#rogue fics

[therogueheart]

Dear Doppler

Its a doppler.

Its about time they tried this trick, honestly. Jaskier would've thought it would be the first damn page of the book. Kidnap him, rough him up a little, have 'Geralt' swoop in and save him.

That there's a Geralt in the doorway at all is a dead giveaway its a doppler, but the creature also didn't get quite get the shade of Geralt's eyes right.

Aureolin. But Geralt's eyes are somewhere between lemon and gold.

Its been... Months? Seven Hells, maybe even years. Jaskier's hair threatens to kiss the dimple on his smile line now. Its probably been years.

It feels like its been years.

"Jaskier. You're alive."

"Disappointed?" he asked blithely. Geralt had said that before, way back when. Just before he made that godforsaken wish and ground up what remained of Jaskier's bleeding heart.

"So what brings you to my humble abode?" he continued, cutting off whatever the doppler might've thought to say next.

"We need your help."

He barked a laugh and let his head loll, staring up at the stone above.

"Ahh, wow. Okay. You're good. That is definitely why Geralt would bother to be here. 'We need your help'. Fantastic."

When he looked down 'Geralt's' mouth was a thin line, wary stare tinged with confusion and concern.

"Jaskier, its me. I'm here."

"Oh, how I've closed my eyes and heard you say that in a thousand ways over a thousand days," Jaskier sighed, rubbing at his mouth. "You've told me you're sorry. You're here to take me away. My personal favorite is when you tell me you've missed me. That one keeps me going for a few days afterwards, silly little words that they are."

"Jask--"

"Don't."

He shifted, let his gaze drop. "It was a good attempt, I'll hand you that. You even got the crease between his brows right. But there's one fatal flaw in your grand design, dear doppler."

Silence for a time, and then, so softly;

"What's that?"

He smiled.

"Geralt would never come for me."

[fanfictionalrogue]

I just realise the next review i'll post will be the number 50 and I want to pick a really good fic but I don't know which one to choose, there are really awesome fics out there!!

Any suggestions?

[therogueheart]

In the End; its Buck

In the end, its Buck.

Its always Buck, in some way or another. Buck; the puzzle piece that fit against him perfectly, filling in all those hollow spaces Shannon had left behind. Buck; a lifeline Eddie was left to drown without.

Buck who saves his kid. Buck who saves him. Buck who steers him unerringly towards safety like a beacon pointing home.

No. The beacon is home.

Buck is home.

In the end, its Buck that means Eddie's head breaks above the water for the first time since he came home from the battlefield. In the end, its Buck who says;

"I've been Ana."

And Eddie thinks; what if Buck was Ana?

And the answer is simple. They'd never be here. Because Eddie can hurt Ana but he can't hurt Buck. Because loving Ana is an ideal, but loving Buck is a reality.

Eddie's with Ana because she's good with Christopher; but there's always someone better with Christopher. Because Ana reads him bedtime stories and cooks him dinner and helps him with his homework but there's always been someone who does that already.

Because Eddie thinks about not loving Buck and realises there's never been a moment in his life he's not wanted Buck there. In the end, its Buck, because Buck says; "I've been Ana." And Eddie thinks; "I've never not loved you back."

A ready made family isn't what he wants because he's got a family. Not one from a glossy magazine cover; momdadsonpictureperfecthappy. He's got a family because Buck walked away like Shannon did but he came back when Shannon didn't. Because Buck left to come back and Shannon just left.

In the end, its Buck. Buck who breaks up with Taylor and shrugs when asked and says; "I was trying to find something I didn't realise I already had."

In the end, its Buck, who says; "I love you too." When Eddie says; "Its always been you."

In the end; its Buck.

[therogueheart]

There’s an almost menial methodology to it.

Greetings either bland and disinterested, round-edged and suggestive or borderline baring of the teeth. Shake so many hands your elbow begins to creak and smile so often your face feels affixed that way.

Set your sights on a girl. Choose wisely. You’re a predator; but the fruit is ripe for the picking and the prey are hobbled by tight dresses and heels that will hurt when she inevitably wraps her legs around your waist.

Catch their eye -

(They’re already looking at you anyway.)

- and smile. Approach.

Hook, line and sinker.

Your exit is obvious. Lewd winks at old men who make your skin crawl but sexual prowess is a pillar of the Good Old Boys and you need their favor on your next proposal.

You hold the door of whatever fancy sportscar you chose for the night that you’re only going to drive this once and usher her in, because you’re a playboy and a whore but you’re a gentleman somewhere between those.

She flirts in the car. Puts her hand on your thigh and with a paradoxical innocent flutter of her lashes wonders how well you could drive if she were to lean over the centre console and swallow you down.

(You grit your teeth and resist the urge to berate her. Stark men are made of iron, boy, you can still hear him say. You can’t afford to feel. You can’t afford to acknowledge how many times you wake up with wet eyes, they died in a car crash echoing like tinnitus. Ever present. Ignorable until you’re alone in the dark and the silence with nothing to outcompete it.)

Take her home. Fuck her. Have someone collect her like a couriered parcel and tell her with a lopsided, empty grin that you won’t call.

Rinse. Repeat.

Tony Stark is a line of code designed to operate on a loop.

Billionaire; playboy; genius; philanthropist.

(War criminal. Orphan. Whore. Drunkard.)

Stark men are made of iron, boy.

(How proud would he be to know you fit the mold? That you’re parts inside a meatsuit, broken and cracked and welded together to masquerade as a person.)

Menial methodology can be lethal. The safety of routine breeds fatality.

Predator becomes prey.

You miss things. Attention becomes a luxury and you’re suddenly too broke to pay the bill.

Stark men are made of iron, boy.

(You don’t know how true that is. Not yet. You will.)

[xevg]

I´ve  been wondering how many of you would like a Tumblr about reccommendation of fanfiction for Rogue/Romy/Rogue-other ships? I know here is the awesome and all mighty rogueslove that is the answer of all our questions about The sassy brawler, but I think all the known/unknown Rogue fic writers deserve special attention Please let me know what do you think about this.