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Chapter 4 of ‘To Carry My Heart’ is now available!

This story is inspired the Day 4 prompt from Rogue/Gambit week 2020—What does Gambit keep in his pockets?

You can read ‘Chapter Four - Security, Part 2’ on ao3 or

excerpt from ‘To Carry My Hear’ Chapter 4…

Rogue perched beside Gambit as they surveyed the office tower across the street. According to the intelligence provided by Cyclops, the building should be nearly empty at this hour. It was well past the time when most of the employees should have left for the evening. Except, that didn’t appear to be the case tonight. Too many lights remained on in the office suites on the thirty-sixth floor and semi-obscured silhouettes passed behind the tinted glass. If it had been any other floor, the late night workers would have posed less of a problem, but to reach their target they would need to pass directly through those occupied offices.

When they had arrived forty-five minutes ago, Remy had muttered a curse under his breath, then fell silent. Badly out of practice at the fine art of surveillance, Rogue had  followed his lead and watched silently. Holding in a frustrated sigh, Rogue fought back the urge to ask the question which had niggled at the back of her brain since being assigned to this portion of the mission. The longer they waited, the greater her confusion grew. Were they waiting because she lacked the skills needed to infiltrate the office?

“Is there another way in?” Rogue asked instead, keeping the question at a low murmur.

(Previous chapters on ao3: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3)
(Previous chapters on Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3)

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I meant to post this for @roguegambitweek but I forgot (I kinda had a baby two weeks ago) so I’ll post it for Valentine’s Day instead! I drew this when I was 14-ish, not long after UXM #341 (pencils by Joe Madureira) first came out, and I just had to fix That Panel because the wrong dude was kissing her. I remember being super proud of it because it was the first time I’d successfully referenced a picture without tracing, ha.

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I want to send out a quick note of thanks to everyone who has helped make Rogue/Gambit Week a success. This couldn’t have happened without all of you.

To everyone—Thank you for sharing, liking, and re-blogging. Thank you for voting and suggesting themes. Thank you for your interest in participating.

Special thanks to @chellerbelles, @annyferdinand , @womenlovemefishfearme , @x-red-string-of-fate-x, @applejacks1552, @sandmansraven, @sheriff-snikety-snake, @bustedflipflop, @jehilew, @ludi-ling, @purplevit, @xevg, @virfujiwara, Malachi888, and @angel-gidget who shared their wonderful fanworks with all of us. Our fandom is richer because of your contributions.

Thank to @angel-gidget who made all the banners and icon used on the blog.

Thank you!

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Rating: G | Words: 960 approx.| a03 link: here.

Summary: prompt for Rogue Gambit Week, Day #4: What does Gambit keep in his pockets?

As far as evil dungeons to be trapped in went, this one wasn’t the worst. It was pretty budget, really. No henchmen or fancy tech outside of a power dampening field and very thick doors. Rogue had found that fairly annoying, but the really aggravating part was the levels.

The whole place was a babushka-doll of holding cells within holding cells.  The lack of lackeys meant there were no torturers and no guards to send out any alerts when she and Remy slipped their chains and began to make their way to the exit. That had seemed like a good start to their getaway.

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Hello all!

It is coming to a close on our last day of Rogue/Remy Week 2020. Thank you so much to everyone who has participated. Your art and stories excitement has helped make this week possible.

If you have been working on something but haven’t quite finished yet, please post it when you’re done. And use the #Rogue/GambitWeek2020 or #Rogue/RemyWeek2020 tags. I’ll continue to search the tags and post until the end of February. There is always room for more Romy loveliness.

Also, if you have posted something this last week and I missed it, please message me or send me an ask. I’ve had some issues with searching tags and finding ‘at’s. We don’t want to miss any of your hard work.

Thanks again, you’ve all helped make this week a success.


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Well, here it is, a little treat for my followers - the first chapter of Crazy 8′s, the sequel to 52 Pickup. I’m sharing since it’s Day 7 (AU) of Rogue/Gambit Week 2020. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this story, even though I got a fair way through it, since I wrote myself into a corner, and I’m not sure I like it very much. But I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Crazy Eights

Chapter 1

               Thieving 101.

               Simplest rule in the book.

               Don’t get caught.

               I can hear pere’s voice in my head, clear as day, literally beatin’ the words into all of us, his snotty-nosed, grass-stain-scuffed li’l Fagin’s gang.

               Don’t. Get. Caught.

               And then his face, leaning in towards mine, grinning, saying:

               Unless, o’ course, you have a reason t’get caught.

               Yeah, that was mon pere, full of good, subtle ideas. He’d usually direct them at me cos he knew I was like the worst kind of sponge. I’d be soakin’ all that shit up, swimmin’ in it like a gator swims in swamp water.  As a kid, I’d always figured he was just picking on me. As an adult, I realise all he was doing was laying down challenges, cos he knew this punk-ass kid would rise to the bait every time, pushing every damn boundary he could along the way.

               You got potential, boy. But you got no discipline. Always halfway t’ bein’ in a rage, t’ ventin’ it out on some poor trash. You play de con, kid, you live de con. No heart-on-your-sleeve shit.  Dat stays inside. Cos y’know what? Folks can read dat crap a mile away.

               “C’mon, pretty boy,” the man to my right grunts, as the alarms I’ve set off still scream all around us. “Getcha arse in gear. The boss don’t take kindly to waitin’.”

               He prods me in the back with the barrel of his gun, a little too sharply than is strictly necessary; but I get it, he has a job to do, and actin’ mean is part of it.

               “Yeah, well, that’s what bosses are like, mon ami,” I answer with a smirk. “Never got time for nothin’. Mebbe you should think about goin’ freelance, neh?  It has its advantages.  No calls at unsociable hours… Don’t gotta do all the dirty work y’self… Get t’ have a couple of pretty femmes hangin’ on your every word… Still. I reckon mebbe you two ain’t smart ’nuff yet t’ graduate from the ol’ ‘Crime Boss 101’ course, am I right?”

               “Hey!” The guy to my left gives me a crack on the back of the head with what I assume is also the barrel of a gun. “Shut the fuck up!”

               See? Boring, predictable, run-of-the-mill flunkies. These couyons ain’t never gon’ make it past mid-tier bodyguard material.

               And those alarms are still screaming.  Ain’t some asshole gon’ shut it off already?  It’s givin’ me a headache.

               Whatever. I do as I’m told and shut the fuck up. Mostly because I’m busy scanning the décor of this corridor we appear to be walking down.  The walls are lined with paintings, a mess of eras and styles that could tell anyone with an ounce of taste that whoever’s collecting this shit has none.  Taste, that is.  All it tells me is that this guy has cash, and he don’t mind throwin’ it ’round.  We walk past a Cezanne, and I grimace.

               Hang on in there, li’l guy, I say to myself as we sweep right by it. One o’these days I’m gonna free you.  Soon.

               Cos let’s face it.

               You think I’m gonna leave a Cezanne to rot in Cain Marko’s fuckin’ playboy mansion when it could be on my wall?

               I think not.

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Rogue/Gambit Week 2020: Day 7 - AU

Just sharing some old sketches I did for chapter 18 of Katjen’s amazing AU fic, Bad Touch. Drawn c. 2004.

She lets go of the tree, takes one cautious step and then another, still feeling a little shaky. She trips over a raised root and he is there in an instant, holding her up, his hands on her ass, the warmth of them seeping through the damp silk.

“Sorry,” he grins despite himself. “Dere ain’ any material higher den dat on y'back…”

Tell him ya need him… tell him ya know who he is…

She holds on to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. The smile slips off his lips as they stare at each other and hers part and she can feel his heart pounding against her knuckles-

A car door slams and she whispers breathlessly against his mouth, “Ah need to tell ya sumthin’ important… Ah know ya-”

“Is everything alright?” the driver calls out, and she bites her lip as Remy looks at her curiously, waiting for her to continue.

She looks over his shoulder and sees the man standing in front of the headlights, throwing his shadow against the screen of leaves. She sees his hand reaching out, parting them, and she quickly finds her footing as Remy’s hands slide away.

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Rogue/Gambit Fanworks week, Day 7: Alternate Universe

Can also be found here:

Gambit cautiously pushed the tower window open. He scanned the ground in front of him and anything else in the nearby vicinity, but saw no signs of anything that might be a magical trap. One could never be certain when breaking into an archmage’s tower, especially one that had a bounty on their head for the last ten years.

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Rogue/Gambit Fanworks week, Day 6: First Anniversary

Note: This and the stories for Days 1, 3, 4 & 5, can now be found here:

Rogue woke up and rolled over in bed to look at Gambit. He was still very much asleep and didn’t respond to her movement.

As of today, they had been married for a whole year. The knowledge pleased Rogue enormously. Partly, of course, because she loved Gambit and loved being married to him, and wanted them to be together for the rest of their lives. But there was also the matter of the vocal minority who didn’t believe they would make it to one year of marriage. Rogue was really looking forward to giving them all the finger later in the day.

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Rogue/Gambit Fanworks week, Day 5: Cats

Note: Also takes place in the X-Men Evolution universe.

Also, I have cats. I’ve always had cats. You’d think I’d be able to include more cat antics in this but nooooo. Stupid muse.

Gambit crouched in the shadowed corner of the parking lot and watched through the gap between the dumpster and the wall. Six people were in the middle of the mostly empty parking lot, having a little exchange. One that Gambit knew would get heated very soon. He had planned on not being their when things went down, but luck hadn’t been on his side.

A piteous meow caught his ears. He frowned and looked around. He had pretty good dark vision, but he couldn’t see this cat, wherever it was. There was a few more high-pitched meows.

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