X-men Movies - Tumblr Posts
Wanting to make more posts but not knowing how to actually put your thoughts into words is SUCH A STRUGGLE.
like I just wanna ramble about x-men and all my headcanons and opinions and everything but I don’t know how to say any of it!! GAAAHHH
Y’all I’m a New Gen X-Men fan. I need recommendations for both canon works and fanfics. There are TOO MANY COMICS, and I don’t know where to start!! Does anyone have suggestions??
This is why I love having a twin who’s in literally ALL the same fandoms it is. Like we have barely any independent fandoms.
We’re literally writing an X-Men fanfic together on Google Docs
i cannot emphasize how necessary it is to have a buddy to participate in fandom with. completely elevated experience. don't have a buddy? find someone you like and message them and be their friend. gush over every sketch and drabble and insane headcanon they have. live life to the fullest.
RIGHT??!!!!
Like where the fuck did everyone go?? All the X-Men are scattered throughout all of time and space or whatever, how am I meant to cope with the season ending when the last we saw of Logan was him LOWKEY DYING??
do yall wonder what happened to Logan at the end of X-men 97???? Like where is that mf ???? 🧍
Me and my sister are writing a fanfic together and I’d LOVE to share it with the fandom but I’m so worried about backlash…
This might be the post that convinces me to post some of it, though.
It's fanfiction it doesn't have to be perfect it doesn't have to be accurate this is a hobby you're doing this for fun it's okay if it isn't perfect and polished you're doing it for fun [talking to myself in the mirror]
PIRATE KURRTT
Apparently I’m due to get a AO3 account on the 26th,,,
My sister and I are working on a fanfic,,, It’s full of a bunch of shit, but honestly I wanna see what people think of it.
Keep an eye out for an update on this if you have literally even a tiny bit of interest in it.
Y’ALL IS MORPH ACTUALLY FROM PITTSBURGH PA OR DID THE FANDOM MAKE THAT UP.
I LIVE IN PA IT IS CRITICALLY IMPORTANT TO ME THAT I KNOW THIS ANSWER
Evil Morph makeup from last night eheheh (And face reveal, I guess?)
Pretty proud of how this turned out! I’m not in any way a professional makeup artist or anything like that, so I’m very pleased with the results.
I'm sure this has been asked on tumblr before, but me and my friend have been having a HEATED debate on this.
I'm settling this once and for all.
X-MEN QUICKSILVER OR MCU AVENGERS QUICKSILVER?
PETER OR PIETRO?
not spider-man but heres some wolverine doodles i did :))
Okay, so I’ve been wanting to write a a Logan x OC fanfic with the OC as a professor at Charles school and I wrote the first chapter (really short cause its just sort of a bit of background) and I thought I’d post it here just to see how people would receive it!
(Also this is set when she’s about fifteen, the actual first chapter is going to be a major time jump, so through the fic she’ll be about 30)
Warnings: runaway teen (?), sleeping in a diner, she thinks Charles is kinda weird, not proof read lmao, nothing else I don’t think?
———————
She woke up cold. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, sore with sleep. It was too frigid in the small diner, the heater did little in the winter and they had put her right by the door that let in a breeze every time it swung open; biting her skin. Her own attire wasn’t much help either, she thought.
The too-big sweatshirt hanging off her shoulders wasn’t thick enough to keep her warmer than her own body heat could, and her jeans were still wet from falling into the snow outside of the empty diner. The only warmth she had was from the thick leather boots on her feet that were two sizes too big.
The heavy thrill of hail outside the small diner window was a heavy patter in her ear drums. The bright beaming twenty-four hour sign hummed against the window, the fluorescent light flickering harsh blue and red light.
She pressed her open palm to the side of her cheek, eyes looming over the other patrons. Most of the diner was vacant, the waitresses bide behind the counters and the heavy steam of coffee burned in the air. She felt hunger nestle in the pit of her empty stomach, if she had enough shoved away in her rucksack she could get pancakes, if she had enough energy she wouldn’t need to pay for them at all. But she had a feeling she would.
She pushed against the table, stretching carefully, ignoring the always present ache in her limbs. Her fingers pushed against her scalp, feeling against her boyish cut hair.
It was just getting long enough for the curls to furl beside her ear, but it still bristled against her fingers. It made people stare less the more it grew, and she was thankful. Soon enough she’d attract even less attention.
Maryn could hear the soft clicking of heels, it was the waitress, she could hear the whisper of her thoughts flutter against her skull. Her mind was always hazy after sleeping, so none of the whispers were coherent enough for her to understand. She didn’t look up until she was right beside the table.
“You want anything, sweetheart?” She had a pot of coffee in her hand, and a southern lilt in her voice. “You’ve been here a while, you must be hungry.”
If she had noticed Maryn sleeping only moments ago she didn’t mention it, but her thoughts fluttered with concern.
“Pancakes?” Maryn blinked up at her.
The waitress nodded, her name tag read Hellen. She had blonde straw-like hair and yellow rimmed glasses.
“How about some chocolate chip pancakes, huh? Knock your socks right off.” She smiled, and Maryn nodded, unwilling to deny the indulgence. “I’ll get those right out, sweet pea.”
She walked away, bright red shoes clicking as she did. She was nice.
Maryn sunk back into her seat, one of the waitresses turned on a radio and through the storm the music didn’t sound like it had any words, covered by static, but its gentle tune was nice enough.
She rubs the ache over her tired eyes, she’d have to walk further when the sun finally came up. If her jeans dried before she left the diner maybe she’d make it further than she did today. Just the thought of more walking made her head throb and ache.
Hitching a ride wasn’t a far idea for her, but didn’t like all the questions that came with asking for help. They can’t help it, always the most obvious questions first, Where are your parents? Are you all alone? Shouldn’t you be in school? She was tired of it.
The soft jingle of the bell hanging over the door rang lightly as it swung open. Maryn tugged her sweater closer when the biting breeze crept through the sleeves.
Another soft flutter of whispers filled her head, she ignored them. She didn’t care to hear anyone else's thoughts. But they grew closer, until someone was coming up beside her table again, and then the whispers were gone.
“Hello.” An accented voice greeted. “Mind if I join you?”
She looked up at the man beside her table, her eyes trailing up the silvery metal of the wheelchair he was sitting in before his face.
He was older, weathered and looked at her with a familiar kind of smile while wearing the nicest suit she had ever seen. A deep blue with a matching tie and one of those pieces of fabric people shove into the chest pocket. It made him stand out, looking strange in the rickety diner.
She doesn’t say anything, but he picks up the menu at the other end of the table and she doesn’t stop him.
“I’m Charles Xavier.” He said warmly, he extended a hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
She looked at his hand curiously before reaching out to shake it slowly. His hand is warm.
“Hi.” She said, wearily. He looks at their joined hands when they touch.
“Cold,” He smiles, “I’d imagine this is the warmest place around these parts.”
“For a few miles.” Maryn shrugs, he didn't seem like the worst person to have a conversation with.
“Did you walk yourself here?” She nodded. “The next town isn’t for miles. You must be exhausted.”
She shrugged, again. She felt how she always felt. Cold, tired, achy. His eyes trail over the rucksack tucked into her side.
“Is that all your things?” She nodded, tugging her bag closer.
“What I can carry.” She tells him. He hums.
“It looks heavy. Must have been difficult in this weather.”
“It’s alright.”
“If you say so.” He smiles.
She nods.
Charles, the strange British man, didn’t seem annoyed by her silence, but she was rather perturbed by his. His mind was completely silent, not a single whisper.
Usually she couldn’t keep other people’s thoughts away, only if she really concentrated she could quiet the noise down for a little bit, but it’s like his mind was completely empty.
Her dark fawn-like eyes trail up his head. She usually didn’t have to focus so much, and even now as she did, she heard nothing.
You won’t get anything up here, Maryn.
She jumped in her seat.
“Alright, baby, I got your pancakes and–oh,” Hellen came back with a hot steaming stack of chocolate chip pancakes. She looked between the two, eyeing Charles, “Is everything alright over here?”
“Yes, splendid, could I get some coffee, please? And,” He pauses to look at Maryn, “A milkshake, for my friend.”
There was only one milkshake on the menu, vanilla.
Hellen looks at her first, and then back at him.
“Of course. Coming right up, sugar.” And she clicks away again.
Charles smiled at her, kindly.
“It’s rude to snoop, you know.” He says, though there’s not much sternness in his tone.
“Most people don’t seem to mind.” She said plainly.
Charles dipped his head with a funny smile.
“I’m sure they don’t.”
“How do you know my name?” She asked, picking up her fork and butter knife as she did. She was curious but still starving. She grabbed the syrup at the end of the table, smothering her cakes.
“Because I have been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, Maryn.” He admits, watching her scarf down her pancakes like they’d run away from her. “You are very special.
“Special" isn't the word most people use.” She says out of the edge of her mouth, still chewing.
“We are not most people.” Charles hums.
“Yeah,” she muttered plainly.
“I’ll admit, your…capabilities are more advanced than I’ve seen in others your age.” He observed, “It’s quite impressive.”
Maryn doesn’t say anything to that. She didn’t have anything to say. Charles continues.
“You know, most mutant children I find are often in groups. They find one another, and protect each other.” His fingers drum on the fake carved plastic, “You remain by yourself. Have you not met others?”
She cuts jaggedly into her pancakes.
“I have.” She chews.
“And what happened?”
She thought about not telling him, then she thought he already knew and was just waiting for her to say it. Either way, he waits patiently across from her, waiting for her to say something; same gentle look in his eye.
“There's something inside me.” She admits, dubiously, “It scares people.”
“Does it scare you?” Again, she doesn’t answer.
Charles looked at her for a long time, she almost thought he was going to go away, leave her there, growing frustrated with her insolence. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at her with the same familiar smile.
“I have a school.” He says, “It’s not much now, barely a handful of students, even less teachers, but I created it for gifted children. Children like you.”
Maryn stared at him, her fork stabbing a piece of pancake on her plate.
“A school?”
He nods.
“I’d very much like you to attend.” He tells her, eyes looking her over, “Perhaps I can help you.
He seems to mean it. It’s the first time she can’t see into someone’s mind to know if they’re telling the truth or not, but she has a feeling, an unfamiliar feeling, that she can trust him.
She looked down at her plate, “What if you can’t?”
Charles looks at her carefully.
“Then maybe I can help you learn to control it.” Maryn looks up at him. “At the least, you’ll have a warm bed, food. Clothes that fit.”
For the first time since they started talking, she smiles. It’s small, but it’s there.
“Alright, a coffee for you,” They both looked at Hellen as she came back, “And a milkshake for you, Angel.”
“Yes, we’ll have the check please.” Charles says kindly. Then he places his forefinger and his middle finger to his temple and looks Hellen in the eyes,“You will not remember us once we leave.”
Maryn watches the waitress's eyes glaze over from behind her glasses before she smiles again.
“I’ll get that right out for you.”
Maryn looked at Charles.
“Can I do that?”
“We shall see, won’t we?” His lips spread into a thin smile. “Finish your pancakes.”
——————-
Omg I feel so anxious I literally have never done this before 😭 but please let me know what you guys think! If I do decide to post the whole fic it’ll prob be on ao3 just cause I plan to make it pretty long/slow burn
But I hope u guys like it 🙌🙌
oh how i want him to fuck me, i wish logan howlett was real
JEAN GREY – packs
── 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙨𝙚: 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚/𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜
── don’t clame as your own.
©: @. caotichuman
(𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓)
I love the movie
As a disabled wheelchair user something that has always annoyed me about the x-men fandom is how they ignore and “fix” Charles disability
Either people write that the bullet missed him or he got better or they just completely ignore the fact that he is a paralysed wheelchair user
Like why is him being disabled so much more difficult to write then him being able bodied
Why does Charles have to be able bodied in order to be in a romantic relationship
Why does fan art cut out his wheelchair
Why does no one want to see a disabled person being represented
https://gofund.me/a21f9a21 [please consider donating to help me fund my medical expenses]
Ngl just putting this online makes me feel like shit but I need the help:
Any donations help me so much it’s actually ridiculous, I also draw digital art and have commissions open in my DMs!
Again this suck ass that I have to turn to strangers for help but here I am because I’m desperate :)
[share around my page and gofundme if you want reposts are appreciated]
I haven't written anything in a long time, but I am knee-deep into my xmen obsession again and I really really hope to write something soon
“Being Charles Xavier’s Sibling„
Being the sibling of the world’s strongest psychic has perks! Gn reader
Non-Mutant
Would be a great brother honestly
Always cheated in hide and seek
“No way you found me that fast!”
“I’m simply a great player.”
“You totally cheated, Charles!”
He’s support you in any of your endeavours
Likes to go on weekly walks with you and just talk about life especially when you guys get older and have your own separated lives
Probably goes without saying but you would be an advocate for mutants
Raven is basically your sister as well
Def favours you more than Charles when it comes to talking about her problems
Honestly i don’t think he’d let you tag along in the events of X-MEN first class
He’s so fucking soft
Mfs walk all over him and it’s embarrassing
You def would have to defend him in verbal scenarios
Idk if it’s true but he prob plays pool
He beats you more than not
Before he got his fancy wheel chair you would roll him everywhere
Like a little kid with a shopping cart only it’s two grown adults💀
No offence but his fashion sense is horrendous.
You dress him just for the sake of aesthetics
Mutant
Still a great brother
You’ll most likely have similar abilities to him or Emma Frost
Can’t/won’t read your mind
That’s a lie he probably did/tried to once to get you to clean his room💀
Just sibling things
Y’all were low-key menaces as children
Absolute devious duo
He’s so nice but y’know how siblings get when they’re together
Yin and yang Fr
You still dress him bc his fashion sense is STILL terrible whether ur a mutant or not💀
“Why the fuck did you even CONSIDER putting that on, Charles?”
“That’s rather rude…”
Would def want you to be an Xman but would respect if you didn’t want to be
Plays chess with you like the old man he is
Going back to your sister kinda, Raven!
You guys def would get along more
If you had similar ideologies she probably trusts you/confides in you more
If you decided to become an x-men your brother would be ecstatic
While he wants to keep you safe simultaneously he is happy that you’ll help with his vision to have mutants and non mutants living together in peace
If you’re a teacher at the school for the gifted he’ll ask for your input in certain things involving school policy/architectural ideas
You’d help him with any unstable students and it’d get exhausting but worth it to help someone
Despite not needing to be pushed around in his wheelchair anymore you still do it for fun
Cracks jokes about his new bald appearance
You’ve def bought him wigs but he would decline using them
You guys are still hella goofy even as adults
And no matter how old you get you guys will always fight for mutant kind
“A girl I met once told me, mutant and proud.”
“That’s corny as hell, Charles.”
Mirrors of memory
The_Sick_Rose
Summary:
Victor Creed have to deal with his memory and his past action. The x-man have to deal with Victor.
Chapter 1: Break
He spent the whole day waiting. He had been traveling for several days, from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Westchester, taking longer than expected. He had stopped several times to change vehicles and avoid arousing suspicion, ending up driving a 2007 Toyota Corolla with many kilometers to his final goal.
In other circumstances he would certainly prefer to take a bike, but his regenerating factor was evidently not cooperating after the last experiments that had kindly offered him. Normally he would never have thought to ask for help to those nerds with a heart of gold, but as they say, in desperate times they resort to desperate measures.
He was there, waiting. He had parked the car a couple of hours back and walked slowly along the road leading to the villa, remaining outside a highly defended perimeter. It was late at night, it was probably 3:00 in the morning maybe more, the lights were almost all off except for a crack of light on the second floor of the west wing. He knew it would be better to wait until it was completely dark, but after circling the perimeter and getting tired of his condition not improving, he decided he had to try.
He ran into the woods in which he was standing and jumped over the fence, hearing the alarm go off with a thin whistle. Some lights went on and he could imagine the infamous X-Men getting ready in their fancy costumes.
She came like a battering ram to the window leading to the kitchen and fell on the floor. Pieces of glass got stuck in her clothes and skin. A gesture that had poured gasoline on the fire and the pain it felt for more than two days became even more intense. He got up as fast as he could and got into an attacking position with his back against the wall.
This time he did not wait long, recognizing the smell of the cork and knowing that it was approaching and that he was ready for a clash, not that it was mutual. However, this time he would not act attacker beforehand, he just had to maintain the position enough time to find a space to explain the situation. He sincerely hoped for the arrival of some telepaths.
Before he saw it, Wolverine heard the roar, a sound of metal being pulled out, and the door to the kitchen being kicked down from its hinges. Without thinking twice, he rushed to the charge head down and shouted Sabertooth. He stooped as low as possible to execute an attack, his nails were already in the side of the enemy and his claws too close to the face for his taste.
He was pushed back with a kick in the sternum that made him lose his balance and end up against the wall. He saw the claws cleaving in the moonlight entering through the broken window a second before he heard them coming in and out of the side. He collapsed to sit on the floor, heavy breathing. Wolverine took a step back.
"What is it Bob? Already tired? I don’t know what you’re playing, but I won’t let you go any further."
A hoarse laugh came out of her mouth along with a little blood. She was really sick to fall off after one blow. He tried to speak, but before he could, the light went on and the small group that had arrived was already preparing for the fight around him. Slowly he tried to raise his hands in surrender, but a strong pain in his side stopped him in the middle.
He put a hand on the wound and saw it before him covered with blood that continued to flow. Between the blood-stained fingers I saw the person he was hoping to find. The red-haired frail. His vision was blurred and everything was mixed in a big spot. With one last conscious thought she hoped she would hear it. "Help".
~~~~~~~~~~~~
english isn't my fristh linguage and i did NOT have a BETA READER we die like Silverfox.