ally's cave

I'm moving!

2009-06-19T18:04:15Z

I finally decided to do something about this horrible username of mine- so I'm moving my personal journal to a different account. Yes, all you NYC people with your awesome names have gotten to me. I'm getting all insecure.

So from this day forwards, my non fanfic related stuff will all be over at tenet_nosce.livejournal.com. If you're a friend on this account, please add me over there too! :)

Sincerely,

allyg1990

Who's a WINNER?

2009-06-19T16:44:08Z

Me, of course. ^.^ I won the 'Tea' category of a photography competition. Yay me!

Fortune Cookie Wisdom...

2009-06-19T12:26:44Z

Today we headed out of school to Noodle Bar for lunch, and as usual, we were presented with some fortune cookies at the end of the meal. Mine advised me 'Don't pass up once in lifetime offer' [sic] but my favourite was my friend Clara's:

'One should live life like a duck:
Calm and unruffled on the surface but paddling like hell underneath!'

Writer's Block: Local Favorite

2009-06-19T08:51:42Z

What's your favorite thing to show out-of-town guests when they come to visit?

Submitted By mercyb

View 502 Answers

Waaay too much to detail in one post... but here are a few key things I like to show people if they come to stay with me:

1) Ephesus! An incredibly important ancient city and port, it's built almost totally from marble and features famous structures such as an ampitheatre and the Celsus library. The highlight of a trip there is almost definitely the ancient toilets!

2) The Virgin Mary's house. This is a little house converted to a chapel where she supposedly lived. There's also a special spring with four taps, the first three giving 'Health, Wealth and Wisdom' to anyone who drinks from them. Although to my knowledge it's unnamed, I like to refer to the fourth fountain as 'Love'.

3) The Bostanli Pazari. It's a pretty big bazaar that's fully functional: real people shop there, not tourists. A wide variety of clothes, household items, makeup, jewellery and food is sold there, and I love trawling for bargain graphic tees. You can even find stuff from H&M and Zara among other brands, because they sell the excess at very low prices- 10 YTL (like £3) for a sundress! On Wednesdays we get up at around 7 and catch an 8 o clock ferry across the bay where we eat simits with foil wrapped triangle cheese and drink hot, sugary Turkish tea.

4) Kemeralti. This is a 'covered bazaar' consisting of tons of permanent shops selling everything from teacups to beads to silver jewellery- pretty much wholesalers. Once or twice we've taken guests to a huge bead store called 'Ege Boncuk' for a beading lesson, and I often get silver chains and charms as birthday presents for people.

5) Esek Adasi: Donkey Island. We sometimes sail out for the weekend and spend the night anchored there. It's called Donkey Island because it's home to a protected herd of donkeys, and let me tell you, they're living pretty well. When I was younger they had a hand pump and relied on people feeding them leftovers. Now they have solar powers and a wind pump. NIiice. Anyway, it's great for swimming, and I love diving for sea urchin shells- My record is seven and a half metres without flippers! *takes a bow*

6) Sifne: Home to mud baths and hot springs, this is always a fun outing. You scoop up mud from a trough and slather it on, and after it dries you wash it off with nice hot water. Your skin goes seriously soft! Then you jump into a heated pool, and just when you thought it couldn't get any hotter there's a a jacuzzi too! (Well, at the place we go to. I can't vouch for anywhere dodgy. They might have a hole in the ground you jump into and a heated kiddy pool or something. Eeek!)

7) My house, of course. Because there's no place like home!

Writer's Block: I Can Relate

2009-06-18T18:48:24Z

What fictional character do you most identify with?

View 508 Answers

I don't think that there is one I truly identify with. I mean, I've never come across a wildly talkative x-men loving geeky writing/photography enthusiast.

Maybe Janie (Janey?) from that awesome fictionpress story, Hiring a Hooligan. She certainly was odd enough for me to relate to. :)

Writer's Block: Set the Scene

2009-06-16T08:04:51Z

Empty parking garages, roadside motels, dark caves, dank basements, overgrown forests—what kind of setting makes you feel nervous?

View 501 Answers

Any time I'm alone somewhere dark, whether it's on the third floor at home where the architect skillfully placed the light switch on the opposite end of the landing, (ten metres from my room!) or even in my dorm room when it's past midnight and my roommate has gone to the bathroom.

...okay, the dorm room thing is only because I just watched the Heroes episode where Angela Petrelli gets attacked. You would've thought that my roommate showing me various youtube videos of Milo Ventimiglia would have changed my mindset before bedtime, but nooo. I just stayed freaked out. (And woke up at five because I was worried about my upcoming chemistry paper, but that's another story.)

Blogs I follow

2009-06-15T20:05:02Z

The kinds of blogs that I follow fall mainly into three main categories: Photography (because I don't own any how-to books), Writing/Publishing (because it'd be stupid to start querying one day without knowing anything about it) and FOOD.

Yes, I require food porn on a daily basis. Let's just say that I'm in a situation where I don't often get good food, and sites like Pioneer Woman help to get my drooling self through to the next time I see my mother.

PHOTOGRAPHY:

Digital Photography School
Yanik's Photo School

WRITING/PUBLISHING:

Editorial Ass
Editorial Anonymous
Book Ends LLC
Guide to Literary Agents
Jackie Kessler- Cat and Mouse
Pub Rants
Mysterious Matters
The Intern
The League of Reluctant Adults
The Anonymati
Janet Reid

FOOD RELATED:

Pioneer Woman (this woman posts amazing step by step recipes accompanied by photos. Go look. And drool.)
Bakerella (Cupcakes? Popsicles? She's got 'em all!)

(And yup, you guessed it- I'm still tired. And hungry.)

Hmm...

2009-06-15T18:51:40Z

I've noticed that 90% of my LJ posts (including this one) are accompanied by the mood 'tired'.

...I must really need some sleep.

A Change of Mood

2009-06-10T18:09:57Z

You may have noticed that my page has changed color. Or not. Because I don't think anyone actually reads this. Meh. Anyways, the change of color does kind of reflect my change of mood. I'm feeling mellow at the moment, maybe because of the weather. I need summer to actually arrive in this drainpipe of a country and bring me some sunshine. I dug up a poem I wrote about that a couple of weeks ago: I guess I'll share it with y'all right now.

English springtime

Is a cruel imitation of winter.

The sun that shines so brightly at home

Is shrouded by British clouds,

And the air weighs you down,

Chokes you, forces out every last bit

Of sun-fuelled joy.

I wake up more tired than I was

Before I fell asleep,

Roused not by the cock’s crow,

But by the dull thud of raindrops on the roof.

Is a little sunshine too much to ask for?

Would it kill Britannia

To throw a poor foreigner a bone?

It is not, it seems, her nature to grant favors

And so I sit, oppressed by gloom

Cursing British rain.

Writer's Block: Get It to Go

2009-06-08T13:07:16Z

What's your favorite thing to order for takeout (or takeaway)?

View 500 Answers

Before Zenzeni's shut down- Thai Green Curry. Now we have to go collect from Yo Sushi, so I'm going to be super boring and say Miso Soup. Even if it does leak all over the place.

Writer's Block: Regrets Only

2009-06-05T08:43:56Z

Do you think that animals feel regret?

View 500 Answers

Nope. If they did, my cat probably wouldn't keep trying to poke holes in my favourite t-shirts. And my dog wouldn't have chewed off all the buttons off of my dad's shirts when he kicked him off the bed... then again, that was probably revenge.

WHOAH. (Bear with me on the upcoming psychoanalysis, okay?)

2009-05-28T07:35:25Z

220,628 words.

That's how much fanfiction I've written in the last year and seven months.

That's eleven thousand words per month. Shoot, if I got off my lazy bum and did it, I could write a novel in eight months. (Though the lack of reviews might kill me. I'm a sucker for reviews.)

I'm averaging at around 35,000 words per story, and my newest, Behind Enemy Lines, is about halfway through and at 37,000 words. This one's going to be one colossal beast indeed. It's beaten out my all-time most popular, Unforgiveable Crime, by a thousand words already. This seven page per chapter rule is really helping!

On the downside, though, BEL hasn't beaten out UC on the review front. Yet. But I can 100% understand why: It's not quite as interesting.

I mean, which sounds more interesting:

BEL: He had been abandoned twice by the age of ten: first as a child, on the streets of New Orleans. The second time around it was her who abandoned him, but by the time he had found his friend, she had joined the enemy.

or,

UC: In Rogue’s lifetime, many crimes had been committed against her. They had something in common with the main feature of her daily life: they all lacked the element of touch. Until now.

Darn. I need to work on my summaries. And there IS a reason why Jodi Picoult is so succesful- she's controversial. But hey, once the BEAST has been finished, I can start on my exciting (for me!) new one:

A fic tentatively titled 'Courting Disaster', set in an alternate universe where mutants are accepted and North America is a monarchy. It's set in a previous century-esque time period, but I'm not doing old-style language, because, frankly, I'm not all that great at it.

It stars the young Countess Anna-Marie 'Rogue' of Caldecott, only daughter of the late Duke and Duchess of Mississippi, who welcomes her doom to remain unmarried for life because of her mutation. Enter Remy, the newly instated Baron of New Orleans and second son of Marquis Jean-Luc of Louisiana, who happens to catch the young countess by her bare hand after he nearly sends her crashing down a flight of steps. Bound by her father's will to marry the first man she can touch, Rogue must marry Remy, or both she and her guardian (Duke Logan of Alberta) will be prosecuted by the young King Scott for dishonering a dead man's final wish. Facing the possibility of marriage to a swamp rat (and the prospect of an awkward wedding night!) Rogue tries to evade the union in any way she can, causing a load of trouble along the way. AU, Romy, Loro, minor Kurtty friendship/romance.

Maybe not all that original- though I've never read one like it before - but I have a feeling it's going to be fun.
Much more fun than the classic cookie-cutter 'Escaping the Past'. I look back on that and kind of cringe. No, I look back on my OC fics and cringe. I'm taking those down with my next update (and once I've copied all the reviews, as I love you guys!), because looking like a total N00B is something I try to avoid at all costs.

And oneshots... how can I start on the oneshots? I refuse to really acknowledge 'How Breaking Dawn was all Emmett's fault' as a labour of love, because it simply wasn't. It was a weird, post-reading high induced sprig of randomness, and somehow it did very well. I had no idea I could be funny. 0_o

Likewise with 'A Good Kind of Weird', for the Maximum Ride fandom. That was a bit of a 'WTH, people actually like this?' moment. But anyways, back to my true love: X-Men Evolution.

I wrote my first crackfic recently- 'Is this the way to Bayville, New York?', inspired, bien sur, by 'Is this the way to Amarillo?'. I was listening to that on repeat and thought, 'AHA! That girl's name is Marie. Who else do I know who's called Marie? Hnnnh....hnnh.... *wipes sweat off her brow*.... EUREKA! It's ROGUE!'

And I felt kinda proud of it, proud that there was another way I could make people laugh than just tripping up the stairs.

Then my two little angsty ones, who I am actually really really proud of- 'Till Death do Us Part' and 'Rogue Was Here'. You see, I am not at all an angsty person. I quite like bubblegum pop and country music. I don't wear black. I frequently run around my house singing and doing crazy dance moves. So the fact that I somehow managed to make my very stoic beta feel slightly depressive made me very, very pleased.

Okay, I wasn't pleased that she wasn't happy, but you get my drift.

So all in all, this has been a good year and seven months for me. And it's all down to YOU. Yes, you, my fantabulistic readers and reviewers. I appreciate you guys more than you can imagine, and if it wasn't for you and your encouragement and occasional crit (about the crit, please, BRING IT ON!) I wouldn't have persevered, and I'd still be the rubbishly, SPAG-problem infested, plotholed writer I was when I started this thing. And you guys- you guys have made me halfway decent.

A humongous thank you goes out to my wonderful wonderful beta, mspotts, who was beta-ing for me long before she joined fanfiction.net. Again, most of the series of improvements I've gone through are down to her. *claps* Love you lots, mspotts! (I'm a poet and I know it.)

And in the end, just...thanks, guys. Thanks a lot. :)

Sincerely,

allyg1990

Writer's Block: Look at Me/Don't Look at Me

2009-05-17T08:27:26Z

Do you seek attention or hide from it?

Submitted By novarr

View 501 Answers

I guess I seek attention... just not in a creepy way like the weird kids in junior high who trail behind you saying 'I have type 8 diabetes....I have a pig's heart.... I have to take vitamin pills or I will die... the only food I can safely have is water....'

Yeah, I actually met one of those. I guess I like being paid attention to: I'm not a sit-in-the-corner-with-the-ipod-turned-on-max-volume kinda of person. Quite the opposite, actually. I've been told I'm rather verbose. :)

Writer's Block: You Ate What?

2009-05-16T09:12:38Z

What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten? Would you eat it again?

View 501 Answers

Seaweed and milk chocolate. When I was pretty small my Dad travelled to Japan and Switzerland on the same trip and upon his arrival back home set down a pack of Nori and handful of swiss chocolates in front of me. My poor confuzzled mind couldn't work out what to eat first so I promptly wrapped the chocolate in seaweed and scarfed it down.

Would I eat it again? Yeah, I would. It had this weird sweet/salty agra-dolce thing going on, and actually tasted pretty good.

Writer's Block: Word for Word

2009-05-14T19:17:34Z

How many (if any) songs do you know by heart? What are they?

View 504 Answers

Tons and tons. I have a weirdly good memory for remembering songs- I can remember stuff I used to sing when I was about five and all sorts of hymns from school chapel. Though I tend to mess the words up occasionally. :)

Friction, a Wolverine and the X-Men fanfiction

2009-05-12T21:18:34Z

Author: allyg1990

Title: Friction

Summary: For andthexmen’s Off-Season Fic Off #3

Rating: K+

Pairing: Rogan friendship

Warnings: My first fic for Wolverine and the X-Men, therefore probably very OOC.

Disclaimer: Marvel owns everything

It was one forty-five in the morning when Rogue twisted the door handle and snuck out of the room. She pushed the door closed painfully slowly and winced when it clicked shut. Then she crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the one squeaky step that would make the whole operation a failure. The door was suddenly in plain sight—she was home free! She tiptoed towards those mahogany gates of freedom with her trench coat billowing around her ankles…

The floorboards creaked behind her and she froze. Now that her coat wasn’t rustling she could hear slow, steady breaths behind her. Another creak, softer this time, as whoever was behind her shifted their weight from foot to foot.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, Rogue?”

She sighed when she realised who it was, half in relief and half in annoyance that she’d been caught. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly easy to sneak out from under the nose of someone with enhanced senses.

“Out,” she replied, and shoved her gloved hands deep into her coat pockets. Time stood still for a split second as she braced herself for the tongue lashing that was sure to come.

Funnily enough, Logan’s voice came out sceptical. “At two in the mornin’?”

She shrugged. “Ah couldn’t sleep.”

He snorted. “Right,” he muttered, and she heard him take a step forward. His hand pressed down on her shoulder and she let him turn her around. Under his reproachful stare she drew herself up a little taller and raised her eyebrows in challenge, looking him straight in the eyes.

He mimicked her action and let his hand drop to his side. “If you can’t sleep, you can watch a movie or grab a snack or somethin’. You don’t go sneakin’ out, especially when I told you not to this mornin’.”

She scowled. “Ah ain’t a little girl anymore, Logan. You can’t tell meh what to do.”

A grin tugged on the corners of Logan’s mouth, and it sent fire bubbling through Rogue’s stomach. “My team, my rules.”

“Your team?” she shot back, maybe a little more forcefully than she should have.

“I’m team leader,” he corrected without missing a beat. “So for the time being, what I say goes. Now, you’ve got thirty seconds to explain why you were disobeying a direct order.”

Her expression soured. What right had he to—but she really didn’t want a solid month of extra training sessions, so she ‘fessed up.

“Fahne. Ah haven’t been outta this place in two weeks, and it’s gettin’ a little cramped. Ah just wanted tah clear mah head, get some air…”

“If you wanted to get out so badly, you could have asked to go with Ororo, or Kitty—heck, even Bobby would be better than goin’ alone,” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes. “Did it ever occur to yah that ah ain’t fond of Storm’s motherin’, Kitty won’t leave well enough alone, and ah’d rather get bitten by a gator than spend more than thirty seconds with the popsicle?”

He didn’t smile. He might have before the explosion, she realized with a pang of sadness, but this was a whole new ball game. “Safety takes priority over havin’ fun, Rogue. You know that. Chuck’s dependin’ on us to—”

“The Professah isn’t stuck behind locked doors, and he doesn’t have to deal with people screamin’ at him twenty four seven inside his own head!” she hissed.

“If you’ve got a problem with your psyches, you can talk to Jean,” Logan said sensibly. She frowned harder, and he sighed. “Look, Rogue, you’re my responsibility—”

“Ah’m not your responsibility!” she spat. “Ah forgave you, Logan. You forgave meh, and you took me in again—let me re-join the X-Men. That doesn’t make meh your daughter. It makes meh your teammate. So quit treatin’ meh like ah’m made of glass. Ah can take care of myself.”

He froze, and she took a deep, angry breath before delivering the final punch:

“Ah did well enough when you were gone, didn’t ah?”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode towards the door. It slammed behind her in unison with the thunder, and the lightning that followed cast her silhouette onto the grass outside. In a few minutes Wolverine would run to wake Jean up and have her track the southern girl until she came back in the morning, but Rogue didn’t know that.

When she turned to take one last look at her home, all she could see was Logan standing dumbstruck in front of the window, watching her leave with the look of a man who had just had his heart torn out.

Writer's Block: Grab and Go

2009-04-06T20:16:37Z

Scenario: For exactly 1 minute, you get access to all the databases of all the intelligence agencies in the world (CIA, FBI, KGB, MI-5, etc). What do you want to find out before time is up and you're caught and jailed forever?

View 503 Answers

I'd look up the password, so next time I hack in there's no chance of me getting caught. ;)

Enough with the Roaccutane horror stories...

2009-04-03T12:55:43Z

Seriously. Whenever people ask what I'm taking and I tell them it's Roaccutane, they come out with 'Oh! But won't that damage your brain/give you depression/stunt your growth?"

Um, no.

Sure, there have been cases of this kind of thing, but minimal on the physical effects and nothing seriously proven with the depression thing. I mean, my dermatologist has never seen this in any of her own patients, and they aren't sure about the people who were supposedly affected. She showed me pictures of the kind of acne those patients have, and it's clear why they aren't sure that the depression was caused by the Roaccutane. Rather, it might just have been caused by having acne that was so severe.

And then I saw something today that really ticked me off-- some randomer is saying that Roaccutane should be banned because it gives babies birth defects.

I have issues with this. For one, in most countries they make you go on birth control so this won't happen. Not where I am (though other people I know have been made to), but I think that was mainly because I go to an all girls school and don't have a party-party social life. Sure, accidents happen, but less than 1% of the time.

If you complete the full dose of this medication-- and many people don't because the side effects (e.g. skin dryness, increased breakouts for a while) get too bad to live with (luckily I've only had the dryness and very mild occasional back pain)-- there's a 94% cure rate. 94% of people get almost no acne ever again. It's a mind-boggling prospect.

And it's only really prescribed if you have no other options. I tried everything from dial soap to proactive (which did nothing) to dermatologically prescribed skin creams and antibiotics, and then I was given this option because although my acne isn't terrible (makeup helps), it won't go away by itself and it's likely to leave a lot of scarring if something isn't done.

I can't say that it's effective just yet-- I still have zits, but the blackheads I thought had taken up permanent residence in my nose have now departed, and that's something I haven't had in four years.

Anything that can get rid of acne for good is a blessing. For those of us who aren't the most self confident people out there, acne can make you feel seriously insecure and horrible about yourself in general. And it's not just the appearance-- it hurts like hell, too. Not to mention the way it affects your lifestyle. (and no, i'm not talking about what you eat-- that's an urban myth. People who eat greasy foods just touch their faces with grease, leading to more zits. That's the only way diet affects acne, though drinking water does help.) You can't sleep on your stomach, you generally have to slather on more makeup than most people, and some people even change their pillowcase every day.

I can only imagine how it must be for guys. 0_0

[/rant]

Is this the way to Bayville, New York?

2009-04-01T17:46:15Z

CRASH.

St. John Allerdyce looked up from his lighter into the red-on-black eyes of Remy LeBeau, the thief’s crimson irises burning more brightly than usual. Like foire... he mused, but snapped out of it when Remy threw himself onto the couch.

“What’s got yer knickers in a twist, mate?” the Aussie inquired, but Remy cut him off with a sharp glare. “Aah, it’s that sheila of yours, ain’t it?”

John nodded to himself when Remy ignored him. “Did she blank ya again?”

The floodgates burst; Remy leapt to his feet, steam all but gushing out of his ears.

“Oui! She did! An’ y’ know what? I can’t take it anymore! It used t’ be fun, like a challenge or somet’in’, but now it’s damned irritatin’! I mean, I’m Remy LeBeau! She is a femme! She’s meant t’ be throwin’ herself at m’ feet, but here I am slaverin’ like a puppy dog t’ get de girl t’ invite me t’ her birt’day party, an’ she still says no.”

John contemplated this for a moment. “Ya were droolin’? That ain’t nice, mate.”

“Of course I wasn’ droolin’,” the Cajun snapped. “Remy LeBeau doesn’t drool.”

In response to this, Pyro shrugged. “Good ta know.”

Remy stared at his teammate, and then let his face fall into his hands.

“She t’inks ‘m jus’ chasin’ her,” he mumbled through his fingers. “I can’t get her t’ realize dat she ain’t jus’ a one night stand.”

“Aww, don’ cry, mate,” Pyro said good-naturedly as he dug around between the cushions of the sofa. “’ere, this’ll help yer. I think it’s Buckethead’s.”

Remy looked up for a split second, then grabbed the bottle of whisky. “T’anks,” he murmured as he popped the cork and swallowed a healthy dose.

The two men sat in silence for a moment, passing the bottle between them. Finally Remy burst out with, “S’not fair. What do normal hommes do t’ get deir femmes?”

“Sing to ‘em,” Pyro remarked absently. “Make ‘em laugh. It would bloody well help if I could get moiy sheila t’ laugh. Pretty as ‘er face is, she never even smiles.”

Remy took another gulp before passing the bottle to his friend. “Who, de Scarlet Witch? Good luck wit’ dat, mon ami.”

“Thanks, mate,” Pyro replied, too absorbed in his misery to realize that Remy was being sarcastic. Then a little light bulb flashed above his head and he jumped off of the couch. “That’s it! Paprika!”

Remy frowned, his senses a little muddled. “Don’t y’ mean Eureka?”

St. John waved away the correction. “Right. I jus’ gave meself the best piece of advice I’ve ever ‘ad. We gotta sing to our sheilas—sing ‘em somethin’ funny, and then they’ll be all over us like mice bitin’ cheese!”

“What I wouldn’ give f’r Rogue t’ bite me,” Remy muttered under his breath. Pyro smacked him.

“Don’t be indecent, mate! Come on, where’s yer sense of adventure? Darin’? Danger?”

“Danger’s right. Rogue’d slap me upside de head if I sang t’ her,” Remy shot back as he rubbed the red mark on his cheek. “An’ Wanda would hex y’ sorry behind out de nearest window.”

“It can’t hurt, can it?” Johnny replied reasonably, and extended the bottle. “Come on, Remy. Do ya love ‘er?”

“Non!” Remy said hastily, and Pyro gave him a knowing stare. “Okay, oui. But dat don’ mean ‘m gonna do some dumb song-and-dance routine.”

“It won’t be dumb,” Pyro assured the Cajun, stars flashing in his eyes. “It’s gonna be brilliant, mate. Brillianter than kangaroo boxin’. Brillianter than barbeques. Maybe even brillianter than forest fires.”

Remy gave him a blank look. “Is ‘brillianter’ a word?”

Pyro flapped a hand. “No worries. Let’s go find the tin-man, I know he’s been pinin’ over that cat-sheila. An’ Sabey on the keyboard makes a quartet!”

“Sabertooth don’t play de piano,” Remy pointed out. John shook his head.

“Yes ‘e does! An’ Magneto plays the clarinet, but that ain’t exactly useful for the song I’m thinkin’ of, so we’ll leave ‘im out this time around.”

Remy’s jaw dropped.

“Come on, mate, yer catchin’ flies. We gotta whole lotta plannin’ ta do and not very much time.”

With that he grabbed Remy’s hand and dragged him into the bowels of the Acolyte base, leaving the whiskey bottle forgotten and three-quarters empty.

***

Barely three hours later, all four Acolytes were standing outside the gate to the Xavier Institute, Pyro clutching an empty barrel, Sabretooth clutching a portable keyboard and Colossus clutching a stress ball. Remy, who had finished off the bottle of whiskey before they left the base was merely holding onto a lock pick, which hadn’t proved of any use so far seeing as the gates did not have a lock.

“Well, mes amis, I t’ink we gonna have t’ climb,” Remy concluded, a sorrowful tone to his voice.

“Just charge up the entry keypad, idiot,” Sabretooth grunted, immensely happy that Wolverine was out of town dealing with something. It was not his choice to be here, but he knew that Pyro’s threats of leaking candid videos of his more…err, cat-like behavior onto YouTube were very real. And no-one wants footage of them chasing a ball of yarn splashed all over the internet. It’s not good for your street cred.

Recognition sparked in Remy’s eyes.

“Bon idée, m’sieu,” he allowed, and touched a finger to the keypad. The metal glowed fuchsia and all four men took a big step back before it exploded into crackling confetti.

The gates creaked open, and they strode in. Remy being a thief, they managed to sneak in through the back door and into the living room before anyone noticed. However, as soon as the Acolytes stepped into the light Scott’s eyes snapped up from his enthralling conversation with Hank about danger room upgrades and he yelled, “X-Men! Assemble! We’re under attack!”

A gentle hand on his shoulder comforted him. “Scott, they aren’t here to attack us. Quite the opposite, actually. Just let them be.”

“But Jean, they’re the Acolytes!” Scott whined. Jean sighed.

“I know Scott, but believe me when I say that you will not want to miss this. It’s going to be so cute!”

Scott wrinkled his nose, and his face took on a bewildered puppy-dog expression. “Cute? Them? Jean, I think you’re—”

“I’m not delusional, Scott,” Jean reassured him patiently. “Do you trust me?”

“Jeee-ean—”

“Do you trust me?”

Green eyes met red visor and Scott slumped.

“Fine. They’ve got ten minutes.” He raised his voice. “Any funny business and I’m shooting you all the way to Timbuktu!”

“Mais Scooter, I bet y’ don’ even know where Timbuktu is,” Gambit replied, smooth as ever, as he helped Sabretooth set up the keyboard.

The other students of the Xavier Institute were far too busy staring at the Acolytes to bother being confused about their appearance; the girls gazing on in quiet appreciation, the boys in annoyance. Only three girls who were sitting at the back of the room even commented on the new arrivals.

“What’s that stupid swamp rat doing here?” Rogue nearly shrieked. “Ah told him he was not on mah guest list, and did he listen? No! He didn’t! What the heck does he think he’s doin’ crashin’ mah party!”

“Relax, Rogue,” Wanda Maximoff retorted, nudging her friend. “It was you who said this party was going to be the lamest event of the century. Maybe this’ll liven things up a little.”

“Did yah see who’s with him?” Rogue shot back. “That pyromaniac friend ‘o yours!”

Wanda blanched. “Hide me,” she whispered, and tried to stand behind Rogue.

“Stop it, Wanda! What’s so intimidatin’ ‘bout the guy anyway? Sure, he’s nuts, but—”

“Nuts I can handle,” Wanda hissed. “I’m not exactly sane myself. But he’s infatuated with me! He’s almost worse than Toad!”

“But waaaay better looking,” Kitty reminded Wanda as she sidled up to the two Goths. “Rogue, you didn’t tell me that you invited—”

“Ah did not invite the Cajun,” Rogue cried. Kitty grinned.

“I was like, going to say Colossus, but whatever. This party is totally shaping up.”

Back on stage, Remy had grabbed a microphone from somewhere, and was about to begin his speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, somet’in’ terrible happened dis mornin’,” he began in a rather pitiful voice. “I got rejected by ma chere for de hundred and twenty eighth time.”

“Wow, Rogue,” Kitty exclaimed. “He was keeping count too?”

A dead arm distracted Kitty more than words ever could.

“So,” Remy continued, “Us Acolytes got somet’in’ planned special real f’r our femmes—except Sabretooth, ‘cuz he ain’t got no femme. Al’dough I figure it ain’t so nice of us t’ crash Roguey’s party wit’ somet’in’ dat ain’t jus’ f’r her, I had trouble comin’ up wit’ de right words f’r ever verse, so Johnny and Petey said dey’d help me out.”

He flourished an arm towards the pianist. “Hit it, Victor.”

Sabretooth flushed scarlet, but clawed the keyboard nonetheless.

When the music started up, Rogue groaned and buried her face in Wanda’s sleeve.

“Kill meh now. Ah ain’t gonna last for the next three minutes.”

Wanda smiled a shaky smile as Remy cleared his throat and began.

“When de day is dawnin’

On a N’awlins Sunday mornin’

How I long t’ be dere

Wit’ sweet Marie who’s waitin’ f’r me dere,”

Rogue pulled her face up. “How does he know my name?!” she whispered as her eyes met the thief’s. He winked at her, and she turned red, half out of embarrassment, half out of anger.

“An’ every city—”

Pyro jumped in with a rather feminine ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing to punctuate Remy’s rather nifty random staff moves.

“Where I use m’ staff,

Ain’t half as pretty

as where m’ chere is a-at!

Is dis de way t’ Bayville, New York?

De more I wait de more bourbon I uncork

Dreamin’ dreams of Bayville, New York

An’ m’ cherie who waits for me.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM—”

Wanda didn’t know where Pyro got the barrel of oil he was using as an enormous drum,

and she definitely didn’t need to know where the contents went.

“—Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

An’ m’ cherie who waits f’r me.”

Kitty grinned as she glanced over at where Rogue was standing. She’d never seen her friend blush quite so hard before, especially not with all her layers of make-up on. But it wasn’t just her skin tone—Rogue was standing frozen on the floor, her eyes the size of dinner plates and her mouth open, half horrified, half pleasantly embarrassed.

“That was almost…cute of him to make a fool of himself for you,” Wanda remarked, her expression thoughtful. That woke Rogue up out of her daze.

“Ah wouldn’t get so sentimental, by the look of things yah’re up next.”

And sure enough, Pyro had grabbed the microphone. Wanda paled, but grinned when she saw that Remy was no longer on stage.

“Sure, but I think you’re in for a surprise too.”

Rogue frowned. “What do yah—”

“Bonjour, cherie.”

“Swamp rat!” she shrieked, jumping a foot in the air. “What the heck are you doin’ here? Ah told ya you weren’t invited!”

Remy smirked, his arms comfortably folded. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”

Rogue’s flush was now entirely angry, and she clenched her fists hard. “You have no idea how many ways ah’m gonna kill—”

“Shhh,” Remy hissed, and grabbed her covered shoulders to spin her around. “Y’ gon’ want t’ see dis.”

Rogue bit her tongue, because Pyro was on the verge of opening his mouth.

“There’s a church a-burnin’

Hear the song of citizens screamin’

For my dear sweet Sheila

And the bloke who’s comin’ ta see ‘er—”

Wanda’s terrified expression changed to bewildered. “Wow,” she whispered to Kitty, “He’s crazier than I thought he was.”

“Just beyond the highway!” Pyro crowed, clearly having the time of his life, until he nodded to Piotr to start the backup ‘ooing’. Unfortunately, Piotr returned his nod with a look that said ‘Hell to the no,’ so Pyro sang both parts, gasping for breath at the end of each line.

“Ooooooaaaaah,

There’s a zippo store

Ooooooaaaah,

And it keeps me goin’

Through the ragin’ sto-orms!”

Is this the way to Bayville, New York?

Every night I’ve been huggin’ moiy stuffed orc—”

“He has a stuffed orc?” Wanda cried. Remy shrugged.

“Oui. De t’ing’s called cuddles.”

“—dreamin’ dreams of Bayville, New York

And moiy Sheila who waits for me.”

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

And moiy Sheila who waits for me.”

“See, dat wasn’ so bad, was it?” Remy asked the Scarlet Witch, who was extremely pale and on the verge of collapsing. Wanda swallowed hard, and then closed her eyes.

“So, like, who’s next?” Kitty asked, her eyes glued to the stage.

Remy grinned. “Y’ are, p’tite.”

Well, Kitty was supposed to be—but when Johnny passed the Russian the microphone, the enormous man stood stock still on the stage.

“Mate, come on, what are ya doin’? This is getting embarassin’. Just do it!”

But it wasn’t John’s words that made him cough and then begin. It was Kitty’s face, half bewildered and half ecstatic, her eyes somehow finding his during that crucial moment.

“When the day is dawning

On a Russian Sunday morning

How I long to be there

With sweet Katya who’s waiting for me there.”

At that point it became too much. Piotr froze, his eyes wide with fear, and Pyro grabbed the mike, ad-libbing wildly.

“Through every city

He lugs ‘is oil paints

To paint his Kitty

‘cos she’s such a sa-aint!”

Kitty blushed hard, though it was plain to see that she was very, very pleased. Remy smiled at her expression, and then released Rogue.

“Desolee, cherie, but I’ve got to go.”

“Fahne!” Rogue spat, kind of secretly missing his presence, but he was already up on stage just in time for the chorus.

“Is this the way to Bayville, New York?

It’s been so long that I’m eyeing that carving fork—”

“Carving fork?” Rogue muttered in confusion. Remy shrugged on stage, and mouthed, “Knife wouldn’ fit.”

“—dreaming dreams of Bayville, New York

And my girl who waits for me.”

And, of course, Pyro couldn’t help snatching the mike for a solo.

“Show me the way to Bayville, New York!

I’ve been missin’ Wanda’s cute metal spork—”

“Spork?” Kitty and Rogue asked in unison. Wanda cringed and buried her face in her hands.

“It was a gift from Toad. Pyro likes playing games with it when he comes over. Like, find the spork. Try to melt the spork. See if the spork will conduct electricity if we stick it in a socket.”

The other girls nodded in understanding, though their confusion was far from dissolved.

“—crying over Bayville, New York

And moiy Sheila who waits for me!”

Even Piotr was game enough to join in for the next part.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

BOOM BOOM

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la—”

“An’ sweet Marie—”

“And moiy Sheila—”

“And Katya,” Piotr admitted, before they all joined together for the last line:

“Who waits for me!”

The students cheered; Scott succumbed to stress and crushed his plastic cup, sending juice all over the floor. The Acolytes bowed, and two of them promptly walked off their ‘stage’ and towards their girls.

“Oi! Wanda! Didja loike it?”

Wanda glared at him. “What the hell did you think you were doing? You’re lucky I’m not hexing your pathetic little ass right out the window!”

“She loves me,” John murmured under his breath. Unfortunately, Wanda heard him.

“You just went one step too far, sparky!” Blue energy crackled from her fingers, and true to her word, Wanda sent Pyro flying out the nearest window. Or through it, really, but what are details in the wider scope of life?

It was Kitty who rushed to the ‘stage’ to meet Piotr, who was standing red-faced in the corner.

“So…like…yeah. That was totally cute of you,” she mumbled, suddenly shy. Her words had an unforeseen effect as Piotr stood up a little straighter and even smiled.

“You were…liking this?”

“Yeah. I did.” Her eyes fell to the floor, but soon strong fingers lifted her chin back up.

“So, Katya,” Piotr chuckled, his fears erased, “What are you doing next weekend?”

By this time, Remy had made his way over to a certain southerner, walking with all the languid grace he used when he was either extremely confident or extremely scared.

“So, cherie, what did y’ t’ink?”

“It was awful,” Rogue spat out before she could stop herself, but Remy’s puppy dog look cracked her. “Fahne. It was okay. And it was nice of ya tah humiliate yahself fo’ meh.”

Remy stared. Rogue flushed.

“Don’t just stare at meh, you arrogant swamp—”

But he cut her off with his lips pressed to hers, his hands sliding around her waist and up around her shoulders to her neck. Rogue froze. What was he, crazy?!

Not that she was complaining. The feel of his lips was a heaven she’d never heard of before, and until the absorption set in a few seconds later, she could freely admit that she was enjoying herself.

Then it happened, and she stepped back with a choice word or two. Luckily Piotr was not too far away, and he sprinted over to catch his friend before he could hit the floor.

“Happy birt’day, Rogue,” Remy mumbled before he sank into unconsciousness.

Rogue lifted a finger to her lips. Was that her birthday present? Her first real kiss? If so, she wasn’t complaining. But there was Kitty shrieking, “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful,” and although the girl might have applied that word to a kiss, she was speaking in the present tense.

It was only then that she felt metal near her skin, and she glanced down to see a beautiful necklace around her neck, thin gold topped with a simple pendant of green stone. Peridot? Jade? She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Although she was sure that it was either a) very expensive or b) stolen, even the thought of Remy LeBeau bothering to get her a birthday present set off fireworks in her stomach. The singing and the kissing, of course, were extra added bonuses.

The Acolytes were bundling up their equipment and setting out the door when Rogue finally came to her senses and sprinted up to them. By this time, Remy was half awake and lethargic, an arm slung around Piotr’s shoulder. He was surprised to see his southern belle standing in front of him, but he didn’t let surprise rule his perfectly composed face.

“Rogue? What are y’ doin’ here? I t’ought y’d be cursin’ m’ name right now,” he muttered. Rogue gaped. How could someone as attractive as he was lack so many brain cells?

“Swamp rat, yah just sang to meh, kissed me, and gave meh a really nice birthday present. Ah ain’t gonna be cursin’ yah name for at least the next six hours.”

Remy frowned. “So y’ ain’t mad? Den what y’ doin’ here for?”

Rogue hesitated. Should she? But yes.

“Ah just came tah say… thank you. And…” Her hand slipped into his for a brief second before she pulled it away. “Call meh.”

Then she walked off, but Remy didn’t quite care. All that mattered was the little piece of paper in his hand, proving that his recent humiliating endeavors had not all been for nothing.

Writer's Block: No Foolin'

2009-04-01T16:12:09Z

What's the best April Fool's joke you've seen today?

View 500 Answers

The one and only April fool's joke was my sister squirting green goo all around the side of my sink. Gross, but effective in getting me to yell, "Clean that up you crazy nutcase!" Very loudly.

Behind Enemy Lines, Chapter 5

2009-02-08T16:39:53Z

Title: Behind Enemy Lines
Chapter: 5
Author: allyg1990
Rating: T
'Verse: Evolution
Disclaimer: Don't own anything!
Beta-Reader: mspotts on ff.net
Summary: He had been abandoned twice by the age of ten: first as a child, on the streets of New Orleans. The second time around it was her who abandoned him, but by the time he had found his friend, she had joined the enemy. ROMY.

Remy LeBeau swore, realizing that he had used every single card in his only open pack. Sure, he had a few backups in his coat pockets, but unwrapping them would waste time which he could not afford to lose. He looked left, and right, squinting to stop himself being blinded by the popping fireworks and crouching down to avoid being accidentally hit by one. There were craters everywhere, the aftermath of charged cards and optic blasts alike, with only a few as the result of Cannonball’s head crashing into the ground at a hundred miles per hour. With a sinking feeling, Remy realized that he was standing on the only patch of high ground in a sea of broken earth, with no ammunition and new police cars swarming in from all directions.

“Put your hands in the air and no-one gets hurt.” Remy suppressed the urge to snort at the over-used line as he turned his attention to the policeman in the ditch behind him, his gun shaking in his hands.

“Vraiment?” He curled his fingers into the dirt, balling them into fists. The gun nearly fell out of the cop’s hands, and Remy felt a sudden surge of pity for the officer. He wasn’t really much older than the thief himself, and obviously inexperienced. Hopefully he’d only get a few burns.

“Do it.” The man’s voice quivered. “I’ll shoot.”

It was an empty threat—from the way the man was holding up under pressure, Remy doubted that he could shoot a rabbit, let alone a human being.

“Bien sur, mon ami,” he replied evenly, lifting his arms above his head. Even wimps were prone to sudden fits of courage or duty, and it was probably better to play on the right side of the law for once. For a few minutes, anyway.

The cop lowered his gun, and the signs of relief were clear on his face—his shoulders sagged, his face lost its pinched, tense appearance, and he let go of a breath he’d been holding for a while. Remy smirked. Coward.

“Now, that was easy, wasn’t it? This doesn’t have to be hard,” the policeman gabbled. The words were more to reassure himself than Remy, who ducked his head in apology.

“’M sorry, monsieur, but it’s goin’ t’ get a bit harder about now.”

He flicked his wrists; his fists flew open, throwing neon pink dirt right at the cop’s bemused face. There was a boom, and the man was on the floor, unconscious, burnt around the edges, but not seriously hurt. Remy stepped over the body, trudging through the powdered earth and surveying the situation. The mutants seemed to have the upper hand—Bobby and Jubilee were still fighting side by side, with the addition of Ray. Remy couldn’t help but grin as Berzerker fired a crackling stream of electricity into a police car, making it blow up in a way that made him itch to pick up a card. Free from any immediate danger, he reached into his back pocket to pull out a pack, but the screech of tires startled him into whipping around, and he noticed the police car hurtling towards him with Kurt at the wheel.

“Watch out!” Thin arms crashed around his waist, and suddenly he was just as intangible as the girl touching him. They tumbled into the car, pretty much landing on Jean.

“Oof!”

“Pardonnez-moi!” Remy muttered when he realized that he was in a very compromising position with the two girls. Jean glared at him.

“As much as it kills me to say this, it probably wasn’t your fault this time. This time.”

Remy scooted as far away from them as he could in the cramped backseat and started to dust himself off. “What’s de damage?”

“Shh.” Kitty elbowed him and gestured to the redhead whose eyes were closed, fingers at her temples. “She’s trying to concentrate.”

Remy shut up and carried on rooting around for a pack of cards. By the time he had ripped the plastic wrapping off, Jean was finished with her telepathic conversation.

“Okay, the New Mutants made it into the forest, and Storm’s got Scott. Everyone is accounted for, and it’s time for us to get out of—”

“Jean!” Kurt’s frantic voice interrupted her, and all three passengers realized that unless he was secretly a stunt driver, Kurt was never going to be able to avoid crashing into the police cars that were rapidly approaching their own. “Do somezing!”

Telekinesis twanged; the car lifted off the ground, and Remy grinned in appreciation. This car was flying just a few decades ahead of schedule.

There was silence in the vehicle, punctuated only by the labored breaths of their driver. “Mein gott, Jean! I thought zat ve vere going to be squished like pancakes!”

“So did I,” Kitty confessed. “Thanks for totally saving our lives.”

“Any time,” Jean replied, offering them a weary smile. “What are teammates for?”

“Speakin’ of teammates…” Remy ventured, “What are we goin’ t’ do ‘bout Spyke?”

Jean sighed. “I can contact the others. We’ll meet up tonight—maybe Scott and Storm have an idea of where to start looking.”

Silence crept in again as the gravity of the situation weighed down on three of the teens. The reason for Remy’s silence, however, was just that due to the lack of space, he felt more uncomfortable than he ever had been in such close proximity to two girls.

“Do y’ mind if Remy climbs over y’ into the front seat?”

Kitty sighed and nodded. Jean just scowled. “If you try to feel me up in the process, I’m throwing you out of the car.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her, and began the treacherous journey to the land of more legroom.

“Peter, yah’re bein’ pathetic!” Rogue scoffed as she dodged another clumsy punch. “Ah ain’t an invalid any more, and ah ain’t made outta china. Goin’ easy on meh isn’t gonna help anyone.”

Piotr ignored her, his fist whizzing lazily towards her head. Rogue ducked it with minimal effort. “It ain’t goin’ tah help Ilyana,” she tried. Colossus gritted his teeth and snatched her wrists, twisting her upside down and switching his grip to her ankles faster than someone of his size rightly should have been able to.

“Pathetic?” he snapped. Rogue grinned.

“This is more like it,” she conceded. Pyro just sulked in the corner.

“Why do oiy hafta do target practice while you get bash each other to bits?” he muttered. Rogue shot him a smirk, though her face was slowly turning purple.

“Old buckethead’s given up on yah ever havin’ any kinda finesse!” she taunted. Piotr had to smile, and she seized the little window of distraction to slug him in the stomach. It was more shock than pain that made the Russian giant stumble backwards and release his captive, who flipped neatly onto her feet.

“C’mon, Colossus! Make meh try!” she yelled, green eyes filled with mischief. Piotr grinned and momentarily forgot her comment about his sister, flexing his fingers as metal sprang from nowhere to coat them. Rogue groaned. “This is supposed tah be a no-powers session,” she pointed out. Piotr shrugged.

“What can I say? I am needing everything I have to overpower you,” he teased.

Rogue just brought her hands up to her face and neatly slid off a glove. “Do your worst,” she commanded. Piotr nodded.

“Da, I will.”

She darted forward; an iron clad palm shot out to press against her head, and no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t move an inch.

Pyro whooped with joy. “Rogue fell for the kiddie-trick!”

Rogue growled as she ducked down and threw herself onto the ground, sliding smoothly between Colossus’s legs and standing up on the other side. She leapt onto his back, but he spun and tossed her off, so she twisted, barely managing to land on her feet. He lashed out; she dodged and lunged for his arm. He grinned, whipping it out of her way. “It will not be that easy,” he promised. She bit her lip.

“Ah didn’t think it would be,” she retorted, and the cycle began again.

It wasn’t long before the routine became boring, and that was when Rogue reached for a psyche. When he realized what she was up to, Piotr never faltered, but called out, “Choose a compliant one. You do not want to exert yourself very much.”

Ah’ll have tah use Magneto, Rogue thought sourly. Piotr was right; though she had long since recovered physically, her psychic blocks were still a little shabby. As much as she hated having the man in the forefront of her mind, he was easy to summon and didn’t complain too much.

The familiar headache returned; metal warped, and Colossus went flying, soon pinned against the opposite wall. Now Rogue just walked up to him, stretching out her bare fingers so that they almost brushed his throat. “Give up?”

Piotr nodded, offering her a smile. “It does not look as if I am having very much choice.”

She released her hold on him and pushed Magneto’s psyche to the back of her mind. Then she stretched her arms above her head. “Ah’m gonna go have a shower. Havin’ that jerk in mah head always makes me feel dirty.”

Pyro skipped towards the door, eager as a child. “Thank the wallabies, oiy thought that would never end.” Rogue rolled her eyes and reached up to ruffle his already crazy hair.

“Yah always get the better end of the deal—it’s not like yah actually do anythin’.”

St. John smirked. “Don’t say that so loud, sheila. The buckethead might hear ya.”

Rogue left him alone in his fit of laughter, leaving the practice room in favor of her own. Perhaps the only perk of being one of Magneto’s lackeys was the fact that she got her own bathroom, something that not even the X-Men could boast of. Hot water was essential to preserving what little sanity she had, and she never had anyone knocking on her door to demand when she would be getting out.

Knock, knock. She frowned. Well, she never usually had people knocking on her door. She switched the water off, wincing as cold air seeped in through the cracks in the door and coated her skin like ice.

“What?” she yelled.

“The X-Men are on the news re-runs from last night. I thought you would be wanting to see it.” There was Piotr’s gentle, apologetic voice. She smiled.

“Thanks, Pete. Ah’ll be out in a second.”

She stepped into the cold, throwing on a bathrobe before walking out the bathroom. Not having much on didn’t make her feel too uncomfortable when she was in the Acolyte base; Magneto was out, Piotr was too much of a gentleman to even notice, and Pyro just wasn’t interested. All of them knew better than to get anywhere near her skin.

When she reached the living room, both of her teammates were huddled around the television, Piotr silent and thoughtful, Pyro sniggering at something she probably wouldn’t find funny. She flopped onto a lone armchair, arranging the robe over her knees. “What’s up?”

Piotr said nothing, but reached for the clicker and turned the volume up.

“...police officers trying to peacefully apprehend the mutants at the now demolished Xavier Institute were met with violence…”

“Peacefully apprehend? That doesn’t even make sense!” Rogue protested, scooting her chair closer to get a better look.

“Rogue, isn’t that your friend?” Pyro stabbed the television screen, and Rogue’s stomach clenched. There was Remy, hands in the air, a police officer’s gun pointed straight at him. Her heart beat wildly; what if he got hurt?

Pyro shrieked with laughter at what happened next; a cloud of kinetically charged dirt showered the cop, knocking him unconscious.

“That was bloomin’ brilliant!” the Aussie choked out. “Brilliant!”

Rogue allowed herself a small smile. Yes, Remy could certainly take care of himself.

“I bet I could do better.” Rogue froze at the snide voice, her smile disintegrating into a scowl. Pietro.

“Really?” she drawled, never taking her eyes away from the screen. “Ah would have thought that yah’d have zoomed off to Timbuktu by the time the cops arrived.”

He was right behind her now, his breath hot in her ear. She flinched. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a cop get within ten feet of me. Not like your loverboy, huh?”

Rogue stifled a groan. Pietro would come to that conclusion, what with his one-track mind and all. “Try best friend, loser. Yah might also want to look up the definitions of ‘coward’ and ‘brave’. Oh, wait, ah forgot—yah can’t read.”

Pietro zipped around to the wall in front of her, leaning against it with a lazy expression on his face. “Not your boyfriend? Well, more for me, I guess.”

Rogue shot him a glare. “Lahke ah’d ever get near a tattle-tale like you. You told your father about Remy.”

Pietro shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my fault you haven’t got a dad to play helper to. Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitter if you did.”

Something exploded inside her; she reached for the first psyche she could grab from behind the wall. A fizzing bolt of electrical energy shot from her hands and barely missed the speed demon. “Shut your mouth!” she spat. “At least mah dad ain’t a murderin’ scumbag!”

Pietro leered at her. “At least I know who my dad is,” he said softly.

It was the last straw. She jumped to her feet and slowly stalked towards the offending blot on humanity, electricity sparking around her tightly clenched fists and crackling in her two-toned hair. Piotr realized that her eyes had shifted to electric blue orbs with a sick feeling growing in his stomach. Who was she channeling this time?

“Get out. Now. Or ah’ll make you!” Rogue hissed. Pietro raised his hands in defeat.

“No need. I’ve got a date to get to. Maybe you should try that sometime. It might help you loosen up. Oh, wait—you can’t touch, so no guy would want you. My bad.” With that, he was gone, and there was silence in the room. Even Pyro had the decency to quit sniggering, at least until the fire died from Rogue’s eyes.

“You did not know your father?” Piotr asked at last, his tone careful yet curious. Rogue sighed, and shook her head.

“Mama always told meh that she’d tell meh when ah got bigger. But then ah—” she paused, reconsidered her choice of words. “She died.”

“I am sorry,” Colossus said after a moment, truly sympathetic. Rogue smiled.

“It’s no big deal. Lots of people grow up with just one parent these days.”

The silence grew slowly awkward, and Rogue quickly turned away from the staring Acolytes.

“Ah—ah’m going to finish mah shower before the buckethead gets back. Ah’ll see y’all at lunch.” With that she hurried away, back to hot water and oblivion, away from the memories that wouldn’t stop haunting her.

“Oww!” The Cajun in question spun around, squinting to make out the figure behind him in the forest.

“Chaton?”

“Yeah.” The sound was muffled, and Remy squinted, realizing that the petite brunette had managed to trip over something. He sighed, picking up the pace and briskly walking over to her. He squatted down, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders and pulling her into a sitting position.

“Are y’ okay?”

She nodded. “I don’t think it’ll even bruise. Geez, I’m so clumsy sometimes.” She tried to move, but couldn’t, realizing that one foot was tangled up in some sort of vine. “Hang on, I’ll just–”

Remy grinned. “Allow me, p’tite.” He placed his bare fingers on the offending vine. It sizzled faintly pink, then fell apart onto the forest floor. Kitty suppressed the urge to whistle.

“That’s pretty cool.”

Gambit grinned. “One of m’ new party tricks,” he explained. They started walking again in an effort to catch up to Jean and Kurt.

“You know,” Kitty mused, contemplating his ‘party trick’, “You’ve really like, improved in the last year or so. I mean, I remember when you used to like, blow up everything you touched, and now you’re just making things…disintegrate.”

A faint smile graced the thief’s lips. “Control’s a wonderful t’ing, non?”

Kitty grinned. “Yeah, it really is. Not falling through my bed anymore has its perks.”

He chuckled. “Oui, I c’n understand how dat might be a good t’ing.”

The only audible sound was the crunch of leaves under Kitty’s feet; for someone who regularly went intangible, the fille was klutzy.

“How did your powers manifest?” the phaser asked curiously. “I mean, I like, fell through the bed, but I bet your story is way more dramatic.”

His features hardened. “I charged up a picture frame.”

“Why?” Kitty probed. Gambit resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’ sprang to mind.

“I was seventeen,” he said evenly. “I got real emotional.”

Kitty stayed silent for a short moment, turning his words over in her mind.

“Was it a picture of her?” she asked quietly. He swallowed hard, a hand tightening around his stomach.

“Of us,” he explained. Kitty nodded wisely, peering up at him in the darkness.

“You guys really were close, weren’t you?”

He nodded. “She was de firs’ person who looked beyond de eyes.” Then he laughed, a short, barking sound. “Can’t believe ‘m gushing out m’ sob story t’ a fille I ain’t interested in charmin’.”

Kitty offered him a mock pout, eyes sparkling with humor. “Are you saying I’m not the Gambit type?”

He grinned. “Nah. Y’ far too easy t’ talk t’.”

Kitty brightened at this. “Wow, really? That’s totally cool because…”

Remy sighed as she startled rambling on again. The girl had her sensitive moments and all, but dieu, she could talk!

“C’mon and live up to y’ name. We supposed t’ be sneakin’.”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Shadowcat gabbled. “I’ll be like, totally quiet now.”

Remy couldn’t help but smile at that. “J’espere que vous avez raison,” he mumbled under his breath. Kitty’s head whipped around.

“What was that?” she asked, seemingly desperate for human interaction. Remy waved her away.

“Not’in, not’in…”

Within a few moments, they had caught up to Jean and Kurt, who were standing in a small, moonlit clearing. “Any sign of de ot’ers?” Remy asked softly. Jean grinned.

“Scott and Storm on their way,” she informed him. “Ray has taken the New Mutants to stay with some friends of his until things die down. They’re too young to get involved in all of this…” Her face fell. “To be honest, so are we, but…”

“We are de X-Men, and hafta go ‘round savin’ de world, and wearin’ spandex t’ boot, non?” Remy teased.

“Well, Gambit, it seems like you have finally tapped into our philosophy,” remarked a calm voice, and Storm slowly touched down to the ground, setting Scott down beside her. Remy plastered a look of false joy across his face.

“Oui, an’ it only took a year. ‘S a fantastic achievement fo’ a t’ief like moi, non?”

“Save it, Gambit. We have people to rescue.” Scott straightened his uniform, dusting off imaginary dirt particles. Remy shrugged.

“Might as well make de best of a bad situation,” he muttered. “Not all of us got dat precious stick up our a—”

Kitty elbowed him. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” she warned.

“Guys,” Jean interrupted, her voice urgent. “We’ve got company.”

“That took you long enough.” Mystique’s sly words filtered into the clearing as she stalked out of the forest, followed by Avalanche, Toad, and the Scarlet Witch. “My, my, Xavier’s absence must really have hit you hard.”

“How can you show your face after what you’ve done?” Jean hissed, taking a step forward. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

Mystique shook her head. “I was not part of Magneto’s plan to expose you as mutants—that was an unfortunate side effect.”

“An unfortunate side effect?” Remy stared. “De femme’s completement folle.”

“It just goes to show that Xavier’s little harebrained ideals of human-mutant peace will never become reality, doesn’t it?” she sneered.

“What do you want, Mystique?” Scott asked, his tone icy. Mystique folded her arms across her chest.

“I want my team member back, just the same as you do. I was hoping that you would know where to start looking.”

“We don’t.” Jean said curtly, and there was a short moment of silence in the clearing.

“We do,” said a voice, and the mutants spun around, moved back-to-back towards the center of the clearing, away from the armed soldiers that suddenly surrounded them. Remy’s hands went to his pockets, and Scott’s went to his visor; Kitty turned everyone she was touching intangible, but it would be no use. Mutant powers were all well and good, but unprepared, they were useless against machinery. In the time it would take for Jean to construct a telekinetic shield, they could all be mowed down.

A grey haired man with a distinctive eye patch stepped out of the ring of soldiers, his expression grim. The two teams stiffened and unconsciously huddled closer together, regardless of what side they were on. This wasn’t a question of brotherhood against the X-Men—it was humans against mutants now, and their lives could be on the line.

“Who are you?” Mystique growled. The corners of the man’s mouth turned up in a dangerous smile.

“I’m Nick Fury—from SHIELD.”

Rogue was here

2009-02-01T12:08:29Z

Rogue was here
Setting: X-Men Evolution
Pairing: Rogue/Remy
Rating: K+

They never told him that this had been her room. He thinks that if they had told him, he might have thought twice before accepting it.

***

“Gambit?”

He turned to the Professor, his new guardian and future father figure. “Oui, professeur?”

The man hesitated, and it seemed to Remy that he was gripping the armrests of his silver wheelchair just a little tighter. “As I told you, we only have one free room. You are welcome to share with one of the other students if you wish—”

“Dat won’t be necessary,” he interrupted. The Professor inclined his head.

“The room you have been allocated—it belonged to one of our students who recently…” The Professor swallowed hard, an odd action for the old man. “…who recently passed on.”

Remy fell silent for a moment. “’M sorry fo’ y’ loss.”

Xavier tried to smile. “Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done.” The wheels of the electric chair whirred, setting the vehicle in motion down the carpeted corridor. Remy had no trouble keeping up, but his morbid curiosity was harder to control.

“Cancer?”

The whirring paused; the telepath turned to the thief, his eyes searching for something in the younger man’s face. “No,” he said slowly. “Her powers were difficult to control. Her mind… it turned on itself, and her body followed soon afterwards.”

Remy considered this for a few moments. It sounded like an unpleasant way to die, and a terrible thing for the other students to endure—but “She?” was all he asked, in the vain hope that the Professor would offer him some clarification.

Xavier misunderstood the intention behind his question. “I wouldn’t worry; she was never one to indulge in pink decoration.” And with that, he left Remy alone and slowly receded down the winding hallway.

The door slid open with a practiced ease, and Remy found that his new mentor had been right. The room was painted an odd dark green, not exactly ideal, but good enough for now. The furniture was new and glossy, the bedspread a generic sky blue, probably brought in especially for the new kid. The only relic left over from the previous inhabitant (apart, of course, from the moss-green walls) was the hardwood bed frame, which had a used look to it. A thief could always tell.

He allowed himself to fall back onto the bed, his duffel bag forgotten on the floor. Instead of closing his eyes, however, he left them open, scanning first the ceiling and then letting his eyes fall to examine the nearest bedpost. He froze.

There was a name inscribed there, and a message, carved into the hardwood with an unskilled hand—or perhaps the jerky movements of an invalid.

Rogue was here.

Now he lay on his new mattress, half clothed fingers tracing the indented letters. Rogue was here.

Rogue.

He remembered that name, though he had only met its owner twice. First during the sentinel affair—she was the pretty fille he had slipped a charged card to. She’d given him the oddest look then; half confused, half elated, and he still couldn’t interpret the meaning behind it.

The second time had been when he was hanging around outside Bayville High. She’d walked right up to him, hands firmly on her hips, and demanded to know what he was doing there. He didn’t remember what he said; had he warned her? Tried to charm her? Either would be equally likely. He only knew that he had seen something intriguing in her eyes, something he hoped to follow up on. But he missed his chance, and now he lay on what used to be her bed, pensive about a friendship that had been nipped in the bud.

He’d known that she wasn’t living at the institute anymore; he hadn’t seen her during any of his spying stints. He’d assumed that she had moved out, or perhaps gone to visit relatives. Never would he have guessed that she was long gone, as lost to him as she was to the rest of the world.

They never told him that this had been her room. If they’d told him, he might have thought twice before accepting it.

It was because he realized that this would never be his room—it would stay hers forever. Even if he painted the walls and removed her parting message, this room had seen her life—and her death.

Suddenly the prospect of a person having died in his new room didn’t scare him; somehow, it put things into perspective. If it became too hard, he could move out, go share with Piotr, but then they might paint over the walls, discard the bed frame for good. Rogue’s last words—her somehow desperate request to be remembered—would be lost forever.

He didn’t want that. Nor did he want anyone else to see the words, scratched into the wood. He had never had time to have a conversation with the girl, let alone charm her as he would have liked to, but maybe this way he could retain some small, sacred connection with her, even though he was too late.

***

There is a knock at the door—he almost springs to his feet, but stops himself just in time. A light brunette head peeks in without even opening the door.

“Gamb—uh, Remy?”

It takes longer than usual for his trademark grin to arrive as he sits up. “Oui, chaton?”

She doesn’t reply. Her jaw is set, and her big blue eyes dart from side to side, taking in the seemingly changed appearance of the room. Her lip quivers, and something twists in Remy’s stomach. Will he be the only one who can stand to be in here without feeling the intense pain that comes from the loss of a friend?

“Kitty?” The name sounds unfamiliar on his tongue; he doesn’t think he’s ever said her name before. The phaser snaps out of her trance.

“Um, sorry. It’s just still—hard.” She laughs, but it’s forced. “They’ve taken down the posters.”

Remy glances at the wall Kitty’s staring at, and notices for the first time that there are a few pale splotches where tape has peeled some of the paint.

Has her presence here faded so much already?

“Gosh, I haven’t even gotten to my point yet. Look, dinner’s in five minutes, and the Professor wants you to be there. We all eat together in the evening.”

He nods, just once, and doesn’t say another word. Kitty stares expectantly for a moment and then slips out as silently as she came in.

He leans back again, propping himself up with his elbows. His fingers return to the wood, sliding back and forth, as if he were a blind man and the rise and fall of the little notches held a meaning for him.

Maybe they will begin to forget—people often do, to save themselves from being ripped apart by pain day after day. He will not forget. He has never been one to disobey a dying person’s wishes, and her unwritten plea rings clearly from the three words she etched into the wood.

Rogue was here.

He will remember her.

My All Time Favourite X-Men Evolution Fanfictions

2009-01-07T14:11:38Z

Can't seem to find a decent fic to read? Here are a few suggestions, by author and then name.

Please correct me if i've gotten anything wrong!

If you want to laugh (hard), Red Witch & Coldfusion180 are your best bets. Cute little oneshots come courtesty of Eurgh and Poohdog.

As far as full-length stories go, anything by Seven Sunningdale, Lucia de Medici and ishandahalf is compulsory reading, IMHO. And nope, these are not wimpy little feel good stories. They write epics that mess with your mind. Seriously.

Other full lengthers?

Star of Chaos: Community Service. (Rogue! Remy! Julien! Forge?)

Tempting Sweet Poison: No day should start without coffee (Prepare to laugh)

Ariesque: Legend of Logan's Kin (I do love a good old fashioned fic. Beautiful writing, too.)

Aqualoner: Breathless

Seriana Ritani: 'Fly' series

Burning Touch: Shuffling Contingency (If you're the kind of person who hates wondering 'what if this carried on?' after reading a oneshot, stay away from this collection of 'em. They kick your brain into overdrive.)

Rogue14: Gambitophobia (*gigglesnort*)

RaeRihanna: Gone

White0orchid: The Rogue, The Rat, The Demon and The Cat (ROMY/KURTTY fun!)

Scarleteyes21: Crossover

l'etoile de tricherie: The Noctambulist

slickboy444- Cult of the X

Strayphoenix- Encounters of the 23rd Kind & The Lockdown (Prepare to be an Alex23 convert!)

Behind Enemy Lines, Chapter 4

2008-11-27T16:10:54Z

Behind Enemy Lines
Setting: X-Men Evolution AU
Pairing: Rogue/Remy
Rating: PG 15, just to be safe. ;)
Summary: He had been abandoned twice before the age of ten: first on the streets of New Orleans as a child. The second time around it had been her who abandoned him, but by the time he had found her, she had become his enemy.

It was with a silent audience that the mansion burned. Silent faces watched the smoldering embers that were all that was left of their home, first from the windows of the X-Jet, then on the charred lawn like a congregation at a funeral service, standing so close to the flaming pyre that they could feel the heat sear their skin.

It was Jean who made the first sound; a strangled sob that choked its way out of her throat, cutting through the crackle of burning rubble.

“Jubilee… Bobby… Sam…Jamie…Ray… Scott!”

Her voice lifted as she spoke the name of her best friend, her telepathy leaking out in streams and wrapping around his vibrant, living telepathic signature.

Scott, Scott, Scott! she chanted. Scott’s alive, Scott’s alive, Scott’s al—

The person in question stumbled out of the surrounding forest, his clothes hanging off of him in charred rags, purple bruises and red lacerations blossoming over his skin.

Jean gasped. Remy winced. Now, as a rule, he wasn’t too fond of their fearless leader, but seeing him fallen to pieces was an educational experience in empathy.

“Where’s the Professor?” Scott raged, hand halfway to the visor that was dangerously close to sliding off. “Where is he?” From behind him came the rest of the New Mutants, coughing and covered in soot. This time Beast stepped towards the victims, but Scott latched angry fingers around his arm. “Where is he?” he spat again.

Beast gently pried off the younger man’s hand. “We know about Mystique. Gambit can explain the technicalities, but now I must check if the others are injured.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and an ashamed expression flitted over his face. Remy took the chance to butt in.

“She was impersonatin’ de Professor,” he clarified. “Spyke over here saw de ‘Professor’ get captured by some nasty monsters while we were fightin’ dem in broad daylight.”

Scott seemed to sag a little more.

“Broad daylight?” he whispered. Remy inclined his head.

“Oui. De mutant secret ain’t quite a secret no more.”

The X-Men stood in silence for a moment, as if in mourning for their shattered lives. Then they got back to business.

“I don’t think Mystique was captured.” Scott said evenly. “She’s too sneaky. Odds are, she’s standing right here, impersonating one of us.”

“Gosh.” Kitty babbled nervously. “Let’s all say one thing that no-one else would know about us. Um, I like, failed Home Ec. eight times.”

“The whole of Bayville knows about that.” Bobby grumbled from afar. “Using our powers would be a better idea.”

Remy shot her a reassuring smile. “I don’t t’ink it’s gonna come to dat, chaton.” His gaze panned along the group, pausing at a stony-faced Evan. “Somet’in’ ‘bout Spyke’s story ain’t quite fittin’ de puzzle. Say y’ managed to bust outta dat stasis goo—how come Wolverine didn’t, seeing as dose adamantium claws can cut t’rough anyt’ing?”

Thunder groaned; lighting crackled across the smoky sky.

“Are you accusing Evan of being an impostor?” Storm shot back, eyes acquiring a dangerous milky film. Remy shrugged.

“Let y’ nephew speak for himself, d’accord?”

All eyes turned to the younger boy. Evan’s blank stare shifted, changed into a sly smile.

“You’re not as stupid as you look, Gambit,” he said, and the voice that left his lips was Mystique’s. His features changed, blonde hair morphing into red, brown skin darkening to blue.

Lighting struck the ground at Mystique’s feet.

“You dared,” Storm seethed, “to impersonate Evan. You dared to trick us.”

Mystique dodged the electricity almost lazily. “I would have succeeded, too, if it weren’t for the Cajun. He must be sharper than you give him credit for.”

“Merci.” Remy’s fingers slipped into his pockets, tightening around his collapsible staff. “Shame dat y’ ain’t gonna live t’ see any more of m’ clever moments.”

The shapeshifter’s eyes hardened. “If you want to see any of them—Evan, Wolverine, The Professor—you’ll back off.”

“Yo, Mystique!” Toad yelled out from his position in the little crowd of Brotherhood members separate from the gang of X-Men, “What about Blob?”

Wanda poked him in the back, hard. “You’re such an idiot. Why would the X-Men care about Blob?”

Thoroughly unhappy that her speech had been interrupted, Mystique glared at the two. Wanda just glared back, but Toad swallowed hard and shut up.

“What do you want, Mystique?” Jean asked, her voice drained of all energy. “You blew up our home. You kidnapped our Professor. What more can you do to us?”

“Not much.” She shrugged, a smug smile on her lips. “Seeing you crippled is enough. Anyway, it isn’t about what I want. It’s about what Magneto wants, and you’ll be seeing much more of him in the near future.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed, fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned deathly pale. “Why you little—”

The wail of police sirens interrupted him, and the X-Men froze. The mutant secret was out, and Scott would bet his life that the police weren’t going to arrive waving a white flag.

“Freeze! You’re under arrest!”

Bobby and Jubilee glanced at each other, and Remy smirked. He could see where this was going.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Bobby said cheerfully, executing a flamboyant bow. By the time he was standing up straight again, he was covered in blue-white ice.

Jubilee, however, tilted her head to the side as if she was thinking about it. Then she offered the policemen a broad grin. “No can do,” she concluded, allowing her partner in crime to take her hand, pulling her along a newly fabricated ice slide. Fireworks spat from her fingertips, and more than one cop squeezed their eyes shut out of blindness and fright.

It was Remy, however, that thoroughly scared them. “Hank, Kitty, Jeannie? Y’ get de petites outta here. Cyke?” The two older boys turned to face each other, and Remy thought he saw a small smile gracing Scott’s usually stick-up-the-ass expression. “Y’ wanna show dem who dey’re messin’ wit’?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Remy reached for his cards; Scott’s hands shot to his visor. “On t’ree now, d’accord?”

Scott nodded. “One.”

“Two.” Remy added, and pink flames rushed to engulf the card sandwiched between his fingers. All hell was going to break loose, and hopefully even their fearless leader would enjoy it.

Together, perfectly in sync, they spoke the last word: “Three.”

Beep…beep...beepbeepbeepbeepbeeeeeeeeeeeeep

“Ah can’t stand that stupid beeping noise.” Rogue growled, less than happy that it had managed to wake her up. Piotr stared dumbly at the cords she had ripped from her body. The hung from their various scanners, as limp as wilted flower stems, and giving a sigh, he stood up to turn the screens off and stop the incessant whining.

When Rogue reached for her IV, however, Piotr’s stomach turned. He had watched while she seized first the heart rate and brain activity cables, then the heat sensor, but this would involve blood, and he couldn’t handle that this early in the morning.

“You should keep that one in,” he insisted. “At least until you have eaten lunch.”

Rogue rolled her eyes but allowed herself to smile, releasing her grip on the plastic tube. “Whatever yah say, Piotr, but lunch had better come pretty soon or the itching is going tah drive meh insane.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “John was wanting to make it—” Rogue winced, and he hurried to add, “But it did not work out so good and he has ordered pizza.”

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. “Yah had meh worried for a second there,” she admitted, stretching her arms above her head. “Gawd, how long have ah been out?”

“Only thirty-six hours, though after seeing the way that you destroyed the giant machine, I was expecting it to be longer. Your friend was thinking that you were lost to him.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What fr—Remy!”

Colossus nodded. “Da. He was saying that you should get in touch once everything has died down.”

Rogue closed her eyes, breathing deeply to slow down her excited heart rate. She had found Remy again! Or rather, she had found out that she hadn’t killed him, which cleared one of the inky black stains on her conscious that had haunted her for the last ten years.

Then her face fell. “But now that Mystique blew up their mansion—”

“—that could take a while,” Piotr finished off, a smile tweaking at the edges of his mouth. Rogue sighed, flopping back down on the rickety bed.

“Maybe. Ah just hope he’s okay. It’s been so long…”

“He is looking like someone who is very good at taking care of himself,” the Russian reassured her, sitting back down in his chair. “I am sure he will be fine.”

Rogue took a deep breath. “Ah just wished he’d have left a phone number or something.” There was a pause, and then she laughed. “Ah’m bein’ so petty. At least ah know he’s alive. That’s something.”

“It is normal to be frustrated when the situation is not under your control. Now that you know that he is alive you are wanting to return to how you were before.”

“Things have changed,” she mumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest. “The whole ‘teams’ thing is gonna get in the way a little bit.”

At that moment, a shriek echoed through the warehouse. Both Acolytes nearly jumped out of their skins.

“Thank you, come again!” Pyro bellowed cheerfully, whooping as he crashed through the door bearing three pizza boxes. Rogue and Piotr just stared as he made himself comfortable on the floor and opened a box, drawing out a cheesy slice of pizza. It was only after he’d taken a huge mouthful, chewed, and swallowed that he looked up at the puzzled faces of his teammates. “The delivery boy wanted a tip,” he explained, grinning. “Bloody cheek, oiy say. He won’t be back.”

“What did you do?” Rogue asked, curious. St. John snickered.

“Oiy might have set ‘im on foire….” he admitted sheepishly. Piotr shook his head, shooting the heavens a mournful look and mouthing something that looked like please let the poor man get to hospital in time.

“Here’s your pizza,” John informed Rogue, shaking the greasy box under her nose, which she wrinkled.

“That smells gross,” she muttered, but took it anyway, flipping the lid open. “Eww, Pyro! You know ah don’t like anchovies!”

John snatched the box from her, shoving his own into her hands. “Oiy thought moiyne tasted a bit bland.” He proceeded to dig into the new pizza, shoving slices of fish-covered dough into his mouth. Rogue rolled her eyes.

“Yah’re such a pig. Ah don’t know why old Buckethead employs yah, anyway—”

“I think you will find, Rogue, that the mutants that I pick for my team are chosen on the basis of power rather than eating habits,” said a voice from the door, which swung open to reveal Magneto, and he didn’t look happy. Rogue fell silent, eyes dropping to her lap.

“Good mornin’, Mister Lensherr,” she mumbled. Piotr stiffened, sensing that their boss was not pleased, but Pyro just carried on eating until a metal tray flew across the room and hit him in the head. The Aussie shrieked, jumping two feet in the air and pinpointing the source of his pain. He crossed his arms.

“Oiy ain’t gettin’ paid to have you smack me in the head,” he complained, rubbing his tender skull.

“Until you repay your debt to me, you will not be getting paid at all,” Magneto replied smoothly. “And if you feel like paying your debt faster, I suggest you leave the room now. You too, Colossus.”

Pyro scuttled out, but Piotr paused, glancing back at Rogue with a worried expression on his face. She smiled back, but it was a thin smile, and it didn’t quell his fears.

“I am thinking that it would be better if I stayed,” he said firmly, locking his gaze with Magneto’s. The metal manipulator just stared back, features impassive, and spoke three words, so soft that Rogue almost didn’t hear them.

“Remember your sister.”

Piotr’s shoulders sagged, and his eyes flicked from Magneto to Rogue. Her smile wavered, and he turned away, muttering something that sounded vaguely like “I am sorry.”

The door slammed shut; Rogue looked at the other mutant in the room, biting her lip to ease the tension of the silence. Magneto was the one who broke it.

“You have disappointed me, Rogue.”

She shifted on the bed, glad that the heart rate monitor wasn’t connected—it would be beeping furiously.

“Can ah ask how?”

He moved to sit in the chair that Piotr had formerly occupied, and although he was half the size of the bulky Russian, his presence was much more intimidating.

“First you failed to absorb one X-Man; then you neglected to tell me that one of them had not been there. Now I find out that you have been consorting with the enemy and losing control of your powers inpublic.” His voice was too threatening to be shrill, but it rose to a crescendo as his temper flared. Who could have told him? The name popped into her head and some of her fear switched to anger. Ah’m going to kill Pietro with my bare hands.

“Do you think I want the X-Men to know of any weakness I might have?” he continued. “Your weakness is my weakness, and believe me, Rogue; making me look weak again will cost you dearly.”

“Ah didn’t—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Mean to?” He graced her with a thin-lipped smile, more sinister than comforting. “Maybe you should try harder.” He stood, his cape swirling in an invisible breeze. “I suggest that you reject all contact with this little friend of yours—Remy LeBeau, I believe. Staying in touch will not bode well for him.” He turned as if to leave, reaching the door before pausing at the threshold.

“It’s a pity he is an X-Man; a man of his caliber would have been a perfect addition to my team.”

The glass of water on her bedside table shattered; she didn’t even remember whose power she had drawn on. “You will never get him,” she hissed. He wouldn’t be bound this monster. She wouldn’t let it happen—wouldn’t let him steal Remy’s life away with his trickery and false promises.

Magneto chuckled, and the sound sent shivers up her spine. “I am afraid, Rogue,” he said quietly, “That this is not your decision to make. It is mine, and I will do as I see fit. You will be up for training at six tomorrow.”

The door clicked softly behind him; Rogue didn’t notice, instead staring dumbly at the shattered glass beside her. She wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t let Magneto bind up her last connection to her past in his deadly web, even if she had to kill him herself.

Even if killin’ him might kill meh in the process, she thought grimly, flexing her fingers. But first, she would take the bucket head’s advice and sever all ties—hopefully she was just a thing of the past for her friend, and he’d give up pretty quickly. No use unnecessarily adding another life to her murder count, however despicable the person was.

“I missed y’ too, chèrie… more den I can say.”

She sighed. Remy was just stupid enough to make things hard, and she had a feeling that things were not going to go according to plan.

Sorry for the long wait—work just has to take priority sometimes. :( Hope you like this chapter, even though it was more about setting the scene than actual development! :)

Thanks for all the fab reviews! I’ll try to update as soon as possible!

allyg1990

Till Death Do Us Part

2008-11-02T09:45:35Z

Universe: X-Men Evolution
Pairing: Rogue/Gambit
Rating: 15
Genre: Romance/Angst

Until death do us part.

The solemn words of the marriage oath lingered in Rogue’s mind as she sat on the muddy slope, looking out on the grey plains that were her final resting place. Funny that for a couple who’d never made it down the aisle, those words rang as true for them as they would for any other pair of lovers. Except that they weren’t parted by death—they were parted in death, parted by heaven and hell.

“Feelin’ homesick, chèrie?”

She turned, and there he stood, looking just as he had before—tousled hair, ragged trench coat and hauntingly beautiful red-on-black eyes—the only difference being the heavenly aura that flickered around him, the mark of an angel. He gazed down at her sadly, the half smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth only a cruel imitation of real happiness. She returned it with her own unhappy smile, unmoving from her place.

“They told me ah could never be with yah again.” It was a fact—she knew it was, and that she’d never be able to change it.

“Y’ can’t, Rogue.” Warm fingers wrapped around both her wrists, and even in their current predicament, she couldn’t help but admire the way wiry muscles rippled under his tanned skin as he pulled her to her feet. It was some spiteful trick of fate, she thought, that the first time they could touch each other with no consequences would also be the last time they would ever see each other.

They were face to face now, his hands keeping her wrists firmly pinned to her side as his eyes scanned her face, the barest hint of a frown settled on his features. Her lips parted, mouth suddenly dry—so he blamed her for what she had done, and he was right to. He should be furious with her. She’d stolen his life twice over.

“Ah’m so sorr—” He released her abruptly, pressing splayed fingers to her lips.

“Don’t y’ apologize,” he warned. “If y’ remember, it was me who made y’ do it. It was me,” he told her, fingers moving now to graze her cheek, “Who told y’ dat I wasn’t afraid, who kissed y’ wit’out y’ permission.”

“Ah didn’t pull away,” she whispered, swallowing hard. “Ah let y’ kiss meh till ah’d sucked out every last drop of life yah had. Ah killed yah.”

“Mebbe.” Remy allowed, now busy tucking errant strands of white hair behind her ears, “but dat, chèrie, would be Remy’s fault fo’ bein’ such a good kisser, non?”

She looked away, heat blossoming on the apples of her cheeks. That was one thing she would never try to deny. “But the second time…”

He hushed her again. “Can y’ really call it killin’? Seems t’ me like killin’ someone means puttin’ dere body outta commission and dat wasn’t what y’ did. Non, I t’ink de only person y’ killed was y’self.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze, no matter how much she knew that he wanted her to. “Ah—there ain’t nothin’ ah can say tah excuse mahself.”

Slowly, his hands slipped down from her face, sliding down her shoulders and coming to rest at her waist. He tugged her closer to him. “Y’ know I don’t blame y’, chère.”

“You should,” she muttered into his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent that had somehow followed him into death. “Ah snatched yah right outta your own head, and even though there was a chance that yah could live in mine, I took that away from yah without even askin’.”

“Rogue…” he murmured, one hand travelling up to curl in her hair, “Mebbe I could have lived in y’ head—but it wasn’ doin’ much fo’ y’ mental health. Y’ should have let de Professor take me outta dere while he still could.”

“Ah wouldn’t let him kill you.,” she muttered. “Ah thought it would work out…”

She fell silent, and Remy didn’t question her, just rocked her gently from side to side in his arms.

“Yah know what?” she remarked at last, almost dreamily. “When I took the pills, ah wasn’t thinkin’ of suicide… just that the psyches couldn’t scream at me when ah was asleep, and that ah wanted tah sleep for a long, long time…”

“It was gettin’ pretty crowded in dere.” Remy admitted. “An’ not all of de psyches liked y’ as much as me.”

“Ah could deal with the yelling… it was just…maybe ah would have dealt better if yah were just another psyche in mah head… another person screaming at meh for stealing their soul… but yah weren’t. Yah were all there, and…” a small sob escaped her lips, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “And ah knew that yah loved meh. So much.”

“Dat’s de ironic t’ing, isn’t it?” He told her bitterly. “Mebbe if ah hadn’t loved y’ as much, we’d still be together… alive or dead, we’d be in the same place. It should be me livin’ out y’ fate. I was de t’ief, de murderer, de part-time terrorist. Y’ were de golden girl, de one who deserved to live the happy afterlife. Look at us—y’ here because of m’ mistake, and I’m here because…” He paused for a moment, to brush a finger across her skin, to wipe away one pearly tear. Dieu, even when she was doomed to a life of eternal suffering, she was still so angelic. “I’m here because I did de t’ing I swore I’d never do—I fell in love wit’ y’.”

She glanced up then, startled to notice that the misty aura that had surrounded him since they’d met in this terrible place was brightening. “Remy, what’s—”

“It’s almost time, chèrie.” He spoke with confidence, with reassurance, but she felt his fingers shaking on her skin. He cupped her face in his hands, leaning down so that they were almost touching, so that their synchronised breaths mingled together. “But we got time fo’ one last kiss, neh?”

Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting ever so hesitantly as she felt him move towards her, gently touching his lips to hers and claiming her as his. He felt her shudder under his touch, tasted the tears that had slid down her cheeks and caught on her lips and almost cried himself over the injustice that this would be the last chance he ever had to hold her. When he broke away it was only because he could feel himself starting the fade, and desperately needed to speak a few last words.

“I love y’, Rogue,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. “Always will. No matter how long eternity turns out t’ be, I will never forget y’.”

“I love you too,” she choked out, gloveless fingers curling frantically in his shirt. “I need you. Don’t leave me. Please.”

“It’s time for me to go.” His heart was breaking, he knew it was. He could feel the physical pain as it tore in two, ripped to shreds by whatever being had consigned them to this fate.

“No,” she sobbed, feeling his warmth starting to ebb away from her skin. “No. God no, Remy! They always told meh hell was a fiery place, but I feel so cold…”

“Goodbye, Rogue.” His voice shook this time, just as his outline flickered, fading into mist once and for all.

“No!” she was shaking, she knew she was, muscles twitching as her knees gave way, flinging her onto the cold, muddy, lifeless ground.

“Remy…” The icy wind caressed her hair, pulling the fallen strands away from her face, brushing her frozen cheek.

“Je t’aime, Rogue,” it whispered, slowly melting away, “I’ll love you forever.”

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Aww! Writing this almost made my cry… Hope you guys like it! It was just something that came to me completely spontaneously when I should really have been working on ‘Behind Enemy Lines’. Go figure!

Allyg1990