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ibijau · 4 years

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Jin Rusong Lives / On AO3

Nie Huaisang says things nobody wants to hear, because someone has to.

As Jin Rulan explained how Jin Guangyao had faked the death of his son to put him in a magical sleep before still using the shock of that fake loss to eliminate enemies, Nie Huaisang was hit by an unkind thought. Of course, most of his thoughts were unkind these days, it was the sort of person he had become. Still this one, passing through his mind while a child he loved had found protection in his arms, struck him as particularly awful.

Nie Huaisang would have preferred for Jin Guangyao to have really murdered his own son.

It had made him so easy to hate after all. A man capable of eliminating such a sweet little boy could only be a monster. So finding that he had instead kept his son hidden, that he had secretly worked for years to try to save him, collecting piles and piles of information on the sickness that plagued his son… And although he hadn't performed the surgery, although he hadn't been there to see it, Jin Guangyao had saved his son.

"He didn't have the skill to perform the surgery himself," Wen Ning mumbled, his eyes darting again and again toward Jin Rusong. "But his notes were very clear and well organised. I… I've been training on animals since little Jin Gongzi was discovered. He'll still need to be monitored for a while but… but he should be fine now."

Nie Huaisang smiled at him.

He also liked it better when the dreaded Ghost General was just an abomination to be despised.

"Well, that's just amazing, Wen gongzi !" he laughed. "Such skill, you are truly worthy of being your sister's brother! SongSong, I know Wen gongzi looks a little scary, but you should say thank you. He worked very hard so you could be healthy again."

Jin Rusong shot a look at Wen Ning, then shook his head and hid his face against Nie Huaisang’s shoulder, bringing up the fan in his hand so he really wouldn't have to see the fierce corpse.

"I want mommy and daddy."

Unsure what else to do, Nie Huaisang pulled the child closer against his chest and exchanged a look with the other three.

Wen Ning, without surprise, only looked extremely uncomfortable and clearly wished he could be somewhere else now that he had played his role in this mess. Wei Wuxian still had one hand clenched on Chenqing, clearly expecting Nie Huaisang to be pulling a trick of some sort. Rude, considering the efforts Nie Huaisang had made to allow his return among the livings, but smart as well, all things considered. As for Jin Rulan…

Since the death of Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang had done his best to treat Jin Rulan like an adult. He remembered how Nie Mingjue, rising to power at a similar age, had hated the condescension of other sect leaders. After taking so much from him, it had felt fair to treat that young sect ruler as an equal and ignore his youth.

But right there and then, it would have taken too much effort to pretend that Jin Rulan was anything but a lost and confused teenager who clearly ached over yet another family secret. He was too young to deal with this, and Jin Rusong would have no reason to trust the other two, and…

Once, years before, Lan Xichen had confided to Jin Guangyao that he'd always resented the way his uncle had handled the news of his mother's death. Nie Huaisang had overheard that, present yet ignored as he often was. Something Lan Xichen had said had stuck with him: 'Children deserve the same honesty as adults, because they can feel pain no less intense as those older than them.'

Nie Huaisang looked down at the sobbing child in his arms, begging for his parents. Both the truth and a lie would hurt Jin Rusong, but only one would let him move on, and Nie Huaisang did not trust the others to give his nephew that cruel mercy.

Ah, well. He had little hopes of being allowed to see Jin Rusong again after that day, and they all hated him already.

Jin Rusong deserved the truth.

"SongSong, listen, you understand what dead means, right?"

Wei Wuxian glared at him, and hissed. "Nie-xiong, don't !"

Nie Huaisang ignored him. He had no lessons in honesty to receive from Wei Wuxian.

"It's when people are gone forever," Jin Rusong mumbled. "Like LingLing's mommy and daddy, and like grandma when she got sick. They go and you cannot see them again. Uncle Nie, I want mommy and daddy. I really want them now. It's scary here."

Nie Huaisang’s heart clenched.

"I'm sorry, SongSong,” he whispered. “But mommy and daddy have died. It's just you and LingLing now. But I know he loves SongSong a lot and will take good care of you."

"No! I don't want that!" Jin Rusong shouted, crying heavily and throwing away Nie Huaisang’s fan. "I want mommy and daddy! I want them now! Uncle Nie, I want them now!"

The child started hitting Nie Huaisang with surprising strength that would leave bruises, and pulling hard on his hair. It was an ugly tantrum from a usually placid boy, but those were ugly circumstances, so Nie Huaisang allowed him to let his anger explode against him.

Jin Rulan, more disturbed by this display, dared to come closer again. He put one hand on his cousin's shoulder, trying to soothe him.

"A-Song, calm down," he asked in a voice that reminded Nie Huaisang of Jiang Wanyin in his kinder moments. "It'll be okay. I'll take care of you, like when I was little."

Seeing that Jin Rusong wasn't rejecting his cousin's touch, Nie Huaisang tried to gently push him into Jin Rulan's arms. This backfired when Jin Rusong grasped his hair tighter so he could not be handed over to anyone.

"I don't know him!" Jin Rusong wailed. "I want mommy! I want my mommy, I want her now!"

Nie Huaisang grimaced, and pulled the child as tight against his chest as he dared, rocking him a little to calm him.

"I know SongSong. Your mommy would prefer to be here too. She was very sad that she couldn't see you anymore. Mommy loved SongSong so much!"

Qin Su had nearly broken when she'd lost her son. Nie Huaisang remembered how she had looked like a ghost for months afterward.

Maybe it was understanding how and why she had lost him that had broken her in the end. Nie Huaisang could still see her with that dagger in her chest, pale and bloodied, so much like her son had been years before… and it had been his own fault. He had known she wouldn't take well to the news, but as long as it could hurt Jin Guangyao… nothing else had mattered then.

Pushing away those thoughts, Nie Huaisang continued rocking the little boy in his arms and whispering whatever soothing nonsense passed his mind until, after what felt like an eternity, the crying and thrashing stopped. Jin Rusong had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Jin zongzhu should take him now," Nie Huaisang suggested, looking down at the little boy in his arms rather than the people around him. He looked so peaceful now, much more like the Jin Rusong of old.

He startled when Jin Rulan took him on that offer and quickly snatched his cousin.

The problem with those Jins was that they carried a strong family resemblance. Holding this child, the young sect leader looked like his father, and like his uncle… and neither were men Nie Huaisang wanted to think about at the moment.

"Well, that settles it for the time being," Nie Huaisang said with all the good humour he could muster. "Try not to lose him again."

"You shouldn't have told him about his parents," Jin Rulan hissed. "You had no right!"

Nie Huaisang shrugged. Someone had to say it. It wasn't going to be Wei Wuxian who liked secrets far too much, enough so that Nie Huaisang himself had never found out about his core until that night at the temple. And it shouldn't have been Jin Rulan either, who would already have a hard time getting his little cousin to trust him.

But for him to break his nephew's heart… well, he'd done enough wrong already, a little more was nothing.

"Get Zewu-Jun here," Nie Huaisang advised. "Jin Rusong adores him and it has always been mutual. Honestly, I don't know why you didn't think to bring him here already. That child needed to wake to a familiar face, not to his nearly adult cousin and two boogeymen!"

Wei Wuxian glared at him, while Wen Ning appeared unconcerned by the accusation. He'd heard worse, most likely.

"We thought of it," Wei Wuxian explained, "but he's still in seclusion, and Lan Zhan wasn't sure how he'd react to the news. It might come as a shock to you, but he didn't take well being tricked into becoming a murderer. You might be cold blooded enough to take it in stride that Jin Guangyao didn't murder his son, but Zewu-Jun actually has a heart."

"Wen gongzi, don't presume you know me," Nie Huaisang retorted coldly. "And apparently, you don't know Zewu-Jun either if you think he wouldn't overcome his grief for this child. But fine, it's your choice. Now tell me, having awakened this child and performed a miracle on him, what do you intend to do with him?"

Wei Wuxian glared harder, while Jin Rulan looked away and Wen Ning suddenly pretended he was busy tidying the room. Their silence was an answer in itself.

Suddenly, Nie Huaisang almost missed Jin Guangyao. At least he always had a plan, instead of just following whatever fancy passed his brain and hoping someone would clean up the mess if it went wrong.

"I see. Was Jin zongzhu planning to raise a child himself when he's not even of age, while also keeping together a sect that's tearing apart and will take any excuse to turn on him? If so, you should have left that boy to his sleep."

"I couldn't leave him like that!" Jin Rulan exploded, making the boy in his arms stir a little and whimper. All four of them froze, but Jin Rusong did not wake up, and Jin Rulan continued in a quieter voice. "We had all those notes on how to heal him, and he's family! What sort of person would I be if I didn't do everything I could to wake him up?"

A kind one, Nie Huaisang thought. Eternal sleep would have been less cruel than this mess. But of course, that was only his opinion as someone to whom the truth had never been kind. Jin Rusong might be luckier.

"He'll be in danger in Carp Tower," Nie Huaisang pointed out. "Your uncle had too many enemies and friends, and I'm not sure which ones will be worse. With the current political situation, I'm ready to bet a few people will try to use him to their advantage."

He was sure of that, because it had happened with Jin Rulan himself after the death of Jin Guangshan. Jiang Wanyin had been forced to steal him away to Lotus Piers until the situation had calmed down in Carp Tower, with Jin Guangyao coming on top of the struggle for power.

"Now that you've started this mess, try to get your uncle involved," Nie Huaisang advised. "He'll think of some way to help."

Jin Rulan scoffed. "Of course he will! I've written to him already and he's coming, we just didn't plan for A-Song to wake up so early!"

Hearing this, Wen Ning mumbled a pitiful 'sorry', but Nie Huaisang barely noticed. All his attention was on Jin Rulan. He was still mostly a child, but to be able to put aside his pride and ask for help at such a moment…

Up until then, Nie Huaisang’s opinion of the young sect leader had been decent, but not great. Finding out he had brought his cousin back among the living without a plan had lowered his opinion of Jin Rulan, in fact. But knowing when to turn to someone with more experience… that was a good quality to have for someone coming into power so young, as was the fact that Jin Rulan had known not to trust anyone within his own sect with this business, turning instead to his uncle and Wei Wuxian who were both crazy but reliable.

Jin Rulan might grow into a better sect leader than the rest of them, if nobody murdered him for being a little too smart and too just.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes then fell on Jin Rusong, still sleeping. He wondered what he would grow into. If Jiang Cheng ended up raising him, if Lan Xichen gave a hand as well… then Jin Rusong would become a fine young man one day. After all Jin Rulan and Lan Sizhui had turned out pretty well, in spite of circumstances.

But of course, none of that was Nie Huaisang’s problem.

"I think you don't need me anymore," he said with forced cheer. "I'll leave you to your business. Jin zongzhu, considering the circumstances, I think it's silly to continue pretending we'll be able to continue discussing sect business at present, so I think I'll be leaving Carp Tower now. Unless you think I can be of use again?"

"We'll manage without you," Jin Rulan retorted, holding his cousin closer, as if he feared Nie Huaisang might try to get him back.

A ridiculous notion.

Nie Huaisang wasn't stupid to let himself get close to anyone again, least of all this child he loved so much.

"Take good care of him," he still ordered as he went to pick up the fan Jin Rusong had thrown away earlier. It had suffered no damage, thankfully. "He is a sweet boy, and things won't be easy for him."

Without waiting for their reaction, Nie Huaisang left the building and walked away as fast as his legs would allow.

He couldn't wait to go home and pretend none of this had happened.

#nie huaisang #jin rusong #jin ling #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #things should start to look up a bit in the next chapter but welp we gotta have hurt before we can have comfort right? :)#jin rusong lives

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unfolded73 · 6 years

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Enough of Feeling Like This (7/7) *complete!*

Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story - I received some of the most lovely comments I’ve ever gotten on this fic. You’re all wonderful and I love you.

Summary: Many years after peace settles in Storybrooke, a struggle with drinking threatens Killian’s happy ending with his family.

This story includes depictions of alcoholism, alcohol abuse, binge drinking, you name it. Heed the trigger warnings if you need to.

Rated E. Beta’d by @j-philly-b, who pointed me toward some terrible pirate jokes in Reader’s Digest of all places, so she really went above and beyond the call on this one. Word count this chapter: 4.6k.

Chapter 7

Killian was so lost in the mundane rhythm of patching a long tear in the mainsail, heavy needle and coarse thread weaving in and out, up and down, that he didn’t notice Snow White had boarded his ship until she was almost standing on top of him.

“Snow,” he said, looking up from his seat on the deck, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What brings you down to the harbor?”

“Emma said you’d be hard at work on the Jolly, and I thought you might need something to eat,” she said, lifting the basket she was carrying.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he demurred, but then he noticed that he was, in fact, a bit famished. “Although I do appreciate it.”

Snow surveyed his task with a raised eyebrow. The sail was partially spread out across the deck, which only began to give an impression of its true scale. “This is a huge job. Couldn’t Emma use magic to help you?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, but for now, I don’t need to trouble her. Besides, there’s something soothing about the labor.” Gazing out over the prow, he added, “and I feel like it’s a debt I owe my ship.” He set aside the section of sail he was working on as Snow laid a stadium blanket on an empty spot and began unpacking her basket. It quickly became clear she’d brought enough food for twelve people.

Snow surveyed her banquet with a critical eye. “Yes, okay, I brought too much.”

“Especially given that I’m trying to drop a few pounds,” he said, patting his stomach as he seated himself next to her on the blanket.

“Oh please, you look better than you have in years,” Snow said. “None of us are as thin as we were when we were young.”

“Aye, but I was young for a very, very long time,” he said with a wink. Picking up a slice of cheese, he took a bite. “As to my looking better, a month without alcohol will do that.”

Snow smiled and reached out, gripping his hook as if he could feel the pressure of her fingers. “I’m so proud of you.”

Killian grimaced, looking down at her hand curled around the curved metal. “I don’t know if it’s anything to be proud of. I should have done it years ago.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is today, and every day from here on out. That’s all you can do, right? Take it day by day?”

Killian swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Aye. Thank you.”

Snow looked up at the ropes crisscrossing over their heads. “So what’s on your to-do list? What do you have to do to make her seaworthy?”

Chewing and swallowing a bite of apple, Killian let his head fall back to follow his mother-in-law’s gaze. “Replace much of the rigging with fresh rope, mend the sails, repaint… It’s a long list.”

“Well, David and I can give you a hand anytime you need it; all you have to do is ask. And I’m sure a lot of people in Storybrooke would be willing to pitch in.”

As if on cue, Maureen appeared at the top of the gangplank, hopping down onto the deck in an old t-shirt and cut-off shorts. Killian bit his tongue, remembering the lecture he’d gotten from Emma once when he’d scolded Maureen for showing off too much skin. After the earful he got from his wife about putting the blame for men’s behavior onto the way women choose to dress, he’d learned his lesson about saying anything on the topic.

“Oh my god, there’s food? I’d have gotten down here earlier if I’d known there was food!” Maureen bounced over and dropped onto the blanket next to her grandmother. She crossed her legs, shorts riding up higher on her thighs.

Killian glared. Not that it made being confronted with his daughter’s womanly appearance any easier to take. With a sigh, he averted his gaze from Maureen and focused on his lunch.

“So, I heard there’s been a breakthrough on what you’re wearing next weekend to the ball,” Snow said in an almost sing-songy voice.

Maureen took the nudging from Snow with surprising grace and only a small sigh. “Yeah, I found something to wear that isn’t completely awful.”

“I’m so glad!” her grandmother enthused. “Now we just have to see about getting your hair done.”

Killian looked up to see if that would get a rise out of his daughter, but she remained placid. “Yeah, I was thinking purple this time. What do you think, Grandma?”

Snow huffed. “I think your natural hair color is a lovely shade of brown not unlike my own once was, but you do what you want.”

When they were finished polishing off as much of the food as they could, Snow packed the leftovers up. “I’ve gotta run,” Snow said, her hand settling on Killian’s shoulder, “but will you call us to come help the next time you’re planning a day to work out here? We could make it a family project!”

Uncertain if he would prefer the controlled chaos of the whole Charming clan climbing all over his ship to the calming solitude of working alone, Killian summoned a smile. Perhaps in small doses, it would be nice. “I will.”

Snow kissed him on the cheek. “Take care.”

After he’d helped Snow down the gangplank, Killian returned to his daughter. “Can I pull down more of the old rigging?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Aye, if you wear the safety harness.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Yes, Dad.” Then her grin widened. “Hey, didn’t you notice?”

He was already gazing up, determining the best place for his daughter to begin her task. “Notice what?”

“This.”

Killian dropped his gaze and saw that Maureen was pointing to her nose, where she’d replaced the diamond stud with a small gold hoop.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said. “More piratey.”

Suddenly, Killian felt like he might cry. “I love it,” he said, his voice coming out raspy.

“Ugh, Dad, don’t get mushy about it, it’s just a nose ring.” Visibly discomfited by his reaction, she reached for the harness he required her to wear when she climbed up into the rigging of his ship.

“I know, but it’s…” He took a deep breath. “For a long time, I thought you were ashamed of my past. After you learned I’d been a villain, you didn’t seem to want much to do with this old girl anymore,” he said, patting his hand against the mast. “Which I could understand.”

Maureen gave him a stricken look. “No, god, it wasn’t that!” She gestured helplessly, her shoulders rising and falling. “It was just me being a stupid kid, sitting on my ass and playing video games instead of coming outside and doing stuff. Why didn’t you just say something?”

“That’s the thing about self-loathing, darling; you tend to assume that any negative feedback from another person is only what you deserve.”

Maureen raised an eyebrow. “You sound like a therapist.”

“Well, I’ve been spending a good bit of time in therapy lately, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

She snorted, returning to untangling the harness. “Yeah.”

“I realized recently that I allowed us to drift apart these last couple of years because I feared you were better off without so much of me in your life.”

He could see a glassiness come into her eyes, lashes fluttering as she blinked back tears. “Well, that’s really stupid, Dad.”

“I know, love. Sometimes your dad can be very stupid.”

She laughed, a little gasped hiccup of a giggle, then she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before following his gaze up at the main mast. “Okay, then. Where do you want me to start?”

~*~

Emma clicked her tablet off and set it aside, turning off her bedside lamp. She closed her eyes, wiggling a little as she settled herself against the give of the mattress. Lately, she’d been wondering whether a new mattress would stop that pain in her lower back that she’d been waking up with, but she wasn’t sure if they needed a softer mattress or a firmer one. She rolled from one side over onto the other, shifting again to get comfortable.

“You all right, love?” Killian asked.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I’m just having a hard time getting comfortable.”

Killian rolled over onto his back, holding his arm out to her, so she scooted over and snuggled into his side, slinging an arm over his chest. It was a little too warm to fall asleep this way, but it was nice having a cuddle since he was offering.

They settled into silence again. Using the stump of his left arm, he pressed up and down along the curve of her spine, soothing the ache in her back. It struck Emma suddenly to try to remember the point when Killian had gone from merely exposing his amputation to her to touching her with it. Somewhere over the course of all their years together, he’d stopped even thinking about whether she would find that kind of touch unpleasant, and of course she didn’t. She was so accustomed to his lack of a left hand — the way his stump or his hook felt against her skin, the tasks he’d be able to do without aid and the ones he might want her help with — she hadn’t given any real thought to his disability in ages.

“Do you think Philip would want to run for sheriff when my term is up?” Killian asked.

Emma lifted her head to look at him. “He’s awfully young.”

“My term won’t be up for a couple of years yet.”

“He’ll still be awfully young in a couple of years.”

Killian sighed. “I suppose.”

“You don’t want to be sheriff anymore, do you?” Emma asked.

“I’m content to complete the term for which I was elected.”

“Killian.”

He pinched her arm gently. “I am.”

Emma rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe. I feel like I must’ve pushed you into doing a job that you didn’t want.”

He was silent for a few moments, not denying her statement, which hurt a little. “I think I enjoyed it before because I was working with you, not because I had any particular passion for law enforcement. So now, I’m… at loose ends, I suppose. I don’t hate it, but I recently realized that don’t get much fulfillment from it.” He rubbed her back again. “And I’m starting to be rather keenly aware of the fact that I have a finite number of years left.”

“Wow, that’s a little morbid,” she said, scratching her nails through his chest hair.

“I just mean I’m pondering what we might do together after my term as sheriff is over. Maureen will be nearly grown, and you and I might think about doing more traveling.”

Emma lifted her head again, this time with a smile growing on her lips.

“An adventure at sea, maybe? You, me, the Jolly, and the open ocean?”

He reached up and slid his index finger down the slope of her nose. “Precisely, my love.”

“We could disappear for months at a time if we wanted to,” she said, warming to the topic. “Hop from tropical island to tropical island—”

“Clothing optional, of course.” Killian’s hand slid down, seeking under her shirt and cupping the side of her breast where it was pressed against his torso.

Emma snorted. “Yeah, that’s not the appealing prospect it once was.”

“Nonsense.” Killian rolled them onto their sides, nuzzling her neck, his warm breath making her shiver. “You’re beautiful.” His mouth came up to meet hers, and she welcomed his kiss. Slow and gentle presses of his lips shifted into something more, deep and wet and searching.

“So you’ll travel the world with me?” he whispered as he lifted her shirt up, mouth descending on her breast.

“I’d love to,” she said, gasping as he sucked on her nipple. “With how hard you’ve been working, that ship’s going to be in better shape than it was when you got it.” He raised his head, giving her sad smile, and Emma wondered what she’d said to kill the mood. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… keeping busy makes it easier not to think about how badly I want a drink sometimes.”

Emma reached out to cup his cheek, uncertain how to respond. She didn’t think a vague platitude about being strong or taking it one day at a time would be helpful. “I’ll be here with you no matter what, you know that, right?”

He nodded, turning his head to kiss her palm. He seemed to be hesitating over telling her something else so Emma waited, resisting the urge to writhe against him, offering him a physical distraction from his thoughts.

“I called him the other day,” he finally said.

Emma wrinkled her brow. “Called who?”

“The other me. The one from the wish realm.”

Unable to keep the surprise off her face, Emma tried to read her husband’s expression in the dim moonlight. She hadn’t even known Killian had a way to contact his other self, much less that he’d want to.

“He’s been sober for years, and I thought… I don’t know. I thought he could tell me it would get easier.”

Emma continued to stroke his face. “And did he?”

He grimaced. “Not exactly. But it was helpful all the same.”

“I’m glad.” She rose up on the bed so that she could kiss him again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he said between kisses, his breath puffing out over her lips.

“Now,” Emma said, lying back down and pulling Killian over her, “what can I do to get this foreplay back on track?”

Killian chuckled, diving in for another kiss.

~*~

“Hey, looking sharp!” David called, ambling across the community center ballroom to join Killian. He appeared every inch the king that he would have been in his home realm.

Killian tried to put his hand in his pocket, but the Enchanted Forest-style breeches were too tight to be able to do such a thing. He looked down at his outfit and grimaced. “I would have preferred something more of the black and leather variety, but Emma insisted on this,” he said, running his hand down the front of his embroidered vest. “Said it reminded her of our adventure in the past all those years ago.”

David gave him a sympathetic smile. “Emma’s with Maureen and Snow, I assume?”

“Aye, and Ella and Lucy.” Henry and his family had been staying with Emma and Killian during their visit to Storybrooke. Killian tried to think of the most diplomatic thing to say about the chaos of hair products and makeup that seemed to have taken over his home. “I was a bit out of my depth with the ladies’ preparations for the ball.”

David just rolled his eyes. “Please. As if you haven’t always been the vainest man I know.”

Killian smirked and leaned closer. “Well, Dave, when you’ve got it…”

“Uh huh, whatever.” David searched the crowd. “Wasn’t Henry riding over with you?”

“He did, but he was waylaid by a group of old friends.”

They stood side by side, watching as Storybrooke’s residents moved around the room, munching on canapes and exclaiming at each others’ appearances in formalwear. A constant stream of people came over to greet them until Killian started to feel like he’d stumbled into an impromptu receiving line somehow.

When the music started to play and most people’s attention was drawn to the dance floor, Killian sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is just the sort of event that a flask of rum made much more tolerable.”

David put a hand on his back and gestured over to the banquet table. “I know a glass of punch isn’t exactly the same thing, but I’d be happy to get you one.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Just as Dave disappeared into the crowd, Henry appeared out of it and made his way over. “I just heard from Ella — the ladies will be here momentarily.”

“Good.” Killian had been feeling a bit uncomfortable around his stepson since he arrived. He knew Emma had given Henry a head’s up about the fact that Killian wasn’t drinking before Henry and his family arrived in town, but he wasn’t sure exactly what she’d said.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Henry said, his eyes on the entranceway as he spoke. “That night you called me, several weeks ago… the night I thought you sounded sad… was that…?”

“Are you asking if that was related to my drinking problem?” Killian asked, saving Henry from his floundering. “Aye, I was looking for a distraction, something to convince me not to fall back into the bottle.” He stole a quick glance at his stepson. “I wasn’t successful, not that night.”

“I’m sorry, Killian, I wish I had known—”

“Don’t be silly, lad, how could you have known if I refused to tell you?”

“Still.” Henry met his gaze. “I hope you know you can call me anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied.

“Hey, your daughter was asking me a lot of questions about other realms last night,” Henry continued. “Are you guys planning a trip I don’t know about?”

“No.” Killian was reassured that his daughter was actually talking with her older brother, someone she’d professed to resent, but he worried about her motives. “Although given that she expressed unhappiness with her ordinary, peaceful life recently, I worry what she might be contemplating.”

“Ordinary, peaceful life, huh?” Henry chuckled. “What a nightmare.”

Killian gave him a half-smile. “My daughter says that all the tales of magic and curses are unreal to her. She feels distant from us, like she’s not a part of our world. And I don’t know how to change that.”

Raising an eyebrow, Henry said, “Well, the obvious answer is take her to visit the Enchanted Forest yourself.” He crossed his arms. “How come you never have?”

“Because I want her to be safe. Storybrooke is safe, or at least it has been since the Final Battle. That realm may not be.” He sighed. “And what am I going to show her? The ports where I traded my stolen loot for gold? The taverns that I drank and whored my way through?”

Henry acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “Okay, well I wouldn’t recommend that, no. But you still might want to consider a trip. You and mom can keep her safe. She deserves to see where she comes from, don’t you think?” He smirked. “And she deserves to experience first hand what living without modern plumbing is like so she’ll appreciate this place more.”

Killian chuckled at that as David rejoined them, carrying cups of punch.

The music stopped and Snow White stepped up onto the stage, which made Killian whirl around toward the door, looking for his wife and daughter.

“Can I have your attention please?” she said into a microphone, and the din in the room gradually quieted down as everyone turned to face their mayor. Killian stole a look at David, who was looking up at his wife in her elegant ball gown with the same lovestruck expression he’d had for as long as Killian known him.

“First, I wanted to say that the twentieth annual Storybrooke Fair has been the most successful one yet, and it’s due to the tireless efforts of so many of you, so give yourselves a round of applause!” She clapped her hands enthusiastically and everyone followed. Killian spotted his deputy across the room clapping as he leaned over and whispered to the lady on his arm. When Killian caught the man’s eye, he gave Philip a nod of approval. Philip had worked harder than anyone to help implement Snow’s grand vision for this fair. He’d make an excellent Sheriff when the time came. Storybrooke would be in good hands.

“Second, I want to say that you all clean up remarkably well!” Snow said, engendering a laugh from the crowd. “I have to admit, I didn’t just want to have this ball because I love getting dressed up and dancing, although I do.” There was another genuine laugh. Snow certainly knew how to wrap her audience around her finger, Killian thought.

“One of the things that the first dark curse caused me to miss was a formal debut for my own daughter, Emma.” David had moved over toward the stage, and at this point he joined his wife, taking her hand. “So when it occurred to me that we could introduce our granddaughter at a ball on the occasion of her fifteenth birthday, I couldn’t pass up the chance.

“Now, I’m sure Maureen doesn’t want me to stand up here and talk about how intelligent she is, or how talented, or how beautiful and kind-hearted, so I won’t say any of that. Nor will I say how much I’m enjoying watching her blossoming into a young woman who has great things in her future. Instead let me just introduce our princess, Maureen Swan-Jones!”

Snow gestured to the back of the room as the music started up again, and first he saw Emma, Ella, and Lucy come through the doorway. Emma wore a pale yellow gown that he’d caught a glimpse of as she’d brought it into the house a few weeks ago, but she’d quickly spirited it into a spare closet, scolding him for peeking at it. The beaded neckline accentuated her delicate collarbones, and Killian found himself impatient to dance with his wife, to put his hand on her waist and to breath in the scent of her skin.

Then his daughter appeared, and all thoughts of Emma momentarily fled his mind.

Her hair was close to the natural dark brown color that they shared, but with streaks of purple (which it turned out she hadn’t been joking about) woven through the brown. It was swept up on top of her head, and he thought he could make out sparking glitter in it as well.

The gown she wore matched the deep purple in her hair. With its simple lines dropping straight to the floor, it never would have been mistaken for a ball gown from his realm, but it was striking all the same. A memory arose in his mind suddenly, of the time Snow had given Maureen a little dress-up princess gown as a gift. Maureen must have been around seven years old, and while she had happily put the gown on, within an hour she’d ended up covered in mud, the costume entirely ruined.

With pink cheeks and what Killian could tell was a mostly fake smile, Maureen walked the path that her mother and sister-in-law had cleared toward the stage, where she greeted her grandparents with hugs and kisses on cheeks. As Killian watched Maureen, Emma slipped up beside him and took his hand.

“She looks good, right?” his wife whispered.

“Aye.” He swallowed. “I can’t believe she’s my daughter.”

Emma grinned. “I think those were your first words when you held her at the hospital.” The music changed, and Emma let go of his hand and gave him a push on the shoulder. “Go on; this dance is for you, Dad.”

He took a couple of steps and then turned back to Emma. “You’ll leave room for me on your dance card later?”

Emma winked. “Count on it, sailor.”

Killian made his way to the dance floor, where he met Maureen and held out his hook for her to hold. Her hand trembled slightly, but she took the dancing position she had reluctantly practiced with him in the days leading up to the ball.

“This is excruciating,” she murmured as he began to lead her around the dance floor.

“I know, love. Just a few more minutes and the worst of it will be over.” He could feel her start to step wrong, but his strong leading movements kept them with the rhythm of the music. “You look beautiful.”

“Ugh, don’t.”

“And I’m not just saying that because I’m your dad. You are beautiful.”

She grimaced. “I actually don’t hate the way my hair ended up. And the dress is okay.”

“I think your grandfather expected you to show up in a pantsuit.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “He knows we aren’t all butch, right?”

“Well, in his defense, you’ve never been a particularly girly girl.”

His daughter shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “I figured I’d give it a try and see what it was like.”

“And?”

“My feet hurt and this lipstick tastes gross.”

Killian laughed. “I’m sorry, love.”

They made a quiet circuit around the room, and Killian watched his daughter’s gaze dart from place to place. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, no doubt a reaction to so many eyes being on her.

“Why did no one want to play cards with the pirate?” he said.

Maureen blinked, turning her attention to him. “What?”

“I said, why did no one want to play cards with the pirate?”

“Dad, no.”

“Because he was standing on the deck.”

She groaned, but she also relaxed a little bit.

“Why is pirating so addictive?”

“Dad.” She almost laughed, covering it with an exaggerated furrow of her brow.

“Because once ye lose yer first hand, ye get hooked!” he replied in an exaggerated accent, jiggling her hand with the hook she was gripping.

“Oh my god.” This time she couldn’t stop herself from laughing, her eyes twinkling under the lights.

“I love you, my girl,” he said, giving her a wide smile. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Killian continued to twirl his daughter around the dance floor, surrounded by friends and family, and he let the happiness of the moment settle into his heart.

Once, long ago, he’d defined his happy ending as being with Emma, and he had focused entirely on making himself into her perfect partner, regardless of his own identity. Then he became a father to Maureen, and the definition of his happy ending shifted. But even then, it hadn’t been about him, not really. He’d once told Maureen, cuddling her on his lap while she asked uncomfortable questions about the story of how he died, that Zeus must’ve brought him back to life because he’d needed to bring Maureen into the world. But that hadn’t been just comforting words for a distressed child; he’d believed it, because why else would a god care if a blackguard like himself lived or died? It was for Emma. It was for Maureen. Never for himself.

His happy ending was never an ending, nor was it the beginning of unending happiness as he’d once naively hoped. It was this, it was moments like this. Moments like tomorrow, when he’d be back at work on his ship with his family by his side. The burdens he carried would never truly be gone, but he had people to help shoulder them, and that made them bearable. And right now, in this community center dressed up to look like a ballroom, with this wonderful, awkward, fiery girl on the cusp of womanhood in his arms, he could finally accept that maybe he deserved this life. That the happiness he felt was earned, and that it belonged to him.

End

#cs ff #captain swan ff #eoflt fic #tw: alcoholism #my fic #maureen swan jones fic

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imagine-that-one-thing · 7 years

Text

Three in the bed.

On drizzly nights when the kids are all off doing their own things, watching television, doing homework, or playing with each other, you and Harry tend to unwind in the bedroom, the two of you sprawled out on the kind size bed, cuddled with each other while you talk about random things, from ridiculous stories of the day, to how suddenly the kids are growing up.

Your oldest is soon to be fourteen, she’s the quieter one who burrows herself away in her room and listens to soft music while reading. You’re convinced she has managed to read more books than you and Harry combined. Every week there’s a new book she’s holding, ranging from romance to action, to science. She doesn’t like to be interrupted by her two brothers, once her nose is settled in the midst of a chapter she appreciates keeping it there until she falls asleep.

Her brothers on the hand, they’re mischievous and much prefer to run around and wrestle each other on the carpet. Although the boys’ are twins, they have two completely different personalities, one is rather shy when it comes to new people, and the other relishes the attention of new people, in fact, he’s the one that relishes smiling at the cameras when Harry is spotted in public by photographers.

Twin boys’ aren’t the easiest to deal with, they can be flamboyant, a little too rough at times, and they are continuously getting into some kind of mischief. They have their separate likes and dislikes and there are times where they don’t even like each other and you have to keep them separated.

It’s when the house is fairly placid that you glance over at your husband, his eyes already looking at you, causing you to chuckle with crimson coloured cheeks.

“Wanna make a bet?” You smirk, he nods with a devious grin before propping up on his forearms, intrigued with what you’re thinking. “How long before our children reveal they’re up to no good?” You question in which Harry’s hums in return.

“They are quiet, the boys’ should be jumping around and laughing."

"Mhm, they’re quiet. They’re up to something.”

"What do you think they’re up to this time, baby?“ Harry curiously requests.

For a moment you ponder. There’s countless things the boys could be up too. So many bloody things to be honest. They could be concocting ways to try bath the cat again— that was the night they discovered that cats do not like water, the mastermind of the plan ended up with a scratched up arm. They could be glueing their sister’s book pages together again, perhaps even pouring oil over the kitchen floor and sliding around on the tiles. Before you can reply you hear the sound of your daughter,

"DAD!” Her voice is boisterous and extremely annoyed,

“Maddy.” You and Harry sigh in unison, the culprits for Maddy’s call more than likely being her younger brothers.

Before Harry can pry himself off of the comfort of the king size bed, Maddy is at the door,

"They won’t leave me alone.“ She mutters, her two brothers barging through the door,

"She won’t play with us.” Noah disputes,

“Yeah, and she pushed me.” Oliver continues with one curl hanging over his forehead in an adoring way. You look over at Harry and give him a smile, gesturing for him to take care of the situation.

“Boys’ leave your sister alone.” He comments, taking the easy way out and not asking any questions on what exactly the boys’ managed to do to thoroughly irritate their sister.

“She won’t play! She said she’d play and now she’s too busy reading a dumb book.” Oliver huffs, nudging his sister,

“Stop touching me.” She steps away from Oliver, looking at her father for a little help. “They also drew in my new book,” Maddy adds, her brothers both rolling their eyes in unison.

“Maddy, go back to what you were doing, Oliver, Noah, come here.” Harry pets the free space beside him down, gesturing for the boys’ to climb up on the bed.

At first they’re resistant, they expect to be in trouble after bugging their sister and drawing in her book, they don’t expect to be summoned to comfort of their patents’ king bed.

Your bed is like sacred ground, once they get the privilege to lay on it, they never want to leave. “Alright my boys, let’s have a talk.” Harry begins as Noah sits up with his legs crossed and Oliver lays himself on his stomach right between you and Harry, becoming very comfortable and content.

“Hi mummy.” Oliver smiles, showing off his dimples while inching closer, he’s the one that’s more of a mummy’s boy.

“Hey Oliver, comfy?” You gently poke his side, watching his smile widen before Harry takes both the boys’ attention.

“Alright, lads. Your sister is at an age where she wants I be left alone, so that means you can’t bother her as much. You gotta let her have her space. That means no more going in her room.” Harry informs the twins’ keeping his voice low and calm. Noah and Oliver look at him a little confused.

“But why Daddy?” Noah questions as he moves himself to lay on his tummy beside his brother, also becoming comfy in the bed with his head propped up on his hands.

“Well, Maddy is just gettin’ older. When you get older you’ll want space too. So, her room is out of bounds unless she lets you in.”

"Kinda like your music room is out of bounds?“ Oliver questions, his eyes shining delightfully at the thought of Harry’s music room that is full of vinyl records, awards he’s won, and a few guitars among other musical things Harry has collected.

"Yes, Bud. But, you only go in Daddy’s music room when Daddy is there.” Harry nods, making sure the boys’ still know the rule about the music room.

If they had it their way they’d stay in that music room, they are fascinated by the vinyl records, so thrilled that that were found playing with special edition ones one day without Harry’s supervision— hence the reason they have a rule that they can’t go in there without Harry or you. Harry wasn’t mad at them for exploring his music room, he just doesn’t want them to break or scratch the records, they’re the special edition and can’t be replaced too easily. Not to mention the last thing he wants is for them to climb the case of vinyls and ultimately hurt themselves.

“Okay Daddy.” Oliver nods, not asking any more questions. He has always been the one to ask the most questions in all situations, he is very inquisitive.

“Noah, do you understand?” You softly ask, watching as he nods his head agreeing to the terms and conditions.

“Mummy can we cuddle?” Oliver cutely asks, looking up at you with his precious green eyes,

“Awah, of course, baby. C'mere.” You open your arm and he wiggles closer, nestling into your warm body and becoming content. You hear Noah scoff as he watches his brother,

“Yeh such a mummy’s boy.” Noah points out as he rolls his eyes,

“Shut up,” Oliver rumbles,

“Daddy, Oliver said a bad word.” Noah tale-tells,

"Oliver don’t say shut up.“ Harry sighs, "bud, you want daddy cuddles?” Harry offers Noah,

"No, I’m a man.“ Noah shakes his head, only causing you to chuckle.

"Daddy you said the bad word,” Oliver points out, snuggling into you and resting his head on your chest,

“I know I did.” Harry sighs. “Noah, you can’t cuddle your old man?” Harry questions,

“Nope, you said I have to be a man. So no cuddles.” Noah shakes his head, causing you to chuckle further at your son.

“Bud, men can cuddle too.” Harry chuckles, unsure of where exactly his son got the idea that being a man means no cuddles.

“So you cuddle your mummy and daddy?” Noah inquires, inching closer to Harry.

"Well, not as much anymore. Daddy is a little too old to cuddle Grandma and Grandpa.“

"So, how old until I can’t cuddle you and Mummy?” Noah challenges, nestling himself into his Dad and draping his arm on Harry’s stomach.

“You’ll never be too old for a cuddle with me and daddy.” You immediately answer the question, not wanting to even think about your twins’ being too old for a cuddle. You don’t think there needs to be an age limit for when your kids can ask for a cuddle. Just last week while you had left the kids with Harry you and your Mum settled on the couch and cuddled while watching your all time favorite movie. Being thirty-six doesn’t make you too old to cuddle with your Mum.

“Yeah, what mummy said. You can get a cuddle from us any time.” Harry agrees,

“Then why don’t you cuddle your mummy?” Oliver sleepily mumbles,

“Daddy gets a bit too busy sometimes.” Harry clears his throat,

“So, when I’m twenty and old we can cuddle?” Oliver whispers cutely, melting your heart.

“Baby, you both can cuddle us even when you’re twenty.” You assure Oliver,

“What about when we are married?” Noah smiles broadly,

"Noah, if you need cuddles we will always be here. Even if you’re married.“ Harry snickers, amused by his twins'

"Daddy, can we stay in here?” Noah grins, snuggling closer to Harry, having no intentions of leaving while he has his daddy’s arm around him.

“Yeh Lil buggers can stay.” Harry agrees, looking at you with loving eyes and smile.

“Daddy?” Maddy’s voice softly sounds as she reaches the door,

“What’s up princess?” He tilts his head to look over at her,

“Can.. can I join?” She shyly asks,

"Of course, c'mere darlin" he gestures with his free hand and she crawls on at the end of the bed, gazing at you and Harry, debating where she can wiggle herself.

“Who do you want to cuddle with?” You smile, both you and Harry having a free arm to offer her. She gives Harry a delicate smile before crawling to you and nestling herself into your side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Aw, I think my heart just broke.“ Harry jokes,

"Sorry, Dad. I’ll make it up to you.” Maddy chimes,

“It’s okay angel. I still love you.” Harry smiles, peering down at the little boy cuddled up into him before looking at his other two children nestled into you.

“Quite the cute family we got here.” He beams with his impressive eyes,

“Yeah, we did a pretty good job.” You smirk,

“I was the best out of us,” Maddy whispers, being mindful of her twin brothers that have slowly fallen asleep.

“You were the trial run.” Harry chirps amusingly,

“Thanks, Dad."

"I’m kidding.” Harry chuckles, “Maddy, wanna come to the studio tomorrow?” Harry proposes, remembering that tomorrow she has a day off of school,

“Yes.” She happily announces, “can we sing that song I’ve been writing? Uncle Niall said he’d play the guitar and help me with a melody?”

"If me and Niall get our stuff finished, sure. Niall did mention it.“ Harry nods, loving the fact that he passed on the musical gene to his children, more specifically his daughter.

#harry styles imagines #one direction imagines #one direction preferences #1d preference #harry styles preferences #one direction preference #one direction prompts #harry styles prompts #harry styles prompt #one direction blurbs #harry styles blurbs #1d preferences #harry styles fluff #One Direction fluff

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amoresomnia · 3 years

Text

6/2/21

poor in feelings

poor in cents

pouring deep

to kill the scent

your porous soul

seeped too intense

into this fabric

of mine

now my pillow reeks

and my sleep don’t speak

like whiskey bourbon

spilled, once neat

our pleasures gone

the treasured dawn

comes to beat

me down again

like winter mornings

with the curtains drawn

i’m on my own

in my own

head again

5/27/21

red skies

a sign of storms ahead

white lies

your words better left un said

be baptized

by the light of the life you led

5/25/21

cause i can’t seem to grow at all

with these two black thumbs i stand

prepare to climb the wall

backs against the ropes and im already anticipating the fall

can’t help but get going

going with the flow

can’t help never knowing

that we can’t know

so we put up no resistance

saddle up a sad existence

is all you’ve have to show

5/17/21

how many conversations can i simulate

before the voices (in my head) stay forever

codeine kicks the fever dream

but i’m not feeling any better

there’s a warm sky that lie

somewhere deep within my bones

and i think i might die

before i ever make it home

5/15/21

want to speak

to the melancholia in you

i want to speak

the darkest flavors of blue

the sleepless mornings

sleepless nights

a begging feeling for a light

i want to speak so i can see

the misery of love atrophied

the bitterest pill of blessed be

a highlight lining what you need

i want to breathe your ragged air

take the sunshine never share

your life is priceless beyond compare

but i want to speak

if only to see

a little darkness underneath

5/8/21

every drop in the bucket makes a ripple

4/16/21

sweet temptation

she calls me by my first name

4/13/21

needing to find the means to monetize our leisure

the way that man is measured

a man’s time is his most precious treasure

3/15/21

feeling like i’m filling time

listless and just killing my mind

actions in apathy speak for my unwillingness to climb

like each and every thing we seek

will eventually be fine

Why i gotta be this way

Been feeling blind to others thoughts of me

Less of a feeling and more a furtive display

taking actions to display my apathy

wondering what the watchmen see

wondering what it really means

is this another depressive episode

another tick tack beat on the metronome

ten missed calls and ya mamma left wondering when you coming home

wondering what’s it like when ya left alone

where’s the means to make amends

where’s the bridge i’ve burnt at both ends

maybe i can just pretend

3/5/21

each of my hours cost me days

3/3/21

the end is still forever and a day away

2/6/21

the melancholy of a forgotten dream

the broken pieces never fit back together it seems

at least not in the way that we mean

1/22/21

and i can curve my spine into an s shape

last week i ate a berry in the woods so i could see

deaths face

and sometimes i think about how we’re all staying in

this place

the same state

somebody shelter some more

the house you built see it gon’

keep you dry and safe from the storm

this sickening shame

slurred words share no blame

keep blending it together til everything

feels the same

it’s all so awfully humbling

when these walls can all come crumbling

down

then we’d be in the

same state

1/16/21

and they said i was the oldest one

born to break the records

fated to steal the sun

oh they said i was the oldest son

picture perfect

memorabilia on the wall

gloria gloria

why can’t i hear ya

as i continue this eternal fall

to slip as easily as me

to fall from grace

effortlessly

who’s to say

now that i’m not the only one

11/15/20

and i been feeling like an echo

11/15/20

and i am just a passing moment

walking through

stranger over yonder

yes that sense of sonder

i feel it too

i am just a passing moment to you

11/13/20

it’s not funny this is a nervous laughter

what comes from the work

follows after

the most recent episodes

of our disaster

this is a nervous laughter

11/10/20

what’s the use

in using

decisions made without our choosing

pinpricks gave us the solution

can’t save us from this ablution.

Said i don’t wanna feel this way

mama i’m only tryna numb the pain

1/28/20

“If you have the ability, then come.”

The sound of leather boots brushing across fallen leaves moves forward.

The clean image of the morning’s light fog is shattered.

One clean cut of the blade slices a falling leaf and the mist around it.

Feet shuffle two steps back as the split leaf flutters to the ground.

A second cut, this time a collision. The crisp clink of two honed edges turned against each other.

A step. A slide. The men dance in the wind kicking up dirt. Two yearning urgently to spill the day’s first blood. To tinge red the rising sun.

The birds have long silenced and the stillness is only broken by the beaten breathing of two who lie on the floor.

Swordsmen and traitor stricken in fighting made little more than stains upon the earth beneath the shade but still ever so far from hearth.

1/22/20

chasing fates flow

1/19/20

a dusting of snow on the shingles

lightens and whitens the roof

while the bird feeders have frozen over

grandma’s in the kitchen

where there’ll be breakfast in a moment

this quiet northern home

stands still for but a second

in the morning

1/2/20

so she said savor every second

cause each moment could be our last

although it’s not forever

we’ll keep pushing past

making sweet memories

that we won’t recall

come morning

making sweet memories

it’s a storm come without warning

it’s something we’ve been searching

for

so ever hard to find

it’s a little less than so much more

if we can bide our time

and savor every second

cause in this moment i swear

i’m dyin

1/2/20

and to all a piece

of the validation machine

we submit

12/12/19

i still feel a filter

a thickness engulfs me

i just wanna connect

but i can’t quite see

something’s been ticking

the wrong way

something been ticking

inside of me

ain’t quite say i’m sick

or dying

but there’s a weakness speaking out

inside of me

said i still feel some static

my attitude crude and dramatic

it’s a poison i’ve been seeking

it’s a poison i’ve been thinking

it’s a poison silly sinking

somewhere deep inside of me

ain’t been nothing more than

platitudes and gratitude

for the people pick me up

from the floor.

2/8/20

Maybe we were meant to toil

Under this blazing sun. Bare backs burned by the blistering heat.

Maybe we were meant to have our hands, till-deep, in the soil.

Sifting seeds between our fingers

searching out the signs of life and

planting them deep within the land.

Maybe we were meant to toil

Not for

this comfort and complacency.

Not for

this sweet space we seek.

Sheltered

from the sun and from the storm.

Maybe we were meant to toil

12/4/19

tonight

i think

i’ll lie awake and

look lovingly

at this

beautiful

vague shape

that’s sleeping next to me

cause i can’t quite

make out

your features

your facets

or your lines

cause the lights gone

and nights come

and i’m just

a little bit blind

but i know

it’s you

that’s sleeping next to me

][

so tonight i

think that i’ll lie

awake and take a

second just to breathe

soak in just a moment of

your lovely vague shape

while you’re sleeping next to me

next to me

11/18/19

deep beneath

the surface

something

screams

purpose is

nothing

but a lie

how ya gonna live your life?

11/12/19

like god's little flies

we are dropping one

by one

11/11/19

last goodbye i’ll offer

youve taken every penny

every copper from my coffers

11/17/19

the most effective way to enact change is to participate in it

10/14/19

Big capital speaks louder than the cry of common man

When the dollar has been made by creating shortcuts

How much is that dollar really worth

08/?/19

your lips are stained blue

from all that you’ve been drinking

and no amount

of blood that they’ve been sinking into you

will be enough to save ya now

09/17/19

handed a glass

half full

they drank it

til it’s dry

said this is the state of the world

and not a single tear’d they cry

09/19/19

and i’m thinking about boats and

a placid lake with murky water choked by reeds

and i’ve been thinking about boats and the sound that thinking’s been making lately

for me

you see when you place one boat one ship on this inland sea see it’s all alright

right

there’s room to move or sail or go forward in any direction

and then you place another ship another boat on those calm waters

and you don’t falter not for one second

you still have space on this peaceful lake

the wind is carrying the breeze and these ships across the ride and

then you place another ship

and another ship

and the wakes these ships create start to intersect and the waters that were peaceful feel a fearful rising tide and

then you place another ship and there’s no room to move and it’s bow to bow and scrapes along the side

but you can’t just take the ships out

where would they go

and now upon your placid lake a laden waste made manifest you start to think

and hope for that wide clear wave to ride a peaceful placid hope to hide within

again

so you start to sink the ships

the boats have aged have weathered and worn their rails have scrapes sails untethered and torn

and they go down beneath the surface and the fresher spawn have room to breathe while asleep and out of sight the old sink deep

still a piece of the lake

but left to apathy

and you have a nice pristine water to weave across with your less populated crest

and then you add another ship

and another ship

until the bottoms ready to give in a mountain made of wreck to ruin this blessed home you’ve learned to stew in

born out of a desire

to be free

but then

when there is no more space

what then

?/?/2019

fresh blades of green burst through

the ivory horizon

foreboding the first false coming

of spring

before the frost snaps and

breaks bare any inch of color

that dare pervade

the pure still space

07/05/2019

placid lucidities

angry and afraid

we fail to see

all that’s been made

in our solemn search

for agency

07/02/2019

dirty jilted sister

left beside the waterfall

whiskey bourbon

turned to mist

to satisfy the masses

mend it all

accomplishments are minced

til satisfaction stalls

and all these things

we’d missed

hang like mirrors on the wall

09/03/2019

for too long we been

looking out instead of in

dancing freely to the

cadence of our sin

08/31/2019

CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

YOULL NEVER WORK A DAY INYOURLIFE

CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

AND YOU JUST MIGHT BE ALRIGHT

BUT THEYRE STILL NOT HIRING

THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

DESPITE THE POVERTY LEVELS RISING

CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

WERE ALL WASTING AWAY WALLOWING IN WEALTH

WHILE THE PEOPLE EXPIRING

BUT THATS STILL NOT HIRING

They say do what you love

and youll never work a day in your life

06/18/19

more like

broken glass

under apathetic feet

05/29/19

There’s a difference

Between Control and Concern

And i’m not quite sure

You’ve learned how to discern

it just yet.

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