#cajun chips

[scr4n]

Cajun fries from Popeyes Louisiana Chicken 🐓🍟

[rigginsstreet]

i dont have an aversion to hot/spicy food but i will never understand the hype around hot cheetos its such an unpleasant experience eating those

[rabbitcruiser]

National Potato Day

National Potato Day is celebrated on August 19 of every year. For centuries, potatoes are the favorite item of diets everywhere in the world. Potato lovers are found in massive numbers, and that primarily includes the children. With the soft, smooth nature, potatoes can be eaten in different forms like potato chips, mashed potatoes, gratin, hash-browns, baked potatoes, potato salad, hasselbacken, home fries, tater skins, potato cake, potato wedges, kroppkaka, and the list extends in number. They are just some of the amazingly tasty items which are made with the potatoes. Celebrating National Potato Day is worth noting as to let people know the nourishment it has. Potatoes are not only the savory, but they also contain high levels of vital vitamins and minerals that include vitamin C, iron, and potassium. Prepare your favorite potato recipe in a way to celebrate National Potato Day.

“My idea of heaven is a great big baked potato and someone to share it with.” – Oprah Winfrey

History of National Potato Day

The origin and the person who established the National Potato Day is still anonymous. However, the history of potato dates back to centuries ago. The English word potato has all the way came from the Spanish word patata. The word “potato” may indicate either to the plant itself or the edible tuber. Usually, the potato is a starchy, tuberous vegetable from the perennial nightshade Solanum tuberosum. The first region where the potato was first domesticated is the modern-day southern Peru and the extreme northwestern Bolivia between 8000 and 5000 BC. From then, the potatoes have spread throughout the world and is now a staple crop in several countries. Now it is an integral part of the world’s food supply, and that is marked as the one of world’s largest food crop which ranks the fourth position following maize, wheat, and rice. The smaller potatoes are named as spuds and are associated with the 19th century. There are millions of different styles of preparation is found in the American cuisine where potatoes are a favourite part and occupy a larger parts. Potatoes are used in making bread, rolls, and pancakes, and also found as a whole in the everyday meal. The production of potatoes world wide was more than 382 million tonnes at present. Potatoes vary in colour, texture, size and shape with reapest to the region they grow. There are currently more than hundred different varieties of potatoes available in the world. National Potato Day is one form of celebration to make people understand the nutritional values present in the potatoes. Raw potato consists of water, carbohydrates, starch, sugar, dietary fiber, fat, protein, and vitamins like B1 to B6, B9, C, E, K. The mineral contents like calcium, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorous, potassium, and sodium are also available. It is one must have food for anyone with which almost all the dietary supplements are obtained. One most notable incident about the potato with the Ireland is the potato plague. It made the people of the entire country starve as they were reliant on the potato as their food crop. Celebrating National Potato Day highlights the note as one must have good health to live longer.

How to Celebrate National Potato Day

There are lots of interesting ways available by which you can celebrate the National Potato Day. You can add potatoes in small quantity in the daily meal you prepare. To make it spicy, prepare tasty potato fries, chips, mash potatoes with species, or cook hash browns with salt and pepper. To be more creative, you can try out a new dish yourself with potatoes and serve them hot to your friends and family. Buy Good Russian Vodka which is a distillation of potato to celebrate Potato Day in a unique way you want.

Source

[gaykestrel]

These taste like if pickles had no vinegar and were also bad

[ohthisisgonnasuck]

I miss prawn crisps so much, I sometimes forget that these are NOTHING LIKE THEM:

Luckily, they are spicier.. but like if Canadian ketchup chips and prawn crisps had a spicy step child that thought it was Cajun.

[doctorslippery]

That's offensive to Grandma's dinner table.

But Grandma had a sense of humor.

[soundbreaking]

Mango Salsa Recipe A refreshing mango salsa that's spicy and colorful thanks to the addition of red bell pepper, green onion, jalapeno, fresh cilantro, and lime juice.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James watches the exchange with mild disdain, fingers tapping idly against the felt. Gambit’s antics barely warrant more than a slow exhale through his nose.

At Gambit’s easy surrender, James allows himself a smirk, though it’s more self-satisfied than openly gloating. “A lesson in humility? How noble of you to impart such wisdom, though I suspect you’re rather too familiar with the concept of losing.” He adjusts his cuffs, rolling his shoulders back. “A shame, really. I had expected a greater challenge.”

His gaze flicks to the pile of chips before him, then back to the Cajun, unimpressed by the theatrics. “Another round?” He exhales, shaking his head as he slides his entire stack of chips forward. “Very well. If you insist on parting with your money so quickly, who am I to refuse? Consider me all in.”

His gaze lingers, just briefly, on the woman giggling at Gambit’s side. A muscle in his jaw tightens, and he finally rolls his eyes. “If you can manage to focus on the game and not your audience, that is.” The words are clipped, but there’s a challenge beneath them, the sharp edge of a man who refuses to be shown up.

❛ Hmm? ❜ Remy looks up from where he's laying it down pretty thick on his neighbor, the older woman connected to his mark. The poker game has always been secondary in the legendary thief's mind and riling up the snotty Britishman a bonus, not a focus. He's already lifted her room card--but a little flirting never hurt nobody.

Devilish eyes peer over his shades as he folds with an easy shrug. A loss is a loss; that's just the way the cards work sometime. He blows it off with a loose, easy grin, gesturing to a server for another round of Southern Comfort, playing up his loss. His companion giggles, opening up her clutch to help pay for his round even when he declines coquettishly. Her hand slides up his thigh as she insists on paying the whole thing just because he protested, and like a true gentleman, Remy concedes.

Oh Lord does he love cougars.

❛ Mais, garde des don, y'know dere's somet'in' to be said 'bout a man who can take a knock on de chin gracefully, yeah? Mebbe dat's a lesson some a' us still need t'learn. ❜ With a genial smile, he finally regards the Britishman. ❛ Now dat y'got some big boy argent, ya up for a ot'er round? 'Cuz I know I am--❜ He waggles his eyebrows and his neighbor giggles, playfully hitting him in the shoulder with her clutch.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Food History

B.C.

10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup

8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard

6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize

5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt

4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates

3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots

2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron

2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds

1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles

900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds

500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar

300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince

1st—13th Century

1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup

3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant

7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg

10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup

11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan

12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries

13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous

14th—19th Century

14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread

15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs

16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad

17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie

18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs

19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad

20th Century

1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza

1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli

1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail

1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)

1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies

1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing

1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies

1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini

1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies

1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips

1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers

1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie

1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies

1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme

1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon

1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos

1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake

1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster

1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini

1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake

1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees

1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup

1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas

1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken

1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels

1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini

1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes

21st Century

2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops

2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[chaoticrockmusic]

↫彡🂡"My Girl can Wear Whatever"🂡彡↬

↫Peter Maximoff↬

You were just trying to get a snack. That was it. But the moment you stepped into the kitchen, Peter nearly dropped his Twinkie.

"Whoa—" His silver brows shot up as his eyes scanned your outfit. Not in a gross way, but in a "Do I need to start running?" way.

You raised a brow. "Problem?"

Peter shook his head way too fast. "Nope! No problems here. You can wear whatever you want, babe."

Jubilee, sitting at the counter, smirked. "Really? You don’t care?"

Peter scoffed, tossing an arm around your shoulders. "Pfft. Why would I? My girl can wear whatever she wants..." He hesitated, glancing at you and then lowering his voice. "...'cause I'm scared of her."

You narrowed your eyes. "What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" He grinned nervously, stepping back. "You look amazing! Stunning! Fantastic! A completely independent person with great fashion sense! I love that for you!"

Jubilee cackled. "Dude, you are terrified of her."

"Well, yeah," Peter said without shame. "Like, you think I'm about to tell her no? You think I got a death wish? Nah, I value my life, I like my face. I’d like to keep it in one piece."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a granola bar from the pantry. "Good answer, Maximoff."

Peter sighed in relief. You were scary, but hey, at least you were his scary.

彡Logan彡

Logan had been minding his business at the bar when you walked in, dressed in something that made half the room do a double take.

He noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed. But instead of reacting like some jealous, overprotective boyfriend, he just sipped his whiskey.

It was not until some guy at the pool table let his eyes linger a second too long that Logan made a noise in the back of his throat—a low, rumbling ahem that sent a very clear message.

The guy turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Logan smirked, tapping a single claw against his glass. "Nothin'. Just wonderin' if you're stupid or just feelin' lucky tonight."

The guy scoffed. "Relax, old man, it's just a look."

"Mm. See, I ain’t too worried ‘bout what she wears." Logan tilted his head, eyes sharp. "She can wear whatever she wants… ‘cause I can fight." He flashed his Adamantium claws.

The guy raised his hands and backed off real quick. Logan just chuckled, downing the rest of his drink.

You leaned against the bar beside him. "You always gotta scare people?"

He shrugged. "Ain’t my fault they spook easy."

You smirked. "You are such a show-off."

Logan just grunted, but the way he slid a possessive arm around your waist told you everything you needed to know.

🂡Remy LeBeau🂡

Remy was kicked back on the mansion's couch, long legs stretched out, flipping a poker chip between his fingers. He had seen you walk in, noticed the way heads turned, but unlike the others, he did not bat an eye.

Jubilee, being Jubilee, could not help but stir the pot. "Remy, you just gonna let her walk around like that?"

Remy did not even look up from his poker chip. "Remy think his chérie can wear whatever she want," he said lazily.

"Yeah?" Jubilee smirked. "You that confident?"

He flicked the chip up, caught it between two fingers, and finally smirked. "Mm-hmm. ‘Cause she's a houe, and I knew that before we started dating."

Gasps. Laughter. Even Logan huffed out an amused breath from the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Remy grinned, finally looking at you. "What? You know it’s true, chérie. I fell for you ‘cause you a heartbreaker. A flirt. A menace." He tilted his head, voice dropping to a lazy drawl. "And yet, here we are."

You crossed your arms. "That does not make it better, you know."

"But it is true, non?" He flashed that dangerous, charming grin. "An’ I do not mind one bit."

You rolled your eyes, but you could not stop the small smirk tugging at your lips. Damn Cajun and his smooth talk.

Jubilee snorted. "I hate that he actually got away with that."

Remy just winked.

Hope you all enjoyed!! Love you all, kits! (houe means hoe in French. Idk what else to put there T ' T)

[ftafp]

Since it's that time of the year again (the time where I feel like ranting about food and shooting pointed glares at smug europeans), I think it's time I correct a bunch of popular misconceptions about american and american immigrant cuisines

Let's take them one at a time

Yes, America has a cuisine. Dozens actually, before you even factor in immigrant cuisines that have maintained a recognized distinction. In no particular order: Pennsylvania is famous for its wide variety of baked good (notably chocolate chip cookies), every state south of the mason dixon has its own regional style and definition of barbecue, Louisiana is home to both cajun and creole cuisines (which are a blend of spanish, french, indigenous, african and english foodstuffs), texas has tex-mex (which is less a fusion and more a relic of when texas was mexican territory), and california, which is famous for its combination of east asian elements with existing american traditions.

Aunt Jemima and Mrs Butterworth are NOT maple syrup. This is a mistake I also see plenty of americans make. Those syrups, which are cheap and come in a plastic bottle are mostly just corn syrup and brown food coloring. Actual maple syrup, which mostly comes from canada, new england, and upstate new york, is significantly thinner (about the viscosity of half-and-half) and has a complex taste similar to light brown sugar and fenugreek.

Biscuits and Gravy isn't what it sounds like to europeans. It's not even remotely close. American "biscuits" are a type of buttery, flaky, unsweetened roll similar to buttered scones, and are traditionally made with buttermilk. The name is an example of divergent evolution: both european and american biscuits are derived from ship's biscuits, a dehydrated cracker with an absurdly long shelf life that needed to be dunked in a broth or beverage before eating. European biscuits were sweetened to make them taste better dunked in black tea. while american biscuits were made buttery to make them taste better dunked in stew or gravy.

American Cheesemaking isn't just Cheez-Whiz. America actually has a wide variety of local cheeses, with the most notable being Colby (similar to mild cheddar), Monterey Jack (a hard, salty cheese used in quesadillas), Pepperjack (a softer cheese made from monterey jack mixed with peppers and dried herbs), Meunster (a funky semi-soft cheese that melts well), and particularly cream cheese (a spreadable fresh cheese similar to mascarpone that is traditionally smeared on bagels, or used to make cheesecake)

American Cheese IS real cheese. It's not made of plastic, it's a mix of cheddar and colby melted into a cheese sauce with fresh cream or milk and then cooled, which allows it to melt absurdly well and gives it a "floppy" texture. Typically sodium citrate (i.e. citrus juice + baking soda) is added to prevent it from getting greasy when melted. A similar step is used in some american versions of mozzerella and emmental that are intended for sauces.

Cream Cheese is NOT Kosher. Well, sort of. Not exactly. While cream cheese is a staple of american jewish cuisine, and does meet all the qualifications to be kosher, actual kosher delis are forbidden from using either cream cheese OR new york water for their bagels. For cream cheese reason is that kashrut is very stringent about cross-contamination between meat and dairy (this was historically to prevent shepherds from serving a calf or goat in its mother's milk), and these delis are famous for their corned beef and brisket. As for new york water, it has microscopic shrimp in it. As a result, these delis typically serve vegan cream cheese and make their bagels with filtered water

Turkey doesn't make you tired. It's not noticably higher in tryptophan than anything else at the table, and there's no evidence tryptophan causes tiredness. The reason you feel tired after thanksgiving is because you were either cooking or traveling all day, and then ate a giant feast while arguing with your racist cousins. That would wear anyone out.

American Immigrant food isn't "fake". Seriously, how fucking racist do you have to be to think this? No, it's not the same as the stuff you get in the original country, because it's an entirely separate cuisine in its own right, born from a hybridization of techniques, ingredients, and flavor palates. Most notably, these traditions typically use a lot more beef than the cuisine they're derived from, and in the case of Chinese food, are typically toned down in terms of spiciness to emphasize the sweet and salty flavors that are more popular among americans.

American wasabi is another story. Wasabi root is very expensive to import here in the us, so to meet demand, importers market a mix of horseradish and green die as a substitute.

MSG isn't "muh evil chemicals". Or at least, it isn't any more so than anything existing. Literally everything is chemicals. Msg actually occurs naturally, forming on the surface of seaweeds that are high in it, most notably Kombu, a type of kelp traditionally used in japanese cuisine to make dashi, sushi, and rice seasonings. The reason you get a headache after eating chinese food is that you ordered the saltiest thin on the menu and then poured soy sauce all over it.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Potato Lover's Day

Potatoes, whose name comes from the Spanish word patata, are one of the most common vegetables and most important crops in the world. They are part of the nightshade family and are tubers, a swollen part of a stem that provides nutrients for the leafy part of the Solanum tuberosum plant. Potatoes are almost always eaten cooked, not raw, and most are eaten processed—many being bought frozen in bags—instead of being made fresh. Some of the many ways they are prepared are as baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, boiled or steamed potatoes, french fries, steak fries, waffle fries, home fries (American fries), hash browns, and potato chips. They are celebrated today in their many forms with National Potato Lover's Day, which happens to take place during Potato Lovers Month.

First cultivated in South America sometime between 5,000 and 7,000 BCE, in the area that is now southern Peru and northwest Bolivia, potatoes were brought back to Europe in the sixteenth century. Scotch-Irish immigrants were the first to bring them to North America, introducing them to New Hampshire in 1719, and from there they spread across the continent. Today potatoes are grown in all 50 states of the United States, with the largest producing state being Idaho. Common varieties of potatoes are red, white, yellow, purple, Russet, fingerling, and petite.

The nutritional value of potatoes depends in part on how they are prepared. Potatoes fried in oil or loaded with butter and sour cream can contribute to heart disease, weight gain, diabetes, and other issues, and people who already are obese or diabetic may have these issues exacerbated when eating potatoes prepared in these ways. Potatoes also are starchy, simple carbohydrates with a high glycemic index, meaning they can heighten blood sugar and insulin and then make it dip, and should be viewed more like a grain than a vegetable.

But when prepared correctly—eaten whole and unprocessed, with a minimal amount of unhealthy toppings—they can be healthy. Potatoes are low in calories and high in fiber, a nutrient that helps maintain cholesterol levels and aids in digestion. The peel packs the biggest fiber punch, as well as more nutrients than the rest of the potato, so it's best to eat it if possible. Another way to keep nutrients is to forgo boiling the potatoes, which leaches the nutrients out, and to instead steam them or prepare them another way.

Potatoes contain potassium, vitamin C, vitamin B6, niacin, pantothenic acid, manganese, phosphorus, calcium, and iron. Vitamin B6 helps with neurological function, helping to stave off depression and stress, and may even have a positive impact on ADHD. Potatoes contain flavonoids, carotenoids, and caffeic acid, which are types of phytonutrients. Potatoes help maintain blood pressure and overall heart health, help keep skin healthy, and reduce cancer risk. With so many potential health benefits and so many ways they can be prepared, there is plenty to celebrate today on National Potato Lover's Day!

How to Observe National Potato Lover's Day

Celebrate by eating potatoes! Have some mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, french fries, home fries, hash browns, potato chips, or potatoes in one of the many other forms they can be prepared! Check for special offers at restaurants, such as BurgerFi, which has participated in the day. You could also visit the Idaho Potato Museum or another potato museum.

Source

[rebelliousstories]

Shadowy Past

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Death and Alcohol

Word Count: 1,221

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: One after another, he lost her. Maybe this time will be different?

Consider Donating: Here

Gambit sat in the hideout messing with a playing card between his fingers. On the chair in front of him was her coat draped over it. Not his version though, rather another version that got sent to the Void. This version he had lost just like the others that came before her; taking on Cassandra alone to find a way out. Each time he tried to warn her, but she never listened to him.

Which is why when this new version came, he did not have high hopes for her.

She came in the middle of the night. Dumped in the Wasteland like some many others. It was by pure dumb luck that she had been dropped near where their little hideout had been placed. Sneaking in, she began to look for anything familiar, but only found lamps burning brightly in the night. Taking a bag of chips, the woman began looking around as she was eating. Muffled voices were heard, which sent her on edge. Before she could hide herself, a man stumbled in; and he was heading right to where she was. However, he stopped when he saw her.

“Chere, dat you?” Remy asked, wondering if he had finally found his lover.

“Remy?” Her voice was thick with bewilderment. ”You’re dead. How are you here? What is this sorcery?”

“No, chere. Ain’t dead yet. I’m assumin’ your Gambit is though.” He was dejected as he realized that this was just another variant.

“Yeah. He is. I’m assuming you have a me in your world then?” Remy nodded, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and began to leave.

“Ya welcome t’ stay, chere. Just try not to go after Cassandra this time. It’s startin’ to get old.” With that, the Cajun left as soon as he had entered. But she still had questions that needed answering.

“Wait,” came her call as she caught up to him. “Where am I? Who’s Cassandra? How are you alive?”

“Chere, it’s been a long day, yeah? Jus’ wanna enjoy a drink without you deciding to go all hero on us. But if you promise not to do dat, you can come meet the others.”

“Others?”

Before her, surrounding the fire that blazed ahead, were four other people. Each one looked worse for wear, and held a somber expression. She tried to place their names to their faces,but she was just drawing a blank.

“Who’s this?” The older woman inquired, with her hand resting on the hilt of something on her hip.

“Who else? Seems like the universe wants t’ punish me for somethin’. Gotta say though, this one seems much calmer than the others.” Remy grumbled, uncapping the bottle and taking a long swig. Afterwards, he passed it to Johnny, who eagerly downed the liquid.

“Hi. I’m not too sure why I’m even here. Or where here is exactly.” She muttered, feeling shy as everyone’s eyes were on her.

“It’s called the Void,” Johnny started, passing the bottle to the woman in red. ”It’s where you go to die, or if you don’t play well with the multiverse. Welcome, again.”

“Well is there any way out?” Suddenly, she noticed how tense everything had gotten. The Cajun that was in front of her rested his elbows on his knees and drew in a shaky breath.

“Cassandra Nova would be the only person to get you out. But it’s a suicide mission. Trust us, we know.” Elektra stated, passing the bottle back to the Cajun who looked like he really needed it now. Without hesitation, he downed several gulps extraordinarily quick.

“So we’re stuck here?” She asked, feeling her heart drop with each second.

“‘fraid so.” Elektra stated once more. She watched what the new person was going to do for a few minutes as she processed the information.

“Is there anymore room, and anymore alcohol?” Coming over, she sat on the same log as Remy who passed her the bottle.

The rest of the evening was filled with introductions, and explanations about what was going on. She was not familiar with the concept of a multiverse, which Johnny was all too happy to explain to her. Throughout all of this though, she could not help but notice how distant Gambit was being. He was hesitant to get involved with any of her conversations, but did keep throwing her looks all evening.

When it came time to sleep, Remy offered her his bed, while he could lay on the ground. But she quickly shot it down. Instead, she offered that they could both sleep in the bed. It was certainly large enough for the two of them. But even with her that close, he could not sleep. Remy could feel the warmth seeping from her body through the pillow wall they had constructed. And that also meant that he could feel when she eventually rolled out of bed in the middle of the night.

She had stumbled through the unfamiliar territory and made her way outside where she could feel the cold seeping into her body. It felt refreshing after she tried to sleep near Gambit. She was constantly telling herself that this was not her own. Her’s had died years ago. This could not be him.

“Chere, whatcha doin’ out here?” He whispered, walking out into the moonlight that they found themselves in. It was so bright that they could have mistaken it for the sun.

“Nothing, Gambit,” came her reply. “Go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”

But he did not listen. Remy came, and plopped himself right next to her on the stone steps. Taking a deep breath in and out, he placed his hands behind him and leaned back.

“Ya know, when I was with my version of you, she would always tell me dat she was fine. Even when she knew dat I definitely saw through it. She always did it because she didn’t want me t’ worry ‘bout her. But it jus’ made me worry more.” He confessed. The evening was pulling from him things that he was sure he had not been able to feel in a long time.

“My Remy, he, um-” she stammered, “he would make me write when he couldn’t get me to talk for whatever reason. Going mute was always a warning sign. I don’t trust easily, and he knew that. When he died, I kind of lost it. I lashed out. But then a little voice popped into my head, and it sounded just like him. It brought me back, and has kept me sane since.” She admitted to the man that she had known for less than a day. But there was something about this Gambit that made her feel safe like her own.

“You travel t’ da Shadowlands anytime recently?” He wondered aloud, looking over at the woman who was watching the moon quietly.

“No, my Remy wouldn’t like it if I did without something or someone to pull me out.”

They got quiet as they allowed the moment to pass over them. Gambit was still staring at her as the night went on. Scooting closer, he pressed his shoulder against her own in a little bit of comfort. Thankfully, she leaned her head against his body, just like his had done. Maybe this was how they always functioned, in every universe.

[cemeteryspider]

Counting Cards

Beginnings of Remy Lebeau x Fem! Mutant! Omni-Perception! Reader

Summary: You meet the one and only Gambit while counting cards at a blackjack table in New York.

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Mentioned Financial Hardships, Gambling, Threats of Violence

Word Count: 1.7k

You had once been a hopeful dreamer, a girl with aspirations beyond the impoverished streets of your hometown. But desperation often has a way of grinding the edges of ambition and of making sacrifices that would seem unthinkable in the cold light of day. The multi-millionaire you now worked for was the epitome of this sacrifice- a devil’s bargain struck in the shadows in an attempt to pull your family from poverty and homelessness. 

Draped in the guise of glamor, platinum blond hair that cascaded down your shoulders and a dress that clung to your every curve, you became a fixture of opulent casinos around the world. Your role was simple yet complex at the very same time, to work the system, to be alluring to wealthy men, and to subtly manipulate the games in their favor. Your powers that you once tried to hide from your few friends and family became your best asset, heaviest burden, and the thing allowing you to save said family. 

This casino’s ambiance in particular was a symphony of loud laughs, hushed whispers, clinking chips, shuffling cards, and soft hum of slot machines. You sat next to a man in a three piece suit, your perfectly rehearsed giggle punctuated the air as you played the role of doting oblivious girlfriend. The subtle squeeze of his bicep or playful slap on his shoulder after a crude joke were all part of the act. Beneath this ignorant charade, your keen eyes kept track of every card dealt, every chip moved, and every twitch of the dealer’s fingers. 

As the count turned positive, you leaned closer, your breath warm against the client’s ear as you rubbed his back in a soothing, almost hypnotic motion. He raised the bet and the game continued. The soft trail of your fingers on his thigh signaled him to play cautiously, to avoid drawing too much attention to the two of you. His decision to stand earned a small, approving smile from you, a reassurance he was making the correct choice. The dealer's cards came into play, and your silent communication continued, your touch a subtle command to the man beside you.

Your powers were a delicate instrument, a secret weapon that influenced the game in ways no one else could detect. The thrill of winning by proxy was intoxicating, but it came with a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. The money wasn’t for you; the small amount you earned went to your family, trapped in a cycle of dependency and fear, their safety hanging by a thread. 

The final hand was dealt. Your eyes flickered briefly, a faint glow that only those who knew what to look for would notice. Just then, a tap on your shoulder pulled you from your intense focus. A tall figure stood behind you, his presence commanding and enigmatic.

"Would you come with me, ma'am?" His voice was thick with a Cajun accent, smooth and charismatic. You turned, a polite smile forming on your lips even before you met his eyes. His auburn hair was tied back in a messy bun, and his irises glowed a striking red against the blackness of his sclera. Recognition flashed in your mind—this was Gambit, a mutant you had seen on TV, a member of the X-Men.

"Sure, let me just grab my purse," you replied with practiced calm. As you whispered a quick instruction to your partner to cash out and leave, you felt a pang of unease. What was Gambit doing here? And what did he want with you?

As you followed him through the labyrinthine hallways of the casino and into the adjacent hotel, you noticed the careful avoidance of security cameras and the strategic use of crowded areas. It was a well-practiced maneuver, one you recognized from your own experience.

In a quiet room on the first floor, the door closed behind you with a soft click. The tension in the air was palpable. Gambit, with his easy smile and relaxed posture, seemed unfazed.

"Usually, I wait until the third date to go back to a man's hotel room," you joked, trying to mask your nerves.

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound. "Nah, chere, we've been watchin' you," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. Your heart skipped a beat. How long had they been observing you? How much did they know?

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of unease. It was rare for you to be caught off guard, but this situation was beyond anything you had prepared for.

"Gambit, my name, chere, and I work for the X-Men," he began, but you cut him off.

"The X-Men, I know. How about we get to the point?" Time was slipping away, and you knew your employer would send someone to check on you if you didn't show up soon.

He nodded, acknowledging your urgency. "The Professor has been watching you. Your abilities are bein', let's say, misspent on petty crimes and swindlin'."

You considered his words carefully. Charles Xavier, the Professor, was a renowned advocate for mutant rights, a figure of immense power and influence. His offer carried weight, but it also came with strings attached.

"So, you want me to join your little team?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implications.

"Gambit was hopin'," he replied, his voice sincere.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing this for my family." The words came out sharper than you intended, a defense mechanism born of years of hardship.

You turned to leave, but Gambit's hand on your shoulder stopped you. "We know, chere. That's why we've brought them to the mansion. They're safe, chere."

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Your family—safe? It was a concept you had almost given up on. The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave, your shoulders slumping under the sudden release of tension.

"What?" The question was barely a whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. Could it be true? After everything you had done, everything you had sacrificed, could your family finally be free?

"We're tryin' to take down the people you owe. In doin' that, we found you. Would you come to the mansion with me? No funny business, I swear, chere," Gambit said, his eyes holding a promise of safety and a fresh start.

The ride to the X-Mansion was a blur of emotions and half-formed thoughts. Gambit kept the conversation light, sharing stories of his past life in New Orleans, a thief navigating a world of shadows and secrets. You found yourself opening up, recounting tales of casinos and the intricate cons you'd pulled off. It was a strange, almost surreal connection, two kindred spirits from different walks of life.

As the mansion loomed into view, your heart pounded in your chest. The sprawling estate was both intimidating and inviting. Stepping out of the car, you saw your family on the lawn, your younger siblings playing tag, your parents looking more relaxed than you had seen them in years. Relief washed over you, bringing tears to your eyes. They were safe.

But as you reunited, the reality of the situation set in. Your family couldn't stay; the dangers were too great. They needed to leave the country, to start anew far from the reach of those who might seek revenge. It was a bittersweet moment, the joy of their safety tempered by the knowledge that you might have to part ways.

The Professor, Charles Xavier himself, approached you. His presence was calm and reassuring. "Or you could stay here," he offered, his voice gentle but firm. "Learn to use your powers, control them effortlessly for good. Be a part of my X-Men."

You stood at the edge of the mansion's expansive lawn, watching your family with a mixture of relief and heartache. The sight of your younger siblings laughing as they played, your parents' shoulders finally free of the burdens they'd carried for so long, filled you with a profound sense of peace. But beneath that peace, there was an undercurrent of something more—a longing for a life that meant something beyond survival and crime.

The choice before you was clear, yet impossibly difficult. The urge to stay with your family was strong, an instinctual pull toward the people you had fought so hard to protect. But as you looked at the X-Mansion, you felt the stirrings of a different kind of desire—the desire to be more than a pawn in someone else's game, to use your abilities for good and perhaps even change the world.

You took a deep breath, your decision solidifying in your mind. Turning to your family, you saw understanding in their eyes. They had always known the risks, the sacrifices. But they also knew the strength of your spirit, the potential you had yet to unleash.

With a sudden burst of emotion, you ran towards them, wrapping them in a fierce embrace. They hugged you back tightly, their warmth and love surrounding you. It was a moment of silent communication, a farewell and a blessing all at once. They understood your choice, even if it meant a painful separation.

Pulling back, you looked into their eyes, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I would love to join you guys. Maybe change the world one day."

There was a beat of silence, then Gambit, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, stepped forward. His eyes sparkled with approval, a lopsided grin on his face. "Good choice, chere," he said, his voice carrying a note of camaraderie and promise.

You nodded, feeling a sense of resolve wash over you. This was the start of a new chapter, a chance to reclaim your autonomy and forge your own path. As you watched your family wave goodbye and drive away, you felt a mixture of sadness and hope. They were safe, and so were you. But more importantly, you were free to finally make your life your own.

With a deep breath, you turned toward the mansion, your new home and the place where your true journey would begin. You were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, to fight for a better world alongside the X-Men. As you walked through the mansion's grand doors, you felt a sense of purpose you had never known before. You were no longer just a player in someone else's game; you were a hero in the making, with the power to change the world.

[pandapetals]

Poker

You and the X-Men play poker.

a/n: Inspired by @sixwingedholy art. This is my first time sort of writing for remy so hopefully it’s not out of character.

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

a/n: Inspired by @sixwingedholy art. This is my first time sort of writing for remy so hopefully it’s not out of character.

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

divider credit: @enchanthings

"Sugar, you sure you wanna play with us?" Rogue asked with a playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief as you settled into the empty chair next to Logan at the poker table.

You arched an eyebrow, matching her smirk. "I know how to play poker if that’s what you’re getting at," you shot back, already reaching for the deck to shuffle it.

Hank chuckled from across the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused expression. "I don’t think that’s what she meant," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Let’s just say things can get a little… unpredictable around here."

"Unpredictable?" Remy scoffed, shaking his head as he started dealing the cards. "You mean downright chaotic, mon ami. Especially when some people don’t know when to fold." He shot a pointed glance at Logan.

Logan grunted, leaning back in his chair with a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You talkin’ about yourself, Cajun?" he drawled, picking up his cards with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Because last time I checked, you were the one who lost his shirt—literally."

"Hey, that was strategy," Remy shot back, narrowing his eyes as he threw a chip into the pot. "Keepin' you all distracted, non?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, reaching over to give Remy a light shove. "Sure, if 'strategy' means gettin’ beat by a bunch of amateurs," she teased, glancing over at you with a wink. "Though I gotta say, sugar, you’ve got Logan as your partner in crime here. Don’t let him lead you astray."

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, a glint of challenge there as he took a slow sip of his beer. "Oh, don’t worry about her," he said, setting his drink down and shooting you a sideways glance. "She can handle herself just fine. Question is, can you all handle us? "

Hank snorted, arranging his chips in neat little stacks. "Bold words, Logan. But I do recall you losing quite spectacularly the last time we played. If I’m not mistaken, you blamed it on the 'damn cards.'"

Logan shot him a glare, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "They were bad cards. And that was a fluke."

"Uh-huh, sure," you said, trying to suppress a laugh as you threw in your own chip to call the bet. "I’ll believe that when I see you win a hand without growling at the cards."

Remy leaned over the table, eyes twinkling as he dealt the flop. "Let’s make it interesting, then," he said, grinning like a cat with a canary. "How ‘bout a side bet? Loser has to do something… embarrassing. Like serenading the winner."

Rogue clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, I like that idea. I’d pay good money to hear Hank belt out a tune."

Hank’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I happen to have an excellent poker face."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, Hank, your poker face is about as good as Remy’s ability to stay quiet."

"Hey, now," Remy protested, holding his hands up in mock defense. "My mouth keeps the game lively, mon ami. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of serious faces sittin’ around waitin’ to lose."

You glanced at your cards, then at Logan, who gave you a barely perceptible nod. "Well, I’m all in," you said, pushing your chips to the center. "I guess we’ll see who’s serenading who."

"Big words for a rookie," Rogue teased, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she glanced between you and Logan. "You two got a plan I don’t know about?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know," you replied, feeling the adrenaline buzz through you as the chaos of the game unfolded. The cards were turned, chips were thrown, and the banter flowed as easily as the drinks.

Remy grinned, throwing in a stack of chips. "Let’s see what you’ve got, chérie. I’m feelin’ lucky."

As the final card was revealed, you and Logan exchanged a knowing look. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Ready to show 'em how it’s done, darlin'?"

You smirked, flipping your cards over to reveal a winning hand. "Looks like someone’s gonna be doing a little singin’," you said, your gaze landing on Remy, whose jaw had dropped in mock horror.

Rogue burst into laughter, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is gonna be good. What song are you takin’ requests for, Remy?"

Hank joined in, a grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got a few suggestions if you’d like to start with something classic."

Remy held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Alright, alright. I’ll sing, but I won’t promise it'll be pretty." He looked at you and Logan, shaking his head in disbelief. "You two been plannin’ this all along, huh?"

Logan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Let’s just say we make a good team."

As the table dissolved into laughter and arguments over which song Remy would butcher first, you felt Logan’s knee bump against yours under the table—a subtle, wordless acknowledgment of your shared victory. He shot you a look, one that was equal parts pride and amusement, and you couldn’t help but grin back, feeling like the luckiest player in the room.

[celticcatgirl2]

“…and yes, his cock DOES taste like Zapp’s Cajun Crawtator Chips…”