedented quickly started climbing the charts. It truly seemed like Whisk had found himself perfectly at home as a rising star on a young and fiercely untamed NHL expansion team, full of players with nothing to lose, yet so much to prove.

At least, that was the way things appeared.

Whisk suggests meeting at a quiet coffee place in Pioneer Square. He’s already waiting outside when I arrive (and it should be noted that I'm at least ten minutes early). Whisk's handshake is firm, his shirt is completely lacking in wrinkles without a single button undone, and there's something carefully proper in his manners as we exchange pleasantries and order coffee.

We don't have an abundance of time, which is why I get right into it almost before we're seated. What’s his opinion on the current standings? If the Kraken do make the playoffs again, like most experts have assumed, what will be their strategy for staying in the game longer, this time? And what’s changed for the Kraken, during these last couple of seasons, that have enabled them to become such a force to be reckoned with so soon after the team’s very foundation?

Whisk, who isn't necessarily known for taking pleasure in excessive attention from the media, seems surprisingly at ease with my onslaught of questions.

“We’ve worked really hard as a team to get to this point, slowly but surely. It may look like a sudden breakthrough from an outside perspective, I guess, but that’s very far from how we’ve experienced it. Although, I’ll be the first to admit that those first couple of seasons in Seattle were tough. Extremely tough. We were fighting so hard every single day, trying to get some semblance of proper teamwork, trying to get our plays to work, get anything to work, really. A lot of the guys were rookies, and many of us who weren’t had been pretty shocked by our trades. We did alright, for a new team, but we all knew that we should be doing better. That was the thing, really – we all felt that we could be so much more. Maybe, if we had believed that a little bit less, things might not have felt so hopeless at the time.”

Whisk speaks with a familiarly serious expression. Some of my fellow sports journalists have pronounced him subdued, and stiff, and on one memorable occasion, unemotional. Yet as we continue to chat about his teammates over a second cup of coffee, and Whisk goes into detail about what the Kraken’s recent achievements have meant for each of them, those descriptors couldn’t be further from the picture Whisk paints. Connor Whisk is clearly compassionate. Effortlessly earnest. Irresistibly determined.

"Last season, when we made it to the playoffs for the first time, that was such an important milestone. It proved to us that we’d had it right, all along. That as a team, we could be capable of anything. And I think, especially for the older guys who’d uprooted the lives of their families after their trades, getting that recognition from the whole league was so important. It’s definitely helped us feel like we have every reason to go into each game with that much more confidence, this season. Our plays are bigger, bolder and braver, and it’s really been paying off. This year, the goal is to make sure that energy lasts us not only all the way to the playoffs, but much further beyond.”

Whisk speaks about his teammates with both respect and compassion. It’s really quite obvious just how he's earned himself the title of Assistant Captain. And on the subject of leadership – is there any truth to the retirement rumours surrounding the Kraken’s current Captain, Donald “Ducky” Rodriguez? And would Connor Whisk agree with the consensus among both supporters and sports media, that he is practically guaranteed to inherit the title?

It's the first time since the start of our conversation that I find a certain amount of evasiveness in Whisk's answer.

"It's difficult to say. Every player has their own journey, and I can't speak for Ducky when it comes to his thoughts on possible retirement. As for my own feelings on the subject, I'd prefer it if Ducky just stayed in the game forever." Whisk laughs. "Really, I would. Ducky probably wouldn't have described his trade from the Aeros to the Kraken as the best thing that ever happened to him, back when it all went down, but it was honestly one of the best things that could've happened to me. I had looked up to Ducky for a long time, and having such an experienced player join us made an enormous difference for a lot of us who were relatively new to the game. We've had a great run together in Seattle, and I know Ducky has talked at length about how rewarding it's been for him to captain this team, especially at this point in his career. And honestly, I can't even really think about what might happen after his eventual retirement. I just can't. I guess I'm just trying to focus on the now, one game at a time, until the end of this season. That's as far as I'm allowing myself to think."

Of course, on the subject of the Houston Aeros, I must ask about the rumour that seems to circle back around every so often without ever being properly addressed. It's time we all knew, once and for all. Did Connor Whisk, during his time as a free agent, really decline an offer from the Houston Aeros? If so, when? And, perhaps most importantly, why?

"No, I did." Avid Aeros supporters will be pleased to know that Whisk has the decency to look quite apologetic. "It was during my time in the NCAA. I found it a very interesting offer, but ultimately, it just wasn't the right time for me. I'm sure it would've been a journey that was rewarding in other ways than the path I'm on, now. But sometimes, you've got to go with your heart, and my heart was very much still in Massachusetts with the Samwell team. I was very lucky to be able to make that decision and still have such great opportunities to play professionally after graduation. That was never something I took for granted, when I made that call."

Before we run out of coffee, and more importantly out of time, I remember to ask about Whisk’s tattoos. As frequent readers of Sports Illustrated will be well aware, he has two, both on his upper right arm. According to my quite extensive knowledge of Whisk’s frankly limited media appearances, he has never once commented on them.

Evidently, they're not some big secret. Whisk readily rolls up his sleeve.

“The first one, got your back, is a saying from my college hockey team. It’s about always looking out for your teammates on and off the ice. My time on the Samwell team really meant a lot to me, I was fortunate enough to play alongside incredible NCAA players like Eric Bittle, Will Poindexter and Nathan Piper. I learned so much, both about hockey and about myself. A lot of the guys actually got the exact same tattoo at some point, without any of us really talking about it. It caused a bit of unintended comedy at our last reunion.”

The second tattoo, know where we stand, is placed just a few inches below the first.

“That one is more personal. It's about having trust and faith in those I love, about making sure they always know how much they mean to me. I'm a somewhat private person, I guess, but anyone close to me could tell you that it's very important for me to make sure that my feelings are known.”

Private is certainly a word that comes to mind. Whisk doesn't agree to many interviews, and his fans have long given up hope of getting more than one or two TV appearances per season, post-game interviews not included. He's on Twitter, as is the whole Kraken rooster, but his activity is mostly limited to retweets of various sports accounts. His instagram feed? Almost exclusively pictures of his aquarium.

At the mention of aquatic creatures, Whisk’s expression brightens.

“My housemate actually took this amazing picture of our axolotl a while back, I have to show you. Look at this magnificent queen.”

Somewhere between several anecdotes about Whisk’s certifiably adorable pets, and a tangent about his commitment to supporting organisations working towards marine conservation, we do finally run out of time. As we say our goodbyes, I’m reminded once again of Whisk’s polite, proper manners, a stark contrast to his somewhat unfeeling reputation. But if one thing’s for certain, it’s that Connor Whisk is anything but unfeeling. He’s reserved, yes, and perhaps somewhat reluctant to put his innermost thoughts and feelings on display. But he’s certainly an impressively focused athlete, one who has proven time and time again to have an admirable commitment to supporting his teammates, on and off the ice.

I can only imagine the regret that must be felt over in Pittsburgh. Seattle, meanwhile, has every reason to celebrate. It’s really something, given how much Whisk has already achieved, that he still gives off the energy of someone who’s got so far to go. The question is, just how far is that going to get him, in the end?

Will he be remembered only as a key factor in the foundation of Seattle’s so-far successful expansion endeavour, or could he be a true star player in the making, one on the verge of creating a legacy that will last well beyond a time and a place?

Only time will tell.

    Whiskey lets the door fall shut behind him. He takes a deep, steadying breath.

There’s a familiar suitcase that’s been left right in the hallway. Whiskey quickly toes off his shoes and walks past it. Ah, there’s a t-shirt. And a bit further, a pair of jeans. Then socks.

Whiskey follows the enticing trail of clothes into the living room. He passes by the mantelpiece, where his Samwell Men's Hockey Captain's plaque sits right in the center, with his Art Ross Trophy from last season over on the side.

Out in the kitchen, he finds a pair of boxer briefs. The double doors out to the patio are wide open. Whiskey eagerly steps through them, his feet quickly carrying him across the patio, over to-

Yes.

Oh, yes. Finally.

Miguel breaks through the surface of the water just as Whiskey makes it to the side of the pool. Immediately, Miguel offers him a wide smile. He looks so perfectly relaxed, back in his pool, in their home. In the nude.

God, he’s so beautiful.

“Water’s warm,” Miguel greets him softly. He trails his fingertips across the surface of it, almost like he’s reacquainting himself with how it feels. “Much more pleasant than the Atlantic, let me tell you.”

“I’ll take that as an invitation.”

“Oh, please. Come here.” Miguel’s tone turns impatient as Whiskey pulls off his shirt, only to take a moment to fold it. “Fuck, just, come here. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. So much.”

Whiskey willingly abandons his attempts to keep his clothes from getting wrinkles. He makes quick work of his pants and underwear, before he lets himself slip into the water. Immediately, he gathers Miguel up in his arms.

It’s not a languid kiss, by any means. Being separated for eight fucking weeks will do that to you. Miguel kisses Whiskey like he’s been trying to breathe underwater for months, like Whiskey is his fresh gulp of oxygen, his moment of clarity. He kisses Whiskey like Whiskey is his very reason for breathing.

Which is almost funny, given that Miguel has been doing quite a bit of breathing underwater, lately.

“Did you get bulkier?” Miguel murmurs against Whiskey's bare skin. He’s trailing his fingertips along Whiskey’s forearms. “You’re kinda firm, here. I like it.”

“Maybe a little.”

Whiskey kisses the top of his head. He lets his hands travel lower, let's his fingertips glide across Miguel's ribcage over the ink that matches Whiskey's own, four little words with so much meaning. He grins as he reaches Miguel's ass and let's his hands come to an abrupt stop. God, it's been much too long.

“S'okay. You're here, now.” Miguel shivers pleasantly from Whiskey’s touches. “Practice run over?”

“No, Angela called me in. She needed me to sign off on the final draft of that article.”

“Sports Illustrated?” Miguel recalls curiously. “How bad was it?”

“Actually, it was… Fine.” Whiskey thinks back on the feature. “Better than I expected. There’s even a couple of paragraphs where that reporter’s made me sound, I don't know. Oddly sweet.”

“You are sweet.” Miguel smiles fondly. “Is it really so bad, if people find out?”

“I suppose not,” Whiskey agrees reluctantly. He lets himself give Miguel's ass another indulgent squeeze. “And they actually included my off-hand mention of my housemate, this time. So that’s something.”

“Good job,” Miguel says with a flushed grin. “Angela must be so pleased.”

Angela Johanson, PR and communications officer for the Seattle Kraken, had indeed been extremely pleased.

Her strategy had really worked for them, so far, which was why Whiskey wasn’t too inclined to argue with it. “If you want to hide anything from those vultures in the media,” Angela had told him during one of his earliest PR briefings, “You’ve got to do it in plain sight.”

Of course, there had been other parts of Angela’s PR strategies that Whiskey had found himself arguing with. Especially during their very first conversation with one another, before he’d had the chance to inform anyone in Seattle of his situation.

It had been right after the trade – hours after, literally. Whiskey was still in Pittsburgh, both physically and mentally. And, fine, Whiskey had maybe already started to realise that Pittsburgh wasn’t completely right for him. It was a very good team, but they were so swamped with talent, and maybe fighting his way to the top of that rooster should’ve been an exciting, motivating challenge, but it wasn’t. It just wasn’t. Whiskey had spent his whole rookie year feeling like he was working against his own team. He had known there was a fair chance that he would get traded. He wasn’t even entirely opposed to the idea.

But Seattle? The Kraken? A team that, for all intents and purposes, didn’t even so much as exist, yet?

“We’re rolling out a whole media package,” Angela had informed him over the phone – as soon as Whiskey’s very first chit-chat with management was over, they’d switched him right over to PR. “There is an enormous amount of buzz right now, given that you guys are the very first players we’re signing. I’ve got some talking points to go over, and then you’re going live on channel four tonight at-”

“Hold on,” Whiskey had cut in. “It’s, I’m not… I don’t usually do many interviews.”

“Oh, you will now.” Angela actually had the audacity to sound cheerful. “We’re right in the middle of establishing our whole brand, and profiling our players in the media is an incredibly important part of that. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“I’m not too interested in being a… A media profile.” Whiskey had tried his best not to panic completely. Really, he had. “I don’t… I’m fairly protective of my private life.”

“Well. You’ll certainly need to share the overall gist of it.” Angela had sounded almost confused. “We need you to be approachable, Connor. Likeable. You’re young, and very handsome, and incredibly talented. We’ve been hoping to have a broad interest in this franchise, all different age groups and so on, and right now, you’re looking a lot like our best bet to attract some real interest from young girls and women. We’re not going to miss that chance.”

“Look," Whiskey had told her flatly. "I’m going to tell you something in confidence, alright? In confidence. This needs to stay between you and me.”

“Okay? Connor, I’m not sure if-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

Angela had been quiet for well over five seconds.

“Oh,” she’d said. To her credit, there had been something like embarrassment in her tone. “I see. Of course, that’s not an issue. Not at all. We’ve done a lot of groundwork about the values of this organisation, Connor, and I want you to know that you’re going to be completely safe with us.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“And,” Angela had added, just a bit hopefully. “If you would choose to be open about that, I can assure you that you would have our full support to-”

“No,” Whiskey had interrupted. “No. I’m not going to.”

“Right.” Angela had paused. “Okay. We’d really be prepared to back you up, you know. It might cause a bit of a media frenzy, and earn us some frankly disgusting press, but we’d be ready to take that on.”

“Yes, a media frenzy sure seems like the last thing on your wishlist.” Whiskey hadn’t bothered to keep his anger out of his voice. “In any case, I’m not going to cause it for you. I’m extremely protective of my private life, and for very good reason. And I’m not going to go live on channel four, today or any other day.”

“Right, okay," Angela had said quickly. "Okay.”

There was a longer moment of silence.

“I hear you.” Angela’s tone had shifted significantly. Somewhere in the background, Whiskey thought he could hear the sound of papers being shuffled around. “I think… Well, won’t need this anymore. Or that. Hm. Let’s see.”

Whiskey managed something of a breath. He was feeling slightly calmer, although honestly not particularly regretful. Really, he’d be more than prepared to fight the Kraken’s entire PR department, if that’s what it took.

“Look.” Angela had apparently found something to say again. “I’ve seen your tapes, Connor.”

Whiskey frowned slightly.

“Okay?”

“You’re very good.” Angela’s tone was quite careful. “Very, very good. I used to play, you know, back in high school. You’re fast, and you play very smart. I’ve heard the way our head coach talks about your technique, and about your adaptability on the ice. Quite frankly, he won’t shut up about you.”

“Is any of this supposed to make me like you better?”

“That’d be nice,” Angela had said calmly, and okay, she was certainly brave. Whiskey had to give her that. “Most importantly, though, you should take me seriously when I say that we’re fully expecting you to be one of the faces of this franchise.”

“On the ice, sure, but that doesn’t-”

“And,” Angela cut in, “That means the media is going to be all over you. Even if you won’t let us schedule you for appearances, they’re going to find something to write about anyway. Really, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to publish all sorts of assumptions and speculation, especially if there’s nothing else out there to contradict them.”

Whiskey wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Angela actually had a point, was the thing.

“I understand the need to keep your professional and private lives separate,” Angela had continued. “And, Connor, I’d really like to help you with that. Because you’re going to need help. If we could work together and figure out a level of public visibility that you could actually be comfortable with, that would definitely keep a lot of so-called journalists from spinning a narrative that we have no control over.”

“Right.” Whiskey hadn’t needed to hesitate much longer. “I understand that. Honestly, I’ve seen the way certain publications go after some of our big names here in Pittsburgh. I’d hate to face something like that without a solid plan for how to handle it.”

“We don’t want you to feel like you’re facing anything on your own, or without a plan.” Angela had sounded quite hopeful once more. “Connor, I… I’m sorry if I came on too strong, just now, and demanded too much from you. We’re genuinely thrilled that you will be joining us in Seattle. I hope that you and I can figure out a media strategy that actually works for you."

“That sounds good.” Surprisingly, Whiskey actually meant it. “I, uh. This is all extremely important to me. I appreciate that you’re making an effort to see my perspective.”

“Of course.” Angela’s tone had been warm. “My job is ultimately about supporting you, you know.”

“Well.” Whiskey had actually smiled. “I suppose I’m glad to have you on the team, then.”

“That’s my line, isn’t it?” Angela had chirped pleasantly. “So. I’m cancelling with channel four. Let’s talk about alternatives for how to make your first impression.”

Whiskey hadn’t quite understood, back then, just how invaluable Angela was going to prove herself during his time in Seattle.

He also would never have guessed that, over a series of meetings where the two of them had drafted contingency plans for various hypothetical scenarios of Whiskey being outed, as well as quite a few bottles of increasingly expensive red wine, he and Angela would actually end up with something not entirely unlike a friendship.

"Angela says hi, by the way," Whiskey tells Miguel presently. They've made it out of the water – except, Miguel's already dived back in. Whiskey has sat himself down on the edge of the pool, content to stick his feet in and just watch Miguel. "She practically demanded that we have her over for dinner, this weekend, when I mentioned you were coming back home."

"Oh, I'd love to see Angela." Miguel dips beneath the surface, just briefly. "You could make those dark chocolate brownies for dessert."

Whiskey smiles.

"You've missed my desserts."

"Come on, try again." Miguel grins. "You're so close."

"Ah. You've missed my chocolate desserts."

Miguel rolls his eyes. He disappears back underwater with a playful splash.

Whiskey smiles softly as he watches Miguel swim down, down towards the bottom of the pool. He still remembers the first time Miguel took him swimming, remembers how his breath hitched at the sight of Miguel moving in the water, his lithe, flexible body completely in control. It was, and honestly still is, the most beautiful thing Whiskey has ever seen.

There's a picture of the two of them that hangs framed in their bedroom. It was taken the summer before last, during a trip they took to see Miguel's family. Miguel is looking at the camera, and his smile is the one that Whiskey loves the most – it's soft and warm and just so lovely. His brown eyes are wonderfully bright in the sunlight. He looks beautiful, and full of life and love. He looks perfect.

In the picture, Whiskey isn't looking at the camera. Instead, he is looking at Miguel. He's smiling, too, and although his smile isn't anywhere near as radiant as Miguel's, it's definitely gentle and content. He looks happy.

They both look happy.

The picture sometimes makes Whiskey wonder what others see, when they look at the two of them. Miguel, so full of energy and life, always bright with excitement and emotion, easily allowing his feelings to flow freely in any direction like a rippling, playful wave, his world a whole sea of excitement. And next to him, Whiskey. So purposeful, and focused, and bold. Always serious and earnest, making every decision with exact precision like he's carving his whole world out of ice.

And yet they come together so perfectly, almost as if they were always meant to find one another.

Miguel breaks through the surface again, with a bigger splash this time.

"I almost forgot," he says, a little breathlessly. "Whiskey. I do actually use Twitter, you know."

Whiskey frowns slightly.

"I don't."

"And as much as I love you, you're not the only account on there." Miguel rolls his eyes. "You Can Play made a pretty interesting announcement, today. Did you see it?"

Ah. Quickly, Whiskey looks away.

"They've received another one of those big donations," Miguel continues. He sounds delighted. "And still no sender, can you believe it? Funny, how this always happens right after you win another big game."

Whiskey ducks his head, grinning. It's only happened a handful of times, that Whiskey has managed to quietly donate a few thousand dollars to You Can Play without Miguel connecting the dots. Ever since that first time, when You Can Play had announced their deepest gratitude to an anonymous donor the very same week that Whiskey had received his signing bonus, and Miguel had immediately texted Whiskey a string of cash emojis and a question mark, it's become something of a game between them.

"Fine. You win this time."

"I win every time." Miguel grins, too. "I guess I should just be grateful that you haven't splurged too much on another ridiculous welcome-home present. I'm still getting over the shock from last time."

"You love the pool," Whiskey reminds him softly. He clears his throat. "I, uh. I might actually have gotten you something."

Miguel stills.

"Please tell me it's something that fits inside the house, this time."

"Well..." Whiskey knows that it's better if he just sticks to his plan of showing Miguel, when he gets the chance. They've been making loose plans for a trip to Boston, anyhow, and Miguel definitely won't mind going back to the New England Aquarium. Especially when he finds out that they'll be attending the opening ceremony for the aquarium's new, privately funded manatee conservation program. "It's not really something you can take home. But I know you're going to love it."

"Okay, mister." Miguel looks a little bit weary. "God, you've got that look in your eyes. I'm getting nervous."

"You'll love it," Whiskey repeats firmly. He smiles. "And, uh, speaking of love. We got a letter from Dex and Nursey, yesterday."

Miguel's eyebrows shoot up.

"A letter? Don't you guys text, like, a lot?"

"They've finally set a date."

"Oh," Miguel exclaims. His smile widens. "Oh, that is so exciting! We're going to a wedding!"

"We are, yeah." Whiskey smiles, too. "I haven't RSVP'd, yet, but…"

"No, no, of course we're going." Miguel is still beaming. "Wow. Wow. Do you know what colors they're doing? Ooh, and what's their venue?"

"I don't… We can read their invitation together." Whiskey watches Miguel for a moment. "You like weddings."

Miguel pauses briefly.

"I like seeing our friends happy." He smiles. "Whiskey, you know that I don't expect… I've never really thought that I would be married."

"Me neither." Whiskey isn't quite sure how to phrase his next question. "But, just because you didn't think it was in the cards… I mean. That's not necessarily the same thing as, you know. As not wanting to?"

"I guess not," Miguel agrees easily. Still, he shakes his head. "Honestly, it's really not something I've ever dreamed of, the way some people do. My choice of career was always going to be a big commitment for me, one that would certainly make things complicated in the romance department. But then you came along, and we've managed to build this life together, and it's just… It's so perfect. I don't need anything more."

"I know." Whiskey returns his smile. "I love the life we've built together, too. But, I'm just… Well. Actually. I've been thinking."

Slowly, Miguel's expression shifts.

"You have?"

"It's not…" Whiskey begins, only to pause. He needs to get this right. "It's something I'm still thinking about. I don't have all the right answers, yet."

"Okay." Miguel tilts his head. "Whiskey, did… Did something happen? To make you question yourself?"

Whiskey's smile softens. It's really something, how Miguel knows him so well.

"Kind of," he admits. "You know I went home, recently?"

"Yeah. For a funeral, right?"

"Exactly. My one of my uncles passed."

"Right." Miguel is nodding, even though his expression is somewhat confused. "I don't… You said you two weren't very close?"

"No, we weren't," Whiskey agrees. "But still, I… It got me thinking."

"About marriage?"

"About death." Whiskey almost smiles when Miguel's eyebrows shoot up. "I promise this isn't constantly on my mind, okay? It's just something I've kept coming back to, recently. Something I haven't ever thought about before."

"Okay." Miguel watches him in apparent confusion. "Whiskey, I'm sorry. You've lost me."

Whiskey takes a deep breath.

"When we die, I want them to bury me next to you."

Miguel is quiet for a moment.

"Oh," he says. His tone is careful. "I… Oh."

"And I don't think that would be possible," Whiskey continues. He actually smiles. "Unless… You know."

"Wait. Really?" Miguel actually manages to sound equal parts serious, and reproachful. It's really quite something. "Connor. I may never have dreamed of the perfect proposal, but if this is your idea of one, death might greet you a whole lot sooner than you think."

"No, it's not," Whiskey says quickly. "It's… I haven't finished thinking about this, not yet. I mostly feel like I don't really know what I should want."

"Maybe what you should want isn't the right question." Miguel sounds slightly more calm. He pauses to actually think for a moment. "You know, I'm… I hadn't really thought about that, either. But you… I think you have a point. You really do."

For a moment, they just look at one another.

"Well," Whiskey says lightly. It feels like something significant has shifted between them. It feels big. "I guess we'll see?"

"Yeah." Miguel seems to have found his smile again. "It wouldn't have to be an extravagant affair. You'd hate that."

"I would," Whiskey agrees. "But, at the same time… We wouldn't necessarily need to keep it just between you and me."

"I like that." Miguel tilts his head again. "You know, if… If we did? The world would find out, eventually. When we're gone, if nothing else."

"Yeah. I know."

"I don't know how I feel about that. I'll need some more time." Miguel's tone is unusually thoughtful. "But you would be okay with it?"

"I… I guess." Whiskey pauses for a moment. Suddenly, he remembers everything Angela's told him about the importance of taking control over the narrative. And honestly? Just like always, she has a point. "Except, if that is the path we take, maybe we should actually make sure that we have a say in how this story gets told? Not anytime soon, but, I don't know. At some point down the line."

"Right." Miguel is nodding, even though he still looks quite contemplative. "That's probably not a decision we should rush into."

"There's no need. We can figure it out at whatever pace feels right." Whiskey offers him another smile. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"For listening to me. For going through all of this with me."

"That's not something you need to thank me for." Miguel's smile softens into the one Whiskey loves best. "It's, you know. Sickness and health, good times and bad times. No matter what we tell the world, we both know that's what this is."

"Yeah," Whiskey agrees softly.

Sometimes, he still can't believe that they got here in the end. He smiles, helplessly.

"That's right. You're exactly right."

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Christmas (December 24th) The Adventures

And this years serie of stories for Advent and x-mas in finished, last year was called The Noodle Adventures. Stories for the Sundays of December, the 1st, 8th, 15th and 22nd. And lastly x-mas the 24th of december on a Tuesday. All platonic fluff and family relationships. - Word count: 3 683 - General Fanfic Tag list: @ebony-wolf, @nashiraneko, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @rabbitsartcorner, @punsterterry,  @sleepyssnail,  @nightmaresides, @virgilswritings, @ninja-girl2846, @ninjago2020, @starryfirefliesbloggo, @garecc,  @sympatheticdeceit, @cookiethedevil, @askthesnake,  @all-bridges-will-burn, @tacohippy56900, @little-euro-girl, @aggressiveshipper, @imbasicallyshakespear, -

Remus woke up with a loud yawn and sat up in his mess of a bed, rubbing at his eye to remove the goop of sleep, before he stretched, from the tip of his toes to the tip of his fingers, making some joints pop. He pulled the blanket off him revealing his birthday suit to the chaos of his room. He got up and moved towards the door. He opened it and snapped his fingers, making a pair of bright pink underwear, with the cursive word ‘propaganda’ printed on the butt, appear, wrapped around his juicy butt.

He then stalked out from his room towards the stairs,huffing unhappily about having his body confined in the underwear, but because he knew Patton and Roman would shout at him to put on some clothes if he came downstairs in all his naked glory he let them have their way somewhat. Deceit was used to it though, one of the few things Remus missed from their lives in the dark, now since both their rooms was brought into the light, connecting the corridor of the sides, now when Thomas knew they existed.

He had just gotten down the stairs when Roman suddenly grabbed his arms, giving his a shake.

 “You’re LATE! I want to open the christmas presents NOW!”

Remus made a confused noise as he was shaken.

 “Roman, let him at least eat his breakfast first, and get dressed, as well.” Logan spoke up from the table where he sat, reading the newspaper, and enjoyed a cup of tea. Deceit was sitting next to him sipping on a cup of his own, dressed in his pyjama pants and christmas sweater.

 “Oh no, Logan. That is the most clothes you will get on Remus during christmas, maybe a Santa hat if he feels like it, but he spends the holiday in the nude. Be happy he even put on his underwear.” Deceit said sending a smirk at Logan before he got up to put away his now empty cup of tea. “Apart from the amazing colour, what horrors did you add to it?” Deceit asked, Remus beamed as he turned around to show the text on his butt.

 “THIS!” He barked happily.

Roman gave away a loud groan and slammed his hands over his face. while Logan choked on his tea. Deceit just chuckled and ruffled Remus’s hair while laughing.

 “Thought so.” he said with a grin before he leaned a bit closer and said, only loud enough for Remus to hear, “You got your presents ready? Or do you need my help to give you a few more hours?” Remus blinked before he sent a look to the christmas tree, presents in all colours were already under it, he caught sight of some with a yellow ribbon tied around them and stilled.

He…

He had completely forgotten about the presents.

He turned back to Deceit with a panicked look, but the deceitful side just smiled and took him by the shoulder.

 “Oh! how is little baby kraken doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Deceit said a bit louder than he needed. “How have I been such a bad uncle and not having visited that little octopi all holiday?! Remus we need to fix this immediately.”

 “Wha- but- what about breakfast?!” Patton called from the kitchen gesturing to the pancakes and more.

 “Oh, no need to worry your little heart, Patton.” Deceit made a swipe with his hand and a plate of pancakes appeared in his hold. “We got that covered.”

And with that the two sides left back upstairs.

Roman groaned.

 “Can’t we open the presents now?”

 “No.” Logan said as he turned a page on the newspaper.

 “Ugh! But!”

 “We are opening them when the whole family is here!” Patton called from the kitchen. “Virgil isn’t even awake yet either.” Roman just groaned louder and flopped down on the couch.

 “BUT I WANNA OPEN THEM NOOOOOOOOW!” he whined into the couch.

 “Go and see what Thomas is doing if you are that bored, or watch a movie.” Logan huffed.

Roman groaned again and flailed a bit before he was lying on his side on the couch and turned on the tv.

 “You’re behaving like a spoiled child.” Logan grumbled more to himself than the room, only to grunt when a pillow hit him on the shoulder, almost making him spill his tea on the newspaper and lap. Logan sent Roman a glare, only to find how Roman had returned his attention to the tv, pouting as hard as he could.

Logan huffed once more, before he returned his attention to the newspaper. At least Roman was no longer whining.

-

 “How did I forget the presents DEE DEE?!” Remus cried, mouth stuffed with pancakes.“They're like the BEST part of Christmas! What will I even give them?! I mean I know what I want to give them, but I KNOW THEY WON’T LIKE THE GIFTS IF I DO!”

 “Hey, hey, eat your breakfast first and then we can do some brainstorming once you’re done.” Deceit said shielding his face from half chewed pancakes and spit that flew from Remus’s mouth as he talked and chewed at the same time. Remus just huffed before he quieted down, to concentrated on eating the pancakes, coated by soap like it was syrup.

Once he was done it didn’t take long before they started brainstorming.

Remus throwing out ideas and Deceit saying whenever the other sides would like it or not, or say they liked it while clearly lying to not hurt Remus’s feelings. Any idea that was a body part or cleaning product or a thing of  waste was quickly scratched out, as well as anything naughty or dirty.

Deceit was there as moral support when Remus actually sat down and tried to conjure the presents. He struggled the most with Roman’s and Patton’s gift, due to the fact that he was trying his best to not make them bad, dirty or in their opinion disgusting. Which was the complete opposite on where his creative flow came from.

Deceit was smiling at the purple octopus that was swimming around in the big aquarium Remus had as one of the walls of his room, he yelped when Remus’s tentacles suddenly picked him up and threw him outside of the room.

 “Wha- Hey! REMUS?!” Deceit called as he stared at the door that was slammed in his face.

 “YOU CAN’T SEE YOUR GIFT YET!” Remus screeched from the other side.

Deceit blinked before he shrugged.

 “You could have just told me to leave.” Deceit huffed and patted imaginary dirt from his clothes before he crossed his arms.

 “You would have just wanted to know what it would be and try to peek!” Deceit grimacing.

 “That’s… True… BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY IT!”

 “COULD YOU TWO SHUT UP?!” Virgil suddenly shouted from his door to his room, looking like he just crawled out from the dark hole that was his bed-nest.

 “... Sorry.” Deceit said with a sheepish expression. Virgil just grumbled as he pushed his hoodie on better and then stomped downstairs. Deceit grimacing harder with each step.

 “Did we unleash a storm?” Remus asked from inside his room.

 “Yep.” Deceit said with a squeak.

 “Great!”

Deceit grumbled as he left, knowing Remus wouldn’t leave for a while. He also knew he better face Patton’s wrath at waking Virgil up sooner rather than later. He did not look forward to the to be scolding.

Deceit when he came downstairs, only got a disappointed pout from Patton until he apologised to Virgil for waking him. Virgil had just hissed at him and stabbed his pancakes with such force and malice Deceit has quickly left the kitchen, to not feel like the pancake was representing him.

Roman was not pouting as strongly anymore, having become engrossed with watching the Polar Express. Logan had moved to sit on the couch, currently having Roman’s socked feet on his lap, as he read a book, deceit sent it a look to find that it was A Christmas Carol by Dickens. Patton was fixing up some more things in the kitchen, keeping a one way conversation with a still very much tired Virgil, who now and again grunted, hummed or huffed in reply to a question or statement, but he had no obligation to answer. Deceit walked over and sat down on the space on the couch that was left, only to yelp when Roman grabbed around his waist and pulled him closer with his insane strength and claimed his lap as a pillow.

Roman had actually almost fallen asleep when Remus came back downstairs, now in underwear and his christmas sweater. Hands and tentacles holding 6 badly wrapped presents that he placed under the tree, amongst the others. He looked a bit worse for wear before he let his tentacles slip back into his back and then walked over to collapse on top of Deceit, making Roman scramble and dive out of the way to not get his head crushed by his brother’s crotch.

 “I did it!” Remus cheered before he promptly passed out against Deceit, who sighed before he stroked his wild hair out of his eyes.

 “Is he… ‘Gucci’?” Logan asked.

 “He will be, he just used a lot of his abilities to make the gifts.”

 “He won’t give us any limbs right?” Roman asked eyeing the presents as if they were hiding a time bomb.

Deceit felt his eye twitch before he turned to face Roman, noticing how both Virgil and Patton were looking at the presents with a similar look of unsureness, Logan looked like he was a bit annoyed at the others as well, but he didn’t voice anything.

 “I’m surprised, if he wanted to give you the things he himself enjoy he would not be knocked out on top of me right now, now would he? He actively avoided those things, because he knows none of you like them.” Deceit said with a slight hiss to his word as he pulled all his arms to hold Remus a bit closer.

 “...angry mama snake.” Virgil mumbled into his hand, earning a confused noise from Patton who had actually heard him.

Roman cleared his throat and looked highly uncomfortable at the sudden conflict.

 “I… I’m-”

 “You better be honest about that apology you’re about to speak. Or I will be disappointed in you, Roman.”

 “I’m... sorry… I try to look past those things… but… I am still trying. He’s… He’s Remus and he- he’s special in his own way, but he have also made me draw far too many conclusions, because I know that the first times I didn’t hesitate ended in a bad... mess.” Roman looked back to Deceit and Remus as well. “He’s everything I don’t want to be… but at the same time, he is my brother and there is nothing I can do that will change that. But I am trying to be better, for him.” Deceit sighed, easing his hold on Remus a little.

 “I know. He’s trying too. Won’t change the fact that we all will have the risk of taking a few steps back in our progress forward...”

A silence followed, it wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either.

 “Poopy!” Remus suddenly shouted in his sleep throwing one arm out before a snore left him that made Deceit winch, due to his head being just next to Deceit’s ear. Logan blinked, before he chuckled and shook his head. Roman started to laugh while Virgil and Patton shared a look before they too smiled due to the scene.

-

It was dark outside when it became time to give the presents. Remus was awake again, now vibrating from both nerves and happiness. They were all gathered around the tree sitting on the floor.

 “Okay who wants to start?” Patton asked.

 “Should we go one at a time or give out the presents first before we open them?” Logan asked as he fixed his christmas sweater. Patton and Roman had begged everyone to wear one today. Virgil wore his, but still wore his hoodie on top of it.

 “One at a time is funnier.” Roman said before he grabbed the presents he made “I’ll go first.” He said with a grin as he handed them out.

The sound of torn present paper was heard.

Patton gave away a soft gasp when he picked up the stuffed cat plushie, giving away a choked coo as he hugged it close.

 “I love it Roman.” Patton said with a thick voice and watery eyes from happy emotions.

 “It has a wheat bag inside, so you can put it in the microwave and then have a warm kitty to snuggle with.” Roman said with a grin.

 “Oh-” Logan stared at the bundle of paper he had in his hands. “Is this..?” he looked to Roman with wide eyes.

 “Yes! I know how much you liked the last one I made, so I made another one, a new mystery!” Logan smiled and hugged the paper book close.

 “Thank you Roman.”

Virgil opened his next, a black weight blanket with a glowing in the dark patterns, in the form of clouds and stars, on it. Remus was watching silently before he looked down at the present on his own lap, it was far better wrapped than the presents he made.

 “Oh, i see how it is.” Deceit suddenly said, making Remus look up to find how Deceit was holding another hat in his hands. “Giving me a extra hat so you can keep stealing my shit?” Roman flushed bright red at that and spluttered. Deceit just smirked before he turned the hat in his hands. “Thank you anyway.” Roman grumbled something in reply that could have been a you’re welcome. Remus hesitated for a moment before he opened his present.

He missed the look of unsureness that crossed Roman’s face nor how he fiddled with his sash in worry, worried about if Remus would like the gift.

Remus stared down at the now opened box, eyes wide before he reached inside. When he picked it up the others saw that it was an palm sized octopus. Remus opened his mouth to say something.

 “If you pull on a tentacle it blows bubbles.” Roman hurried out. Remus snapped his eyes to Roman before he looked at the octopus again, before he did just that.

Bubbles in all the rainbows colours was blown from the mouth of the cartoonish looking octopus, and Remus made a undescribable noise and he dropped the octopus and tried to catch the bubbles.

 “I take that as a he likes it.” Deceit translated, as Remus were giggling still trying to catch the bubbles by smacking his hands together, only to blink when one popped on his nose.

Logan was the one who delivered his gifts next. Patton got a new cookbook, Virgil some new CD’s with music of similar genres to those he was already listening too, but didn’t know about. Roman got a bright red cape that glittered with gold in the right light. Remus got a similar cape, apart from it being green and glittering in silver instead. Deceit blinked at the bundle of books of philosophers that greeted him when he opened his present. All presents were happily taken, and from then on both of the twins wore their cape.

Patton was jumping on the spot there he sat as he handed out his presents, grinning from ear to ear. Virgil chuckled as he got some new fidget toys. Logan got a new book about space and stars. Roman got new crafting materials. Deceit got a pair of new gloves, since Patton had noted that the ones he wore were starting to wear from age. Remus squealed when he got a big jar of slime.

 “It won’t run out!” Patton hurried to say “And i made sure it was edible, I- I didn’t want you getting sick if you ever got the idea to try and eat of it.” Patton yelped when he suddenly got smothered by a hug from Remus. Patton looked startled for a moment, before he pulled his arms around Remus and hugged him back, surprised at the fact that he actually didn’t stink all that much, but smelled more like wet earth and old leaves.

Virgil stiffly handed out his presents next, grumbling about being too worried if he waited any longer.

Roman gasped when he opened his present to find more Disney posters. Logan smiled as he held up the new cup he had gotten, with the words ‘world's best teacher’ on it. Patton got another handmade card, now with some doodles as well as another misleading compliment. Remus was grinning as he picked up the loooong furby from the box.

 “Oh it’s so haunted! I LOVE IT!” Remus screeched, Deceit shook his head before he opened his own present, to find a pair of thick fluffy socks with snake prints.

 “Oh these are just hideous.” Virgil gave a small smirk at that.

Deceit looked at Remus.

 “Do you want to give your presents now, or should I?”

 “You can.” Remus said, after giving it a thought. Deceit nodded as he handed over the presents he brought. Logan grinned when he saw the book, similar to the ones he had gotten for Deceit. Patton gasped with delight as he picked up the baby blue earmuffs. Roman got a new sword, the blade as red as Roman’s sash. Virgil chuckled when he saw the knitted scarf covered in a spider pattern, he quickly wrapped it around his neck, it was fluffy and warm. Remus opened his gift and hugged around Deceit hard, before he picked up a onesie that was in the form of a octopus, with all the tentacles.

Remus picked up his gifts as he handed them over to the sides it was for.

 “They’re not the best… I.. uh tried… to make them more up your alley, Roman. I’m.. not sure how well I succeed...”

 “I’m sure it’s good, Remus.” Logan said with an encouraging smile on his lips, Remus nodded and let go of the gifts, letting the others open them.

Deceit opened his first, both to show the others the presents were okay, but also, he REALLY wanted to know what was inside it! Deceit gasped when he gathered the stuffed snake plush in his hands, it was heavy, and he could feel that it was filled with wheat.

 “I know you get cold, snakey… so I made you a little wheat snake.” Remus said with a grin. Deceit smiled as he brought Remus into a one armed hug.

 “I love it, thank you.” Remus beamed at him. Logan was the next one to open his gift and he blinked at first before he picked up another book, but this one was clearly full of interesting knowledge, he hadn’t really thought about wanting to know, but now when he held the book in his hands, he wanted to read it right away. Logan hugged the book close and sent Remus a wide smile, only making the green twin of creativity grin wider. Patton opened his present next, after having taken a big breath to encourage himself. only to squeal at the plushie, it was a calico cat, one eye was crossed out and it was missing it’s tail, but Patton hugged it close and gave Remus a watery smile.

 “I love her.” Remus clapped his hands and bounced on the spot in reply. Virgil huffed as he opened his own gift. Only to blank when he found the content within. It was a chewing necklace, in the form of a bat.

 “I-”

 “You always complain about chewing down your nails when you’re worried… and it was the first things- or well, twenty first thing that came to me.”

 “I… Thank you… Remus.” Virgil said as he quickly hung it over his neck, and gave it a test bite, it was not to hard that he would worry about hurting his teeth, nor too soft that he would worry about biting through it. Remus just gave a small thumbs up in return. Then it was only Roman left. Remus dimmed a bit as he fiddled with the closest thing to his hands, which became the bubble blowing octopus Roman got him.

Roman hesitate a bit before he slowly opened his gift. He blinked when he lifted the lid to the box, inside the box on a small pillow of cotton, rested a crown, it was sparkling faintly and was a swirling pattern.

 “Remus… you...”

 “You always go on about the presence thing, i never really found it very fun, but I know how much you like it and… what is a prince without a crown… I mean… it’s not that good, I’m sure you could make one that looked even better, but I just. uh-”

 “Thank you, Remus.” Roman said as he placed the crown on top of his head, Remus clicked his own mouth shut. “I love the design, it’s so unlike anything I would even  be able to come up with, and the jewels and the colour, It’s- it’s marvellous, really. I will wear this with honour.” Remus gave away a wobbly smile, taking Roman’s praise to heart.

Once the present giving were over Logan cleaned up the mess of all the papers, most gifts vanished into the respective sides room’s. But some stayed outside in the living room. Remus happily chased after the bubbles the octopus blew, like an engrossed child. Logan was nose deep into the book Remus gave him, while Deceit was curled up with the big wheat snake coiled around him, making the side of deceit and self preservation blep in the pleasant warmth. Virgil and Roman were watching the old Disney christmas specials. Patton was adoring both of the cat plushies he got, lying on his stomach on the floor, and hugging them close.

And the sides found themselves a bit closer than before.

[neroli9]

Ask the APJFM Cast Questions from Discord!

Some time ago, I offered people on the APJFM Discord server the opportunity to ask the APJFM cast questions. Here's what they came up with!

From @minagi: So muffet, what are your thoughts on sans' contract with your ex-employee? It seems like a pretty unusual agreement for all parties involved, surely it interests you at least a little.

Muffet titters, all eight eyes dancing with amusement. "Oh, dearie, it interests me a good deal. When it inevitably falls apart and our friend returns to my service, I do hope she’ll tell me all about it." She takes a delicate sip of her tea.

Two from @fancies:

- is there anyone in the cast who really enjoys a good scary story/movie? anyone who really doesn't?

Adaleia’s eyes twinkle as she looks at Reader. "The twins were the biggest wimps imaginable. I suppose she still is."

"Yeah, I am," Reader agrees, shaking her head.

Adaleia sighs happily. "Remember the ghost baby?”

"Oh for God’s sake, let’s not tell them about—"

Adaleia interrupts. “She used to leave when I started telling ghost stories, but Matty would keep listening, just to try to prove he wasn’t scared. And then he’d go and tell her about them, because he had no tact. ‘Did you know there’s a ghost baby in this house!?’ And he told her all about how the baby died in the crib, and it still roamed the grounds some nights looking for milk. And she’d get that annoyed look, and say I was just telling stories again. Then that night, I climbed the tree by her room and hung a baby doll from a branch right outside her window. The next morning, I heard her scream clear from my garden."

Sans winces. "harsh."

"It's not my problem if she can’t take a joke," Adaleia protests.

"a joke’s better if everyone’s laughing."

"What are you, some kind of comedian? I suppose you don’t like scary stories either.”

"don’t really care about’em one way or another," Sans says with a shrug. "nothing really gets under my skin."

"You *just* said a joke’s better if everyone’s laughing, and I am certainly *not* laughing at  that atrocious pun,” Adaleia sniffs.

Also @fancies: - for reader and sans, if you could choose what the other wore for a bit just for fun,  what would you go for?

Sans eyes Reader speculatively. "hard to say. i mean, i own the gal. if i wanna see her in a little maid costume or wearin’ nothing but a pair of rainbow striped socks..." He pauses, and there’s a distant look in his eye sockets.

Reader waves a hand in front of him a few seconds later. "Still with us?"

He chuckles. "sorry. uh, well, as i was saying all i gotta do is give the order." He looks her up and down. "wouldn’t mind seeing ya in one of those bunny girl getups."

She laughs self-consciously. "I would look so ridiculous."

"c’mon, you’d look great."

"So you’re really into that?” She sighs. “The one thing human men and monster men can agree on, apparently. As for what I’d like to see on you...” She eyes Sans.

You’d like to see him in a tuxedo, leading you around the dance floor, and you’re in that dancing dress you just finished and he’s brought you a corsage and it’s pinned right above your heart, and as he glides along with you, his hand so comforting at the small of your back, his fingers interlocked with yours, he tells you that he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you look tonight, and all he wants is to be with you forever and ever and—

It’s Sans’ turn to wave a hand in front of Reader’s face. "lemme guess. nothing but rainbow stripey socks?”

"Uh, actually I was thinking you’d look cute in a Krakens uniform," Reader stammers. "With the stripes, you know? A different kind of pinstripes."

"i could go for that, s’long as you let me get to third base with ya," he answers with a lecherous grin.

"I think you could pull off a grand slam," she says, raising her eyebrows.

"that reminds me, i never got the end of that lap dance..."

From @musterd: JERREN why do you refuse to live into the 1990s so that you can enjoy the wonder that is dial-up Internet?

Jerren raises an eyebrow, then holds out his hands as if he’s weighing two things on a scale. "Eternal youth... internet. Eternal youth... internet. My dear, I hate to disappoint you in anything— being as you are my staunchest, most steadfast fan— but I must say I already have my existence arranged just as I want it."

From firefoxkitsune8: Sans, opinions on going down on a girl? You have interest in doing that with your girl at all?

Sans chuckles. "if she'd be into it, you bet your ass i'd be into it. but i'm not really sure if she is."

Want to ask the cast your own questions? I'll be taking more once APJFM hits 2000 kudos! (Currently at 1905). So give them some thought and watch this space!

[gay-grandma]

11 questions + 11 questions

Rules: Always post the rules. answer 11 random questions  posted for you, create 11 new ones and tag 11 people. Let the person who tagged you know that you answered.

I was tagged by @swiftbell​, can anyone say Infinity War?

Questions:

1. Which would you rather explore: a haunted attic or a haunted cellar? Haunted attic, so I'd feel less trapped, and able to jump out a window xD

2. If you could could have a familiar, what would they be, and what would they look like? Can I have a seal that floats in the air beside me? Otherwise I would probably want a dog because you know.....dogs

3. Would you rather be agile and graceful, or strong and tough? Strong and tough. Agile gracefulness sounds great but I have a taste for the other one.

4. Being able to fly, or being able to breathe underwater? Breathe underwater probably? Flying sounds awesome but imagine being able to explore the deep seas?????

5. What do/don’t you like about your starsign? I like that we're always described as having big hearts and love taking care of others, I don't like that we're also described as petty and childish.

6. If you were a mystical/magical/mythological/supernatural creature, what would you be and why? I feel like I've answered this before, cos it's always the same answer. Kelpie/Selkie/Bäckahäst. Something that lives in water, is scary and creepy. Just make me a kraken.

7. What’s your weapon of choice? I want to say sword, but it would have to be a very specific size. Otherwise I could do a gun but also a bat, for simplicity.

8. If you became a character in a book, what role would you want to have? And how do you think your story would go? What role I want? Damn, something badass. Smart and badass, those are my only requests. Make that smart badass and gay. I feel like I'd be a side-character, the one who thinks they're cooler than they really are, and is ridiculously cautious about stuff and then ends up doing something stupid for the first time towards the end of the book, and gets themself killed? This is fine

9. Favourite clichéd trope? I want to say friends to lovers because of my otp, but honestly the older I get the more I realise that the only trope I want is the one where "they've been married for decades and have five kids". granny life guys

10. Favourite dragon from How To Train Your Dragon? I can't decide if I like Stormfly or the Alpha (the light one) more?

11. Which ficitonal universe would you like to go to, and why? I mean now that you mention it, HTTYD sounds like a good choice? Ride a dragon and live in a viking timeline? Fuck yeah!

11 questions, themed around my rediscovered grandma-ness:

1. Favourite kind of tea? 2. Best kind of cake? (Totally offended someone spoke ill of cheesecake btw) 3. Knitted jumpers or fuzzy socks? 4. Best colour of string to tie around your glasses and keep around your neck? 5. Getting a perm or dyeing your hair grey prematurely? 6. Cleaning: bought bleach or homemade concoctions? 7. I'm obligated to ask, do you prefer one of your grandparents' cooking or one of your parents'? 8. Tiny reading glasses or thick-rimmed ones? 9. what is the ultimate amount of grandchildren 10.  Speaking of war, whose side were you on in Civil War? 11. Do you think you would have died in Infinity War?

Right, @misplaced-padawan, @swiftbell, @myfirstrode-oh, off ya go, do your thing!

[annoyedbythevoid-blog]

Rapture! Confusion! Rapture! Confusion! Rapture! Confusion! Rapture! Confusion! Rapture! Confusion! Rapture of fresh earthmilk softening the cereal inside a Tibetan singing bowl tomb Confusion, holy of a sun casting darkness instead of brilliance! Rapture, my heart beats beats beats because of this I can question Rapture, in a torrent of cephalic becoming and recreating— Rapture to teach my mind how to tie its mystical shoes Confusion from the phantasmagoric self! Confusion from the phantasmagoric mirror we hold up against Life to challenge her holy illusioned optics and deceptive imaginary strings Holy disillusion! Holy unsolving of self! Holy sacred puzzle! Holy locksmith heroes myth who solves it! Holy dragonfly daydreams of spirits who pass their message from that that-other through found fallen feathers Confusion fuses the dance of the midnight attic unknowing, Rapture! children play baseball with Eternity Confusion! These deities dance their way into my deaconing delirium How to dissolve the ego, now that could be a playwright How to be kind to oneself belongs in scriptures of self help sacrifices How to paint circumstantial decisions belongs in a coloring book on a skeptic’s dresser I will not tear myself apart I will not tear myself apart I will not tear myself apart I’ll insert an apology for saying the same things twice Or three times, expect a reminder to bid a bow to being alive Restaurant merchant mirthful and full of wine relays his advice to the waitress--Keep yourself the monks say to surrender the christians subject themselves the mountains have mastered a breath of fire the bums play the lyre of compassion testing mortals who avert eyes could human gesture be considered a currency? They snicker-- HELLO! YOU HAVE JUST WALKED PASSED AN ANGEL! HOW HAVE YOU NOT HEARD THIS HARP OF MY SOUL? The churches masturbate their way into a pocket of confusion And claim that the rapture is coming But so much happens between these misplaced comma years giantude growing pains, students who fake that their teachers, Anxious Espresso liquor that I drink despite, widowed white socks, Tired feet whom they copulate, harmonious bike ride bliss into a horizon of infinite snakeskincycles because my mother and father deemed it necessary to bring me into being, yurked from the soul pool of purgartory, Now, I am here. It is no matter, although I am. For now. I come from timeless hymns of empress eternal I am made up of my grandmother’s ghost And my mothers nose and my fathers sharp emptiness And the ancestral others are reservoirs in my blood, Voir, watching tsunamis rise from a distance like the Kraken rushing to the shore from a nightmare, Wake up paralysis, a shadow pulls on my foot that escaped from the sheets Terror, terror, curious bewilderment, curiosity incapturing   Rapture, confusion, consciousness And despite all of this I am utterly in love with The intensity of existing I want to write a poem for those who despite all of this Know to live gently and divinely You, my friends and lovers, you strangers who suffer still and superb are the Major Arcana of the Void’s Tarot.

[thecaptainjackblog-blog]

At The Children’s Hospital

Kayden put his shoes on the wrong feet. I smirk and widen my eyes as I get down on one knee to stare at them. “I thought I was the only one that did that, mate.” He looks up at me, confused, his little bald head shining under the hospital lights. “Your shoes are flipped, savvy? Your feet are confused and otherwise….mismatched.” He giggles and I grin a row of gold and silver capped teeth at him. “Don’t worry, I do that all the time myself.” He howls with laughter and covers his face and I chuckle. But inside, I’m sighing with relief. When I walk in, the nurses are smiling. All the way from the car, they smile and wave. Patients and family members do it too. “It’s Captain Jack!” They yell. “It’s Johnny Depp.” They whisper. “A pirate.” And then I’m in the elevator and I’m going up to see them and if i’m lucky, for a moment, I am in the elevator by myself. For this moment, I’m just Brandon and I’m thinking about the little kids upstairs. For this moment, I am worried about what I’m going to do when I get in there. Don’t talk about the kid’s illness, unless they bring it up. Don’t stare at all the tubes and wires. Or their bandages. Or bald heads. Or sunken skin. Don’t talk about how they’re sick, or the treatments. Or how most of them will be dead in a year. Don’t think about it. These kids, they’re going to spend the last few months of their lives in this place with it’s clean sterile walls and flourescent lights, watching Frozen and My Little Pony over and over again, until they know all the words to “Let It Go” and can tell you which episode Twilight Sparkle loses her unicorn horn. Until these stories become tired and their heroes are boring. If I’m lucky, for just a few minutes, they can break free of the boredom and forget. About the tubes and wires. About the tests and hair falling out. About how they’re too sick to keep ice cream down or play. About how they’re going to die...and for all the sword fighting and treasure hunting, for all the searching for immortality. Cursed Aztec Gold, The Heart of Davy Jones, The Fountain of Youth. For all of that, I cannot save them. Because this is reality. But I can for a second, help them forget and remind them what it feels like to be a kid again.

Kayden put his shoes on the wrong feet. While I smirk and bend down to look at them, inside I am sighing in relief. Because I have something else to talk about with Kayden. Not his leukemia. Mom and dad are here, too. They try to be happy and strong for him, but the circles around their eyes, the smudged mascara on mom’s crows feet, the wrinkly clothes and messy hair, the faint smell of whiskey on dad’s breath. Those tell me that they’re scared. More scared than Kayden. He just wants to play, to forget about how sick he is. So we laugh about his shoes. “Actually, it’s quite fashionable really isn’t it?” I slur and take off my big suede boots. Underneath them, I’m wearing tall knee high socks with flowers and hearts on them. Kayden and his mom and dad laugh. “Captain Jack!” Kayden exclaims, “Those are girls socks!” He howls with laughter and my heart skips. “Are they?” I ask. “I never knew. Would you like them?” I pretend to pull one off. “No! Gross!” Kayden says. Then I slip my big suede boots back on, but on the wrong feet. “I think you’re onto something, mate.” I say to him with a wink. The rest of the day, we play “Battleship” and build a fort. We watch Jeopardy and I make up ridiculous answers that make him laugh. We pretend his room is The Black Pearl and we have to sail through a hurricane. Then it’s time to go and I take one of my rings, the big green one with the dragon on it, and I slip it onto his tiny finger. “You hang onto this for me.” I say. “And give it back when you get better, savvy?” “Are you sure?” Kayden’s mom asks. “Absolutely.” I say. Now, my eyes are watering. Kayden lifts up his hand and looks at the ring. “Kayden.” I say. “It’s ok to be tired and scared. Do you remember when I was eaten by The Kraken?” His little head tilts to the side as he remembers the scene. “Yeah.” He says. “Were you scared?” “Of course I was!” I say. “Being brave isn’t about not being scared, it’s about doing what’s right, even when you are.” I wish I could tell you that somehow that day changed things. That Kayden defeated his illness. I didn’t know he had passed away until I came back to the hospital a few weeks later and the nurses, smiling and whispering, told me the ring with the dragon on it was waiting for me at the front desk…