onlyarogue

[onlyarogue]

An exploration in abandonment, ambition, found family, self-worth, and survival.

Independent, selective, & mutuals only blog for Rolan from Baldur's Gate III. Based on game, dev notes, and personal headcanons. 21+ only. Themes dealing with racism and abuse will be present. est. Jan. 25 by Noon ☀.

[onlyarogue]

[wipe] for rogue :)

Once again, Rogue was the screw up, the irrational one, the one causing problems. No, just the problem. Why was she not happy? Clarice was her ‘sister’ they said. He said. Rogue had to just buck-up and get along with her. Screw that. The little pink interloper had even stolen her spot to brood among all the other things she’d honed in on. Rogue wasn’t accepting anything with this warped reality.

Beams of moonlight shone down on the black glass surface of the lake, almost taunting her with its serenity; so antithetical to the burning resentment nested in her chest. Why could they not see how horrifying all this was? They had been infected with foreign memories from another person’s life and it was, what? FINE. Beautiful even. Oh, how happy they were to be reunited. None of them had ever met Clarice in their life, but she was family now without the slightest resistance or second thought! It rankled something inside Rogue that nobody even bothered to understand.

The girl kicked her dangling feet at the water below the dock in a violent splash, no longer able to suffer the sound of water gentle lapping. That wasn’t where she was now. It felt satisfying, so she did it again and again so she could pretend the water rolling down her face had splashed up from the churning lake. Nevermind the fact there were obvious traces of salt when the droplets reached her lips.

Maybe if she hadn’t been making a ruckus she would have heard Logan’s approach. At first she feared it was Victor, Rogue really didn’t want to see him right now. She wanted to see him so badly. No, it was Logan. Of course it was Logan. Wasn’t he the one with the patience to manage the bad daughter? Victor was probably with Clarice. Rogue’s fingers clenched into the edge of the dock causing the wood to splinter in her grip.

Rogue huffed a deep sigh and stopped kicking so Logan could take a seat next to her and not get wet. See? She could play nice. She didn’t even jerk away when he reached out to wipe what she pretended weren’t tears from her face.

“Go on and say what you gotta.” She grumbled hollowly, her head down to watch as the lake surface gradually stilled. Peaceful again now that Rogue was no longer involved. Ironic.

[onlyarogue]

As he gathers supplies, the phrase ‘never a dull moment’ comes to mind. Oh boy. There’s a story here that he's gonna have to figure out, one way or another. Rogue had gotten herself hit by a truck. He had so many questions about it. Where was the truck now? How many pieces was it in?  Was the driver okay (or alive)? What had she been doing in the path of a truck? All things he’d have to figure out later. He’s gotta make sure she’s alright first.

It’s progress, at least, when he sees her again. Most of the blood and dirt is gone. She smells more like soap and less like asphalt. But still… 

“Here y’go, Moonbeam.” He says, holding out a cold pack wrapped in a towel. “Remember, fifteen on, fifteen off.” Yeah, she still looks pretty rough. Must’ve been a hard hit. He’s brought a few more things with him, too. The spoils of a quick raid of a first aid kit. He sets his haul down on the bathroom counter and spreads them out. Peroxide, cotton balls, neosporin, gause, medical tape, and bandages. Everything needed to patch up a scuffed mutant kid. He nudges her aside just long enough to give his hands a quick wash - soap, water, drying off on a towel. Better safe than sorry. 

“Alright - now lemme give you a hand.”

[onlyarogue]

Logan’s past was a mystery. One that he was only just starting to figure out, and one that he didn’t share with anyone. Well, anyone except Charles - that was part of therapy - and Victor. Nobody else. … But Rogue needed to hear this. So he takes a breath and tightens his hands within the pockets of his jacket.

“Y’know I’m a lot older than I look. Older than I have any right to be,” he begins. He keeps his eyes on the path ahead. “And I don’t remember a whole lot, but Chuck’s been helping me with that. And I’ve started remembering stuff about my family.” It was grainy and blurry, but it was there. Names, faces… Flickers of conversation and traces of facts. 

“We had a big house, but we weren’t a big family. There were three of us: Yours truly, my mother Elizabeth, and my dad, John.” Even saying their names leaves a weird taste in his mouth. It’s been so long. They almost feel foreign now. 

“I got lucky.” He continued. “We were pretty well off. Nah, I won't beat around the bush, my folks were loaded. We had enough money that we had a whole team of staff to keep the house running.” He glanced sidelong at her. “One of them was a gardener - a groundskeeper. His name was Thomas.” This name tasted bitter enough that Logan grimaced. “A mean, drunk old son of a bitch. He had a son named Dog - not a nickname. He just called his own kid ‘Dog’. He was everything my dad wasn’t.” 

“My dad was amazing.” Logan’s not really watching the path anymore, letting his other senses keep him on track as visions of people he’ll never see again dance behind his eyes. “He was good to everyone, even our staff, and he’d make the time for me, even if his day was a shitstorm. … Reminds me a lot of the Professor, actually. Meanwhile, Thomas would beat Dog bloody for breathing wrong. He worked for my family since before I was born, and I don’t think I ever saw him sober.” His nose wrinkles. “Or smiling. My dad forgave a lot from Dog and Thomas, but eventually it got too much. They got fired, and they got pissed, and they got drunk. And they got it in their heads that they deserved everything my dad and I had. Our house, our money… Dog wanted my best friend, Rose, and Thomas wanted my mother. And they were fine with killing anyone who got in their way.” Within his pockets, his hands clench to fists. “My dad died that night, and I found out it wasn't the first time Thomas had come after my mother - and I wasn't my dad’s son.” He comes to a stop on the path and turns to face her.

“So when I say I understand where comin’ from, I mean it. And when I tell ya’ I know you didn't ask for this… neither of us did. And I can't blame you for your mother’s actions.”

[onlyarogue]

His heart is still racing. Adrenaline firing on all cylinders. Senses running haywire. Just- Everything. Too much. Too much. It’s too much. He’s home but he’s not. He’s safe but he’s not. He’s awake but he’s not. 

He hates this. 

He should be more used to it, and in a way, he is. This isn’t even the first nightmare he’d had tonight. It had just been the one to wake him up, and fuck, had it been a doozey. He could still feel those damn hands under his skin– Breathe. Just breathe, you old Canucklehead, you’re fine. It’s all in your mind. Logan follows his own advice, closing his eyes to draw one more deep, shuddering lungful. Reminded himself the chemical aftertaste was a relic of a past he wasn’t going back to. … And that there was a present issue he should be dealing with. 

Rogue was still here. And she needed him. So it was time to suck it up and be there for her. 

“Ah…” He blinked, swimming the suggestion around his still-addled mind. His eyes darted back to the fresh gouges in the headboard. 

That could have been her. If she’d been here, or she’d gotten too close, that could’ve been her, and he would've had her blood on his hands.

Again. 

He could have hurt her, he could have killed her, and he would have had to explain to the love of his life why his daughter’s corpse was on their bed. Explain to Charles why Logan had butchered a student. 

… But she needed him. And he wasn't about to go back to sleep any time soon. So Logan sighs, nods, and shifts to the side, flexing his fingers so his knuckles sit right. 

“Fine.” He acquiesces and shifts to the side to make more room. He didn’t need to - it was a big bed - but still. It’s the thought that counted. “C’mere, kid.”

[onlyarogue]

People were kinder than Rogue expected them to be. Her inclination had been to hide in her room upon returning to the institute, but something made her leave the comfort of isolation- someone, actually. As it turned out, most everyone was not in on the reason for her sudden flight from the Institute. Surreal, for the others it was like nothing changed since the last night she'd been there. Like she had just walked away from their poker game to check on Victor and no time passed before her return. How was that possible? It felt like a whole other surreal life for Rogue. She gained and lost parents since then; felt betrayal that cut straight to her bones.

Rogue feigned small smiles and answered when people tried to engage, but there was really only one person the girl wanted to speak with. Her searching gaze found Victor easily enough, I mean really there was no hiding that man in a crowd, but when he noticed her he didn't approach. Caught off guard, Rogue stopped herself before she took a step in his direction. Did he want to talk to her? He had come for her but he wasn't now. She abruptly took the seat next to Kitty, to Lockheed's annoyance, rather than crossing the distance herself.

She should wait. Wait until Victor wanted her. If she went over there she might just screw up the whole precarious situation. Under the table, Rogue pulled at fingertips of her gloves and twisted the fabric in tight spirals. She hardly touched her breakfast.

Nobody expected her in classes that day, at least if they did nobody said anything when she failed to show up. Rogue cycled between pacing in her room, trying to read, and watching television. None of it really held her attention. When Victor knocked it was no hardship at all to toss aside the book she pretended to read and practically float to answer the door. The door hinges protested a little from the accidental force as she jerked it open.

"Yes! Together. That would be nice." Rogue stepped aside to let him in and hurried to shove some pillows off the chair singular in her room and cleared space on her desk for the dinner trays. Rogue hovered in the air a second, legs crisscrossing before she plopped gently back down on her mattress. She smiled, but it was just a bit too cheerful to be considered entirely genuine.

"Thanks, I didn't realize it was dinner time." A lie. She had been glancing at the clock every few minutes as if the thing might suddenly get up and move.

Starter for @onlyarogue Victor w/ Rogue

He was trying not to crowd her. Twenty-four hours, that was what he told himself once they got home yesterday. Twenty-four hours for her to settle in, get her feet under her, and adjust, before he tried to intrude. In truth, it was good for him too: to have a full night of sleep, sort out his thoughts, talk a bit with Charles, and take a smoke break out in the woods. That didn't mean Victor was unaware. It was hard for him not to be when he could hear every damn thing that went on in the house, at all times. Hear her rolling out of bed in the morning, talking with other people at the institute, wandering around in the halls, or in her bedroom. He didn't avoid her, they saw each other at meals, but he gave her space. Tried to let it be... natural. All very natural.

Which was not how he felt, as Victor collected two trays of food from the kitchen: cheese and pesto stuffed chicken with sides of rice, corn, and some greens; glasses of iced tea; and a slice of cheesecake for desert. Lombardi assembled it all for him just ahead of the evening meal so he had time to take it up to her room before the kids made themselves a nuisance. Victor had faced down some real threats in his life: demons, armed infantries, and once, a dragon. He felt better on the way to those things, than he did while riding the elevator up to talk to Rogue.

Not that he was afraid of the kid, just, it was going to be his first, real, conversation with his daughter.

And he just knew he was gonna screw it up.

It was a trick of balance to hold the trays in one arm and knock on her door with the other. His knuckles rapped against the wood, and then he ungummied his mouth to grunt:

"Uh, Rogue, I uh, got dinner? If ya wanna... eat. Together."

[onlyarogue]

@bothsidesofaquestion asked:“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “

“Because Look at me!” Rogue spread her arms wide in indication of her whole self. Not that what she was trying to convey could actually be seen. The opposite in fact, she was so covered in layers of fabric like a shell, protective for others, that her frame was mostly obscured. “I can’t be touched. I can take a bullet. I could throw that car across the street!”

Rogue took a breath, a struggle against the lump of emotion in her throat. “I’m the kind that does the protectin’, Kurt. Not the other way ‘round.”

[onlyarogue]

𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐭

Tagged by: @raregcms

Tagging: YOU!

[onlyarogue]

Gambit and Rogue from last year

[onlyarogue]

[onlyarogue]

[onlyarogue]

@onlyathief sent PINNED (the first time they can properly touch... Tee hee)

Rogue often fantasized about the day she could finally touch another person without hurting them. The scenarios she thought up were full of emotion and long due hugs. More often than not though, they centered around a certain sultry Cajun. All that yearning and untouched desire did a lot to a gal, like making her more than a little impatient. Which was how Remy found his back pinned against the wall in an empty hallway, one of Rogue’s hands on his chest to keep him in place.

She was already breathing harder, her heart beating like a jackrabbit trying to escape the confines of her chest. All from want. All from waiting for a day that seemed like it would never come. Waiting for today. Rogue’s expression was heated, eyes like green fire that burned a trail along her boyfriend’s skin over all the places she longed to touch. But where first? As if this very thought had not haunted her for years.

Full lips pressed against Remy’s, a needy hum sounded in the back of her throat. This contentment didn’t last long though. The kiss deepened and instead of hands to pin Remy, Rogue pressed her body to his to trap him in place. She curved into him as if to allow gap was an offense. Not that he was exactly running. “These needed to be gone yesterday.” Rogue murmured against Remy’s mouth and tore her gloves off to allow soft hands to explore across hard muscles she’d never truly felt before. Her fingers twisted in his shirt, barely keeping from ripping the damn thing off him. Her hands found his hips instead. It was like the dang things hand minds of their own and couldn’t decide what part of him the wanted to hold most.

Another kiss, ravenous from being starved of contact so long. Remy tasted like spice, bad ideas that she couldn’t resist, and salt? No, that was her. Rogue broke the kiss and rubbed a bare palm across her damp cheeks. She hadn’t realized she was crying.

“Sorry, Sugar. It ain’t you. I just never thought this would happen for us.” Her hands cupped his face gently and she grinned at the feel of his warmth and stubble under her thumbs as she brushed his cheek.

[onlyarogue]

8/∞ countless scenes I can’t stop thinking about. ↳ GOOD WILL HUNTING (1997) dir. Gus Van Sant

[onlyarogue]

Alt version but with Rogue and Remy + Girl Dad Gambit

[onlyarogue]

A Rogue I did

[onlyarogue]

📏+ Rogue ( Kurt is 5’10 )

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine!

[onlyarogue]

Just so everyone knows, I am testing out a multi now! I will be responding to posts over here.

The journey to redemption starts with one choice.

A study in rebirth. reinvention. resistance. resurfacing trauma. reclaiming. Multimuse blog featuring a Dark Urge OC from Baldur's Gate III. Mutuals only and Selective. 21+ Please be aware Dark themes occur with this particular character. Written by Noon ☀