not today, sugar.

[apoisontouch-a]

mutantprydes‌:

When nervous, which was often, Kitty had a habit of rambling—spilling the anxiety that bubbled in her chest out of mouth in discordant spurts. Unfortunately for Rogue, Kitty was nervous. Nervous to be talking to a woman she tried so hard not to talk to, nervous to be being chased down by an evil alternative self. Nervous that she’d forgotten to turn the stove off at the mansion when she was making macaroni and cheese—which turned out to be very good, thank you for asking. 

“A vampire? That’s kinda hot.” Kitty had meant it in a teasing sort of way, but her cracking voice ruined what little comedic sense the statement had. “Like in Buffy,” she tried again, “Angel was hot. Have you seen Buffy? It’s not as great as Firefly but I like it a lot.” Kitty stopped herself, she could talk about 90s TV shows for hours, but she had the sinking feeling that Rogue didn’t want to hear about it. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she had no sense of what Rogue did or did not like. Strange then, that someone who lived in her home was a stranger to her. And stranger still that Kitty had let that be. ( What had she given Rogue for her birthday? She must just have tacked her name on the end of Bobby’s present—she couldn’t even remember. Had Christmas been the same? ) “Oh,” Kitty responded after a moment. Oh was all she could think to say. There was a story there, one she wanted to know. How did it go? Are you okay? Did you two hug? Of course, Kitty didn’t ask. She didn’t even bother to follow-up in any meaningful way, as though she needed to cast the topic off her like burning coals. If she couldn’t even talk about her favorite TV shows to the woman, she doubted she’d be able to get through a conversation about Jean. “I had a chat with Jean too.” And she left it there, noting the depth of pain in Rogue’s eyes. A pain she would not comment on, and one she would not dare try to ease—as much as she wanted to try, wanted to learn how to.

They were not friends, not the way Kitty was with every single other person she called a friend. And whose fault was that but her own?

When Rogue stumbled back, Kitty pulled her hand away like it’d been burned. Distance; what else did she expect? She wanted to scream apologies into the air until her voice ran hoarse and then she’d write the words until her hands bled. And whose fault was any of this, but her own? Curse Jean Grey for dying and making a bigger mess of an already messy thing, curse Rogue for killing her and ruining something that’d been ruined long ago. ( Who was she if not the girl who had the exact gift to mock Rogue’s curse? ). And instead of telling the woman what she felt, how much she ached to mend a bridge that’d been burnt long before it was made, she smiled and made a joke.

“Do you just call everyone sugar? Can’t I be more special? Like…cinnamon? Logan calls me pumpkin.” And to the Rasputins she was ‘Katya’—Kitty did like her nicknames. They bared a closeness Kitty was known for forging, naturally friendly as she was. She’d always introduced herself as Kitty for this exact reason; she would let people think they could be close to her—there was a specific brand of deceit she’d crafted that masqueraded as sincerity. She might have acted with her heart on her sleeve, but Kitty never did actually betray her thoughts or feelings. She’d keep her mind trapped behind a thousand walls if she could. But her ruse of emotional intimacy couldn’t work on someone she purposefully had tried to push away from her—and in that strange way, she’d been more honest with Rogue than anyone else, by the simple act of not acting. 

She knew then a special name was stupid thing to ask for, not when she still called her Rogue. ‘Anna’, she tried in her mind. Rogue left a clear image; southern woman, brown hair, weirdly perfect white streak, makes wearing gloves all the time look good. Anna was nothing, a static fuzz Kitty wouldn’t dare reach for. ( Though, Kitty reasoned in her own head, how many people called her Anna? Just Remy? Then again, Kitty never really knew what those two talked about, their accents drowned out any understanding she had of what they were actually saying—like  two negatives, they cancelled each other out ). She wouldn’t even think to try Anna Marie, that sounded like someone’s grandma.

“H-hey,” she started, halting suddenly in her steps, “how does it feel for you when we…” Kitty trailed off, hoping suggestion would fill in the gaps she was too afraid to. “Does it feel…bad?” She felt a little like an insecure boy in the aftermath of his first sexual experience, trying to ask if it was good as though the answer would be anything other than ‘no’. In the end she decided she didn’t want to know the answer and held up her hands and shook her head, “s-sorry, forget I asked.” At least this way she could pretend it wasn’t bad at all, maybe it felt like a hug from the inside out. “And I’m sorry, I’m being a jerk, aren’t I? Asking you to hurt someone just because I’m too wea—” Like divine intervention, Shadowcat tumbled out of the brick wall beside Kitty and forced her alternative self to the ground with an angry snarl. 

“I take it back,” Kitty shrieked, turning her head to avoid Shadowcat’s claws, “please hurt her!”

Rogue looked at Kitty for a long moment after she said that Remy as a vampire -- or at least the concept of it -- was kind of hot. Her mouth fell open and for a few more beats, she was still quiet. “What did ya jus' say?” It was a joke. It had to be. But all this nervous energy was throwing Rogue off. Should she agree that maybe it was -- would have been if Remy had actually known her, but even pretending for a second that it would have been hot wasn’t doing anything for Rogue. “I guess. Woulda been better if he recognized me. ‘parently he’s married where he’s from too.” It was no secret among the X-Men that she and Remy had been something to each other, even if that something kept getting torn apart. (But seeing a Remy that didn’t know who she was? It stung in a way that Rogue hadn’t expected.) 

Was this the longest conversation they had? Rogue was learning more about Kitty in these few seconds than she had in the years they had spent together at the mansion. Her mentions of old TV shows that Rogue knew by name only but hadn’t seen -- there were a lot of things that Rogue had missed out on. When she arrived at the mansion she hadn’t tried to fit in with the other students there, she was content to live of the outskirts of their lives because she knew what her powers could do, intentionally or not. So, when people like Kitty pushed her away, Rogue never fought it. Maybe she should have made a better effort to prove she wasn’t the same person she had been when she was in the Brotherhood but... had she changed? She had gone to the Professor for help with her powers, her motivations were selfish at best. 

But these days she did feel different. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of the title of X-Man, but, she knew that she’d die for any of them. They were a twisted up sort of family, but they were family. 

“Ya did?” She wondered what was happening at the mansion now that Jean was back -- and what sort of things were said. Not just the excited whispers of Jean being back -- but what was being said about Rogue. She tried not to think about it, but it was still there, a whisper in the back of her mind that she was past the point of no return. There were no olive branches to be extended, no fixing what had been done. Jean was alive, yes, but that didn’t make the fact Rogue had been the one to kill her any less painful. (Or maybe Rogue was too far into her own head to see straight.) “She back t’ teachin’ already?” Rogue had been so focused on the man she had put in the hospital that she hadn’t gotten around to asking what Jean was doing now that she was back. (Her mind, during that conversation, had once again dropped to a dark place, knowing Jean was back meant the Pheonix was back -- and there was a chance there would be a repeat of what had happened before. She was glad her sister was back, but scared all the same.) 

“I ain’t callin’ ya cinnamon.” Rogue didn’t call anyone something else special -- Remy’s previous contact name was the closest thing to a nickname outside of ‘sugar’ that she had given anyone. But that was Remy. Always the exception. But even that wasn’t a nickname that she spoke aloud. “Besides -- cinnamon ain’t exactly a nickname. Nicknames are supposed to be shorter, Kitty.” Was she supposed to call her Kitty? Or was that name reserved for X-Men -- the very people she had run from only a few months ago -- could she have called her Kitty before she had run? (They had never been friends. Not really. Should she have called her Katherine? Miss Pryde? Did anyone call her that?) 

How -- how did it feel? Rogue’s mouth felt dry the second those words left Kitty’s mouth. How was she supposed to respond? The truth felt harsh but... didn’t Kitty deserve the truth? After everything that had happened? But then Kitty retracted her question and Rogue wasn’t sure what stung more -- Kitty asking the question, or not wanting to hear the answer. Her mouth opened and she contemplated answering the question -- to just saying what she felt when Kitty’s hand fumbled through her body? What was left behind? Rogue opened her mouth and the words were right there --- on the tip of her tongue. But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t. Kitty didn’t want to know and the last thing that Rogue wanted to do was cause Kitty more pain after everything that had happened --- after all the pain that Rogue had already caused. And there was nothing nice about what happened when Kitty phased through her, and how would she phrase that? Ya leave behind your most intense thoughts at the moment -- so right now all I felt was how much ya hate me?

None of that came out. Rogue merely nodded her head as Kitty kept rambling on, offering a polite smile as Kitty walked back everything she had just said and asked of Rogue. But Kitty was cut short and Rogue blinked. It was -- another Kitty. How many doubles of her -- of the people she knew would show up? Rogue moved without hesitation, kicking Shadowcat in the side, not holding back her strength while she tore off one of her gloves and wrapped it around the throat of Kitty’s doppelganger. She could feel it immediately -- the flood of emotions, of memories -- everything. Rogue closed her eyes and built that wall in her mind, silencing this Kitty before she had a chance to root herself in Rogue’s mind. Focusing on the only other thing she could, Rogue looked at Kitty. The one she knew. And wavered while she held on. “When ya touch me -- or don’t I guess -- ya only leave behind the loudest thing in your head.” Rogue was heaving as she tried to focus. “Right now? All I felt was hate.” 

[apoisontouch-a]

notrobertdrake‌:

     DEARLY departed friends haunted him everyday. Those lost, to time or life, and those he was afraid he would lose. Sometimes, he thought he saw people he knew in faces of others, or in their clothes or voices. Sometimes, they weren’t exactly people he wanted to see again. 

—“ᴡʜᴀᴛ do you think you’re doing here?” Bobby stood still, cold hands stuffed into his jeans. He didn’t mind the cold, he couldn’t feel it, but some habits were taught. Like the sternness to his voice, something he hoped no one would notice was an attempt to imitate Scott. They were a couple of blocks away from the mansion, and it was a public place. Still, he stared the woman down and stood in front of her like a gate. He demanded answers. “Rogue,” Bobby started again, “I thought you made your choice.” Running away was a choice. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, quite the opposite. But Bobby was supposed to be a leader now, and leaders needed to think logically. If she felt something else about being an X-Man, then she didn’t belong. That was what Scott would do, wasn’t it? Bobby didn’t know, he hadn’t asked. He just stood there, hands in his pocket, breath visible against the cold autumn air, trying play a role that didn’t suit him. FRIEND was the better part, FRIEND was who he was. But FRIEND had been abandoned when Rogue CHOSE to run away. FRIEND had died when she didn’t answer any of his calls. FRIEND was the past, and this was now. NOW was the reality of what Rogue had done, and all the things she hadn’t told her FRIENDS. “WHAT did you think? That you could throw us away like you did to Jean?”

This was what Rogue had been afraid of. Running away had been a choice -- a choice of cowardice, one she had made out of fear out of looking her friends, her family, in the eyes and seeing this look in their eyes. Or hearing the tone that Bobby’s voice took when he finally spoke to her. Scott, surprisingly enough, had been chasing her, trying to get her to rethink her decision... but the rest of them? Rogue had expected this response. (Even Remy had been miffed at her for leaving without a word to him.)

She had thought about this moment a lot. What people would say to her. How they’d react to her coming back -- and she’d be lying if she wasn’t thinking about Erik’s offer when Bobby spoke. There was still a place for her in the Brotherhood -- but she had abandoned them just like she had the X-Men. (She had made a choice. No one had forced her to run or pull away -- she had done that all on her own. One that stung every person she cared about -- but running was the only thing that Rogue was good at most days.) 

“I---” Rogue tried to speak, but the words got caught in her throat. Telling him that Scott had asked her to come back or that Jean was upset that she had left or that Rogue regretted leaving them in the dust so selfishly --- none of that felt right. None of it felt like it was enough. There were no words, no apology that would fix the damage that had been done. (And Rogue wasn’t sure what had done more damage at this point -- killing Jean or running.) Regardless of their reasons, most of the X-Men seemed to be several shades of pissed at her. And Bobby? He was relentless. And Rogue couldn’t bring herself to be defensive. His tone was harsh, but his questions -- even the jabbing comment at the end -- it was all valid. All something that Rogue had felt about herself in one way or another in the past month. 

“I didn’t throw away Jean,” Rogue said, but even then, her tone was desperate -- not defensive. “Bobby, all I did was what was asked of me. Throwin’ away what I had with y’all -- throwin’ you away, it wasn’t... I never wanted that. But I knew if I stayed...” Rogue swallowed and met his gaze. “Did you really want me around, sugar?” Did the answer to that question even matter? Rogue had convinced herself that the others would have kicked her out anyway... now she was just asking for confirmation. She wasn’t wanted here, no matter how much Scott said she was. Rogue was useful but not in a way that encouraged people to like her. “Scott’s been tryin’ to convince me to come back.” 

[apoisontouch-a]

lifeinccrnate‌:

“Really?” Jean asked, a grin coming onto her face in spite of the conversation looming on the horizon. She was always good at putting on a show, after all, trailing after her father as he walked through various museum exhibits pointing out paintings that Jean’s siblings were interested in but she couldn’t bring herself to care about in the slightest. “At least they’ll leave the school with a distinct southern twang, if nothing else,” she replied fondly. “Kids are a lot of work. Give me adult patients any day. I come back to give a few classes, and I figure out just how many times teenagers can find something to laugh at during biology class – and that’s just when we cover leaves.” Apparently, one of the leaves looked a little like the peach emoji, which then led to a meme spreading like wildfire through the school thanks to a picture taken of one of the boys in glass with said peach emoji leaf stuck to his forehead. Jean didn’t want to know the background to that particular joke.

Now, though, Jean couldn’t pretend they were just having a casual conversation. She should be talking about this with Scott. Lying in bed beside him the night before, she’d stared at the ceiling and played it over and over again in her head, knowing there was no way out of it that left her with an acceptable conclusion. Scott could promise her, but he wouldn’t do it. “Up,” Jean replied. “I just want to go up.” With the Phoenix, Jean could get to space in two seconds, could fly through the cosmos without needing to catch a breath. In the beginning, that had been thrilling. Now, it was terrifying. Earth wasn’t enough for it, maybe never had been.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone without needing to,” Jean said, the unspoken that worrying was necessary now hanging between them. “I knew I needed to do something, but I didn’t … I didn’t think much about it, at the time.” She had been young, not old enough to realise what she was doing at the time – but even now, Jean wasn’t sure she would be able to resist the Phoenix if it meant saving the team. “I–”

Jean couldn’t skirt around this. She needed to tell Rogue the whole truth, no matter how bitter it was. Jean looked up, searching for Rogue’s gaze. “I dream of fire,” she said. “Every night, everything … everything is on fire. The Phoenix is a cosmic being, Rogue. It – they call it life itself. It builds things up, but it breaks them down as well. It … it wants to make this place, this world, better.” Jean looked down, then, at her hands clasped tightly around each other. “I’ve been able to placate it for years, but … humans aren’t getting any better. It wants to–” Jean took a breath, and when she spoke again, it was barely loud enough to hear over her heart beating in her ears. “It wants to burn us all, I think. I … I know.”

Rogue was laughing despite the heaviness in the atmosphere. The thought of the kids walking away from her class with a Southern accent was laughable, but maybe if she drilled it into them enough, they would have that too. It would be good for blending in if they ever went to the South to hide. But that wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought -- just one that was there in the back of her mind. She had spent so much time running herself, that she just assumed that at some point in their lives, her students would be running too. (Which was the morbid reality for all mutants.) “They’ll find a joke anywhere, sugar.” This part was much easier, but all it was, was dragging out the conversation. Hiding what was really important.

Up. Rogue found herself wondering if there was a double meaning there, up was a direction that Rogue could take Jean, but unless Jean’s powers had changed – Jean could fly herself upwards. “Never thought I’d have to warn ya about keepin’ your head out of the clouds -- and keepin’ your feet on the ground.” Again, the remark was light. Rogue was trying to feel out the situation before she dove headfirst into a disaster. 

“Does Scott know?” Rogue probably could have waited a beat for asking that particular question, but it felt important. They had a connection that was hard for Rogue to describe -- and something that Rogue was sure she’d never get. (Her powers complicated every crevice of her life, she had tried relationships -- but the lack of physical contact usually was the deal breaker.) But as far as Jean’s reasoning for accepting that cosmic energy -- Rogue understood that. There were a lot of things she was willing to give up in order to make sure the people here, her family, was safe. And Jean had felt that calling a lot longer than Rogue had.

Rogue felt her blood run cold when Jean spoke. It wanted to burn them. How -- what was she supposed to do with that? What was she going to do the quell the fear that was now brewing in her heart? If the Pheonix was on a track to wipe out all of humanity -- what the hell could they do to stop a cosmic entity from destroying them? 

But it only took her a beat to realize what could be done.

Rogue could be done.

She could stop this, couldn't she? 

Suddenly, Rogue was acutely aware of what it was that Jean wanted to talk to her. Rogue chewed on her bottom lip, looking at Jean and waiting for her friend -- her sister to ask her to help her. “Ya got a plan to stop this thing?” Rogue asked carefully -- feeling like she wasn’t going to like the answer that Jean provided. “Ya know how long ya got before it sets the world on fire?”

[apoisontouch-a]

❛ it wasn’t the same without you ❜ || @roi-des-voleurs

Getting back into the motions with the X-Men would take work. And Rogue knew that -- and still, she chose to start with Remy. She could have gone to Bobby or Kitty or Jean or Scott, and while they were important -- Remy was her person. There was too much history, too much shared experience between them for her to stay away for too long. And that feeling of distance had only increased when the universes tore apart and she was left with a Remy that... wasn’t this one. (How could she even tell Remy that she had claimed him as hers when she was talking to his other self? She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep her dignity.) 

A lot had happened since he had stumbled into the shop she worked at and now? They were sitting at a counter in a bar, where Rogue was running her finger around the rim of her glass trying to think. To put words to her feelings and explain to him everything that had happened when he was gone. But Remy spoke first and Rogue looked turned her head to look at him. A weak smile on her face as she nodded her head. “I’d say I know the feelin’ but... what happened ain’t exactly the same.” Rogue kept her gaze on his face, “I missed you.” But the “both times” was silent.  

[sealotter]

—julia wicker’s leggings & high-waisted pants appreciation post

[apoisontouch-a]

❛ it seems important to mention all the things that went wrong ❜ 

NOT HERE SENTENCE MEME || ALWAYS ACCEPTING || @thefirstxman

"Feelin’ pessimistic today, sugar?” Rogue tried to make the conversation light, but it was impossible. Not just here, but in general -- no matter what they were talking about... they were both thinking about Jean in one way or another. But after a moment of looking at Scott, Rogue realized she didn’t know if he knew that Jean was alive -- or if he had spoken with her. They had a connection didn’t they? Or did Jean’s death break that? And then there was a new elephant in the room -- Erik was in the city. And given her history with the Brotherhood... where did Scott think she stood? Rogue chewed the corner of her lip before shifting. “Scott,” she whispered his name. “When you came t’ talk t’ me in that cafe... did ya know that Jean was alive?” 

[scottsummers]

once upon a time, ah would have thrown you halfway to the moon for a crack like that

[apoisontouch-a]

lifeinccrnate‌:

Jean might not have known the vampiric variant of Remy LeBeau wherever he came from, but she was pretty confident in the universal constants she had noted already through what the Phoenix had shown her in the White Hot Room. Scott Summers. Emma Frost. Kitty Pryde. Ororo, Hank, Warren. Rogue. The woman standing in front of her now was so rarely on the other side of a fight. No matter what else changed around them, Rogue was the person standing by her side. Still, just because they were together didn’t mean Rogue was happy. Rogue here could only be stifled, the same way as this universe’s Jean was boxed in so tight she had no idea  how to get out. “I guess I’ll have to go find him after,” Jean replied, looking at Jean for a long moment. “I’m guessing he’s not down in the Danger Room though, huh? If I had to guess, I’d say he was moving the students out.” She paused. “You don’t trust this version of me, do you?”

Why should they? Jean didn’t trust any of the X-Men back home as far as she could throw them – but this was different. Here, they didn’t look at her as an enemy. Here, they looked at her as an alternate version of a friend, a sister, family. And that was something that even years in the Brotherhood had never provided. “She asked you because she couldn’t do it herself,” Jean replied. This Jean wasn’t capable of making the hard choices – had never been expected to. “You could say the same of the Brotherhood,” she said. “They don’t make it easy, but … there’s a purpose to everything we do.” There was a greater purpose, something Jean aspired to. A future that made dying continually worth it. “I did,” Jean said. “Haven’t gone full firebird on the lawn once. I’m guessing that’s what went down here, right? She lost it?” There was a memorial plaque on the front of the building, but the students talked about her like a ghost story. “Not quite,” Jean replied, “but have you gained control here?” She looked at Rogue for a long moment. “Where I come from, you’re accepted. You don’t need to be anything but who you are. There’s something to be said for that.”

That wasn’t what Rogue wanted in this -- but she wasn’t entirely sure she could stop this Jean even if she tried. By the way their conversation had been so for, it was clear to Rogue that this Jean wasn’t shy about leaning into the power of the Pheonix. She was embracing it in a way that Rogue wasn’t sure her Jean ever had. And that was terrifying on its own. “Doubt he’s there, but the danger room is always fun, ain’t it, sugar?” Rogue didn’t even pretend that it wasn’t a way to distract Jean, they were both too smart to pretend that Rogue was inviting Jean to the danger room for some fun. The danger room, as its name suggested, could be one of the most dangerous place in the whole school --- and Rogue was sure it was far enough away from the kids that if things got ugly, the damage would be minimal. “That would be a good guess, sugar.” One that was right in line with Rogue’s thinking. “Don’t take it personally, trust ain’t somethin’ I hand out.” 

Rogue paused. She never considered making Jean handle this herself -- she didn’t realize that was an option (then again, she didn’t even know that the Pheonix wasn’t just a power it was a cosmic entity). “And you can? Handle it yourself?” Rogue asked. “How?” Maybe if this Jean had a way of keeping the power in check, Rogue could share that with her Jean and help her. (But would this Jean want to share that?) “I know there is, sugar,” Rogue murmured. Erik always had a vision, and that was on that Rogue had followed for years before jumping ship to the X-Men. And a lot of what Erik aspired to change in the world still touched Rogue’s heart. But Rogue had made her choice. The X-Men were her choice, even if she had left them. “Yeah, it all went down right out front,” Rogue confirmed in a whisper. It was public enough that there had been an audience -- but the only one in the crowd whose eyes burned her were Scott’s. “The Professor taught me how to... empty my mind of the other people. Build that wall of stone. Hush the voices. Couldn’t do that with the Brotherhood. It’s a step in the right direction, sugar.” Least, Rogue thought it was. “Can I touch people? Because --- acceptance is nice and all, but most days I just want to be a person. Not... not this.” 

[apoisontouch-a]

masterofmagnetism‌:

The breath caught in his throat when he recognized the white streak in the woman’s hair, that Mississippi drawl that she’d never quite shaken.  Rogue.  

To say that he was conflicted about the woman would be an understatement.  She’d done well, during her time with the Brotherhood, had done great and terrible things in pursuit of what he’d thought was a common goal.  But then she’d left, snuck away the Brotherhood and gone to the X-Men instead, and the betrayal had burned.  Had reminded him all too unpleasantly of yet another who had fled in fear of his methods.  

He had expected her time with the X-Men to go off the rails, of course.  It was only a matter of time before she was reminded of why the team was never quite whole, why Charles could never get it to work just right.  He hadn’t expected the killing of Jean Grey.  And despite his opposition to killing fellow mutants, he understood–preventing the Phoenix from going nova was an unfortunate necessity.  Not one, however, he thought had needed to be put on Rogue’s shoulders. 

He’d been tempted to track her down again, but kept his distance.  But now, she’d followed him.  “Anna,” he breathed, taking a half-step towards her before stilling.  

“I heard you’d left the X-Men. Are you– how are you?”

Hearing her name was always strange. Only a few people ever called her Anna -- it was always Remy or Erik. (A few others let it slip once in a while, but for the most part, it was always the two of them calling her by her real name. That probably spoke to their importance in her life too. The impact they both had on her even when they weren’t standing right in front of her.) But hearing Erik say her name brought a smile to her face, even if it was a ghost of one -- a slight uptick at the edge of her lips. 

“You heard?” Rogue should have expected that -- Erik always had a way about knowing things. And what she had done to Jean had made waves in the mansion (only a few people didn’t know, Remy among them, but Rogue had a feeling that people were too scared to talk badly about her around him). Rogue kept her eyes on Erik despite feeling like she had gotten hit in the gut. Her expression softening as she nodded her head. 

“Didn’t feel right anymore, ya know?” It was hard to face the people she had called family when she had killed one of them. (To their credit, none of them had chased her out of the mansion -- Rogue had done that all on her own.) “Do ya know the whole story, or just the me leavin’ bit?” She assumed he knew about Jean... but it was worth making sure. 

How was she? That wasn’t a question she was getting much these days. (Hostility was something she was becoming reacquainted with.) “I’ve been better, sugar,” she said, opting for honesty than a charming southern joke and a flashy smile to pretend. Rogue had done so much running in the last few months -- she figured now was as good a time as any to stop. “It’s been a minute, what brings ya to New York?” 

[apoisontouch-a]

ohivys‌:

It was Gotham that had made her, poisoned her all those years ago and set her loose in a lawless city. Gotham was where she made her name, and whenever she was caught, Gotham called her home to the stony, shuddering walls of Arkham. But Ivy branched out eventually, and now was an honored member of most wanted lists all over the world. Were it not for CAMP, well, she’d have a nice dark cell with her name on it. Or orders to shoot on sight. 

As it so happened, New York City had experienced its own taste of Ivy awhile back, long enough ago that people no longer tried to harass her on the street, but not quite long enough for her to have forgotten. Every once in awhile, she bumped into someone from before accidentally, someone who knew her as a bit more…green skinned, pheromones buzzing in the air and a trail of bodies behind her. 

It was an ordinary mechanic, which suited her purposes. She had to go upstate in a week to give a lecture on xenobiotic biotransformation, and she realized she didn’t have a car. In the past, a couple kisses would have her with a stolen car and a stolen chauffeur, but now she had to settle for figuring out why her Beetle made hissing noises when she tried to start her up. 

What wasn’t necessarily so ordinary was the woman working there, and Ivy had a flashback to darkened, crumbling building, muffled screams, a shock of white hair. She put her hands on her hips as the woman got to work, and did nothing to hide her pleased expression. 

“I hate to be demanding, but do you think you’ll be able to finish today? I really would appreciate it…And I guess I should also say I appreciated that time in Queens. I never did get the chance to thank you, did I?” 

Rogue recognized the woman the second she came inside the shop, but she didn’t say anything. Not right away at least. Chances were, the woman had parted from the lifestyle they had both seemed to lead back when Rogue was in the Brotherhood. The redheaded woman had a different focus in her activities, but they had both been leaving a trail of bodies behind them. And neither had been apologetic at the time. 

But time changed everyone, and Rogue was trying to be better. Not it amounted to much when she had killed Jean. Saving the world or not, Rogue couldn’t find a way to make it feel right in her heart about what happened. Mostly because of all the memories of Jean’s that still lingered. And knowing that Jean had been reborn didn’t offer Rogue a lick of solace. All it meant, was that there was a chance that Rogue would have to do what she did again. (Even when Rogue was good, she was killing people.)

And seeing this woman, that brought back all sorts of memories. And her time in the Brotherhood – it wasn’t all bad. Not that she could tell any of the other X-Men that. 

Looking up from the car, Rogue offered the woman a smile and nodded her head. “Yeah, sugar. I can fix this today, you got a couple hoses with some cracks. Replacin’ them should be real easy.” For the most part at least. Depended on if they had the parts, but as long as Robbie hadn’t used them since the morning, this would be done in an hour tops. “Wasn’t sure if you recognized me or not,” Rogue admitted. “Wasn’t a lot of room for talkin’, but I’m glad I could help ya. I take it was mission accomplished for ya? Wish I had gotten a better look at it, sugar.” 

[hokage]

smack cam with the x men

[roguesboobfreckles]

The only thing I want(LIE I want so much) from 616!Canon is for them to give me the Iconic X-MEN: Evolution Kitty/Rogue Broship. Like I just want Kitty and Rogue to be bros.

[cpt-s-america]

@roguesboobfreckles yes!!!! Evo rogue/kitty is my favorite!!

[apoisontouch-a]

@mutantprydes @thefirstxman

[apoisontouch-a]

[text] tell me again why i agreed to this? || Scott

@thefirstxman

(✉️ ➡️ Cyclops ): I’mma go on a limb and say you ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, sugar. (✉️ ➡️ Cyclops ): But I also heard that it’s hard to say no to my accent. (✉️ ➡️ Cyclops ): Apparently it’s /warm/ and /charmin’/.

[apoisontouch-a]

[text] pls help….what dress should i wear? (Jean trying to be a sister again whoops!)

(✉️ ➡️ Jean ): [unsent] Are we just supposed to be normal again?(✉️ ➡️ Jean ): [unsent] I mean that /sounds/ nice but(✉️ ➡️ Jean ): Girl, you always looked good in green.(✉️ ➡️ Jean ): But black looks real nice too. 

[apoisontouch-a]

roi-des-voleurs‌:

Was this what it always felt like to others when Remy left without a word? He had never seen it from the other side, and though it would most likely not stop him from doing so in the future, he definitely did not like being on the receiving end. But then that was also surely because he had never felt the same way about anyone else as he did about Rogue. “Got a funny way o’ showin’ it, chere,” he said, rather bitterly, “I ain’t all dat great at trustin’ people, but you’ve always been de exception. You’ve been de person I know I can trust. But if I can’t trust you t’ tell me ‘bout somet'ing like dis…how can I trust you otherwise?”

He wanted to believe her…he did believe her. But if she felt so strongly about him, she should have told him. “I deserved t’ know, chere, an’ you know dat.” After everything they had been through. That was why it hurt him so much. To think that Rogue would just leave without a word made him feel like he was nothing more than a one night stand. Leaving someone you barely knew without a word was one thing. Leaving someone you knew well…or thought you did…was another. Turning away, Remy ran a hand through his hair. He hated to say what he was thinking, but it was paining him too much not to ask. “I just gotta know one t'ing, chere. If we…if we were still…together…would you still have done it? Would you still have left an’ not have told me?" 

While Remy could never fully understand what it was like to have someone else’s memories and consciousness inside his mind, Rogue had told him enough over the years about how hard it was. Which is why he felt she needed support at such a time, not to be alone. "I get dat it must hard t’ deal wit’ dat, but even if you didn’t wanna talk, we still could have…I don’ know. Jus’…sat together? I gotta t'ink jus’ havin’ de support would’ve helped.” He could understand her not being comfortable around Scott–especially since it was Jean who she had killed–but why would she not have wanted to be around Remy? Why would she have wanted to cut ties with him? She knew he was not like the rest of them, so why alienate the one person who would have completely supported her?

And…that was why. Because Remy would have done exactly that: he would have followed her. “I’d follow you t’ de ends o’ de earth, chere, an’ you know it,” he said, his tone completely softened now, the sight of her on the verge of tears seemingly evaporating his anger. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and just hold her, hold her like he used to do. But instead, he reached out and lightly touched her arm, the barrier of her shirt seemingly less of a barrier than the intangible one hovering between them. “Yes you do. You’re worth it, you’ve always been worth it an’ you’ll always be worth it. An’ you’ll hafta break my legs t’ get me t’ stop followin’ you no matter where you go or what you do. Even den I’ll prob'ly jus’ try t’ crawl after you.”

How could he trust her? Rogue couldn’t even give him a good reason why he should after what she had done. “I—” I’m sorry. It’s what she should have said, but the apology died in her throat. Telling herself that she deserved every word that was coming from his mouth – because it was all true. Murdering Jean was only one part of what Rogue had done, and that alone would have been enough to destroy her relationship with the other X-Men… but Rogue took it the extra mile when she left in the middle of the night. When she decided that Remy didn’t deserve a face to face on why she was leaving – or even a note. She grabbed a bag and was gone before the news had even hit most of the mansion. (None of them knew the full story outside of Scott – and that was largely Rogue’s fault too. And was it shame that drove her away, or wanting to be punished for what she had done?) “Maybe ya shouldn’t, sugar.” Another push – another attempt to increase the distance between her and Remy. To give him a way out, all he had to do was take it.

He turned away from her and Rogue had thought that was it – he was leaving. But then the question he finally spoke… that hurt more than him leaving ever could. Remy had every reason to question that too – she had given him nothing in the last few months to even hit that she cared about him or any of the others. Would it have been different if they were still together? Rogue looked at the side of his face, feeling her heart aching because she knew that regardless of the answer, it would hurt. “I woulda told you what Jean asked me to do…” Which was already one huge difference. But would she have left without him? Without at least talking to him? No answer she had for that question would be fair – but the question itself wasn’t fair either, was it? “And I woulda stayed.” Rogue knew that if Remy had asked her to, she would have stayed in the mansion with him. If they had that talk, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away. “Doesn’t change what happened,” Rogue said in a whisper. “Don’t really help us now, either, does it?” In fact, Rogue was sure that her answer did more harm than good.

Would it have been different if Remy had been at her side when she killed Jean instead of Scott? If she didn’t have him trying to talk her down from the ledge? Scott said all the right things for someone else – that she did what she had to do, that Jean had wanted this, that she had asked Rogue to do this and somehow that made it all okay. And maybe it would have been for someone else – someone who wouldn’t have Jean’s memories burning through her, for someone who couldn’t feel what it felt like to die. “I don’t think that woulda helped,” Rogue confessed. “You tellin’ me ya never had a moment with Jean? That sittin’ with ya wouldn’t have brought up somethin’ else? Every room in that place it… it had somethin’ of Jean in it. And not just the memories – the kids too – I couldn’t—” she couldn’t face them just like she couldn’t face Remy.

“You woulda done it, damn the consequences, and I didn’t want that for you,” Rogue said, her tone turning desperate. She might not have been in a place to tell Remy what was best for him, but that had never stopped her from doing what she wanted to protect him before, had it? All the anger and frustration felt like it was melting away, and Rogue wasn’t sure if she should have been happy to let that settle or not. (She was though -- she hated the idea of her and Remy being on opposite sides of anything.) His hand was on her arm and immediately, Rogue brought up her gloved hand and placed in on top of his. This was what she had wanted for months -- but she had gotten so far inside herself that even when Scott reached out for her, she nearly slapped his hand away. But Remy? It was easy to deny him when he wasn’t standing right in front of her. But when he was there? She couldn’t tell him no. Didn’t want to tell him no. “Remy...” She breathed his name before finally looking him in the eyes again. “I’m sorry -- I... I know it ain’t much but I am.” 

[apoisontouch-a]

mutantprydes‌:

There’s a story Kitty hates to tell, one of a troubled girl seeking help from the X-Men. One about how another girl, young and angry, screamed around walls she knew to be thin about how much of a bad idea helping was. Don’t you remember what she’s done? The girl said, How can you let her walk around here? That girl liked to think she had sense, that she was the only one with sense—the only one who could see with foresight what a bad idea this was.

Kitty wanted to pretend that wasn’t the story of how she’d met Rogue. She wanted to pretend she’d greeted her with open arms and a wide smile. This is the kitchen, she would have explain—should have explained, you are welcome here, with us. I know your past and I accept you. Kitty hadn’t been so kind then, and the mistake haunted her more than the confession of a stolen shirt could articulate. I’m so sorry, Kitty would say now, if she’d learned anything at all from her own past. I’ve always wanted to be your friend. 

(  There is a dream she’s had many times in her youth. She sits in her room, braiding Rogue’s hair—-it’s nice hair, Kitty’s always thought so, she tells Rogue this. They speak about boys and their favorite movies. The next time she has this dream, Rogue’s hair is longer. The next time it is longer still. Each time it grows until Kitty is outside the room, down the hall, in the darkness so far away she cannot see Rogue at all. She has to yell now to speak, Rogue does not answer. The dream is not about braiding hair, it is about trying to forge a bridge backwards. Eventually, she stops having this dream. )

“Gee, my hero.” Kitty took Rogue’s hand, stumbling up to her feet. “I’m…” she heaved, adrenaline still pounding in her ears , “… being … chased … by … myself … but … with … claws?” She breathed, clutching her stomach, trying to contain her lungs which burned after all the sprinting she’d just done. The ‘with-claws’ part was important, but she lacked the oxygen to explain how horribly unpleasant and taxing phasing through adamantium was—she didn’t trust herself not to add ‘almost as bad as phasing through you!’ to the end. “I—” she flushed, hand clasped over her mouth, “I didn’t mean it like—okay killing Jean is a lot worse but I still feel bad for the shirt thing. Jean is back though, did you—did you talk to her?” 

Kitty reached out to touch Rogue, wanting to mend a gap, then she remembered it was a gap she made and phased her hand through Rogue’s shoulder like a drunk man trying to find balance. There was a lot she’d wanted to say to Rogue, the confession of her thievery was not among them. I hate you or I hate that you killed Jean or I hate that you left or I hate that you killed Jean and then left or I hate that we’re not friends and that you killed Jean and left and now we can never be friends because every time I look at you I’ll think about how you had to kill Jean and how you left and how we can’t talk about it or I really wish I still had that shirt. Instead, she said: “maybe you can touch me!” And then a beat passed, “I mean the clawed me. Not me-me. U-unless you want to? No, wait. That sounds weird. The other me! You might just be the only one who can save me.” Which was ironic, in its own way. “…Or not? I can’t ask you to…hurt someone. Even if she is me and evil and has claws—did I mention the claws before?”

Coming to the mansion came with all sorts of problems, and Rogue felt each and every single one of them when she walked through the doors for the first time. She remembered the glances she got, the way people parted in the halls to let her walk past because they were scared of touching her on accident – and Rogue never blamed them.  She couldn’t. They had every reason to be scared of her. Her touch was poison. And she had spent the better part of her life as a terrorist. Hurting people left and right without so much as a blink of remorse, and the only reason she had gone to the X-Men… that had been for a selfish reason too. She needed help controlling her powers, needed help cutting through all the noise in her head.

It was the relationships he formed afterward that kept her at the mansion, but originally? It was for herself. And she had made no promises to stay after she got the help she needed. And the other residents, the ones who screamed at the top of their lungs that she was a monster – the ones that looked at her like they were waiting for her to kill one of them… they made it hard to stay. But the Professor told her she could help so much if she tried. Like that kid who almost set the entire mansion on fire when he was too emotional to control his powers. And then there was Scott, telling her that she could relate to the other kids on levels that no one else would be able to. (The saint of been there, done that.) But their words of encouragement didn’t make what people like Kitty said any less true. It was only a matter of time before Rogue killed one of them.

And it had finally happened.

And then Rogue ran, like she always did.

There had been a time when Rogue would pick herself up in the middle of battle and throw one of her teammates a smile and shrug it off – never letting anything keep her down. Rogue, despite how distant she kept herself from the team, did her best to keep the morale up. But after she was the one who tore it apart… she couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t fake the smile and act like what she had done was a good thing. She had killed Jean. She had saved the world, but she had killed her sister. Her best friend. There was no good way to spin it. And Rogue didn’t want to play it off like she had done the world a service.

It was Jean’s choice. Jean’s sacrifice that saved the world. (Rogue had to tell herself that over and over again, repeating it like a mantra, hoping that if she kept saying it out loud that it’d help her to forgive herself, to let her move on --- but it never worked. Never.)

“Claws is a new trick, sugar. I ran into Remy – this one is apparently a vampire,” Rogue offered, but she left the part out where that Remy had never met her before and looked at her like she was a total stranger. Kitty rushed out an explanation and Rogue wanted to tell her that she understood – this was awkward for both of them. Rogue had ran out on the X-Men after killing Jean and left them all to pick up the shattered pieces of what she had left behind. (Still, she wasn’t sure if staying would have been any better. Would any of them been able to look at her in the aftermath of that anyway? Would it have given them any time to heal when they were faced with the one that had killed her on the daily?) “I know Jean is alive I saw her—” Rogue cut herself off. She saw Jean at the hospital after losing control again and nearly killing someone else. That was the last thing that Kitty needed to know – and Rogue doubted that Kitty would want to know. Some things didn’t need to be shared. “She and I had a chat,” Rogue finally settled on, even if there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. Why? Because she knew that it might happen again. And that Jean… Jean might come back to Rogue and ask her for a repeat performance if the Phoenix got out of hand again.

The next action – Rogue had thought that Kitty was simply going to put a hand on her shoulder, and while Rogue could feel the muscles tensing in her body before Kitty’s hand was even close. But she didn’t pull away – but she should have. Kitty’s hand went right through her and on the way through, it left so much behind. Kitty had only phased through her a few times – and Rogue assumed it hadn’t been a great experience for Kitty either because she made a point not to anymore, and this was the first time in a long time that she had. What Kitty left behind, it wasn’t memories like everyone else, it was… impressions. Usually, it was whatever Kitty was feeling strongly at the moment. Whatever her mind was screaming about got transferred. (One time it had been about tacos – Kitty was in the kitchen and trying to get to something on the other side of Rogue and phased through her without so much as a word and all Rogue had screaming in her head was how hungry Kitty was and how great tacos sounded.)

And today it was how much Kitty hated her. And how broken their frail relationship was.

And as much as Rogue had expected that from the other X-Men, she never thought she’d have to feel it. Rogue stumbled backward, trying to distance herself from Kitty – and that hand. What was she supposed to say? I know you hate me and you don’t have to talk to me? Instead of saying anything like that, Rogue tried to catch her breath and tried to ignore how much Kitty hated her in this moment. “Why would I—” Right. The other Kitty. The request would have been hysterical if she only knew that she was asking her to do to the other version of herself, what Jean wanted Rogue to do to her. Touch her and make it stop. “Listen, sugar, if she’s anything like Wolvy but with some evil for flair, I’ll do it, be both know not many people can match up to that sort of thing.” Which was true. Other people could do something about it, but Rogue was probably the most efficient answer. “You lead the way – and don’t phase through me again, okay, sugar?”

[apoisontouch-a]

roi-des-voleurs‌:

“Oh good, you got dat message at least,” Remy drawled, leaning back against the bar. Obviously she was another person who knew this universe’s version of him, but he still was not quite used to people coming right up to him and assuming they were old friends. “Non, ‘your Remy’ ain’t here. Guess I’m jus’ de poor substitute.” This universe’s Remy must have a hell of a lot of people who cared about him, which Remy had to admit he was a little envious of. Sure he had his family and the Thieves Guild, but he did not have this extended group that this other Remy seemed to have. “Gotta wonder what he’s got dat I don’. Better hair? Normal eyes? Expensive cologne?”

Rogue, huh? “Interestin’ name. Tryin’ t’ be mysterious, eh? I do like mysterious ladies, so maybe dis other me’s got some taste at least.” Her hesitation in attempting to describe whatever she was to “her Remy” made the Remy she was currently speaking to smirk. Yeah, that sounded like himself. Complicated relationships must be common to Remy LeBeaus in any universe. “T'ink I might actually follow dat. Surprised t’ hear you trust him, though. Usually takes a lot for people t’ trust me. Seems like most people don’ wanna trust someone dey t'ink is gon’ rob ‘em blind. 'Your Remy’ hasn’t tried t’ snatch your purse, den, I’m t'inkin’?”

Her confusion over how she had interrupted his meal suddenly laid bare what was clearly the biggest difference between himself and this universe’s Remy. The other woman he had run into who knew the other Remy was surprised to know this Remy was a vampire, so obviously Rogue was expecting a non-vampire Remy as well. “Uh non, I don’ eat food, chere. If you gon’ offer me a meal, you don’ need no money. Jus’ your neck.” He smiled, this time wide enough to show his fangs. “Either you don’ got no vampires in dis universe or you jus’ never met one. So yeah, clearly 'your Remy’ at least got dat much goin’ for him. Least he can still have a bowl o’ gumbo from time t’ time. De closest I can get t’ Cajun cookin’ anymore is drinkin’ from someone who jus’ ate some, an’ dat ain’t anywhere near as good.”

Clearly, her words had hit something she hadn’t even seen there. But she didn’t know this version of Remy well enough to tell if he was actually offended -- or just annoyed. After all, if people kept walking up to her thinking that she was a different version of herself, she’d be just as annoyed. And that realization was what softened Rogue. At least, as much as it could given their situation. “Gotta flair for the dramatic, don’t ya?” Rogue asked, before shaking her head. There were a lot of things that her Remy was that this guy wasn’t, but as far as looks went? “It ain’t nothin’ like that, sugar. You look like twins, he just happened to get better company.” Rogue wasn’t naive enough to think that she was the reason he was different here, that his life was different, it was a combination of a lot of things -- maybe it even came down to one fork in the road where this guy went left instead of right. 

Mystery might have been the right word. She took it when she was younger -- running away from home and when she joined the Brotherhood, she stopped being Anna Marie and was only  Rogue. And the X-Men? Most of them didn’t press her for her real name. They all had their own codenames and the Professor all encouraged them to have something to wedge between who they were as X-Men and who they were any other hour of the day. Rogue simply chose to never drop that wall. And those in the group that did know her name? She still insisted on Rogue. (Remy was, again, an exception that.) “Shared experience helped a lot with that,” Rogue offered. “He and I got a lot more in common than I do with most people like us.” Did that apply to this Remy? Was he a mutant too? Something else? His eyes suggested that he was but Rogue couldn’t be sure. Not about anything. “Not my purse, no.” He had stolen something else and she was sure this Remy would be quick to pick up on what she meant -- but given the situation, she wasn’t going to say it.

Her neck? Rogue’s eyes snapped upwards from her wallet, “’Scuse me?” Fumbling her wallet when he finally smiled, Rogue found her heart beating faster -- and it sure as hell wasn’t in a cute way. Rogue put her wallet on the counter and cleared her throat, trying to collect herself after his comment. Was he really thinking that he’d get a drink from her? “You ain’t got a damn clue what I can do, do ya?” Of course, he didn’t, he didn’t recognize her when she walked up, why would he know about her powers? “Well, he can’t touch me and neither can you,” Rogue said, finally looking him in the eyes again. “I’m not a flavor you’re gonna enjoy, unless you like poison.” 

[apoisontouch-a]

notrobertdrake‌:

(TEXT → I Know Exactly Who You Are  ): Hey sorry but who is this? I have you saved as ‘old lady’ but all our texts logs are gone so idk who u r (TEXT → I’m Sorry I’m Not Calling ): woah wait is this rude? sorry. its bobby. bobby drake. am i still in your phone? (TEXT → I Miss You ): Hey old lady! 

(✉️ ➡️ Bobby ): [unsent] Deletin’ all those texts is fair, not that I did much replyin’ the last few months (✉️ ➡️ Bobby ): [unsent] Can’t believe you changed my /name/ though. (✉️ ➡️ Bobby ): Old lady? Seriously? Is it cause of the streaks - that’s just plain /rude/. (✉️ ➡️ Bobby ): It’s Rogue. (✉️ ➡️ Bobby ): Stop callin’ me old lady.