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kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pmtexts texts texts
this one is for texts!
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
2/2
Part of you.
You don't have it, do you.
That dagger?
[ An audio file arrives shortly after.]
I'm going to try and tell you something, but.
It's hard to explain. I have to record myself because if I think about it to type it, I just.
Can't. So, um.
Every time I read what you texted me, it's like trying to see something out of the corner of my eye, or...trying to read in a dream. You know how you can never read in dreams? And if I focus on it, I feel a weird pulse.
My head hurts, yeah, but the pulse thing...
I think it's protecting me, or protecting itself, so it's protecting me. It happened when I tried to remember Corbin, too.
When I try to focus on it, I think, um. I think...I think not to think about it, but like someone else is telling me not to think about it. My voice, in my head, don't think about it. Or it's not important.
You wrote, "It's part of what I am." I feel like I know that. And I have this memory from that night in the shop, maybe. I remember...I don't know. I was in so much pain, Desmond, I felt like I was splitting apart, and there was someone I knew I had to reach for who could make me well.
But not you.
But yes, you.
But inward, like I could reach inside myself and through to somewhere else to touch him. You. Augh! Fuck, my head -
[ A moment or two of silence and steadying breaths, a drawn sound of irritation and pain. Finally: ]
I'm okay. I'm okay.
It did it again. Pulse and don't think, don't think, don't think. So I'm not gonna think about it anymore.
But - That knowing again. I just know - Uh. Well. I might know where it is.
Heh.
Good luck getting it out.
1/2
’Be careful, my Dearest,’ he thinks. Panic scraping at his throat as he listens, not breathing, listening intent to every shift in his mate’s voice. He hears Jack taking what care he can. Hears those staggered breaths, the pained intake, and his fingers wrap tight and tighter at his phone, willing, willing his Puppy to hold on.
He hears his Puppy’s words, and he understands. Recalls: “It’s okay. I still have it.” Recalls, “I kept you safe. Nothing to fear as long as I have it safe, you said.”
There are forms of magic - tricky to compose; not improbable, not beyond Rumplestiltskin’s capabilities, and certainly not beyond what he and his wolf might have reached together - that open space beyond its typical dimensions. Magic that can keep an object hidden from sight and seeking. That can keep a nonpareil artifact safe from prying hands and can perhaps, perhaps turn it into a form of protection.
His magic is in part here, in Storybrooke, even if it can’t be reached.
His magic lives in the one place he would have wished it.
Oh—Perhaps he has been protecting his Puppy all along.
Just as his Love has been guarding him.
When he’s finished listening, he sends an audio file of his own. Voice low, soothing velvet. Fluttering his fingers through the thought of Puppy’s hair as he speaks, thinking, ’Easy, my Love; be easy.’ ]
Breathe, Puppy.
Breathe for your Desmond.
Don’t think at all; only feel my hand at your hair, my lips at your forehead. Nestle your cheek against my throat, warm, safe. Beloved.
Stay here with me, and breathe.
My Love, I thank you.
It’s safe; you’ve kept it for me.
All these years, I have been within your care, and my guardianship has been in you.
Oh, Love, we’ll be okay.
Breathe, my mate, breathe.
Your Daddy loves you so.
I am with you always.
2/2
I comprehend your meaning, and I ask that you don’t dwell on it. We have our answer; there’s no more that needs speaking on it now.
You’ve had it all along. You, the wolf prowling our grounds, what should have been our home. You, here in Storybrooke, before I knew your name.
My Love, they will pay for what they’ve done. We’ll drain their blood and leave them hollowed, eeking out upon the earth they’ve played their traduction on. They’ll watch our revelry, and shudder.
Repayment. We’ll give them all a bit of business.
Thank you, Puppy. You who are eternally Dearest to my soul.
Keeper of my dagger, of my name.
[ … ]
If you like, my Love. If you wish it, if you might allow it, we’ll speak on those darker days. When you [ … ] neared a precipice. It won’t come to that again, but [ … ] you have lived, you have known that harrowing. And if you care to speak on it, I’ll hold you, and kiss you close. I’ll be with you through the dark and thorns, Dearest. Where you’ll never find yourself again.
You will never be without me, Puppy. And I wish to aid in easing every wound, every absence that I can.
I love you. And it is my fortune, it is the sustenance of my soul, to know that you remain, and you will always be with me.
The world goes awry without you; nothing within or outside feels fitting.
What I mean to say is yes, I have always been yours. Since before I knew you, and until time spins itself to dust.
[ … ]
No self-judgement; I’ll work on that. I will, Love, and I’ve your encouragement to butt against my censures.
You have my gratitude for this, as well.
There is no one who has helped me feel more at home in myself, or aided me in seeing that what I am is not [ … ]
entirelyonlydespicable.[ … ]
And! As for what I am—
I’m not certain a word for it has been found. ‘Dark One’ describes the role; as I understand, the form that comes of taking on the name varies a bit.
I’ve only met one other, and he didn’t last for long. He bore [ … ] certain similarities, but the heart of him burned different. His existence felt different from the one I took upon myself.
Perhaps obfuscation was the point; perhaps the Dark One is meant to be no certain creature, and nothing that has been known before.
Even so, I see no argument against naming what I as the Dark One am.
My very own species, all for my Puppy’s joy.
And as I am wholly your creature, I find it only apt that you should name my species!
What, my Love, would you name me?
What title would you bestow upon my species?
no subject
People who inflict curses on beings like Desmond don't just stop there; they're going to mean him real harm. (Unless they're dead.)
(Unless the point was to rip Jack away from him, but even then, the work's being undone now, isn't it?) (What was the wolf before its memories were stripped away? A guardian as well as a mate? A defense mechanism?
Someone Desmond trusted, and when he lost the wolf, did that mean he trusted no one? Slipped deeper into paranoia and madness?
Oh, Desmond.)
In the meantime...he has to admit it's a little exhilarating to think part of Desmond is always with him. Always protecting him and marking him as Daddy's own.
Always inside him.
Jack listens to the audio file with his eyes closed, feeling his lover's hand running through his hair. He presses his own hand to his midsection and imagines (?) he feels something subtly bass - like a purr. Contenting, the knowledge of that maybe-dagger.
The headache eases away and he hums a pleased note. He won't think about it, and...well. It's not hurting him, whatever it is. It's just a little bit of Daddy. That's honestly all he wants lately, anyway, right? ]
No more thinking about it. It might not even BE a dagger, right? Might be anything. Might be, I dunno, my very vivid imagination or something. Might even be a tapeworm!
(But just in case, no more thinking about it. And maybe we ought to delete those audio files and anything that talks about daggers.)
No more talking about Lacey or blame or any other unhappy shit right now, either.
So, about this Dark One thing.
It's a role, and you get the title by taking it on. How many are there, or are you like...the Dark One Highlander? Did you have to kill all the other ones?
I mean, if so, it's probably for the best unless you want to start breeding more Dark Ones. Pretty sure some of your magic makes you a little squirrelly - and before you deny that, remember I saw you do some wild shit. Not a condemnation! Just saying you don't want to load up on Dark Ones like you don't want to load up on apex predators. They still have their niche in the environment and all.
Or! Is it possible that the role didn't make you something else, but maybe...unlocked your ability to be something you already were? Like tapping into a latent gene, you know?
What's the dagger that we're not thinking about got to do with all this?
no subject
Again, my Love, if the words begin to burn, or to blur overmuch, you must slip past them, and let this message pass into the void.
Anything that fails coherence now will be known in time, when we’ve mended this rift by which we’ve found ourselves fractured.
The Dark One, Love, is both a title and [ … ] a sense of being intrinsic to my identity. What I am now cannot be severed from the title and the being I took on. Some might say that to become the Dark One is to be changed at the core, but I find— Your words speak it more to my liking, and to my experience. In becoming the Dark One, I wasn’t changed utterly; better to say that something in me was unlocked, that I was granted reign to become better aligned with my own potential. That I stepped into greater wholeness.
In a way, then, the dagger— Mm. For sake of maintaining a bit of distance, potential cushioning for my Love’s mind, let us say ‘the artifact.’ So in a way, the artifact functions as a kind of key.
A key and a tether. A connection to a vast, an ever-evolving energy. An access to magic, and an opportunity to take that magic into one’s own being. A deal and a contract of its own, really.
And double-edged— It’s that, as well. There are particularities of the artifact’s power best kept out of texted messages (no worries, Puppy! Daddy will tell you all another time, when I can nestle at your chest and grace your cheek with kisses; where no one but we two can hear the words I know) but becoming the Dark One requires a price of blood drawn.
It is rather a Highlander situation; there can only be one wielder of the artifact - thus,
as the kids say,there can only be one Dark One (a pity, really; I quite warm to the idea of a bundle of Dark One pups, all equally frenetic, every one a buzzing handful to their fathers!) - at a time.I killed the one who came before me.
A being I caught wind of and sought after. A being whose will had been compromised. Whose magic was [ … ] like and quite unlike my own (which is, I would neither dare nor bother to deny, indeed quite squirrelly at times).
I can’t say how many lived before him.
I cannot say how long the dagger has existed, orIt frustrates me, that its origin remains enshroudedThe artifact holds no trace of their memories; whatever connection I bear to past Dark Ones is minimal.If the Dark One is a species, then, it seems to be ever-evolving. And whatever species I may be, I place entirely up to your naming. 😌❤️✨
no subject
Until I figure something out for you, I think "Highlander", "Sweetheart", and "my love" work very well, don't you?
[...]
You still want pups?I guess if we had (more?) pups, they wouldn't be Dark Ones, exactly. Depending on how we went about it. If we went about it, I mean.
Seems to me we've got a lot to work through before we even think about bringing kids into
[...]
It's strange, isn't it? Going from dating for a few months - practically living together after our first date - to screwing around for a few months, to thinking maybe we've been together for decades and also knowing we were pretty antagonistic for a while, too. Every time we've built something even a little, something happens to knock it all back down.
This conversation's making me realize I don't really know anything about you. The real you, or the whole you. And you can't get to know who I was - the whole me - because I can't remember.
And I don't know how much of the past six months we get to keep, you know?
Like the conversation about children.
And whether you want me to keep being how I was for you, with that contract, or if we go back to how it was before. Or if we figure out how to be both ways together.
And what happens if we remember who we were together in the forest and it's not like any of that?And [...] whether you still would want to marry me if I asked.
And where we live. How we keep up the pretense that you don't remember anything. What we do about Regina.
[...]
We've got a lot of things to figure out together.
At least we're together, though. Right?
1/3
Together, always.
We’ll find a way to shake whatever and whoever has inflicted us with fractures. I know this; I believe in us. In our need to return to one another. In the ways we’re drawn together.
Even in this curse, designed though it is to keep love severed.
Even in the last days - years, years - in the Forest; antagonists though we were, still we couldn’t stay apart, hm? Still you were in my thoughts at every turn, the wolf in shadows, the one for whom I left my cloak.
Puppy. Whatever may seek to separate us, I will always long for you, want only you. I will always know wholeness when I find you.
You are my mate; there is no other.
I would marry you in a heart’s beat. Now. Any time in the future that awaits us.
I suspect we may have beenI have memories, Puppy, of a pair of rings, andWould that I could rememberHow can I have forgottenI’m going to ruin whatever sun-starved cretins took you from my mind.I failed to meet my opportunity once; I won’t let another pass.
[ … ]
I believe you were mine once, mate and heart’s consonance and husband, all.
I want nothing better than to be your own in every way.
2/3
Regarding these past six months, we will keep everything we want.
Everything that strikes us now as apt, as right and needful.
There is nothing we need to forfeit. There is nothing we’ve grown together that I’d care to - or bear to - lose.
Here, consider—
If there is any truth to [… ] what we suspect. Regarding the artifact. (And I suspect this is true, Puppy. It suits so perfectly into my knowing; it meets my knowledge of you across these six months, and in every conversation we’ve shared, in every glance you give me.) (In my memory, there has never been a being I would permit to take the artifact in-hand, let alone [ … ] keep it more intimately. And yet I would give it over to you without need for thought. I am inclined to trust you with it just as much as I trust you with myself.)
Presuming - suspecting - it is true, it’s a telling fact, my Love. It means that however we existed before absence was inflicted on us, you held my trust, you held my heart entirely.
Truly, it would be enough for me to know how I feel about you know, how I have felt about you since you first laid your hand on my cane: That you are the world to me. That if there is such a thing as fate, we are fated; and that apart from fate, you are and you will always be my choice.
Granted that I’ve shown that choice poorly, in recent incidents. I misjudged the harm that might be done if I tore myself from that woman…Well. We’ve discussed this; better not to bring you torment with its talk again.My Love, where are you now? Step out into the sun and speak to yourself, hand upon your chain, fingertips stroking our charm slow and steady: ‘Daddy loves me.
‘Daddy is watching; Daddy will guard me.’
And we have time. Together, Daddy and Puppy will bring all tumult into sense. And I will hold you, lover, through it all.
We have years ahead to manage any and every complication. Years to discern what we are now, and to find what we have been. To discuss our feelings regarding children - I know my own inclinations, and how well you would shine as a father, how well I’d love to see your care for any pups of ours - and to share all we can find of one another (certainly, I mean to tell you all I know of myself, of the man-not-man I have been).
To find all that we once knew, unlock our past knowledge and rejoice in its discovery.
My Puppy, there isn’t anything to fear.
(Regarding Regina, give her no further thought. I’ve feigned ignorance with her before, and for years. Think of it as a game, hm? One you can aid your Desmond in: Running rings around the mayor-queen, seeing just how far we can push credulity and keep her swathed in ignorance.)
There is so much we might worry over, but Puppy, my Love—
Let Daddy handle things, hm?
Let your Desmond take care of you.
My Dearest, you’ve done so much, and cared for me through such distress (your own as well as your Sweetheart’s). To my mind, it’s high time that my Puppy give his weary head a rest. And I long to guard you, to guide you, my Dearest.
3/3
I don’t say that I wouldn’t like to revisit that arrangement. I quite enjoyed it - I enjoyed that form of your care, and your viciousness - but I love equally to guide you, choose for you. It’s something to revisit someday, perhaps. If we feel so inclined.
For now, it’s only fair that Daddy takes control in-hand.
I do love to command my Puppy, and watch him melt to Daddy's dictates, hm?
[ ... ]
Tonight, perhaps, we'll have some silence. A fire and the gathering dark. You kneeling beside me, your cheek against my thigh, my fingers brushing through your hair. In silence; in adoring consonance; in peace. ❤️
1/2
But maybe you would've wanted it, because while you're not human, you're also not inhuman [...] and I know I'd have done anything to make you happy. Anything you asked.
[...]
I'm not inhuman, either. Even then, I wasn't quite or wasn't just a wolf. And I've been living as a human for years now. I understand a little better the beauty of being able to call you 'husband'.
I know how badly I wanted it both times around.
That's all a conversation for another day, of course. Maybe after you secure an annulment? Regina owes you. Or she owes me. I don't see her fighting it, in any case.
[...]
Did I tell you I went to see her? Aside from saying she thinks you don't remember anything, I mean. I paid her a visit and made her tell me everything.
She didn't appreciate my methods, but I don't appreciate being cursed, so I'd call us square.
2/2
Let's go to the cabin. That's the one place that's felt like it's just ours, right?
I'll get us some takeaway from that Italian place if you bring the whiskey.
And grab my blanket from our bedroom, please? It gets to live in the cabin from now on, not in the house getting all the remnant Lacey taint all over it.
[...]
She took the tablecloth, by the way. Hope she thinks to dry-clean it. 😇
1/3
[ … ] Traces, glimpses of memories like gossamer, like fog. Difficult to clasp hold of, but glowing with the warmth of heart’s truth.
Molten metal, and the glint of burnished gold. Excitation, euphoria running through my blood, my fingertips. [ … ] Golden scales on material toned gold and red.
Two rings, crafted by my own hands.
[ … ]
I don’t know what became of them. When they were - or when one was - bestowed. But I have my suspicions. I have certainties.
My husband; I am certain you were that.
And I would have asked my wolf. That, as well, I believe; that, as well, strikes warm resonance.
[ … ]
I loved you; I know that. My heart leaps toward the thought, nestles into it like honest, long-for comfort.
Well.
We’ll find the rings, my Dearest. And your wolf self is right; ‘mate’ holds meanings manifold, holds connectivity that sings itself even when memory’s gone absent.
Your nearer-to-human self is right, as well, or I find it so: This wish to be known as your husband. This desire to call you and have you known as my own.
My wolf, and my sometimes-a-man. Your man-not-man, your creature walking in this guise adores you fully.
And I will bring that blanket.
Your blanket.
I remember you, wrapped soft in its embrace. Myself, nuzzled at your neck, and you drawing your arms outstretched, then clasping, to wrap me in the blanket with my Puppy.
You rememberI’m so pleased that you remember it, I[ … ]
I didn’t let her touch it, you know.
It remained in my room always. For my knowledge only; a comfort in which I might enclose myself, and know your scent.
And think of you only, you always.
My love, I missed you so. Missed what we were, and ought to have been. I should haveWell. There isn’t any changing what’s occurred. Only moving forward and with you, always.
I know my luck, the grace of your fortune as infinite.
I long now for the night’s arrival.
Your and I, your blanket, and a soft-burning fire.
My Love, we’ll have our heaven. This night, and every day, every evening after.
2/3
Please. Your blanket will be spared that poison always.
3/3
During those three days, yes?
It did strike me as singular, that Graham was on your side - and so, on my own - with no retaliation from the mayor. That she gave me no earful after.
Do you know, I think she did take you at your word (no surprise; my Puppy, my wolf is convincing when he has cause to be, hm?); she’s watched me with wariness, tried to prod the boundaries of what I know and who I think I am.
I suspect she’s being careful. I suspect she has no wish to wake up what I am.
I suspect she’s relieved. (She shouldn’t be. Even supposing I’ve forgotten myself, she ought to be wary of you— But again, and always, she errs toward over-confidence. Toward what is simplest to believe.) Something that may aid in securing annulment for a marriage that never was. If she wants to keep calm waters, and keep ‘Mr. Gold’ from working himself into a memory-fracturing tizzy, it behooves her to speed along the process.
…What ever did you say to her, my Love?
What ever did you do?
1/2
Corbin, who has, as it turns out, both rings.
Jack laughingly calls him 'quite the magpie', all the while feeling something in his chest like pride of the paternal sort.
He takes a moment to photograph the unusual rings, then sends this image to Desmond. ]
Look familiar?
Corbin gave me one of them when I decided to propose.
Maybe I should have asked that night, Regina be damned. Maybe if you'd seen the ring, things would've turned out differently.
Or maybe you'd have thought they were yours and hers. With all the mind games they played, I would've thought the same.
But it's all right.
Gold and red toned, just like you said. That's more proof, isn't it? Can't do anything but believe you.
Can't do anything but ask you to be my husband again - soon! - and make sure it sticks this time.
2/2
I went in armed, yanked the cord out of the phone, and made her sit down and tell me what the fuck is happening in this town. I think it shocked her more that I knew who she was and what she could do, but the gun helped.
When I was walking out, that's when she asked me who I am. She should know who I am, right? Isn't that part of the curse? She knows who we are and she assigns us these identities. So if that's true, how'd I slip through the cracks?
How did Lacey?
Flaws like that are why whole systems fail. Jurassic Park, the Matrix, firewalls. You can't have unknown elements running around causing chaos.
But that makes me ask another question: if I'm an aberration in the curse's effects, am I a bug or a feature?
...And how many others here are like me?
1/2
Where did heHow did heAh, but of course he had them, it’s only right, IYes.
Familiar. Yes, I—
My Love.
It was always your ring.
They were always meant to bind us.
My relief isHow in fuck’s name did I ever think I might have crafted one for her, I[ … ]
That was my worry, yes. That I [ … ] had forged those rings for a hand that wasn’t yours. That some slip of fate had bound that woman to myself, and that I had been fool enough to pledge myself to [ … ] some measure of her existence.
Viewed from a distance, the assumption makes no kind of sense. What was she that I could ever want, or - speaking on more likely terms - what good could have come from a contract that required her hand, her marriage?
[ … ]
I become [ … ] painfully erratic in your absence, my Puppy. I worry overmuch; I misreads signs as hazards and [ … ] the conclusions I draw don’t sort themselves to sense.
What did she do[ … ]
I call this proof, yes, Dearest.
And husband or not, husband and not, I am your mate through all. I do stick to you, and with you; I always shall.
Even erasure of memory couldn’t keep us torn forever, hm? Our love was only waiting; our rings were always waiting.
Kept in sanctuary by our pup.
[ ... ]
I'd like my ring, someday. When the time feels right for you.
I'd like to see your nestled on your finger, where it always should have been.
2/2
A bit of business, a little scare; what could be better? What’s more beautiful than my wolf prowling, and flashing fangs?
Ah Love, you do turn your Daddy wild. >;3
[ … ] Telling, that phrase: ‘A bit of business.’ I think of it as one of mine. Perhaps another point of evidence suggesting what we were.
For the rest—
These flaws. You’re right to name them loci of destruction; discrepancies of this sort shouldn’t be possible. There shouldn’t be any flaws. Not given what I know of magic and of this curse; not given the care I took - and that together, we must certainly have taken - in its composition.
Magic is given to fluctuations. Small, mm, flourishes of over-exuberant energies that bloom within vagaries of term or of intention. Magic’s own little loopholes, if you will.
I would have accounted for this. And seeing how well my Puppy sniffs opportunities between contractual lines, I’m certain you would have been vigilant, as well. Regina may have muddled the curse, but then I taught her care as well. More likely, I suspect that whatever befell you and I destabilized some core component of our curse.
[ … ]
I’m curious as well, to know how many others slip beyond the curse’s grasp.
It might be worth discerning whether Regina knows who Rowan is. Who Corbin is, only [ … ] I’m reluctant to bring his name to her. Better, perhaps, that he pass under the radar.
We’ll need to do a little digging, Love. To discern the one our mayor doesn’t recognize. To discern who slips my knowledge, or your own.
1/2
I told her she had to leave us alone - steer totally clear of us - and that she had to let me have you. In exchange, I'd make sure you didn't "wake up". She agreed to that. We made a deal.
Bought me and you some time to figure out what the hell is going on here.
(Bought you for me, too, and believe me, I mean to get my money's worth. >;3 )
I'll do whatever investigating you tell me to do, Daddy.
But. Behind closed doors, we can be the creature and the wolf. Outside, we're Desmond and Jack Gold. You're a loan shark and an antiques dealer and a lawyer, and I'm the gold-digging stripper that usurped your dull wife's cozy little setup.
[...]
Actually, about that.
2/2
Stuff that didn't really settle into place with what was going on.
Yesterday, he sat next to me at the diner and asked if I've ever considered law enforcement. Casual as you please.
I don't know if it was his idea or Regina's, but she mentioned something similar when I [...] "spoke" with her. Said I'd have to keep my clothes on, though.
[...]
You do get a little erratic and I love you for your eccentricities as much as for every other wild part of you. Annnnnd - It wouldn't hurt to have me somewhere like the station, where I can run some interference. Just in case.
I'll do anything to keep you safe, my Love. I'll always protect you. All the pieces of you, inside and out.
1/2
My feigning ignorance for her noninterference. It’s a price I’ll easily pay, and it’s no small boon to have achieved.
Puppy, I am both grateful for and proud of you.
My protector, my guardian, my always.
I’ve begun to follow a regular routine that happens to coincide with many, many Puppy encounters through the day, and returns me to his arms with the evening. After all, Mr. Gold lives for his Puppy’s love. (And wasn’t it his Puppy who spared him from the anguish of the life he knew before? All roads lead back to Puppy, for Mr. Gold, for Desmond, for every name I am alike. I’d have it no other way.
Nor would I permit my Puppy to ever, ever be short-changed. >:3)
If I happen to draw some small measure of attention, it will be only of the kind to be expected from an ill-tempered, at times erratic loan shark. Nothing to be faulted! Nothing to arouse mayoral suspicions. 😌🗡️
2/2
What in shit’s name is Regina planning toIt doesn’t bode well when our dear mayor attempts to rope you intoShe wants you within reach, she wants me within reach[ … ][ … ]
This suggestion from Mr. Humbert (from, perhaps, the mayor)—
Is it something you’d be interested in?
Either as a change from or in addition to your work at The Rabbit Hole; I don’t wish to see my Puppy overworked, but just as well, I know you take enjoyment in your stripping.
(No matter what the outcome, I’m afraid the mayor’s injunction toward perpetual clothedness is ill-fated. Your clothes will have to come off at some point, hm?
Inquiring Daddy demands to witness his Puppy bared in full. >;3)
[ … ]
I admit, Love, I am wary. Of course I don’t doubt your capacity for the role, nor for managing Regina. I know your strength of will, how perceptive you are. You outdo her in mind and in strength, in patience and in foresight (she never could see further than a month or two beyond the moment).
She’d be a fool to move against you.
(She is a fool, granted!, but she bears no death wish.) (In any case, I’ll ruin her if she tries anything— And if my Puppy hasn’t already torn her limb from limb. 😌✨)
It’s possible - perhaps probable - that she’s seen the wisdom in keeping you provisionally ‘on her side,’ or at least within her sight. She’s glimpsed some fraction of your capabilities; she sees you as an unknown element within her little world. Perhaps this is her way of ‘dealing with’ ‘the threat’ she sees in you. A way for her to sleep easier at night.
Of course, it’s also possible that she had no hand in this. Mr. Humbert appears to get on well with you, and I gather he was impressed by the way you carried yourself through the chaos we [ … ] recently endured.
Whatever their motives may be, you’re right to suggest that joining the station may bring advantages. The more Regina believes you to be cooperating with her game, the more she thinks she knows of you and of your whereabouts, the less scrutiny she’ll set on you. The more likely she is to trust you.
And regarding my little eccentricities— I’d argue that I could curb these habits for the sake of our shared peace. But in the first place, I’m not certain how reliably I could squelch them.
In the second, I [ … ] suspect that isn’t anything you’d ask, or wish.
You love me very well, Puppy, and wholly. It astonishes me still to think you know so much of what I am, and still you breathe encouragement only; acceptance of all that I am.
Lucky, Lucky Daddy.
Who has strayed off-point - but can I blamed, when I stray only to follow sun-strewn thoughts of my mate, and to speak his name with a smile gone daft? - and now returns to the matter at hand—
For me, the focal question remains: Is this something you’d like to do, my Love? You have your Desmond’s full-hearted support one way and every other.
1/2
But I like what I do. I like it more knowing you're around sometimes to see, and that I get to come home to you. I like that I know what I am - we know what I am - and they don't.
It'll get old eventually, but right now it's thrilling.
So is driving around being your right-hand man. I love doing that. Bet it'll be even more fun now I know who these people really are.
The thing is, I could probably just put Graham off for a few years and he wouldn't notice any time going by, right? No real rush at all.
Yeah, I want a few years of you and me against the world. We spent enough time being you and me against each other.
2/2
Seeing as technically, I still work for you when I'm not helping out here or showing off what the good curse gave me? That seems like a lot of special attention.
[...]
Hey, speaking of this...body.
I have an [...] other-skin. Not the wolf, but not quite a man. I don't [...] remember exactly how it looks or feels, but I don't think this is it.
It's just [...]
It's like someone took my shoes and copied them, but made them a half inch too small, you know? It feels off.
I thought I was just crazy before, but now I've got a little better awareness here, that's what it is: my body's literally wrong.
...Until you touch me, anyway. When you touch me, nothing feels wrong anymore.
I think I chose my other-skin for you? Is that possible? I can't rememberI feel perfect with you, Desmond.
1/2
Shall I catch you at the corner by the fishmonger and demand a kiss? Ah, you must count on it!
Shall I corner you some afternoon at Null Set, and steal caresses on our couch? This, as well, is inevitable!
And then— Well. Gold’s premium package is for Puppy’s eyes and Puppy’s touch only. I daresay - I do say - you hold the one and only V.I.P. pass, certified by my own word, and my eternal invitation. 😌✨
(Read ‘V.I.P.’ as ‘Very Important Puppy,’ of course!)
Everything for you, my Love.
All that I am, all that I have ever been, is yours; I feel this as truly as I feel my own heart’s beat; as surely as I feel your presence like slow honey in my veins. ❤️❤️
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