#the Yearning from Rogue here is so good

[dwrogue]

Very cool fanmade episode poster by Steve Mellor - (11) Steve Mellor on X: "🌌 NEW ART 📷 What happens when the Doctor tries to stop a big bird from grabbing a ball? Rogue dropped last night. What did YOU think of the episode? #DoctorWhoArtShare #DoctorWhoDay #doctorwhofanart #doctorwhofandom #DoctorWho #Whoniverse #DoctorWhoNight #doctorwhospoilers 👇 https://t.co/rt71hLoLqE" / X

[scarlettmurphy]

STARCROSSED +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then your father by a good 100 years.. and whose in love with another.

- content warning age gap. nsfw. sh. angst. not really happy endings! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader

spoiler: horrible yearning!

note this is my first piece of work so i hope it’s okay! i love logan sm i had to write something for him — and this is really angsty :) pls ignore if there’s any bad grammar! i’m a bit lazy rn, also with the timeline for this fic i have no idea when im going for. im saying 2000s-2010s just remember its a bit scrambled timeline wise cos i wanted my favs here!🤭 enjoy!

you hated when he was around. you couldn’t stand it anymore. your longing glances to him, the yearning looks you gave him which were never returned and only thrown back into your face when you saw how he was looking at jean the way you looked at him.. it had all been getting too much. at first you acted like it didn’t bother you and part of your school-girl crush deluded brain pretend you were just seeing things but as the weeks / months had passed you realised that was the furthest thing from the truth.

recently you couldn’t even bring yourself to glance at him because it hurt too much and that wasn’t even being dramatic, the aching feeling in your heart wasn’t worth getting a glimpse of his timeless beauty so every time he was around you bit down the urges swallowed your pride and acted as if he was nobody to you, just a good friend. a father figure, a teammate.

it felt rude at first, to you since you were the only one noticing it, how you just stopped all those little things you were doing but you couldn’t help it or stop yourself from being like that because it was too hard to deal with — loving someone so much with all your heart but you knew you couldn’t have them. you hated to admit it but it destroyed you and that little part of you right now was falling into a full blown rage as you sat on the sofa alongside logan and wade — charles, hank, scott and rogue being present in the room too.

“i just don’t get her.” scott said out, repeating the same line over again, still bitching about the fight him and jean had after they all got back from the mission — everyone could hear the screaming and scott’s harsh gaze when he entered the room just confirmed it all and the second,of course, logan asked a question after wade made a snarky comment that set off scott and he hadn’t stopped mansplaining it since.

“yea’ well certain people don’t.” logan gruffly spoke out as y/n couldn’t stop her eyes from moving over to him at his words, feeling a sense of hurt coarse through her like it usually did whenever he spoke about jean or implied her. everyone knew what logan’s comment meant and y/n could see how scott was biting his tongue, clearly pissed off like he always was around logan. for good reason.

the tension only grew worse when scott couldn’t help himself and made a comment right back at him, his eyebrows raised as he stood from his seat. charles attention turning right to scott instead of logan, “and what’s that supposed to mean, asshole?” scott spat out like his words were venom.

rogue rolling her eyes at his words as hank shared a little glance with y/n who was cursing the entire situation in her brain as she couldn’t stop herself from looking at logan — those very same feelings boiling in her body as she saw the way his mouth twitched and his jaw clenched. how protective he was getting over jean, a feeling y/n couldn’t help have been wishing for the past two years of knowing the man he would get like over her — sure in a friends way he might’ve done it before, at least that’s how she saw but it never like this.

y/n swore she could physically feel her heart aching.

“pretty sure you know what that means pal.” logan bit back harshly, his words falling to the same tone as scott’s did as scott scoffed at what he said as he bit back with full frustration as charles clearly wanted to get involved - a little grimance pictured on his face as y/n studied her fathers expression, him clearly knowing what jean meant to logan, as y/n looked away before her dad could catch her staring her eyes falling onto a pissed off scott who downed the drink he had in his hand, placing it on the table.

“she picked me.” was all scott needed to say as the weight in the room shifted heavily on logan’s end as everyone could see the way logan’s face dropped a little, that comment taking the little coy expression he had right away but y/n didn’t even bring herself to look, scott’s eyes taking her in as if he knew what she was feeling in this moment. his eyes meeting her own as y/n felt a lump form her throat — the tightness almost burning — as he tutted at how silent logan was before he walked out the room without another word.

with this the room fell silent. everyone knowing the feelings logan must’ve been harbouring right now, y/n especially, as she glanced over to him not expecting to be met with his brown eyes looking back at her as he took in her expression before he roughly got up without another word — going right over to the door.

chaeles couldn’t help himself as he spoke up firmly the second he watched logan head for the door, “logan—“

“just goin’ for a piss, wheels.” he roughly said back before the door shut right behind him.

“more like a bitchless weaping session.” wade couldn’t help say as he had left the room, hank and rogue not being able to help their little laughs from coming out as y/n bit down on the inside of her cheek limiting the feelings she was experiencing as much as she could before she stood up.

“—i’m going to shower.” y/n said out lowly, her words slipping out quickly as the others nodded or hummed in agreement, wades eyebrows furrowing as he clearly felt he knew more of the situation then the rest did but he kept that to himself.

“take some pics for me!” wade called back to her, earning a little look from charles as hank scoffed in reply.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

that shower was more like watching a re run of singing in the rain which y/n couldn’t help watch the entirety of for no specific reason before she eventually hoped in the shower. the faint sounds of her speakers being heard as she hummed along to the lyrics of the specific song as she felt the cold water glide down her naked body.

swallowing the pain-filled whimpers that were aching to escape her wet lips as she acted as if the water gracing against all those marks and burns on her skin wasn’t killing her inside despite her ‘little’ case of immortality. immortality sadly didn’t mean you never experienced pain and y/n was clearly the leading case proving that matter as she soon got out the shower after washing her hair and her body.

wrapping the towel around her dainty body as she took in herself in the mirror, the thoughts forming in her brain being within the ‘self loathing’ category as she exited her bathroom. her face falling once she was met with the gruff expression on logans face which turned to one of shock as his eyes scanned over y/n immediately. him swallowing his own spit as y/n hands immediately wrapped around her towel just to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

“lo— shit, i didn’t know you were here.” she quickly managed out, her face a bright shade of red as she watched as logan didn’t move his gaze off her figure.

“—wait.” not a single word escaping his lips as y/n walked over to her bed where her clothes were laid out for her.

y/n’s breath was hitched and she swore she felt all the heat rush to her face as she took in the way logan was just staring at her as she grabbed her clothes with her other hand, taking a few steps back into the bathroom before she swiftly shut the door. her mind a mess as she quickly put on her pajamas before she sprung over to the mirror to double check her appearance before she walked back out to her bedroom.

logan being in the exact same place she had left him — not a single word had left his lips and his facial expression was the exact same as y/n nervously smiled at him.

“what are you doing— uh, here?” y/n asked him swiftly, her words rushed as she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she saw logan slowly seem to come back to reality, scratching the back of his neck as his lips parted as he tried to say something.

yet it took a little for something to come out as y/n swore she felt something growing in the air as logan finally spoke, his gruff tone a little knocked back then usual, “was coming here to bitch about scott. didn’t mean to see anything i shouldn’t have.”

his words sent a little chill through y/n’s spine as she managed a little smile on her lips, no matter how fake it was she still managed it, as she looked at him. his first words being all the confirmation her heart needed in this moment as she held back her feelings as she felt her heart tense.

“it’s okay.” y/n rolled out quietly, her attention falling over to her bed as she walked over to the foot off it — sitting down on the edge of the bed as logan stayed in place, his arms crossed as he leaned against the fireplace in her room now.

“so scott, you wanna bitch?” y/n trailed off into as logan looked out the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he shrugged his shoulders.

“nah, not anymore.” he said, his voice low as y/n took in his hush voice — his words only adding to the building up tension that was making the air thick as y/n looked at him. her eyes taking in every inch off him and how he looked, her mind wondering how he’d feel.. how’d he’d taste.

yet her thoughts were immediately cut short.

“—you seen jean about?”

his words were like a harsh hit round the face as she felt a lump for her in throat, her mind tingling a little as she glanced over to the door. she hated this, every inch of this. she wanted to scream, punch him in the face. confess right there and there at him but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

no matter how much it killed her inside. every second without him being like a gun shot to the heart as she plainly looked back at him, a soft smile growing on her face which was so fake it was indescribable as she nodded to her bedroom door.

“her room, i guess.”

her low words were enough to make anyone know she was hurt yet of course logan didn’t, or he didn’t show he knew as he gave her a playful wink.

“thanks bub.” he said with a nod as he went to walk out the room — his hand on the door when y/n heard his muttered words.

“sleep well y/n.”

his words fell into silence as y/n watched him leave, the door closing behind him being the utmost reminder of how her feelings will probably never be acknowledged. and that harsh reality left her alone in her bedroom for the entire night and with every toss and turn her mind was on one thing and one thing only. him.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

[imorynn]

—-> GOOD GIRL ( a. o’connor)

➺ pairings : agnes o’connor • fem!reader

➺ genre / maintains : drabble, SMUT ( MDNI, 18+ ), masterbution, phone sex, somewhat daddy kink ( though it’s mocking ? Am I projecting ? I don’t fucking know. ) dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, nicknames ( sweetheart, slut, bunny, sweetheart, I am fucking feral—) mentions of strap usage ( Agnes’ part —)

➺ word count : 800+

➺ dividers by : @cafekitsune !!

“You pretty little troublemaker, just start touching that little pussy for me, hmm? Let me hear you…”

You were desirous in your bedroom at the sound of her velvet, taunting voice over the phone, it made the growing dampness in your panties almost unbearable. She was aware of where you were, and what you were anticipating. She was more than aware of how much you were waiting for it, yearning and heaving almost every late night as she departed from the police station house to demonstrate to you in unmediated experience what it was like to be mercilessly fucked until you collapsed.

Were you satisfied with who you had become? You, the sheltered-life, silent and bright-eyed succeeding young gal that you were within Westview? Is this what you had foreseen when you studied an eminent career in university and succeeded in graduating to pursue that very interest? Of course not. Though, the hours were long, and the days — while significant — they were crucial at the moment, and if your dating experience during these dull years has taught you anything, it was that dating those your age came with no fulfillment due to their lack of maturity and ability in making you feel safe, and desired. So, you took liking in an older audience — particularly Agnes O’Connor who was frankly not necessarily anywhere close to being stable and was constantly wavered with this peculiar aura you had yet to thoroughly discover, it seemed you relished in being fucked by a five-foot tall ( including five inches if you were to be specific) blue-eyed brunette who was around the age of 51 (or so it seemed) with a maturity and rogue confidence, sarcastic with no decency of your privacy, who knew precisely how to liquify your limbs and render your brain useless with the wet muscle of her tongue, and her smirking mouth, and her calloused fingers, and the sight, taste of her pussy, her str—

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you’re waiting for me, wearing nothing other than one of my flannels you love so much and those ribboned panties you know I like…” A deep inhale was heard from the other line — an expression you could already visualize the moment you heard the faint graze of fabric coming undone; pretty features shadowed by the dim light cast in that unkempt office of hers, jawline tight, pink lower lip tucked between her teeth with a quirk between her brows, pupils practically absorbing the blue hue of her eyes as they became wider, hazed. “Betcha’ there’s a wet spot in them from how needy you are to be fucked over and over until you cry on my fingers. Things are running a little slow for me down here, so you’ll have to get yourself nice and ready for me, how’s that sound, hon?”

The fingers of your right hand danced slowly down to where you needed them most while the other undid the remaining buttons of her flannel. When those spit-soaked lips of yours separated, one name laced with a title resided on your tongue, and it clamored from the pit of your heaving lungs the second shaking digits dragged between your slippery folds from entrance to sensitive clit. “Yes, detective O’Connor…”

A subtle smirk laced her tone as she spoke, her satisfaction with the outcome unmistakable. “Good girl.”

In a fraction of a second, the sensation scorched and twisted and ached — you fervently welcomed it, and allowed it to increase. Whimpers and moans crawled your your throat and into the phone’s speaker while continuing your ministrations, attempting to recollect her every action and favor, because fuck, does she know how to work every bit of you with the same raw scrutiny she carried for her job.

“Goodness, bun, you’re gonna make me come with those dirty pretty sounds. Such a fucking slut, aren’t you? Two fingers, slooowly in and out … in and out before rubbing your clit, just like I do it.”

You sharply gasped, digits slowing down their erratic pumps, faint squelching sounds reaching your ears and you felt your own arousal oozing down the curve of your ass, soaking the pattern fabric clinging to you and into the mattress below. Your overbearing impatience clashed with her orders ; the faster you would cum, the faster she would come, the faster you get to experience the blaze of stars and feel yourself getting split open and filled to the brim. It was obscene, ferocious, nearly maddening how desperately you needed her, the extent to which you would go to continue experiencing the way she was making you feel every single damn night. It was filthy and boisterous as you continued fucking yourself with your delicate fingers, never as good as how she did it, yet sufficient enough to set the mood for what you anticipate will be a sprawling, enduring play.

Wet thrusts brought your orgasm closer, taking you higher each time you brushed your special spot.“You’re wet for me, aren’t you? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb with my strap? Waiting for daddy’s cock, huh?”

The deriding, no less titillating, octave in her tone — the nickname — made a searing heat crawl up your throat and spread across your already flushed cheeks. The visual of her mouth twisting into a grin with her hips snapping to meet yours was the last thing you saw before the stars and sparkles appeared behind your lids. The orgasm, fulfilling and ardent, was enhanced by the cruelty of her words and the promise of what was yet to come. 

“Stay where you are, pretty bunny. Daddy’s on her way.”

[girlkisser13]

the lakes

"i don't belong" "and, my beloved, neither do you" "those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry" "i'm setting off" "but not without my muse" "no, not without you"

pairings: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. purely fluff.

summary: benedict meets a kindred spirit at a ball.

benedict sighed inwardly as he stepped into yet another ballroom, its opulence gleaming under the glow of chandeliers. his mother, the formidable dowager viscountess, had insisted on his attendance, her fervent hopes for a matrimonial match unwavering. he scanned the room filled with anxious mamas and their hopeful daughters, feeling an acute sense of entrapment.

desiring a reprieve from the stifling atmosphere, benedict discreetly made his way to the terrace, the cool night air offering a welcome respite. he was not alone. a vision of grace and beauty stood by the balustrade, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight.

captivated, benedict approached her. “good evening,” he greeted softly, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “might i have the honor of your name?”

you turned towards him, your eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “and who might you be, sir, to inquire so boldly?”

“benedict bridgerton, at your service,” he replied with a slight bow. “i could not help but be drawn to you, and i was curious to know what brings such a fair lady to the terrace.”

you laughed, a melodious sound that resonated with him deeply. “avoiding the anxious mamas, are we?” you teased.

benedict smiled. “indeed. i find their pursuits rather overwhelming at times.”

“and what pursuits do you favor, mr. bridgerton?” you inquired, your interest piqued.

“i have a profound appreciation for art,” he confessed. “you, my lady, possess a beauty that would make you an exceptional muse.”

your cheeks flushed delicately at his compliment. “you flatter me, sir. but what about you? why are you out here, away from the merriment?”

benedict’s expression grew contemplative. “do you ever yearn for something beyond the endless round of dazzling parties and societal expectations?” he asked, his tone earnest.

you nodded, a wistful look in your eyes. “often. i find myself feeling out of place amidst the revelry.”

“i share that sentiment,” benedict admitted. “at times, i feel as though i do not belong in society’s carefully curated mold.”

your gaze softened. “sticking out is far better than fitting in,” you said thoughtfully. “i too feel as though i do not belong. at times, i even contemplate running away from the duties imposed by society.”

benedict looked at you in surprise. “that is nonsense, for you seem most amiable and inspiring. it is astonishing that you have not yet found a match.”

you laughed again, the sound enchanting him further. “perhaps it is because i seek something more profound than a mere match.”

with a mischievous glint in his eye, benedict jested, “then perhaps we should run away together.”

your laughter rang out once more, a delightful melody in the night. “ah, mr. bridgerton, you are quite the rogue.”

benedict grinned, feeling a sense of connection with you that he had not felt in the confines of the ballroom. “perhaps. but it is in moments like these that one truly lives.”

you tilted your head, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "would you truly run away with someone you have just met?"

benedict's gaze was unwavering. "of course, i would never go anywhere without my muse."

you laughed as you gave him a gentle shove, the playful gesture warming his heart. the two of you continued to converse, your words weaving a tapestry of shared dreams and mutual understanding.

the night deepened, but the bond between you both only grew stronger, as the two of you talked long into the night, the world of society and its expectations forgotten in each other's company.

[erlie]

M/M Book Recs

Need distractions?

Want men kissing each other with happy endings?

I got you. Here are some of my favourites:

Adventures in Aguillon -series by Lisa Henry and Sarah Honey Red Heir / Elf Defense / Socially Orcward

Are these the height of literature? No. Are they crude, smutty, funny and surprisingly sweet? Yes. Definitely. Don't go to these books with any other expectations than having fun. Lowbrow fantasy with some pop culture references, if you liked Tales in Verania series, you'll like this.

Socially Orcward is not smutty at all, since both of the main characters are asexual and it is very very sweet!

Sugar & Vice -series by Allie Therin (on going) Liar City / Twisted Shadows

Is slow burn your jam? How about grumpy/sunshine pairing? Well get on these! The first book will leave you WANTING, because the two can't touch each other without pain and consequences. Very very very good alternative universe paranormal romance. Second book is little spicy!

Sword Crossed by Freya Marske

Historical fantasy romance, with arranged marriages (not between the two men though) and hiring a swordsman to defend your honor in battle to save your house from ruin. Buttoned up business man meets a dashing rogue. What else do you need? Not much. Little spicy.

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell

When you are crowned Holly King and your duty is to die within a yearn in a ritual, you obviously fetch a nice human man from London to help you. If romance happens, what could be nicer! This was a lot different I expected it to be but in a good way. Tastefully spicy.

The Darkness Outside Us / The Brightness Between Us by Eliot Schefer

These are not romance book! Is there romance, yes, but these are scifi suspense books first. They also deal with a lot of heavy topics such as existential dread, humanity and end of the world. But they are so fucking good I beg you to read them. Not spicy.

Cerulean Chronicles by TJ Klune The House on the Cerulean Sea / Somewhere Beyond the Sea

Want to read anti-JKR author's books? Do you want the books to be a middle finger to her? Jump in. Trans allegory with boat loads of queer love, joy and existence.

Game Changers -series by Rachel Reid Heated Rivalry / The Long Game These are books 2 and 6 of the series and they are easily read as stand-alones. And you probably should. Because these two are so fucking good and steamy and lovely that I went little insane in the head when I read these the first time.

Rest of the series is bit ...meh. First book is boring, third is alright with some interesting themes around sex, fourth is an age gap romance and the fifth is pretty okay. But these two just... my god. Very very spicy!

Icarus by K. Ancrum

Retelling of the Icarus myth with a criminal son and father. Also touches on topics of being touch starved, Sins of Our Fathers and generational trauma. Very beautifully written, will leave you thinking for a while. Queer romance, not spicy.

I'll leave this here for now, there will be part 2 soon!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

[pandapetals]

Matchmaker

You and Logan play matchmaker to help set Rogue up with Remy.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

You knew the look of longing when you saw it, and today, it was written all over Rogue’s face as she stood at the large window, staring wistfully out at the courtyard. The guys were playing basketball, their shirts off, sweat gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"Admiring someone?" you teased, breaking the silence and causing Rogue to jump, her face flushing as if she’d been caught red-handed.

"N-No," she stammered at first, trying to recover her composure, but then she sighed heavily and glanced over at you. "Yeah, alright. I can’t help it when Remy has his shirt off." Her eyes flicked back to the window, her expression filled with the kind of quiet yearning you knew all too well.

You chuckled, joining her at the window. "Can’t say I blame you. I mean, look at him." You glanced outside just in time to see Remy make a flashy play, grinning like he owned the world as he jogged past Logan, who was giving him an unimpressed look.

"Then again..." you added with a playful smirk, your eyes wandering to your husband. Logan’s broad muscles flexed as he grabbed the ball, his hair a mess from sweat, a rough, effortless confidence radiating off of him. "Logan’s not so bad himself."

Rogue groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Please don’t mention Logan. It’s bad enough his out there shirtless too."

You laughed, nudging her playfully with your elbow. "Sorry." You paused, lowering your voice with a teasing smile. "Why don’t you do something about it?"

Rogue blushed even deeper, shaking her head. "I don’t know… Remy’s such a flirt. I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s just messing around. Even if he was serious, how would it even work with me?" She looked down at her gloved hands, her usual doubt creeping in.

You sighed, turning toward her fully. "You won’t know unless you give it a shot. Trust me, I think Remy’s a lot more serious about you than you realize. The guy can barely keep his eyes off you."

She bit her lip, still unsure. "I don’t know…"

A mischievous thought struck you, and you grinned. "You know," you said, crossing your arms, "Logan and I could help with this. Play a little matchmaker."

Rogue blinked at you, wide-eyed. "You’re serious?"

"Absolutely," you said with a nod, your grin widening. "Logan’s a little grumpy, but he’s got a good eye for people. Between the two of us, we could probably nudge Remy in the right direction."

Later that evening, after the basketball game had ended and Logan had showered, you caught him lounging on the couch, looking as relaxed as he ever did. His hair was still damp, and he had a cold beer in hand, eyes half-closed as if he was settling in for the evening.

"Hey, tough guy," you started casually, sitting down beside him and nudging his leg with your foot.

Logan cracked one eye open, looking over at you with a raised brow. "What’s up, darlin’?"

You gave him your best innocent smile. "You know Rogue’s been pining after Remy, right?"

He grunted, taking a sip of his beer. "I’m not blind."

"Well," you continued, trying to sound nonchalant, "I was thinking we could… help them out. Give ‘em a little push."

Logan raised an eyebrow, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "Help them out? How? By what? Playin' Cupid?"

You grinned. "Exactly."

Logan stared at you for a moment, completely unamused. "No."

"Oh, come on," you pressed, leaning in closer. "Rogue’s a sweetheart, and she deserves someone good in her life. You’ve got that big soft heart under all those layers of gruffness. You’d be a great matchmaker!"

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his expression hardening. "I ain't no matchmaker. That's your department."

"But you’ve got the perfect in," you insisted. "You and Remy play cards together all the time. You just have to, you know, mention how Rogue’s been asking about him. Or how you think they’d make a good couple."

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "You really think Gambit’s gonna listen to me ? The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He doesn't need advice from some ‘old man,’ as he calls me."

You smirked. "I think you underestimate your influence, Logan. You have a lot of wisdom from being old—older. I mean you do act old sometimes."

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to smile. "I don’t act old," he grumbled.

"Logan, you grumble about kids using their phones like it's the apocalypse," you teased, leaning into his side. "That’s classic ‘old man’ behavior."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Fine. But if Gambit gives me lip, I'm tellin' him to take a hike."

The next day, you found Logan standing with his arms crossed, watching as Remy effortlessly flicked a card through the air, showing off his usual flair. The two men were supposed to be preparing for a mission, but as usual, Remy seemed more interested in flirting with everything that moved—including the wind.

"You got somethin' on your mind, mon ami ?" Remy asked with a cocky grin, spinning the card between his fingers.

Logan grunted, clearly uncomfortable. "Just wonderin’ what’s goin' on with you and Rogue."

Remy raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall. "Oh? You keepin’ tabs on my love life now, old man?"

Logan bristled. "I ain’t keepin' tabs on nothin'. Just sayin'... you and Rogue. Might be worth... y’know, takin' seriously."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Logan, you tryin' to give me relationship advice? That's rich. What next? You gonna tell me how to impress a lady with charm and sophistication?"

Logan rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to tell Remy exactly where he could shove his charm. "I'm serious, Gambit. Rogue ain't like the others. If you're gonna go after her, do it right."

Remy looked surprised, his usual swagger faltering for a moment. "You really think...?"

Logan gave him a pointed look. "Yeah. I do. Don’t mess it up."

Remy smirked, finally sensing the sincerity beneath Logan’s gruff exterior. "Well, since you’re takin' such an interest, maybe I’ll see where things go."

That evening, you couldn’t stop laughing when Logan relayed the conversation to you, his exasperation clear as he retold how Remy had called him old man at least three times. "Kid’s got a death wish, I swear," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

"But you did it," you said, grinning as you curled up beside him on the couch. "You planted the idea in Remy’s mind."

Logan looked at you, narrowing his eyes. "I ain't doin' it again, though. You want more matchmaking, that’s on you."

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Don’t worry, you’ve done your part. Now we just sit back and watch the magic happen."

Logan chuckled softly, pulling you closer with a sigh. "Fine. But if they start gettin' sappy in front of me, I’m blamin' you."

"Deal," you said, laughing into his shoulder.

The next day, you found Rogue sitting by herself on the mansion’s front steps, a deep frown creasing her brow as she picked absentmindedly at the hem of her gloves. You knew that look—Rogue was stuck in her own head, probably overthinking things when it came to Remy.

You sat down beside her, nudging her gently with your shoulder. "So, I talked to Logan," you began, keeping your voice light. "And he, very begrudgingly, brought up the idea of you and Remy to him."

Rogue’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing. "Wait—he did ?"

"Yup," you said with a grin. "Apparently, Remy didn’t brush it off like I thought he would. In fact, he seemed… curious."

Rogue fidgeted with her gloves, her gaze dropping to her hands. "I dunno," she mumbled. "Even if he’s curious, I don’t know how to make a move. It’s not like I can just... y’know, kiss him."

You nodded, understanding the hesitation. "True, but there are other ways to show someone you’re interested." You leaned in conspiratorially, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "You could always flirt. A little playful banter goes a long way."

Rogue blinked at you, clearly skeptical. "You want me to flirt with Remy? He’s, like, the king of flirting. How am I supposed to keep up?"

"Trust me," you said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "Guys like Remy may flirt with everyone, but it’s different when it’s someone they actually care about. He’s not going to brush you off. And, besides, you have an ace up your sleeve—Logan and I are here to help."

Rogue tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Help? What are you plannin’?"

You grinned, leaning closer. "I’ll give you some pointers on how to flirt."

Later that evening, after much convincing, you managed to rope Logan into your plan. The two of you were hidden behind one of the large hedges in the mansion’s garden, peering out like a couple of high school kids on a covert mission. Logan, who was still skeptical about the whole operation, stood with his arms crossed, grumbling under his breath about "ridiculous ideas" and "not how I planned to spend my night."

You, however, were having the time of your life.

"Alright, where are they?" you whispered, peeking through the leaves, your excitement barely contained.

Logan sighed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "You’re enjoyin’ this way too much," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles.

"Shh," you hissed playfully, swatting at him. "Look, there they are!"

Sure enough, across the garden, you spotted Rogue and Remy standing near one of the benches, the glow from the mansion’s windows casting a soft light over them. Remy, as usual, was wearing that charming grin of his, leaning casually against the back of the bench as he talked, his body language open and relaxed. Rogue, to her credit, looked composed, though you could tell from the way she kept shifting her weight that she was nervous.

"Look at her," you whispered to Logan, nudging him. "She’s holding her own. I knew she could do it."

Logan glanced over, his arms still crossed. "She’s doin' fine," he agreed, though his tone was more thoughtful than teasing now. "But if that Cajun tries anything, I’m gonna—"

"Logan," you said, giving him a pointed look. "Relax. This is supposed to be fun."

Logan grunted, his eyes narrowing as he watched Remy lean in slightly closer to Rogue. "Fun for who? You or me?"

Before you could respond, you saw Rogue do something unexpected. She laughed—genuinely—and then gave Remy a light shove on the shoulder, a playful grin on her face. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

"See?" you whispered excitedly. "She’s flirting! They’re flirting! This is going well."

Logan shifted beside you, watching the interaction with a critical eye. "Guess it ain’t goin’ bad," he muttered, though you could tell he was secretly pleased.

As the two of you continued your covert surveillance, you saw Remy pull something out of his jacket. A small, red playing card—his signature move. He handed it to Rogue, saying something that made her laugh again, this time a bit more shyly. You could see the way her face softened, her usual guarded expression slipping just enough to let her true feelings show.

Logan huffed quietly, shaking his head. "Gambit and his damn cards."

You smirked, nudging him again. "You’re jealous that you didn’t think of something cool like that first, aren’t you?"

Logan shot you a look. "Jealous? Of Remy ?" He scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Please. The last thing I’d do is pull some magic trick to impress you."

"Yeah?" you teased, leaning closer to him. "What would you do to impress me then?"

Logan paused for a moment, his eyes flicking toward you, that familiar mischievous glint in them. "I’d do somethin' simple," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Like carry you upstairs without breakin' a sweat."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, your grin widening. "Well, that does work every time."

Before you could get too lost in the moment, Rogue and Remy suddenly stood up from the bench, starting to walk back toward the mansion. Rogue’s face was flushed, and Remy looked more relaxed than usual, his usual swagger dialed down to something more genuine.

"Oh no," you whispered, tugging on Logan’s sleeve. "They’re heading this way. Let’s go!"

Logan rolled his eyes but followed your lead as you both hurried to duck behind the hedge more securely. You pressed a hand over your mouth, stifling your giggles as you crouched down beside him, feeling more like a teenager than an adult.

As Rogue and Remy passed by, you overheard a snippet of their conversation.

"So, Rogue," Remy said, his voice smooth as ever. "You wanna grab coffee tomorrow? I know a place."

You saw Rogue’s lips curve into a soft smile. "Yeah," she said, her voice almost shy. "I’d like that."

Once they were out of earshot, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You turned to Logan, grinning ear to ear. "Did you hear that? She’s going for coffee with him!"

Logan, still crouched beside you, shook his head in disbelief, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I heard."

"Mission accomplished," you whispered triumphantly, beaming at him.

Logan looked at you, his eyes softening as he stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up from the crouched position. "You’re somethin' else, you know that?"

You grinned, taking his hand and letting him pull you up to your feet. "You helped too," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you close.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, leaning down to kiss you, his lips brushing softly against yours. "This was all your crazy idea."

You smiled against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you murmured, "Crazy, but it worked."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "Guess I can’t argue with that."

The two of you stood there, hidden away in the shadows of the garden, watching the spark of something new unfold between Rogue and Remy, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Sure, it had been a bit ridiculous—spying on them like kids—but sometimes, a little ridiculousness was exactly what was needed to help love along.

[grumfield]

I need to hear more about sondad anakin and obi-wan trying to get his padawan to parent him 👀👀👀

LFMAO there’s so much to this

Ok so there’s a scene in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia where Mac gets upset because their old pedo gym teacher tried to molest his other friends when they were kids but not him and starts worrying it’s because he wasn’t special or cute enough. And this is literally like the closest thing I can compare to the complex Rogue Planet/Jedi Apprentice/Jedi Quest continuity Obi-Wan has lfmao

This legends continuity of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s relationship is like deeply fucked in a sadly funny way because Qui-Gon is the most self centered neglectful narcissist on the planet who literally doesn’t give a single fuck about Obi-Wan at all and constantly tries to drop him. Obi-Wan as a kid wasn’t good enough to be a Jedi so was sent to work on a farm and then BEGGED Qui-Gon to take him on, meanwhile Qui-Gon only mentored and cares about Extra Special Boys and Obi-Wan was Very Unspecial to him. And all of Obi-Wan’s behavior in Jedi Apprentice is basically just him trying to appease and get approval from a guy who dgaf about him. In trying to be an Ideal Jedi Obi-Wan only further makes Qui-Gon not like him which just creates a really weird dynamic and Qui-Gon tries to ditch Obi wan like on 3 separate occasions

So basically a lot of Obi-Wan’s behavior is always from a place of seeking this fatherly/mentor approval that was only given sparingly. He’s always like. Trying to be the best Jedi ever best most adoptable dog at the pound and it never pays off because 1) Qui-Gon doesn’t like loyal dogs and 2) before he could ever be good enough to get Knighted (Qui-Gon didn’t pass him for his his first knighting ceremony he failed it which is why he was a padawan at 25) He DIES!! And also knows that there was another Special Boy lined up.

Anyways I’ve talked a lot on here about his orthodoxy but in this sense I’ve always read it as what he falls back on (at this age) because of personal insecurity and a sudden lack of potential affirmation and order that he sought in Qui-Gon— he never got the confirmation that his way of being a Jedi was ever good enough, so he cares a lot about being the platonic ideal of a good Jedi and is intent on making anakin into that too. But he still yearns for that affirmation or whatever

Anyways this is all leading up to say that a lot of his interactions with Anakin at this stage are sort of projecting this and also sort of getting frustrated that this Special Boy who is supposed to be THE chosen one, the ultimate Jedi savior, is behaving in a very un-Jedi way. He is a priest getting frustrated that Jesus doesn’t know the Catholic Mass. Like he spends a lot of time looking for Jedi guidance in Anakin’s inherent existence the way he sought guidance in Qui-Gon, and is sort of similarly coming up short because Anakin is a baby who wants to play toys.

Not to oedipize it too much too but in Rogue Planet Obi-Wan specifically deep (very distinctly non-parental and VERY weird) love for Anakin really early and is really almost obsessively admires how powerful he is, but in JQ starts to become more critical of his inability to embody the Jedi teachings (ergo teach Obi-Wan how he’s supposed to be a good Jedi) and it REALLY REALLY feels like a kid who idolizes the their father starting to come down when they realize their father isn’t necessarily as perfect as they thought.

But like Obi-Wan’s own withholding nature makes Anakin seem his approval especially as a kid and so. Like. It’s this weird circular messy thing where they both want each other’s approval and affirmation but don’t get it. They’re both like please parent me! And then best I can offer you is brotherwife husbandson

And like!! It’s so weird!! IT’S SO WEIRD!! Anyways the most receptive Obi-Wan ever is to Anakin is when he gets “go to your room young man”d by him

[starkerscoop]

Peter's Stand

A gift for @khalixascorner, inspired by Will Smith slapping Chris Rock at the Oscars

also on ao3

(this one's not very team cap friendly, sorry!)

“Tony, are you sure about this?” 

Peter had posed the question more times than Tony could count, which was a rather impressive amount in his opinion, but Tony couldn’t fault him for wanting to make sure. The Rogues had left him wounded in every sense of the word. If their positions were reversed, Tony wouldn’t have allowed the Rogues to return even if the president himself demanded it. He understood the wariness on Peter’s part and was comforted by his concern.

“Yes,” Tony confirmed, though he didn’t look happy to do it. “I don’t want them near me, but we need to work with them if we want to keep the world safe.” 

Peter took hold of his hands. “Don’t feel pressured to see them more than you absolutely have to. I’ll try to stick by you whenever you go to the compound.” 

For emphasis, he allowed his fingers to stick to Tony’s hands, trapping them in his grip with his spider-like capabilities. 

Tony smiled, clinging on tighter. Peter’s grasp was one he would never try to escape. “You don’t have to do that, Pete. I can handle them.” 

“I don’t want you to have to,” Peter argued. “I’ll be with you every time. Tell them I’m a controlling boyfriend if they need an excuse.” 

Tony outright laughed in his face. “Like you could ever be controlling.” 

“They wouldn’t know either way,” Peter said slyly. 

Tony tugged him into his chest, taking advantage of their glued hands. Peter let go and wrapped his arms around Tony instead, his head gravitating towards the crook of Tony’s neck without a thought. 

“I love you, you know that?” Tony asked quietly. “Thank you for supporting me.” 

Peter pressed a soft kiss onto Tony’s neck, relishing its gentle warmth. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect. Alive. 

It hadn’t been that way the last time Tony saw Steve Rogers. And now, Steve was coming home, free to haunt Tony as he pleased. 

Not if I have anything to say about it, Peter seethed. 

-

The UN thought it would be best if the Rogues and Avengers had their reunion in the public eye, during a fundraiser. They figured it would be the simplest way to keep matters cordial and polite. They couldn’t exactly have a brawl if they were surrounded by press and young fans. 

Peter understood the logic, but it didn’t stop him from yearning for a private meeting. He didn’t want Tony to have to face the Rogues in front of an audience after all the time they spent apart. He wanted Tony to be able to speak his mind freely, to have the option to leave if he got overwhelmed. 

That wasn’t possible, so all Peter could do was hover over Tony, antsy on his behalf. To his credit, Tony remained cool and collected in the face of shouting paparazzi. His press smile was on full display when children, teens, and adults alike scampered up to him with phones in hand. 

It was only when he caught sight of Natasha that he faltered. 

Peter placed a soothing hand on the small of his back. If Natasha was here, Clint was bound to be nearby. Where Clint was, Wanda was likely to be, and with Wanda would be Steve. Bucky and Sam couldn’t be far-off. Their reunion was fast approaching. 

“We can leave any time you want, okay?” Peter murmured, voice low. “The UN will get over it.” 

Tony gave him a strained smile in return. “You go have fun. This would be a good chance to network.” 

“There will be other events,” Peter dismissed. 

“Not with all these politicians,” Tony pointed out. “It helps to have the government in your pocket.” 

Peter eyed the room with a grimace. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The obtrusive grumble of a throat being cleared behind them derailed any further attempts Tony might have made at convincing Peter to leave. They turned towards the sound at once, identical expressions of dread on full display of their faces. Peter’s hand moved from Tony’s back to grip his waist, reminding him of his presence. Tony wasn’t alone anymore and would never have to be again if Peter had a say in it.

Steve Rogers stood before them, blond hair gleaming beneath the light, broad-shouldered and handsome as ever. The smile he graced them with was almost patronizing in its wideness. 

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony stiffened beneath Peter’s hand, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Peter gave him a reassuring squeeze and stepped forward, pulling Steve’s attention to himself. 

“Peter Parker,” he introduced himself. “Tony’s boyfriend.” 

He made no move to offer Steve his hand, but Steve had no qualms about acting buddy-buddy. He stretched his hand out toward Peter, his pearly whites on show as he waited for Peter to clasp it in his. Peter reluctantly took hold of his hand, making a point of squeezing it just tightly enough to make the super soldier wince. 

Steve let go, rubbing his hand. “You’re enhanced?”

“I’m still discovering my limits,” Peter admitted, a thinly-veiled threat in his voice. 

It did not go unnoticed by Steve, who said defensively, “I would never hurt Tony.” 

“Again, you mean?” Peter scowled. 

“All right, boys, let’s not do this here,” drawled Natasha. Peter had hardly noticed her appearance, focused as he was on Steve. “Steve, you’re up on stage in five. They’re looking for you.” 

Steve nodded at them curtly and strode away, immediately swept into the sea of people surrounding them. Peter felt Tony relax a miniscule amount once Steve was out of sight. 

Natasha faced them now, looking Peter over curiously before turning her gaze on Tony, who met her eyes head-on.

“Tony,” she acknowledged. 

Tony pursed his lips. “Romanoff.” 

“Peter,” Peter piped up, unable to help himself despite the gravity of the situation. His small outburst was worth the embarrassment for the smile that twitched on Tony’s lips.

Natasha turned to him. “Peter Parker, was it? And you’re enhanced. I suppose Tony never could’ve dated someone normal. You’re a good match.” 

Peter preened. Getting the people in his life, as well as the watchful public, to accept his relationship with Tony was a battle and a half. To have acceptance be so readily granted to him was refreshing. 

“We’ll be finding our seats now,” Tony said tersely. “See you around.” 

Without further ado, Tony steered them toward their assigned table, leaving Natasha behind. Mercifully, the Avengers weren’t seated with the Rogues. It would have made for an uncomfortable dinner on all sides. Peter’s hand fell from Tony’s waist at last, reaching for his hand instead. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured. 

Tony gave a jerky nod. “Never better.” 

“Don’t do that,” Peter pleaded. “You know I’m not falling for that.” 

Tony sighed deeply. “I’m fine, Pete. I’ll let you know if I need a breather.” 

Peter pressed a kiss to his cheek as they reached their table. They were seated side by side, the only other occupants of their table a diplomat from Germany and a woman Peter vaguely recognized from a movie. The moment they took their seats, a waiter rushed forward with a bottle of champagne, filling their glasses wordlessly and retreating. He was gone before Peter could thank him. 

Tony exchanged pleasantries with their tablemates, who were understandably more eager to meet him than Peter. They gave him cursory glances in an effort to be polite, but Peter didn’t mind the lack of attention. He wanted Tony to get his mind off of the Rogues. 

The chatter in the room lessened when the lights focused on the stage. A woman stood at the center with a microphone in hand, offering the crowd an excited smile. Peter wished he could share in her excitement. 

“Good evening,” she began. “It’s undeniable that the past couple of years have been rough, what with the Avengers disbanding due to the legislation being pushed by the UN. Fortunately, the Avengers and the UN have worked closely to create a version of the Accords they all find agreeable. Today, the Avengers reunite once more and we get our heroes back!” 

The audience clapped, although some of it seemed half-hearted. Tony’s hands remained limply in his lap. 

“Allow me to welcome on stage Steve Rogers, our very own Captain America.” The woman stepped to the side, handing the microphone to Steve before he claimed his spot at the center. 

Steve brandished a wide smile at the cameras. “Hey, everybody. Thanks for coming out. The team and I are happier than you can imagine to finally be home. We appreciate all the support and patience we were given during these trying times. 

“As you know, tonight is about more than our reunion. It’s about helping those in need. The Avengers and Stark Industries are hosting a fundraiser in an effort to give young minds the education they deserve.” 

Steve paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as if searching for his next words. Peter could feel Tony stiffen beside him, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the table.

“And I have to say,” Steve continued, “working with Stark Industries again is a privilege. I’ve known a few Starks in my time, and while they all seem to have a thing for fast cars, pretty women, and big explosions, one thing is clear—they know how to gear up the team and open their wallets when it counts.”

The crowd chuckled, a polite, hollow sound that stung in Peter’s ears. He glanced at Tony, who was sitting rigidly beside him. Tony’s jaw was clenched, his fingers drumming restlessly on the table. There was no humor in his expression. No smile, no acknowledgment that Steve’s words had any weight. Just the mask of a man who had been torn apart and glued back together a thousand times.

Peter’s hand found Tony’s knee, squeezing gently, but Tony didn’t look down. His eyes remained on Steve. Peter knew it wasn’t just about the words. It was everything Steve represented—the betrayal, the old scars, the things Tony would never be able to forget.

Peter felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t let Steve keep going. Not like this.

Before he could second-guess himself, Peter was on his feet, moving toward the stage. He didn’t hear the murmur of the crowd, didn’t see the flash of cameras. All he saw was Steve, that self-assured, arrogant smile, the same one that had haunted Tony for years.

Steve turned at the sound of Peter’s footsteps, brows raised in surprise. “Peter Parker,” he said, his smile only widening. “Didn’t see you there.”

Peter didn’t wait for him to finish. His fist landed squarely on Steve’s jaw with a satisfying crack. The mic went silent as Steve stumbled back, blinking in shock.

“What the hell—” Steve started, but Peter didn’t give him the chance to speak. He grabbed the mic, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” Peter’s voice rang out, steady despite the rush of adrenaline. “You don’t get to reduce him to some outdated caricature while standing on a stage funded by his generosity. You don’t get to ignore everything he’s done. Everything he’s sacrificed.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, but Peter wasn’t backing down. He stepped forward, staring him down. “He’s saved the world more times than anyone can count, and you—” Peter pointed a finger, voice growing sharp with each word. “You think you can just make jokes at his expense? Think again.”

The crowd was silent. Time seemed to stretch, hanging in the air, thick with tension.

Peter let the mic drop, the thud of it hitting the stage floor echoing like a punctuation mark. He turned on his heel, walking back toward Tony with his head held high. He could feel the weight of every eye on him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need to look back.

When he reached the table, he didn’t say a word at first. He just held out his hand to Tony, who was still frozen in his seat, eyes wide but a faint smile playing on his lips. Peter didn’t wait for Tony to stand. He pulled him into a quick hug, pressing his cheek against Tony’s.

Tony’s hand rested lightly on his back, fingers digging into his shirt, but there was something new there—something softer, something like gratitude.

Peter pulled back and whispered, “Let’s go, yeah?”

Tony’s gaze softened as he met Peter’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said, the word coming out more like a sigh of relief. “Let’s go.”

With that, they turned and walked out together, leaving behind a room full of shocked faces, the echoes of their quiet defiance ringing in the air.

[gardens-light]

Hi! I would like to ask for a Ironhide BAYVERSE x Pigtailed! human with a cybertronian Heart! And if u think you want A ratchet one to you can do a Ratchet BAYVERSE X Human with a spark <3 (this is just for one of my AU’s and u Writing it would make my day)

Although Ratchet (mainly TFP) is my fave bot, I couldn't pass up our weapons boy. Bayverse Ironhide is such an underrated character, there seriously needs to be more fanfics of him!

I've never been good at AU's, but really love your idea and I hope I did it justice. Apologies for keeping you waiting :)

A Spark in Disguise

Content: Bayverse Ironhide x F/Human reader. Comfort Fluff.

Word Count: 2K

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the N.E.S.T base, sunrays glinting off Ironhide's gun-metal coloured plating as he watched his allies scurry around him. Performing drills, maintaining their equipment, discussing newly found Cybertronian tech with Optimus and Ratchet- the usual daily grind.

Despite working with his new found allies for over two years, and respected their determination, the weapons specialist tend to not allow himself to get too attached to the humans. For seeing the yearning of Bumblebee's spark felt, when it was time to say 'goodbye' to his human friends, let alone the pain that would dull the yellow scout's circuits whenever they got hurt.

Yet no matter how hard he tried to maintain that distance, there was always one human in particular that never failed to catch his attention.

You. Lieutenant Y/N. AKA: Rogue.

With sharpshooting skills that no other could match, fearless instincts that saved more lives than he could count, along with a knack for understanding Cybertronian tech that most of your comrades struggled with. With your steady resolve, stunning braided pigtails, and biting wit that even he found amusing sometimes, it's no wonder that you somehow wiggled your way into the soft spot of his spark. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, for... you were just another human, after all- or... so he thought.

Till one fateful mission changed everything.

Washington D.C- 10:30pm

"All right, listen up. The cover story on this one is a 'toxic spill.'" Your commanding officer's voice crackled over your radio. "They had to EVAC the area for search and rescue. This makes six enemy contacts in eight months, we gotta make sure this one doesn't get out into the public eye, so keep it tight."

Military Hummers and helicopters surrounded the power plant, as your N.E.S.T comrades got into position. Your commander and his team already scouting the area, their radidar sending off strong signals nearby.

"All right, Ironhide." You lightly tapped the Autobot's hood, "we got echoes. They're close. Steel stacks at 2 o'clock."

Metallic grinding and the sound of churning gears filled the air, his pistons whirled and locked into position, as Ironhide rolled out of his altmode.

"He's here. I smell him." Ironhide's optics scanned the empty buildings, giving each piece of machinery a suspicious stare. "Tread carefully, Rouge-"

"You too, Big Boy." Your small fist lightly bumped his enclosed servo, "I'll watch you from above."

A low purr rumbled deep within his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a subtle smile. That's my girl...

While taking your position above, Ironhide and N.E.S.T slowly closed in upon their target. The Autobot's radar picking up more of a Cybertronian energy signature with each careful step, itching closer towards the circular steel stacks.

"Thermal ripple, sir." The commander peered over his comrades shoulder, as they showed him the screen of their scanner. "A big one..."

A strong electronic pulse flowed through your veins, causing a shaky breath to escape your slightly parted lips. Eyes narrowing through your sniper scope, "Commander, wait. Be steady. You're... right on top of it-"

But the sound of shifting gears and whirling pistons suddenly filled the air, revealing a large Decepticon destroyer. A low, animalistic growl with an metallic edge rumbled deep from within it's engine, slamming down it's large servos onto the ground. Kicking up the industrial equipment, and sending the circular steel stacks flying towards the human soldiers.

"Hold your positions!" your commanding officer barked, raising his rifle. "Target its joints! We need to slow it down!"

The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning fuel and scorched earth. The ground trembled beneath your comrades as they scrambled for cover, their shouts barely audible over the deafening roar of gunfire and the shrieking hum of Ironhide's energon-powered cannon.

Reloading your weapon with swift movement, after each round of cover fire. The electric pulse within your veins quickened, sending small volts of dispersing sparks crackling throughout your body. Your comrades fired bursts of armor-piercing rounds, and grenades that barely left a dent in the Decepticon's armour.

With a swing of its massive arm, Ironhide's optics widened as he witnessed the building crumble beneath you. His spark twisting painfully within its chamber, as your screams bellowed through the chaos, as you and the building came crashing down.

"Rogue!-"

"Ironhide! Wait!" one of soldiers jumped out of the Autobot's way, avoiding to be trapped under his peds. "Even if she did survive that. It be impossible to find her beneath all the rubble!-"

"I need units to track down and pursue that Decepticon!" your commander barked into his radio, witnessing his mechanical foe go into retreat. "And I need EVAC, ASAP! Multiple casualties and... one soldier... possibly down."

No! No! No! Ironhide charged into the debris, kneeling against the crumbled mess, his cannons retracting back into his forearms. As his massive servos tore through the rubble. Not her! Anyone but her! Primus... Please-

The desperate pulse of his spark slowed to a more calming rhythm. Confusion flickering within his optics, as a faint blue glow peered through the cracks of shattered concrete and twisted metal. Moving the slab of concrete aside, shock and surprise shot throughout Ironhide's inner circuits.

Buried beneath the rubble there you laid- unconscious but... miraculously alive, the air around you was filled with electric and static hum. The blue glow which surrounded you like a shield, confused Ironhide's scanners as he assessed your injuries.

H-Her vitals. They... don't match any human standards. His optics widened, realization making his spark sputter as his gaze trailed to the centre of your chest. Blue veins marked your skin, raiding a faint but unmistakable signature. A... Cybertronian spark?! Th-That's... not possible...

Almost as if the force field surrounding you recognized Ironhide's Cybertronian signature. The blue glow dulled into nothingness, allowing his servo to effortlessly phase through, carefully scooping you into his palm, allowing your braided pigtails to fall away from your face. Relief zapped throughout his wires like small volts of electricity, as you slightly stirred.

"Ironhide-"

"Fine." The Autobot curtly replied to your commander. A mixture of confusion and concern hiding within this words, "Rogue's fine... I'll... take her back to base myself..."

---

A soft groan escaped your slightly parted lips, as you regained consciousness. Instinctively placing a hand over your chest, as if to protect something. Eyes fluttering open, gazing around your surroundings, feeling the soft grass beneath you. The cool night air filling your lungs with the familiar scent of L.A in the distance.

"Rogue...?"

Looking up, your eyes met Ironhide's optics. Concern and confusion still flickering within his gaze, your features softening slightly as a small frown came to your lips. Sensing a silent question that was written all over his faceplate.

"What?" Your words held a tinge of weariness. Your heart picked up the slow pulse of his spark, which sent out occasional bursts of volts as you sat up. "Something wrong, 'Hide?"

A heavy breath left him, hesitation momentarily stealing his words as Ironhide crouched down, his massive frame lowering to your level. "Y-You're... not entirely human... are you?"

You blinked multiple times in confusion, eyes widening slightly. Attempting to pull a coy smile, "w-what are you-"

"I sensed it, Rogue." His tone was a mixture of suspicion and concern, "When the building collapsed... I sensed and saw... the fragments of a Cybertronian spark radiating from you. So please... don't try and be coy with me."

Your features slowly went pale, as you avoided his gaze. Jaw tightening, "I-It's... complicated-"

"Complicated?" the Autobot scoffed, his tone filled with disbelief and frustration. "That's an understatement, Rogue. You're walking around with a piece of Cybertronian tech shoved inside your fleshy body. That's not something you just gloss over!-"

"I didn't exactly sign up for this, 'Hide!" You snapped, gesturing towards your chest. "It wasn't my choice!"

Ironhide's expression softened, his spark aching slightly as a hint of resentment etched into your features. Y-You... had no choice...?

A heavy sigh escaped you, running a hand through your disheveled hair. Your pained gaze meeting his concerned optics. "A while back, a Decepticon... attacked my hometown. But during the evacuation, I was caught in the crossfire... my body was thrown over five meters up the road. Breaking my bones, bruising my organs but... my chest took most of the hit, causing my heart to take most of the damage."

Hands fiddling with the fabric of your cargo trousers, as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "I... needed a life saving operation, but... doctors said I didn't time to wait for a heart transplant. So... in desperation, my father practically begged his comrades at N.E.S.T to help and they did. Using a fragment of a Cybertronian spark they had on hand to save me."

Ironhide couldn't help but simply stare at you with a wide eyed gaze. The weight of your words settling over him like a crushing wave, as his processor attempted to understand the idea.

"Nobody really... explained to me, how it works- I was just a child at the time. All I was told was that it would keep me alive. And it did. But... it also changed me."

"Changed you how?"

You hesitated, dropping your voice to a near whisper. "I... can feel things- machines, electric like pulses or... energy, Cybertronian teach. Sometimes I hear things, like whispers, when I'm near Cybertronians- regardless if they're Autobot or Decepticon. It's like... a part of me is connected to Cybertron itself."

Th-That... explains so much. Ironhide couldn't help with the dumbfounded expression upon his faceplate, a mixture of realization and shock hitting his inner circuits hard. Causing him to fully kneel against the ground, the way she has this... uncanny ability to handle- yet understand Cybertronian equipment. Her knack for battle strategies- even the way she seems to understand me and the others on a level that goes beyond words.

"You're part Cybertronian." He muttered under his breath.

"I'm still me, 'Hide." Your voice returned to it's soft, usual tone. Placing a hand over his digits, "I'm still human. This doesn't change that."

After a long moment of pause, his processor finally comprehending everything you've said. A sigh, finally left Ironhide, "why... didn't you tell me? I-I..." Ironhide leaned closer towards you, lowering his helm a little more and bringing your hand closer to his cheek. "I... thought I lost you."

A small smirk faintly, tugged your lips. "Yeah, because Optimus and Ratchet would have been just as understanding as you. As it is, almost none of my human comrades knows about my... 'condiction.'"

"Fair point."

Your thumb gently brushed against his cheek, "so... what now? Am I... some kind of security risk to you and the Autobot's now?"

"Of course not, Rogue." Ironhide brushed a knuckle of his digit softly across your cheek. Tucking one of your twin braids behind your shoulder, "how could you ever assume that? You've been fighting beside me for years, risking your life like the rest of us. That... spark within your chest doesn't- and will never change that. If anything... it makes you tougher than most humans I've met."

Your smirk widened into a genuine smile. "Thanks, 'Hide."

A small grunt escaped the Autobot, feeling the subtle heat raise beneath his faceplates. Your smile causing his spark to skip a beat, as he turned away, "d-don't get all sentimental on me, Rogue. I gotta get you back to base, before people start asking questions."

Crouching down and shifting into his altmode, Ironhide couldn't shake the feeling of awe- and a strange sense of pride pulse through his inner circuits, as you climbed into the front passenger seat.

In a way, she's... a living testament to the strength us, Autobot's share with these humans. A low purr rumbled from within his engine, as you gave his dashboard a comforting touch. And as long as she's beside me, I'll do everything within my power to protect her.

[crisis-starter]

Heya!

Back with another part!

Isabeau time!

This is the CIAS version of Bad Touch if that makes any sense.

I hope you enjoy!

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

The favor tree was always a marvel to Isabeau. A gargantuan tree, capable of granting wishes, or at least giving you hope. Faux hope or not, it always brought a smile to his face. He was tempted to wish for confidence in what he wanted to do. But, for the current situation, that felt selfish. So he wouldn’t wish that for now. After all, maybe he could muster the courage up himself with no help from some ethereal god! Plus, the change god was lazy. They wouldn’t really care about a silly confession, right? Wait, maybe thinking that may be considered a tad sacrilegious. Stop thinking about it, Isabeau.

Siffrin approached, holding an almost exhausted expression. Isabeau could tell that something was up. Siffrin, despite sleeping for a few hours, looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Isabeau saw Siffrin muster up a strange expression. Eyes closed, smile a little too wide. But still decided that this wasn’t going to worry him too much. Siffrin faced Isabeau and said, “Isa.” Isabeau decided to comment on the exhausted demeanor, but try not to be too mean, “Sif. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I get it.” State that he can relate! Good step! But it didn’t look like it did anything.

Try again! Maybe… a distraction? Isabeau looked at the favor tree with a bright smile, “Anyway, I was just looking at the Favor Tree! Isn’t this tree cool?” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. But he responded at least, “Yeah it is…” Isabeau replied, cheerfully, hoping it was contagious, “Glad you agree!” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. Something was wrong. Nothing was really working!

Siffrin spoke up again, “One could say it’s a pretty…” This tone… it was set up for a pun! Isabeau looked at Siffrin, ready for the laugh of a century, “Uh huh???” Isabeau always loved to hear Siffrin’s puns. Not only that, but their voice, their combat skill, the look in their eye when he spends time with everyone, everything, every tiny detail that someone might not notice right away… is it not understandable why Isabeau’s heart fluttered around the little rogue? And here came the punchline, “…TREE-mendous tree.” Isabeau ignored the unchanging mask in favor of uncontrollable laughter. Siffrin joined him!

Isabeau felt like grabbing Siffrin’s shoulder as he wound down, but stopped himself. Siffrin’s expression changed to something… odd. It looked like they yearned for something as they kept their eye on Isabeau’s hand. At the same time, it held some level of desperation. It made the fighter sad. He stopped himself, once he caught Siffrin’s gaze and remembering Odile’s warning. Siffrin looked back, clearly coming to some kind of conclusion.

A sharp pain started to develop in Isabeau’s head. Siffrin’s expression turned serious. This… perplexed Isabeau. So he tried to ask, “…Uh, Sif? Ah—“ Without a word, Siffrin grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to his level and…

What?

Wait.

What?

In shock, Isabeau pushed Siffrin back to process what on earth happened to cause the rogue to kiss him out of nowhere. Or, rather, the whole situation itself. The headache was getting worse, the air growing sickly sweet. He didn’t like it. But it took 2 seconds to find a second detail that triumphed over the change in the air. Siffrin expressed… horror. Complete and utter horror. But, seemingly, it wasn’t with Isabeau, it was with-

The headache stopped. The air changed. It was back to normal. Siffrin’s expression quickly changed to that smile from before. But for some reason, it was more unnerving and fake, “Hi Isa! I need to do the Favor Tree thing!” Still recovering from the shock regarding the kiss, Isabeau responded, “Oh! Sorry, I’m in your way then, aren’t I? I’ll get out of your hair, see you at the Clocktower!!!” As he witnessed Siffrin walk towards the tree, he called, somewhat quietly, “Sif?” Siffrin ignored him, Or maybe they didn’t hear. He sighed, then proceeded to walk towards the field in the north of Dormont.

He took a breath in, and out. Then he started to think. What about that first one? Start with the first weird expression. That expression he saw Siffrin had when Isabeau was about to touch him. Didn’t Siffrin have a problem with touch? If so, why did they react like that? Like they were waiting for it. Almost silently begging for it. Why?

Second issue: the air and the headache. Awfully convenient, them happening at the same time. Not convenient. That makes it sound good. Coincidental? Strange? It just felt the slightest bit like a bad omen. Was it Craft? If so, what kind? It felt like time was pushed back a few minutes, so it might be time craft. But wasn’t the use of time craft a death sentence? Then again, the King is using Time Craft just fine. Keep a pin on it just in case.

Third issue: the conclusion, and the sudden change to seriousness along with the actual kiss. It was impulsive, yes. What conclusion did Siffrin come to to warrant such an action? What happened to warrant such an expression? Did Isabeau do something wrong without realizing?

Fourth issue: Siffrin’s expression before time decided to… malfunction? Horror. Pure terror. The way they hugged themselves implied that they were horrified by themselves. Honestly, Isabeau would be very disgusted with himself if he did that but this… that was… he almost wanted there to exist a kind of craft that help someone read minds. It would be royally invasive and Isabeau might never use it because it’s rude at the very least. But it would still be nice to know exactly what he had to work with to make his friends (and crush) happy.

Hold on… Isabeau was forgetting something. The exhaustion… Siffrin wasn’t sluggish, but he did look a bit tired. Or maybe ‘a bit’ is an understatement. The laugh that Siffrin produced also sounded vaguely fake. Like the scene was practiced. And the fake smile after the time rewind thing? It just looked like they were… improvising.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd, running up to him in a panic before Siffrin arrived. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

Isabeau approached the meadow overlooking the House of Change. The sight of such a building being distorted so badly did not help alleviate the worry that filled his being. He sighed quietly, hoping to calm his nerves. Isabeau sincerely hoped that Siffrin would recover. Or at least things would get better soon.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Haha, I was going to post this last night.

But I just passed out before I finished editing.

Fair, it was 2:30 AM and I definitely should not have been awake.

I’m having a bit of trouble with Mirabelle’s so it might take me a bit.

Also uh…. This is not being posted in chronological order.

[littlejuicebox]

I want to hold your hand.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren

Chapter number: Ten

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / All fluff no smut in this one / Act 1 Spoilers / Angst / Anxiety / Feelings Realization / Violence / Gore / Past trauma / Alcohol / Swear words / Lae'zel being a butthole again (I promise I actually really love her character but, come on, the behavior in this chapter pretty in character for her.) Word count: 2.8K Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - The Beatles (But really, more so the version in Across the Universe because the yearning is palpable in that version.) Notes: LMK if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series in a message. :)

-----

Astarion took a long time gathering enough gumption to finally exit the Druid’s bedchambers. By the time he made his way toward the center of the grove, all the stars were gleaming in the sky, and more than one campfire had been lit. It appeared everyone already ate dinner, made evident by the empty tables full of used crockery and roasts picked nearly to the bone. He heard faint notes of music and an increasing amount of chatter as he made his way up the stone steps to the camp… it sounded like a party.

His other traveling companions were already there, and their tents had all been pitched. He spied Karlach kindly putting his tent up, and Astarion walked over to help her finish the job. Typically, he would've just left the tiefling to the grunt work and walked off to flirt with Wren or merely lounge about, but since Wren had stormed away from him earlier in the evening after their little tiff… he had nothing better to do.

Apart from Wren, Karlach was probably the vampire's favorite companion. Her easy-going nature made it so he didn’t have to perform too terribly hard around her, and he appreciated their rare moments together. Shadowheart was good for some quick banter, of course, but now the cleric’s preoccupation with Lae’zel made that relationship less ideal and he'd found himself avoiding the cleric whenever her green guard dog was around.

The silver-haired elf took one of the tent ties from Karlach and scanned the crowd for Wren. He spotted her sitting by an attentive Halsin. The unexpected sight created a dull ache in his chest, right around where his undead heart sat stock-still. Gods, he had to find a way to fix things before she found herself enamored with someone that was clearly a better alternative and he wasted all his time and effort for… what exactly? What was this thing between them?

The Archdruid towered over the little bird, especially when she was in a seated position. But despite the size difference, the mountain of a man held her arm in a remarkably gentle grip. The vampire tried to ignore the new duo as he thanked Karlach and then meandered toward the pile of booze. Maybe if he just… loosened himself up a bit, he’d be able to talk to Wren about what he was feeling instead of putting his foot in his mouth again. But what was he feeling, exactly? Astarion didn't have the words. Perhaps that wasn’t the point. Perhaps the point was that whatever role she wanted him to perform, he would do it, if it meant he would stay in her good graces. Surely that was a fair price to pay to be rid of the ache in his chest.

As much as the rogue tried to ignore the scene that was making his insides churn, his eyes kept roaming back to the two of them. The vampire watched as Halsin thoroughly, too thoroughly, spread some kind of salve on Wren’s forearm while she occupied herself with chugging whatever she had in her cup. Astarion had a fleeting thought that it should be him applying that salve on Wren's arm, not the big bear. If not him, then surely Shadowheart. Who the hell was this druid, anyway?

Wren had changed from the chemise he’d given her a few days back and into an entirely different, and significantly more revealing outfit. Where the hells had she even found a set of leather trousers? And was she truly just wearing the bodice she wore under her armor on her torso?

After Halsin was done playing doctor with the little bird, the pale elf was sure the sickening rendezvous would end. But then Wren was digging through her bag and revealing the pipe she’d stolen from Halsin with a guilty grin. The Archdruid seemed very entertained by this; he threw his head back as he laughed in pure delight. Halsin said something with a lifted eyebrow and then smiled and returned the pipe back to the little bird.

Gods, Astarion wished he could hear what they were saying from here. He had the strange sensation of being left out, and he bristled at the thought. ‘They are getting along far too well.’

The vampire reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the scene and snatched a bottle of wine from the booze pile. He was in no mood for this little party, but he supposed he would play this part if he had to.

-----

Wren was tired of performing. The whole self-sufficient, strong ranger woman act was getting exhausting. What was the point? She kept making mistakes, anyway… first losing her own eye, then blowing their cover with Minthara, and then the absolute dragonshitshow of a conversation she’d just had with one of her strongest and most versatile campmates. The campmate that she’d bedded the day before, effectively ending her entirely too long streak of voluntary abstinence. But… had her time with Astarion really been a mistake? She couldn't be sure.

Truly, Wren just wanted someone to hold her. And maybe Halsin wouldn’t hold her, but he’d hold her arm with his warm, comforting hand… and slather some sticky, honey-based salve on her charred skin while she chugged whatever Alfira had just poured into her cup. She liked Halsin. He was nice. He was mature, kind, and held an attractive air of relaxed confidence. It was easy to be drawn to his comforting energy; she saw why the grove trusted him.

Before long, the Archdruid wrapped her arm in a bandage, refused the return of his pipe with an explanation that he had several more, and told her that he didn’t know how to remove the parasites, but he had some ideas they could discuss tomorrow. He cut the conversation short and pushed her into the party, insisting she go and have some fun before returning to business-as-usual tomorrow morning.

Wren wasn’t in any mood for this party, but she begrudgingly obliged. After downing whatever was left in her cup, she found herself roped into a few dances with some of the tieflings and one with Gale. By the third cup of — what was it, wine? — she and Karlach tried to dance without touching, mostly just shimmying and spinning around one another like lunatics before falling on the ground laughing at the stupidity of it all. She needed that laugh, and if she could’ve hugged the tiefling woman then, she would’ve.

After the chortling was over, and the ranger's ribs hurt beyond belief, the two women wandered back to the libations. Karlach flicked her gaze over toward Astarion, who appeared to be brooding and trying to hide the fact that he was brooding, and then she looked back to a buzzed Wren. She filled two more cups with some cherry-scented liquid as she addressed the half-elf. “What’s going on with you and Fangs, anyway, soldier? Normally you two are attached at the hip… or the lip.���

“Karlach!” Wren yelped, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced around to see if anyone else had heard the Barbarian. Her already alcohol-flushed face began to trail the rosy blush up her ears and down her neck.

“Oh, come off!” Karlach exclaimed with a chuckle, rolling her eyes at the ranger. “First of all, you’re a grown woman, so you can do whatever and whoever you’d like. Second of all… it’s not really a secret, Wren. We all know. You should’ve seen the absolute state Astarion was in for those few days you were knocked out after that Gur encounter. I doubt he’s like that for just anyone.”

Wren didn’t know what to say in response to Karlach’s revelation. Her fingers moved up to nervously touch her lip scar and then she shrugged, “I guess… I didn’t know how he felt. I… don’t know how he feels.”

“Well… did you ever really ask him?” Karlach responded with a shrug, as if the answer were quite simple to her, cocking her head just slightly at the ranger before shoving the filled cup into her hand.

Wren almost laughed as she lifted the cup to her lips for a drink. She didn’t ever ask him; she’d been too preoccupied by the parasite, and then losing her eye. She didn't stop to speak to him at all, really. The archer soaked in the irony of her own words from her earlier encounter with Astarion swinging like a boomerang right back to her. The substance in her cup tasted better than the previous drinks she’d been given, and the brunette woman eagerly took another sip as she considered her friend’s words with a soft hum. “Alright. I'll ask him."

-----

Astarion watched Wren dance with more than one partner. Should he ask her to dance? Would that smooth things over? He knew how to, of course. But then, if she was so angry with him that she rejected him in front of everyone… well the rogue’s pride truly couldn’t stand for that to happen.

The vampire sat frozen in indecision, sipping from his bottle as his eyes tracked the little bird around the camp. She and Karlach had a bit of conversation by the booze table — it must’ve been about him, because Karlach looked his way more than once. Annoyingly, he couldn’t pick up what they said from this distance over the clamor of other conversations and Alfira’s music. The knowledge that he was being discussed made him uneasy, and he huffed, suddenly scanning the party for a distraction. Just as he was about to throw a line at some tiefling in a futile attempt to stroke his own ego, he heard Wren’s enraged voice thundering through the party.

“What the hell did you just say, Lae’zel?” The little bird was standing face to face with the Githyanki, hands clenched into tight fists.

“You heard what I said. I do not need to repeat it.” Lae’zel responded coolly, stepping even closer to the ranger, answering their group leader’s challenge.

The entire crowd had fallen silent, watching the scene unfold. Wren quickly hooked her right arm, and Astarion stared in a ridiculously juxtaposed mixture of horror and delight as it connected with a solid pow on the other woman’s eye socket. Lae’zel, to her credit, took the punch with barely any reaction and then returned it with one of her own. It landed on the ranger’s nose with a sickening crack.

Astarion rushed forward, along with Karlach and Shadowheart, just as Lae’zel was about to withdraw her blade. But Astarion was faster than the alien and he pressed the edge of his dagger against the Githyanki’s neck in warning.

“Now, now, I think not, little viper. You’re clearly drunk. Go lay down with mommy Shadowheart and take a nap before we all do things we will surely regret in the morning.” His voice warned, tone measured but scarlet eyes heated as they glared into Lae’zel’s.

Shadowheart had hold of Lae’zel’s forearm, staying her blade, while Karlach stood a few paces behind the half-elf. Wren was holding her nose, which was now pouring thin streams of crimson. Astarion couldn’t see the blood from where his face was pressed so closely to the alien, but he could easily smell it. Oh, how his fingers positively ached with the desire to slice into Lae’zel’s neck and repay the debt.

Shadowheart spoke, trying with all her might to remain calm and be the voice of reason. “Come on, Lae’zel. You’re drunk… you didn’t truly mean it. Come with me, let’s go lay down.”

The Githyanki relented, inhaling deeply and stepping back, away from Astarion’s blade. The cleric offered an apologetic look to her other campmates before grabbing her lover’s hand and pulling her away from the party, towards their tent.

“Sorry about that, folks! You know how it goes among family!” Karlach shouted, and soon everyone shrugged off the dispute and resumed their conversations, followed by another swell of music.

After Astarion stowed his blade, he turned to check on Wren. She’d already walked towards her own tent and hidden herself inside the little nest. He followed after her, swiftly ducking himself into the canvas shelter before kneeling down to face the little bird. She’d held a cloth over her nose and fixed her closed eyes toward the ceiling, hoping to slow the bleeding.

“I heard it break. Can’t you heal it yourself?” He murmured, cocking his head slightly as he lifted his hand toward her face, removing the cloth for a moment to examine the damage.

“I tried. But it seems I’m out of spellcasting power. I used it all up at the goblin camp. I’m obviously not going to Shadowheart for help, Halsin already helped me with my arm, and fuck Nettie. So… here I am.”

“Hold on.” Astarion murmured, exiting the tent with no further explanation. Wren’s brows furrowed in confusion as she watched him exit, but that caused a sharp pain in her nose, so she groaned and looked back at the ceiling.

The vampire returned a few minutes later, wearing a large amulet with a jade-colored stone that Wren didn’t recognize and carrying his own backpack. He sat back down and moved his slender hands forward, bidding the little bird to lower the blood-soaked cloth. Long, lithe fingers pressed to the woman’s nose and then Astarion uttered a healing incantation.

Wren blinked in surprise as she felt the familiar warmth of a healing spell seep through her skin and into the fragile bones along the center of her face. Soon enough, her nose felt practically back to normal. Astarion seemed to be watching her for an indication that his efforts worked before lowering his hands. She nodded subtly.

The rogue quietly removed his hands and quickly undid the clasp of the heavy amulet, stowing the piece of jewelry back in his pack. Then he rustled around, withdrawing a small bottle of water and a small scrap of cloth. After dampening the cloth, he lifted it to Wren’s nose and began tenderly cleaning the dried blood off her face. He saw the question in her eyes and answered it without her prompting.

“I found it among Counsellor Florrick’s things, when I found your chemise. Seemed worth keeping, but it’s awfully noisy when I move so I don't wear it all the time.” He says in a hushed voice, pausing for a moment when Wren winced as he pressed too firmly to her still-tender nose. He looks at her for a beat and then continues, “Figured I would hold onto it, just in case...”

'Just in case I end up on my own and I don't have Shadowheart or you to heal me.'

A bit of quiet fell between the two as the elf focused on his task, and the woman focused on one of her pillows instead of the rogue. Astarion noticed this, because she normally watched him so intently with those two-toned eyes of hers. It stung, her lack of attention on him, but he kept working, hoping somehow this was a step in the right direction. At least she hadn’t pushed him away. It was clear that in the thick silence of the tent, which was such a sharp contrast to the raging party outside, that the two of them felt the weight of things unsaid hanging between them.

“What did she say?” Astarion questioned in a low murmur, scarlet orbs wandering from Wren's upturned nose to her distant stare, pulling her attention back to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wren huffed, beginning to bristle in response and starting to pull away from the vampire, but his other hand clasped onto her forearm and kept her in place.

The rogue paused for a moment, squinting his eyes at the ranger. Wren could see the subtle prickles of annoyance on his face; her eyes took in the scrunch of his nose and the clenching of his jaw. His tone was stiff, curt, as if he were trying to maintain hold over his emotions. “You said you would tell me anything if I bothered to ask. So, here I am, asking.”

Wren fell silent, as she felt the sting of her own words flipped against her for the second time that night. She moved to thumb her lip scar, and Astarion’s eyes followed her finger for a moment before returning to holding her own eyes in an unyielding stare.

“She…” The little bird looked up at the tent and sighed. Hells, it was going to sound so ridiculous when it came out.

“She overheard Karlach asking what happened to Kol, and I told Karlach that Kol had died. I told her what I told you about the ambush. And then Lae’zel said that I have a type… elves with silver hair and red eyes. And that my history of poor leadership would probably get you killed, just like it had the first one.”

Wren’s mouth hardened into a line, and her voice crackled at the end. Fuck Lae’zel for knowing exactly how to cut into her with words and lay bare one of her biggest fears. Wren didn’t want to be the leader… she didn’t fucking want it! So why did Lae’zel or anyone else have to make it so hard? Didn’t they know she was already beating herself to a pulp for every misstep along the way?

Astarion watched as the little bird rolled her gaze up to the ceiling where she stayed intently focused on the canvas of the tent, trying to conceal her tears. He had half a mind to storm across the camp and cut out the Githyanki’s tongue. Maybe they would all be better off for it; her pessimistic nature wasn’t doing the group any favors, after all. But instead, he sighed, grabbed Wren’s hand, grabbed his own pack, and then stood up, pulling her with him.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get away from this party. The wine is shit and the only company really worth keeping is in this tent, anyway.” He grumbled before walking out of the canvas shelter and heading away from the crowd, toward the grove exit. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers as he led her along.

Wren followed without much of a thought. She spent so much time being a leader, she supposed she basked in the few moments when she got to be a follower. She didn’t know where they were going; she didn’t care. She just wanted Astarion to keep holding her hand for as long as possible.

-----

Taglist: Hiii @mancsunite

[shadowphoenixrider]

Full House

(The morning after Shadow and Gambit's reunion, it's time for Shadow to face the music, and the other X-Men.)

News spread quickly through the X-Mansion that I'd returned, courtesy of Logan and Jean, and it hadn't taken long at all for Scott to appear to Remy's door, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glimpsed me cloaked in one of Gambit's shirts.

Both Remy and I looked like kids caught with our hand in the cookie jar, but Scott just offered to unlock my dorm door so I could get a proper change of clothes. He also gently asked if it would be okay if I came and chatted with him and the rest of the team during breakfast.

Which was how I found myself in the kitchen, surrounded by the X-Men, and Gambit sitting beside me with a comforting hand on my waist.

"Took you two bozos long enough." Jubilee commented, pinching her fingers together. "I was this close to staging an intervention!"

"Doubt it woulda worked, kiddo." Logan grunted from his place at the counter. "Both of them were too stubborn to see it."

"You're one to talk." Gambit ground out behind his teeth, netting him quite the death glare from the older man.

"Now now," Hank lifted his large, placating hands, "whilst an intervention may certainly have spared some of the heartbreak, love is an emotion with considerable volatile unpredictability. As much as we wish it otherwise, we often need to let it take its course, as fast or slow as it may be."

"Might I remind you that we're not here to discuss Shadow and Gambit's relationship?" Storm cut in, with a tone that was both breezy and yet commanding, her ice blue eyes sweeping over the room like a monarch surveying her kingdom.

"Storm's right folks, settle down." Scott said, coming to stand in front of me, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "It is good to see you again, Shadow." He began, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You were only gone a couple of weeks, but we all keenly felt your absence." His head and what I assumed was his gaze tilted towards the tall man next to me. "Some more than others."

"But do not think it was your healing gifts we missed, Shadow." Storm spoke, a gentleness to her voice even as it brimmed with conviction. It reflected in her ice blue eyes. "Whilst there was a definite absence felt, it was your company that was yearned for above all."

"Yeah." Jubilee folded her arms, leaning against the table. "After you left, your friends stopping coming too. It got real quiet here."

I blinked, surprised.

"Wait, really?"

Gambit nodded silently.

"Makes sense though." Rogue spoke. "Why stick around when the reason they had to hang around weren't here any more?"

"But I thought..." I frowned. "What about Lemming? Wasn't he working as admin here?"

"Stuck around the longest, but he were as loyal as the rest of your crew." Logan said, working a small thin stick around in his mouth. "Comes back from time to time to do his hours, but his heart is with you and your gang." He stared at me, a slight smile on his gruff features. "Gotta say, quite the loyalty you inspire, bub."

"Mmm." Cyclops hummed, nodding. "When you left, it was as if we'd lost Morph again." He paused for a moment. "The only good thing was that you were still alive."

He looked down, staring into his coffee. Jean reached out to touch his arm.

"I..." My turn to stare at the table. "I'm sorry."

"Dere no need to apologise, chère." Gambit said, his hand rubbing against my back. "Ya did what ya had to."

"I would like to address it, though." Scott said, and I looked up, meeting his ruby gaze. "Your feelings, in the wake of what happened to the Professor."

"You sure 'bout diggin' up old bones, Slim?" Logan growled lowly.

"Yeah, don' know if dis be a good idea..." Gambit agreed, shifting on his seat.

"It's alright." I butted in, looking between the two men, placing my hand on Gambit's. "The bones aren't that old, and the only way to treat an abscess is to open it up to drain the pus."

"And my concern is that if we don't treat this wound now, it's going to turn septic." Scott added, and I smiled as I met his gaze. He'd been picking up more from Hank and I than I'd realized. Scott gestured with his mug towards me. "So...?"

I sighed. Well, here we go.

"Sure it's no big surprise that I'm not on the same level as the rest of you." I began, letting my gaze drift over the other assembled mutants. "I'm weaker, less athletic, can only just about swing a sword around, and my powers have barely any offensive capability. There's no way I'd ever be able to measure up to any of you in that regard. The only thing I have of worth to bring to the team is my ability to heal."

"That's not true!" Jubilee blurted out. "You-!"

Jean placed a hand on the teen's shoulder, smiling softly.

"I agree, but let her finish."

"But...!"

"Come, petite, let's not leave a story half-told, non?" Gambit smiled at her, convincing a reluctant Jubilee to let me continue.

"True or not, being able to heal was the only thing I saw as making me eligible to be one of the team with the rest of you. In every other sector except mission support and research work with Hank, I was nothing more than a burden, always having to be babysat in the Danger Room." I lifted a shoulder. "Sure, I had my sword, but I wasn't good with it. So I put my all into being support, being your medic. I didn't mind that. I prided myself on it."

"So when your abilities were challenged by Professor's Xavier neurological injuries, and you were unable to deliver a satisfactory outcome..." Hank murmured, trailing off. I nodded.

"Yup, got it in one." I stared at the table again, propping my chin up on my interlaced hands. "The one time I really, truly had to save someone, and I couldn't. I failed to save one of the most important mutants to us and mutant-kind. And to make it worse, it was because of a rule I put on myself!" My hands curled into fists, soft trills of pressure-pain coming from the joints that were now locked tightly together. I pushed them aside. "If I knew how to heal brain injuries, I could have saved him! Instead I just..."

I took a breath, pressing my forehead into my knuckles to swallow down the flare of emotion that rose in me, stinging at my eyes. I released it, slow and steady, unknotting my fingers and stretching them out. The trilling faded.

"I just had to watch him die, with the rest you. I felt like a failure. I still feel like a failure, even now. He took me under his wing to protect me, gave me food, lodgings, and a stipend, and what did I do to repay him? Let him die."

"Dat ain't true, chère." Gambit said firmly. "Ain't what you did at all."

My gaze snapped to him, a retort on the tip of my tongue when Rogue interjected:

"Remy's right, Shadow." She folded her arms, straightening her back. "If you call what ya did 'letting' him die, I hate to see ya fightin' to save someone."

To my surprise, murmurs of agreement sounded out around me.

"If I remember correctly," Jean said, "it was the Professor himself who told you to stop working so he could wish us goodbye. You fought until the very end."

"Indeed!" Hank nodded. "Whilst your treatments were palliative rather than curative, you expended most of your power to keep the Professor not only alive, but comfortable. If not for your Herculean efforts, Xavier might not have survived long enough for Magneto to join us to call for Lilandra, which in turn saved his life, even if he is not physically present with us anymore."

"But he-" My protest was cut short when Hank shook his head.

"Perhaps Professor Xavier was clinically deceased for a few moments. But only a few, before Shi'ar technology revived him." Hank smiled. "It does not matter if your actions alone were found wanting, if the outcome was positive regardless." He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, stroking his chin with his claws. "Shadow, if an emergency physician becomes exhausted in the performance of external cardiopulmonary resuscitation, and has to hand-over to their colleague, if that colleague ends up restoring spontaneous circulation, does that make the previous physician a failure?"

"No!" I shook my head. "No. They tried their best, they were just exhausted."

"Exactly. You personally might not have been the architect of saving the Professor's life. But through your efforts, you kept him alive long enough so he could be."

It felt like my whole world tilted on its axis. All this time...I hadn't failed at all?

"I...I just..." I couldn't grasp the words with the enormity of it all, of their faith in me. Their lack of disappointment.

"You put the Professor's survival solely on your shoulders." Scott pressed, stepping closer. "You had to save him because that is what you do. That is what you're good at." His expression softened with his voice. "So when you don't manage it, you lose your purpose." He tilted his head. "Sound about right?"

Words fully failed me then, and it was all I could do to nod as the emotions came roaring back. Except this time there was no holding it back, not when Scott had essentially read my feelings out to me if they had been nothing more than a script. My eyes burned as they filled with hot tears, my breath shuddering and heavy as a strangled sob tore itself from my throat. Gambit's arm looped around my waist and pulled me close into his body.

"Oh, sugah..." Rogue murmured.

"You are more than just a healer to us, Shadow." Storm said kindly. "You are a confidante, a friend." Through my blurred eyes, I glimpsed her angle her head towards someone. "More than a friend, in some cases."

"Indeed." Hank, now. He offered me a handkerchief, which I gratefully took with mumbled thanks. "Even if you were stripped of your powers, I would never dream of trading your partnership in my work, or your confidence in which to discuss theories of the biomedical nature."

"Yeah, who else am I gonna beat at Mario Kart?" Jubilee piped up. "Gambit?"

A chuckle bubbled out of me, and I felt the Cajun raise an eyebrow in her direction.

"Jus' keep talkin', petite." He drawled. Jubilee grinned mischievously back at him.

"It..." I swallowed hard, wiping away my tears as best I could. "It wasn't just that. I..." I couldn't bear to meet their eyes as I admitted it: "I thought you'd be mad at me."

A rippled 'what?!' sounded out amongst the assembled crew, including the man sitting next to me.

"Sugah, why'd we be mad at you?" Asked Rogue incredulously.

"Because it was the Professor." I forced my voice to be louder than a mutter, despite desiring more than anything to screw myself up into a little ball and vanish. I envied Miranda's invisibility. "You knew him so much better and longer than me, not to mention everything he did for mutant rights and this school and everything. A-And here's me, a fucking outsider, comes swanning in and cocks up healing him the one time I really needed to bring my A-game." Gambit's arm around me tightened slightly.

I dragged my gaze up to Scott and Jean. "I thought you would hate me, especially since you both knew him the longest."

They were shaking their heads before I'd even finished my sentence.

"No, of course not." Jean said, reaching out to touch my hand. "We'd never hate you for doing your best."

Scott nodded his agreement, before casting a look over the others.

"I think I can safely say that goes for everyone here too." A chorus of affirmatives and nods replied to him.

"But that's what you wanted to believe, weren't it?" Logan suddenly spoke up. His gaze was like steel, yet old. Knowing. "Easier to stomach people hatin' you for failing, then get pity you don't feel you deserve."

I nodded, and felt Gambit's grip tighten again, his head gently resting against mine.

"Explains why you got increasingly agitated despite Jean and I's attempts to comfort you." Scott said.

"You wanted us to be angry, so it would justify your self-hatred for 'failing'." Added Jean.

"Easier to run when ya don' think anyone gon' follow you." Gambit murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest.

"Ah. The evening Gambit found you outside, afflicted with hypothermia." Whilst Hank didn't say it, I felt the 'self-afflicted' hang in the air like a stain.

"'Xactly." Curling a finger under my chin, Gambit very gently lifted my head to look him, his red black eyes soft and tender. "You were runnin' again, weren't ya, chère?"

I wrapped my arms around myself, pulling my head away to stare at the floor.

"...Yeah. I...I couldn't bear it. So I ran away." Another squeeze from the Cajun.

"What changed your mind, Shadow? That made you return?" Storm asked. "I doubt it was your feelings for Gambit alone that brought you back to us, as strong as they may be."

"It was definitely the catalyst, but no, there was more to it." I traced the whorls of the wood grain on the table. "I tried to return to what my normal life was before I met you all. The hospital took me back as a 'gesture of goodwill' towards mutants after the Professor's 'death'." Logan snorted derisively. "Yeah, I know. Not worth the paper it was written on. Regardless, even if it was never definitively 'proved' I was a mutant, a lot of people saw me as one anyway."

"And it turns out that a place that has a procedure to report suspected mutant employees tends to attract people who dislike mutants. Who'd've thunk." I sighed bitterly. "I guess I was so human-passing I never noticed it, much to my shame. I will say, no-one was outright hostile to me, and interactions were polite, but they were cool in that way that you knew if there wasn't a HR department, they'd be saying something completely different. It was like being in high school again, completely iced out of every social circle and treated like a pariah."

"I am very sorry that happened to you, Shadow." Hank frowned, his tone friendly, yet a sharp edge was faint underneath it, not pointed towards me. "Are you still employed by them?"

"For now, but probably not for much longer." I said. "I know that's probably part of the reason they're isolating me - so I'll leave on my own accord, but..." I heaved out a sigh. "Fuck, after everything I've experienced here, I have no capacity for dealing with petty workplace politics."

"Indeed. It will be their loss for their foolishness." The doctor nodded.

"You have my sympathies, Shadow, but I'm not sure how this is relevant." Scott spoke, raising an eyebrow.

"Trying to go back to my old normal proved to me that I can't." I explained. "Being here, helping the team however I can, it's more than what I was doing." Raising my hand as Hank opened his mouth, I continued: "I know in my heart of hearts that I am doing good in my own way, but...it feels so...so intangible. I could see what I was doing here. See the wounds I closed, the tests Hank and I did, discovering new ways to fight the Sentinels when we trained."

I looked away, staring at a point on the wall. "Unless I suddenly get fit enough and pass the exams to become a paramedic and find someone who'd hire a mutant, I'll never do anything that feels like it matters, that makes a difference."

I smiled ruefully. "That and Ebak kinda...opened my eyes a little bit." My eyes shifted back to Gambit, watching me intently. "And gave me the push to really...reach for the things I want." Laying my hand out on the table, palm up, I smiled at him. "As that Bon Jovi song goes: 'to live while I'm alive'."

A smile spread across Gambit's lips as well, one that reached his eyes, and he placed his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers together.

"Not bad taste, chère." He commented. Jubilee snorted.

"You're sure not beating the 'old woman' allegations, Shadow." She arched an eyebrow at me, before dissolving into giggles as I stuck my tongue out at her.

"So aside from finally admittin' you and Gumbo have something goin' on," Logan drawled, giving me a bored look, "anything else you discovered? Sure hope it ain't that you can give Summers a run for his money in the speech department."

"Can it, Logan." Scott snapped. "Not the time."

Anger flashed across Logan's face, and I quickly raised my other hand:

"It's fine, Scott!" I said hurriedly. "I do need to get to the point." I squeezed Gambit's hand slightly, gathering my composure. "My point is, I didn't just come back for Remy." I lifted my chin up, meeting Scott's eyes behind his red glasses. "I'd like to rejoin the team. If you'll have me."

"What makes ya think we'd say 'no', sugah?" Rogue chuckled richly, grinning widely.

"Indeed." Jean smiled. "It was always the impression that you were leaving temporarily to clear your mind and make a more informed decision away from us."

"You are always welcome in my laboratory and in our life, Shadow!" Hank cried, smiling broadly. "I welcome your company. And your opinions on recent matters!"

"Steady on McCoy, let's not overwhelm the woman and make her change her mind." Logan commented, a small smile playing on his lips.

"That a 'yes', Wolvie?" Jubilee grinned at him. He grunted, shrugging.

"Yeah, well, someone needs to keep the rest of you in one piece." He arched an eyebrow, shooting a smirk at the Cajun. "That and Gumbo won't be sneaking out at all times at night to see her."

"Didn' know ya cared, Logan!" Quipped Gambit, grinning back at him.

"Hmph." Logan folded his arms. "Care more 'bout the security risk of leaving your window open to go chat your lady up."

"You are more than welcome back with us, Shadow." Storm smiled warmly. "As Rogue herself said, there is no reason to think we would refuse you. Both as a member of the team, and good friend."

I blushed brightly under their affection, ducking my head.

"T-Thank you. I...I just-"

"Felt like you needed permission, right?" Scott supplied.

"...Yeah." I nodded. He smiled, one that I think reached his obscured eyes.

"I know the feeling." He reached a hand out to me. "Then allow me to welcome you back to the X-Men, Shadow."

I clasped his hand to shake it, and felt Gambit press a kiss to my head.

"Welcome back, mon ombre." He rumbled deeply, the timbre of his voice brimming with affection.

"Th...Thank you." I smiled shyly, looking around the kitchen to each face of the X-Men. More people who called me friend. "All of you."

"You can have today to settle back in," Scott said, immediately back to business, "but tomorrow you'll be included in the drills with the rest of the team."

"If I may," Hank piped up, lifting a clawed finger, "I have identified a slight issue."

"Go on, Hank?" Scott frowned slightly.

"I presume you've returned to full-time employment, Shadow? Will you be able to make time for your duties around it?" The doctor asked.

"I will, one way or t'other." I replied. "Gonna submit a request for part-time hours later today, and see what they say. Either they grant me the request; in which I'll get the time, or they'll refuse me, or I'll be fired." I lifted a shoulder. "If they refuse me, I'll just hand in my notice. Life's too damn short for their nonsense."

Scott nodded.

"I'll take that into consideration."

"Have you discussed this with your parents?" Asked Storm.

"Not yet. I was gonna head home today and get things in motion with my work." I explained.

"Need a ride back, chère?" Gambit asked. I swore I saw Rogue roll her eyes out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah, it's okay," I smiled at him. "I know a guy. He's waiting for me to check in, and he can take me back."

"Then let's not keep him waiting." Scott spoke. "You're dismissed, team."

---

One quick call later, and Ebak was stepping out of the shadows of one of the X-Mansion's rooms, wrapping me up in a big hug.

"Hello Gremlin." He murmured affectionately.

"Hey big guy." I replied, squeezing him gently.

When I opened my eyes and stepped back, we were behind a set of trees I knew to be in my parents' neighbourhood, their bare branches reaching for the sky. The suburb was quiet except the distant chattering of the local starling flock as it roved from garden to garden.

"Can't get any closer?" I asked him as we stepped out onto the path, raised and cracked by the tree roots that snaked under it.

"I could get a little closer, but figured the walk would give us time to talk." Ebak smiled, gesturing for me to start off, falling into step with me on his hearing side. "So, m'dear, how'd it go?"

"Well, they let me back onto the team, so that's good, right?" I smiled shyly.

"You've decided to rejoin them?" He smiled warmly, quickly pulling me into a half-hug. "I'm glad."

"Yeah. Decided to grab life by the lapels, like you said." I met his dark brown eyes. "Do the things that I want to do."

"Mmm." He hummed, before smirking, eyes glinting. "I have pretty good ideas, don't I?"

"Oh my God, you are never letting me live down the 'hot shower on a hot day' thing, are you?" I groaned, to his laughter.

"Nope." He grinned widely. "Never."

"I changed my mind," I declared, "can I go back to being an only child again?" Ebak's laugh was a full belly one; a sound I loved to hear, even at my expense. "In seriousness though, I heard from Jubilee that you and the others that you stopped going to the mansion after I left. Was...was that because of me?"

He nodded.

"Myst said it didn't feel right for us to go there whilst you weren't, and we agreed." He explained. "Lemming stayed on the longest to work, and Miranda...has her own reasons, but all in all we stopped going when you did."

My heart dropped into a bucket of ice, the painful wave of guilt pulsing through my veins. No, that hadn't been my intention at all - I was supposed to leave the mansion and their company, not the others. I never wanted-

"I'm sorry." I breathed. "I-"

"Shh shh shh." Ebak moved over to me, taking hold of my upper arms. "Hush. No blaming yourself." He raised a finger as I tried to protest. "I'll tell Ber!"

"But El-"

"Don't 'but El' me, I'm being serious." He interjected. "This was an agreement between all of us, because even if it had been someone else like Miranda, Myst or Ber, we still wouldn't feel happy going to a place our friend felt like they had to leave." Ebak smiled. "Where'd you think we got all that free time to be with you?"

"I..." I grabbed and hugged him tightly, emotion overwhelming me once more. He embraced me just as firmly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Shad." My brother murmured softly. "We love you, you know?"

Tears pricked at my eyes.

"Y-Yeah. And I love you all so much too. I'm so lucky to have friends like you."

"And we're lucky to have you too." Ebak replied, patting my back before he pulled back. "Now c'mon. Let's get you back home before they send out a search party."

"You did tell 'em where I'd be, right?" I asked as we set off again. I remembered leaving a note...

"Well yes, but they're your parents. They're going to worry." Ebak smiled. "Just like we do."

"True." I nodded. Suddenly, a realization hit me like a lorry. "Oh...God."

"Hmm?" He hummed, arching his scarred eyebrow.

"I just realized." I groaned. "I gotta introduce Gambit to my parents at some point."

"Haha!" My brother barked out a laugh. "Good luck with that!"

"Thanks! Very reassuring!"

Ebak patted my back.

"It'll be fine, Shadow." He smiled. "He loves cats, doesn't he? They'll just need to see him with Spock, and they'll love him!"

"Uh huh, the six foot Cajun thief with a motorbike and penchant for being a flirt." I said flatly. "He'll go down real well next to Tom."

"Hehe, maybe." Ebak smiled knowingly at me, a sparkle in his eyes. "But that's not going to stop you, is it?"

I grinned widely.

"No. Not in the slightest."

[spaceandbones]

fuck it oc picrews under the cut

This is Reymas she is a btd oc who got snatched by Ren when they were 21 and now lives as an immortal 28 year old vampire divorce victim trying to simultaneously murder Ren and make him stop human trafficking with the power of friendship and love. She was a vegetarian before she turned into a vampire. She really likes lighting things on fire and her biggest aspiration is to build a Bomb that Works. She got a dentist to give her fake vamp teeth before she even knew vampires were real and as a result even when her actual vampire fangs retract she still has these stupid fucking fake teeth so like. Get outed every time u smile I guess. Please please nobody ever tell her she has terf bangs 😔

This is Sun he turned Reymas into a vampire bcus her moral code flew a little too close to his century-long dead boyfriends who either haunts Sun as a ghost or is a hallucination caused by intense mental illness exerbated by being a 90 year old vampire who has never moved on from anything ever. He likes to think of himself as Apollo reincarnated bcus he's really good at being humble. Has the single largest victim complex on planet earth. He isnt. Hes not normal 🫦 but he plays the harp

THIS IS my dragonborn Onyx I made her when I was 14 and she's been reworked 45 times because I made her when I was a child. She is going to ride those fucking dragons. Doesnt really want to kill them. Doesnt rlly care about the civil war, either. She grew up as an orphan and during a teenage prison escape with an elvish prince of Valenwood named Rhys, she became his bestie and lived with the royal household in Silvenar for like 7 years. Onyx and Gallus were in the same orphanage in the Imperial City as kids. So sends her a letter calling for aid bcus he cant trust anyone in the guild. Onyx shows up sometime later and gets swindled by known Huckster Mercer Frey. She joins the thieves guild but isn't a good thief whatsoever. This is a swordsman who fights dragons.. she is incapable of silence. Her pàpà was a nord, her màmà was an imperial. Ya girl has some Big Genes and No Elf. Probably all she wants is a real family

Stay with me. This is my cccrazy catgirl Bearer of the Curse yes this is a dark souls oc... :/ she doesnt have ACTUAL CAT EARS I just think I'm funny and this picrew had them. Her name is Rown her nickname is the Silvercat. Known thief and pickpocket. She is a sorcery user who only knows Stupid Spells like Yearn and Flash Sweat and Chameleon (her personal fave) but turning into a vase isnt really going to work against Nashandra so either Rowan gets the Most help ever or shes turning into cat ground beef. Shes got a toxic friendship with Creighton the Wanderer. white-haired gang rise up

This is my dao boy cannagan I dont have anything bcus I have 37 minutes played in this game so far. He is a gay city boy elf rogue. Thats all I have. And this picrew of him in a hoodie. Hes a cutie. He would want to be a nascar driver if he was real and he wouldnt be able to so hed try drag racing strangers in his 2013 Honda Civic with custom rims and a $100 flame wrap. He has 13 speeding tickets. Would rather do Anything than admit out loud to being gay. Here is my fun fact: cannagan as a name has greek origins that mean Wolf Pup.

[catboygirljoker]

Genuinely curious; you got any headcanons for like random eccentricities/foibles for the Org13 or anyone else?

regrettably most of my headcanons tend to be on a broader characterization/thematic level, ideas about how characters relate to each other and the world and themselves. the droves and droves of hyperspecific headcanons i have about xigbar are primarily from turning him over in my hands so many times trying to figure out what the Fuck is going On with him. i dont really get deep into the weeds of little details until i feel i have a strong idea of who a character is as a person

i have got a random grab bag of headcanons here for ya, though i think theyre not exactly what you had in mind. i tried to avoid mentioning xigbar as much as possible because if i didn't it'd just turn into a xigpost.

in order from mostly a joke to more serious and thought out:

dark riku is a teenage reddit atheist type who disguises his discomfort with swearing by claiming that people only swear if their vocabularies arent big enough to come up with something smarter to say. vanitas is an undiagnosed untreated unsupported AuDHD problem child who swears every other word and plays with lighters and knives. they cant be left alone in a room with each other because they Will try to kill each other.

there have been way more organization members than we've seen, like, maybe there were originally 13 org members. axel just killed all the others so saix would rise in the ranks. the only people we see in the org either dont pose a threat or are taken out as soon as they do. everyone always asks "how is demyx in the org if he's so lazy?" when the answer is that he survived because he's lazy.

(xigbar is the one exception in that he's definitely a threat, but he's frustratingly difficult to blackmail or kill or otherwise neutralize. xaldin is a follower more than a leader and dedicated to his duties; lexaeus the same. vexen doesnt want power, hes just here for science, he just wants funding. demyx ive mentioned. luxord's just here to play poker. and well we see what happens to the rest.)

saix directly modeled himself after xemnas and is as devoted to him as axel is to saix. i feel like if you compare isa's hair in bbs to his hair in 2+, you can make the argument that saix has styled his hair to resemble xemnas's. in 3 we see him in full berserk mode standing obediently at xemnas's heel without budging an inch as he watches his best friend get hurt.

(worth noting that i imagine we are meant to understand that saix is just, like, a good employee, he wants power in the org so he works hard to attain it and is obedient in pursuit of that. i think there are even scenes were it seems like saix doesnt fully trust xemnas. but i like making it fucked up and dependent. sue me)

xemnas doesnt really feel like hes entirely there. you look into his eyes and its like hes looking a little past you. hes a shell of a shell of a shell, the nobody of a botched possession who had vague experiments done on him. all he seeks and all he cares about is kingdom hearts and he barely remembers why. the only time he's actually present or displays any concrete personality or will is when he's exerting that will over someone. contrast the spacey floatiness of any of his long-winded monologues with how suddenly laser-focused he is on destroying axel in 3.

i made a post where i reference the platonic threefold structure of the soul [boo hiss]—if xemnas is just the Head and Belly, divested from the chest, nothing but pure carnal hunger for kingdom hearts and the higher logical means of attaining it, ansem SoD is just the Chest, the irrational emotional yearning for kingdom hearts. thats why he has nothing to do with the org or xemnas, he's kind of a rogue element doing his own thing. since he's the inverse of xemnas, the two of them cant work together, the same way you couldnt play a chess game with a rabid dog

anyway thank you foibles anon ! i hope you like this post anyway even if im sure its not what you expected

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Hi!

I'm meandering through all the great BG3 fanfics and just finished Feeding Alligators. I'm up to date on WSWB and as a treat I devoured Stuffing yesterday.

I just wanted to say....

You're a bombshell of a writer. Gobsmacked. Frothing at the mouth here.

You gave me all the feels. Pangs of yearning to continue reading when I had to put FA down for silly things like sleeping and working.

And together with Bard and Rogue are Friends by @abigailmoment your magnum opus is my favourite (look, I can't choose which I love more, I always sucked at that).

I never really cared for other people's OCs much, let alone shipping them with the game characters.

Eleanor and Tav from @abigailmoment though...

I LOVE THEM

:3

🥹🥹🥹 holy crap, thank you so much. I’m so, so glad it means something to you. I love that I found this game and this community, and that I can give back some of the fun everyone here gives me. 💜

Edit: omg, I LOVE Rogue and Bard are friends, it’s so good!

[classpectingcaxy]

so i have this character im obsessed with but ive been having trouble classpecting her, can you help? she grows up with an excess of void in the way of being ignored and forgotten (because her brother is a thief of light and stole the attention), so she ends up idolizing the inverse (light) and has to learn to make peace with the fact that she isn't a light player and she just needs a balance. also she does kill and replace the god of secrets and deception if you wanna take that into account. tysm!!

Oooh, thank you for this! This is a good exercise in my ability to classpect. Hmm...

Analysis below the cut!

An excess of an Aspect makes me think they are a Prince, Rogue, Mage, Heir, or Seer.

Note, if you subscribe to the "Gendered Classes" idea, you're GOING to disagree with my analysis here because the only "Female" Class in the list is Seer, and the only "Non-Gendered" Class in the list is Rogue.

I do not subscribe to the "Gendered Classes" idea, as it limits ALL players to the "nearest" Class to their personality rather than the ACCURATE Class to their personality, in the case of females who align more with the archetypes of "Male" Classes like Knight, Prince, Mage, or Heir, or in the case of males who align more with the archetypes of "Female" Classes like Seer, Sylph, Witch, or Maid.

The game is clearly set in such a way that the Class directly aligns with the personality of the player, which implies that biological sex and gender identity have no bearing on Class selection, but rather it is entirely personality based, meaning male or male-identifying individuals can be Witches or Sylphs, and female or female-identifying individuals can be Knights or Mages.

With that said, let's move on.

Idolizing their inverse, or actively seeking/yearning for, the opposite of their Aspect means they tend to mitigate their Aspect. So an excess that they actively try to reduce...

Prince or Rogue, then, as Destroyer or Distributor.

That brings us to her "quest" which you've stated as being to recognize she isn't, and will never be, a Light player and must find the balance.

This is the deciding factor, and it is 100% a Prince's quest.

Which brings us to Aspect. You mention Void, specifically, and mention that she kills and replaces the god of secrets and deception.

This makes it very, very tricky, because one of the possibilities here goes against something earlier, but could actually lend itself well to the story all the same.

They may be a Prince of Void, but they could just as easily be a Prince of Light.

Allow me to explain.

A Prince of Light Destroys Light or destroys by using Light, and these things are, most often, their active choices. They choose to destroy Light and it's concepts, resulting in nothing but Void remaining. By destroying knowledge, truth, attention, and fortune, they leave nothing behind but lies, secrecy, deception, and such.

By Destroying Light, they create Void, and if their personality is to idolize Light and it's Aspects, it would mean their powers, their very nature, goes AGAINST that idolization, as the very thing they crave is the one thing they can never create, never cause.

Their efforts to act like a Light player, their efforts to BE a Light player, trying so hard to forge it, obtain it, change it, create it, would be the very actions that would Destroy it, leading to their Classing as a Prince.

This would also explain their replacing the God of Secrets and Deception. Who better to do so than one who is destined to leave behind nothing BUT Secrets and Deception, through the active destruction of Revelation and Truth?

This would mean her quest is not so much to accept that she isn't a Light player and never will be, but rather to accept that she is destined to be a Destroyer of Light.

However, if you would like to maintain the original Quest you mentioned, then the only remaining option is to be a Rogue of Void, like our own Roxy Lalonde, gathering Void from every source they can and distributing it for the sake of protecting or benefitting those around them.

This would serve the original Quest well, as they would bear an excess of Void, struggle with learning to accept their role as a Void player, and their Quest being to accept not only being Void, but also that they will never serve any of the roles of a Light player, fits well with the Rogue's usual Quest of recognizing and accepting the value of their Aspect and learning to accept it not only for themselves, but accepting that it's okay to have it and to share it in kind, rather than seeing it as an inherently negative force.

Conclusion

A Prince of Light or Rogue of Void would both fit, for different reasons.

If you would like to keep the Void player aspect, Rogue of Void fits incredibly well, if not perfectly, and if you're interested in a different angle on the story, a Prince of Light fits almost perfectly.

Feel free to reblog this, or even simply send in a second Ask, if you want me to re-evaluate this! Any additional information may help me hit more accurately if this isn't to your liking!