#Xmen 97 finale

[artbytaggerung]

If X-Men '97 has left you feeling some kind of way today, now is the time to remind you I have a piece in the @rogue-gambit-fan-zine and you can currently still pre-order digital copies. Support charity to get fresh Rogue and Remy stories and art while you wait in agony for season 2.

[lanae111]

I’m not kidding when I say that morph and wolverine better get together next season or at least express their feelings to each other or my heart is going to heat up, blow up and Disintegrate into ash. I can’t take another romantic duo that’s secretly one sided or where nothing actually happens to make it happen. I’ve already been there. It already hurts so bad seeing this scene.

I need them to happen. Please marvel, my heart can’t take it.🥲They deserve their happy ending.

[loveexpelrevolt]

You light up everything you touch, but never me.

GAMBIT & ROGUE + parallels X-Men '97 | "Remember It"

[fakedimebag]

I am UGLY CRYING in the club right now. Inconsolable after this week's X-Men '97 finale.

[plutonicbees]

xmen 97 was pretty cool but why were charles & erik so close to kissing in every fucking scene they had together and also why did charles & erik not kiss in any of the scenes they had together

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you draw the cutest chibi charleses PLEASEEE for the love of god keep doing it 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

THANK YOU SM !!! i plan to draw as many cutesy charleses as my hands will allow ...

[ghostlytoms]

please talk about scott’s mental health more!! please!!!!!!!

[thisismytwocents]

Rogue X Gambit

[queercodedlunatic]

Just Wolverine and Nightcrawler having a tender moment...

[rrr-mmmm]

morph loves diet cola (imagine if they had an arc)

[nosostros]

crying in da club, he's such a simp

[cnwolf-brainrot]

people watching x-men 97: woah Scott Summers is actually kind of cool??

me (a Scott fan since I started reading the comics that has written several fics analyzing his character): I KNOW

[fakedimebag]

This is an appreciation post for Jean Grey, world's best step-mom. She said "UNHAND them. All of em. And Sinister, you's a raggedy old bitch now."

[berryliciousjam]

🎼🖤Let's Dance!🤍🎼

Through varied beats and rhythm,

We danced along its catchy flow.

Blessed by neons, your eyes land upon me—

Oh my beloved, you twirled me to the doors!

Did parties bore your mind at all?

Or was it me in monochrome, turned you on?

[1/2]

[she-karev]

[makuyi13]

"The Least They Could Do" (Morpherine / Morph x Wolverine)

by @makuyi13

"The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was the man, the myth, the legend, and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough."

-

Author's Note: Alright guys I've gotten over an adequate amount of my fears and written a little one-shot after years and years of not being able to write fan-fiction! So anyways this is a really big step for me and I'm obviously very nervous, so please be nice. If I messed up on Morph's pronouns or grammar or spelling somehow, though, please do tell me so kindly. Anyways fellas enjoy I hope it's good :)

Oh I added some more edits, too. The ending is better now.

Edit: The hell have I been doing not posting this on AO3. Here you go fellas https://archiveofourown.org/works/57571678

-

Logan was upset. Again.

It was like the guy was sentenced to be upset for life. There was always something for him to be frustrated about. There would be a few days, weeks if he was lucky, when there wasn’t, and all was well. But then something would go wrong again.

This time it was about Jean.

Again.

She was to have a baby with Scott.

And of course Logan was upset about it.

Morph felt bad about it, being such good friends with Logan and all, and caring about him and his happiness so much, but there was a part of them that was glad that Jean was with Scott. They didn’t know why, and there was always a bit of them that didn’t want to find out. And even worse (Morph felt horrid about this), there was always that part of them that hoped Logan would never have Jean.

It made them feel evil, wishing that kind of misfortune upon somebody, especially their best friend. And being evil was a wretched thing, they knew, but they couldn’t help it. They couldn’t help it at all.

Smart people knew better than to bother Logan when he was upset. But the good thing was that Morph didn’t necessarily consider themself smart. So that was how they found themself opening the front door and stepping outside the mansion to go find Logan.

It happened to be cloudy. All murky skies and chill, although there wasn’t excess moisture or cold. Morph walked down the slight slope, hands behind their back, looking around. Logan was slumped in the distance, staring off. Morph jumped and started, almost running, but caught themselves just in time. As they stepped nearer, they suddenly became painfully aware that they had hands. They tried to drop them by their sides, but they seemed too stiff. Crossing their arms seemed weird and hostile. Keeping them behind their back just seemed awkward and unnatural.

They shook their head forcefully. What was wrong with them? That coffee Jubilee made them must have had something in it. Morph shoved their hands in the pockets of their sweater after whatever fumble just went on. Ignoring it all, Morph opened their mouth to say “hello”.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Morph cringed. Of course what came out instead had to be something dumb. They felt their face burn and suddenly felt a strong desire to dig a hole and die. God Almighty, why would they say that? Just why? Why did they always have to try and fail to be funny?

Logan didn’t look their way, but grumbled something under his breath instead. He didn’t say anything else, and Morph took that as an invitation to sit down next to him. They brushed their long skirt, gathering it as they settled. They began to have second thoughts about this. Maybe Logan didn’t want to see them. Maybe they couldn’t really make Logan feel better. Maybe Logan didn’t care if they were there or not. After all, who were they? They were just a friend. They weren’t even Jean.

But… that didn’t really matter, did it? They didn’t need to be Jean to have the kind of time that they wanted to have with Logan. Did they?

Morph realised they were staring and studying Logan a little too closely. Running their eyes along his brow, down his temple, his mouth… Ugh, they thought to themself. That was really pathetic of them. Ripping their eyes away and trying to shift a little to seem a bit more animated, Morph heard Logan sigh next to them. As if he had been tensing his muscles the entire time he was out here and had relaxed them just now.

“You know you don’t have to follow me around when I ain’t feelin’ well, right, bub?” Logan finally spoke, his voice gruff yet slightly defeated.

“It’s the least I can do,” Morph shrugged.

And yet it kind of was the truth. There wasn’t really anything Morph could do to make Logan feel better but this. They thought all the time about all the things they could be. Thought about the sweet songs they would play for him if they were some kind of musician. The long, heart-warming letters they would write if they were some kind of writer. The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was everything; he was the man, the myth, the legend; and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough.

They blinked a few times. Keep it together. Clear the mind. But now they’ve realised that Logan’s shifted his body so that they’re sitting across from each other, facing each other, and now their mind’s a little too clear. Blank, even. And then Logan’s reaching for their leg and their heartbeat’s getting loud and fast, fast and loud, and then that thick, rough hand of his is touching the fabric that’s swimming around Morph’s legs, and all they can think of is damn, all they can hear is the heavy, rapid thump of their heart. 

But all Logan does is touch the hem of the skirt and softly say in his tough, gravelly voice, “This looks good on you.”

And it suddenly means the world to Morph. Their heart squeezes tight and releases. He likes my skirt, he likes my skirt. They dare to look at his face. It's saddened, defeated, creased with age and worry and hardened with pain, and yet they can't find ugliness in it, because there's a sixteenth of a smile lingering on his chapped lips and an unbearably sincere look buried deep in his brown eyes, no matter how much Logan tries to hide it all and shove it under. And that's when Morph knows they would wear that skirt over and over just to see that kind of look in Logan's face again and again. A confusingly, maddeningly good kind of feeling is rushing through their veins, and Morph wants to push it away, tell it to leave them alone, but they can't. Because they do love that feeling, even if they don't know what it is.

"Thank you," Morph breathes, wishing they had more to say.

And then Logan avoids their eyes, turns his body away and it’s over. Morph could kick themself. But instead they silently swear not to say or do anything stupid while they’re with Logan. So they just sit. And so does Logan. Neither says a single word. Neither moves. It’s just Logan and the grey sky and the still air and the lawn and Logan and the silence and the sweater weather and Morph hoping with all their heart that Logan was feeling a little bit better at least. But then again, they didn’t really do much for him. They couldn’t really. All they could do was just come and be there and try their best not to fumble like an idiot (again). Even if Logan said they didn’t have to.

It was the least they could do.