#inspired xmen movies

[jackyjango]

Inspired X-Men Movies -Part 14

[Insp]

[breeberrypies]

i hate these lesbians so much (i need them to be my dads)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[moxmono3]

Cherik inspired by a poster for a swedish silent movie from 1905

(Original under the cut)

[bat-gwuck]

logan (2017) and red dead redemption ii have the same vibe and you CANNOT change my mind

[pandapetals]

You'll Get Used To It

logan howlett x fem!reader - mission, x-men team, slight angst, no y/n used, no reader description, inspired by x1 film where logan complains about the leather suits

Logan complains about the X-Men suits being too tight so you help him.

read on Ao3

The group had gathered in Xavier’s office, the tension almost tangible as Charles laid out the plans to rescue a group of captured mutant children. You stood alongside Scott and Storm, your eyes fixed on Xavier as he spoke, but the weight of Logan’s presence near the doorway was impossible to ignore. Even without looking, you could feel him—his silent, brooding energy radiating from the corner of the room, drawing your attention no matter how much you tried to focus.

Your heart tightened at the thought of him, but you forced yourself to stay focused, eyes ahead. There was too much at stake, too many lives on the line for you to let personal feelings cloud your judgment. Still, the awareness of Logan lingered in the back of your mind, pulling at your attention like a constant, steady pulse.

As Charles continued speaking, outlining the rescue strategy, you felt Logan’s gaze flicker across the room. Instinctively, you glanced over, catching his eyes for just a brief second before you quickly looked away. His eyes held something unreadable—something you had seen so many times but could never fully decipher.

You weren’t sure what had changed between the two of you over the past few months. It wasn’t like you had spent much time together, and yet, the air between you always seemed charged with an unspoken tension, something unacknowledged but undeniably real. You hated that it lingered now, distracting you when you needed to be focused.

“Logan,” Charles said suddenly, pulling your attention back to the present. “Your tracking skills will be essential for locating the children once we’re in the field.”

Logan straightened slightly at the mention of his name, his jaw tightening as he gave a short nod. “Yeah, I got it,” he muttered, though there was a gruffness in his voice like he wasn’t entirely sure where he fit in this plan.

Scott, ever the leader, turned toward Logan with his usual no-nonsense demeanor. “We don’t have time for personal conflicts. We work together on this—everyone’s lives depend on it.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly at Scott, but he gave no response. The tension between the two was palpable, but Logan wasn’t about to pick a fight, not now. He just gave a curt nod, his focus turning back to Charles.

You couldn’t help but steal another glance in Logan’s direction, watching the way he squared his shoulders as if he was trying to brush off the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. You could see the tension there, the way his fists clenched at his sides, the way he seemed just a little more isolated than the rest of the group.

There was always something about Logan that felt... distant like he carried the world on his shoulders but never let anyone close enough to share the burden. He didn’t let people in. Not really. Except—except with you, there were those moments. Fleeting, unspoken, but moments where the wall between you seemed thinner, more fragile.

Charles’s voice brought your focus back again. “Trust is earned, Logan,” he said gently, his tone calm but firm. “But this mission is about more than trust. It’s about doing what’s right. We need you.”

Logan’s eyes flicked briefly to Charles before settling back on the ground. He was quiet for a moment, as if considering his options, weighing his place in all of this. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. “Fine. Let’s get it done.”

The group dispersed after that, heading toward the jet. You followed along in silence, your thoughts heavy with the weight of what was coming. It wasn’t until you were aboard the jet, sitting quietly in one of the seats near the back, that you noticed Logan fidgeting across from you, tugging at the collar of his black leather suit.

He grumbled under his breath, pulling at the stiff fabric as it pressed uncomfortably against his neck. The tension in his body hadn’t eased, and his frustration was palpable. You watched him for a moment, biting your lip to hold back a smile. Even Logan, with all his bravado and unshakable attitude, could be undone by something as simple as an uncomfortable suit.

“Having trouble?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing.

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing. “This damn suit’s choking me,” he muttered, still pulling at the collar like it was a noose around his neck. “How do you wear this thing?”

You chuckled softly, the sound surprising even you. In the midst of the tension and the stakes of the mission, here was Logan, fighting his uniform like it was his worst enemy. “You get used to it,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Just part of the job.”

Logan huffed, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, well, not sure I’ll be wearing this long enough to get used to it.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward slightly. “Here, let me fix it.”

You reached over, your fingers brushing against his neck as you gently tugged at the collar of his suit, loosening the tight material. Logan tensed at the contact, his muscles tightening under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his eyes softening ever so slightly as you worked to make him more comfortable.

“There,” you said after a moment, your fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary before you pulled back. “That should be better.”

Logan blinked, reaching up to touch the collar, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and... something else. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice a little quieter now, almost unsure.

You smiled, settling back into your seat. “Don’t mention it. Can’t have you grumbling through the entire mission.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was something lighter in his tone now, a shift in the atmosphere between you. You could still feel the tension—the uncertainty of the mission, the weight of everything unsaid between you—but for a moment, it felt manageable.

The jet engines hummed as the team prepared for takeoff, and you glanced over at Logan one last time. He was still fidgeting with the suit, but now his movements were slower, less agitated. His eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw something soften in his expression. Something unguarded, if only for a fleeting moment.

“You’re going to make a good teammate, you know that?” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your tone light but sincere. “For a guy who’s constantly acting like he doesn’t need anyone... you’re not so bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough but not unkind. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smiled, leaning back in your seat as the jet lifted into the sky. “You should.”

For the first time in a long while, the silence that followed didn’t feel so heavy. It felt... easy. Comfortable. Like maybe there was room for something more between the two of you. Something real. Something unspoken but understood.

Logan leaned back, his hand resting idly against the loosened collar, and let out a long breath, his eyes closing briefly as he settled into the quiet feeling lighter.

[sparkoflena]

I find it hilarious that Marvel went "we need to bring back the 2000s X-Men cast"

Then followed it up with "Except Gambit, let's make him that one version that was born in the Void instead. Anyone who might have possibly crossed paths with Gambit can just aggressively blink in confusion every time they see him."

[kingoftieland]

Hugh Jackman’s ACTUAL METAL POISONING inspired Logan’s illness! ☠️

[hersheysmcboom]

X-men apocalypse au where In1997 apocalypse is freed by unwitting arclogists, he arrives in Cairo and learns about humanity, belivng humanity is beyond help, he decides to destroy the world and remake it in his own image, deciding to recruit four mutants as his horseman, meanwhile, Warren Worthington lll a.k.a, angel, a member of the X-men, goes missing from the xmansion’s med bay after brutal encounter with bigoted humans who had tried to clip his wings, upon seeing the strange figure in the room, Warren screams for help, for his teammates, but by the time anyone gets there , he’s gone, unknown to anyone, he was kidnapped by apocalypse , subjected to apocalypse’s sick exmperments, turned into his first horseman, his archangel, he comes upon another mutant named caiban, turning him into his second horseman, he sends archangel and caiban to kidnap his third horseman, another member of the X-men named Remy lebeau, who had been sent out to help look for angel in new orelens, remy is shocked at what has happened to angel, he tries to call for rogue, who he had been searching with, but archangel stops him, as he fights he tries to ask angel when he was and what on earth happened to him, archangel talks being horseman of apocalyse, and says gambit will soon become one too, but Remy still has no idea who that is, soon he is overwhelmed by archangel and caiban, he is knocked out and taken by caiban and archangel back to apocalyse, just as rogue arrives, she tries to take Remy back from them, she is horrorifed at what happened to warren, she tries to snap Warren out of it, but he simply sends his Metal feathers at her, after dorging them, she tries to follow them, but loses them, she then flys back to New York, and to the mansion to warn the X-men, meanwhile in Cairo, Remy wakes up restrained to a lab table, and archangel and caiban staring emotionless at him, then as if his luck couldn’t get any better, a hulking blue being with wires in him comes into the room, he induces himself as apocalypse, a god of mutant kind, gambit doesn’t buy it, he asks apocalypse did to angel apocalypse says he freed angel, freed from the restraints of empathy and mercy, he has brought Warren to his fullest power, and he will do it to gambit too, he expains who he is, and his plans, his belief that humanity is weak, and needs to brought to it’s knees into to heal, gambit’s only response is spit in his face, apocalyse angrily, but calmly wipes the spit from his face. He tells gambit he will be his horseman of death, how he would enhance his powers so he could not only create kinetic energy, but the ability to commend death as well, the ability to kill with nothing more then presence, gambit tries to keep apocalyse distracted, tries to pick the lock to his restraints, he yells that the X-men will stop him, that they will save both him and Warren, he tells apocalyse he’s insane, but apocalyse only says that he will soon agree, archangel tells apocalyse that Remy was trying to get out of his restricts and takes what gambit was using to pick the locks, Remy begs angel to break out of it, but archangel remains emotionless, apocalypse tells his horsemen to get him ready for the transformation, archangel and caiban bring Remy to apocalyse’s machine, the machine that will turn him into a horseman, Remy desperately tries to escape them or jog Warren’s memory, but both are fails, he is strapped to apocalyse’s machine, still begging Warren to help, to do something, but archangel does nothing, apocalyse powers up his machine, Remy felt unimageble pain, feeling his mind and body ripped apart and put back toguhgter, according to apocalypse’s twisted design, he could feel apocalyse’s sick ideology being pounded into his skull, by the time he comes out, he is barely the same person he was, Remy uses what little of his free will he has left to look in a nearly refrective surface, he was disgusted by apocalyse had done to him, instead of his normal brown hair, he now has ghostly white hair, instead of his normal amber eyes with black isises,

[farmhandler]

this whole sequence when he realizes he fixed everything and everyone is alive again...you don't understand...

[vampyrekorkie]

help!!! I can't stop drawing this bitch and their zucchini!!!

references: x (they rest are from pinterest)

[thetokentrans]

Looking for books, movies, TV shows, and podcasts to consume for inspiration. Criteria I'm looking for:

Sci-fi, particularly focused on people with abilities (like x-men, umbrella academy, heroes, The Bright Sessions, that kind of thing)

Dystopian (like Maze Runner, Dark Angel [the TV show with Jessica Alba], Hunger Games, that kind of thing. Particularly leaning into capitalism is bad)

Is not just focused on teenagers. I have no qualms against YA focused media, and have consumed tons, and won't turn down recommendations in that vein but I want more media of this type that is focused on adults. 😅

If the story is concluded, I'd prefer to lean toward media that has a happy ending, as that is the ultimate goal for the project I'm doing "research" for. Or at least an ending that offers some form of catharsis. Y'know?

Preferably has queer characters.

[woodcries]

got so excited to be able to just make my inquisitor in the character creator you look so good arri!!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

was watching apocalypse with my brother and once the cerebro scene popped up he was like 'charles has a helmet like erik, only instead of keeping people out, he tries to reach out and connect with others' like guys i need to bash him with a rock

[linovrse]

i wandered back into a familiar pit called “my hugh jackman phase”… only this time, i’m in so deep idk if i’ll ever come out of it!

[martianbugsbunny]

Baby While You're At It (A Cherik Fic)

Well my dears I am now laughing at my past self and calling them a bloody fool bc they swore up and down they were not going to get involved with writing Cherik, not with so many other ships/fics already languishing in WIP hell, but it's happened. I've written my first Cherik fic and I'm no longer annoyed at the idea that it might not be my last.

I was listening to a Jessie Murph song and I was like "Hm, this kinda gives Cherik" and I picked the bits I thought were the most Cherik and used those as inspiration for the fic. Definitely favored loyalty to the characters over the song, don't worry! I would recommend giving it a listen because I absotutely-lutely love it, but first I would recommend reading the fic because it turned out splendid and I adore it. Read on and enjoy!

Two weeks, was that all it had been? Charles stared at the calendar, wishing it would tell him it was all a mistake and they were launching for Cuba tomorrow; that he had dreamed up everything that had happened since then—but he knew each one of those fourteen days really had passed because he had counted each of them. Day One without Erik. Day Two without Erik. Day Five. Day Nine.

Day Fourteen.

He felt as though he had aged ten years in that short span of time. Beneath his eyes were dark, bruise-colored circles, as though his body was beating him up for how little he slept.

How could he sleep, when every time he closed his eyes he was back on the beach? He could feel the grit of the sand beneath his head as he fell, then the stiff material of…gloves, as he was lifted halfway up and cradled within the confines of strong arms. The scent of the salt air; the taste of fear; the compressing of his lungs as he realized who was responsible for the pain in his spine and the even worse lurching of his heart as he realized that same person was going to cause him worse pain yet.

Charles exhaled, his breath still shaking as though he were lying in agony on the sand, and went to join Hank in the kitchen for breakfast.

Hank, a strong contrast to Charles’ often dark mood, seemed happier than usual. He handed Charles the carton of orange juice and slid a small vial across the table with it. “I’ve developed a sort of antiserum,” he said. “To the one I made from Mystique’s DNA. It allows me to control my mutation.”

Oh, yes. That was the other difference: Hank was also a lot less blue than usual. “It’s a very interesting formula, I thought you might want to know,” Hank said.

Charles picked up the glass tube and shook it idly. The fluid inside looked unremarkable, but if it could manipulate Hank’s genetic code, interesting was an understatement.

Hank glanced at him warily, then set down his spoon and folded his hands. “I’m supposed to remind you we’re having a sort of welcoming party for the soon-to-be teachers? Tonight?”

Charles leaned back in his chair, sighing. He liked a lot of the people who had signed on to help with the school, but the ghost of…the past was following him around so closely he barely had room for his own shadow, much less a houseful of guests.

But he wasn’t going to cancel. Hank deserved to have time with his friends, and Charles could always disappear and leave them to their fun if he needed to. “We’ve got enough food?”

“Plenty.”

“Alright then, just—make sure nobody breaks anything.” He had seen what it was like when young mutants got together before, and he didn’t particularly want his house to end up like their former CIA facility had.

Charles managed to get through the rest of the day without too much trouble; he didn’t retreat to his study for booze as he often found himself doing, and he went outside for a while to get some fresh air. Maybe having friends around wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Maybe they could push those ghosts away.

Alex Summers was the first to show up; he brought with him a smile that lit up the corners of the house. He had changed a lot since Charles had first recruited him, going from definitively bitter to being brilliant and full of life.

Charles shook the thought away that he had had a nearly opposite transition.

Another half hour later the future teachers had all arrived. Charles noticed the way Alex’s bright smile changed into something infinitely softer when Sean Cassidy arrived, and felt a brief stab of that horrible bitterness when Sean went to greet Alex first, their embrace a lingering one that left the entire room giving each other knowing glances.

Charles was just about fed up already and he hadn’t even said hello to everyone yet. He cast a pleading look at Hank: How much longer do I have to stay? It was, after all, his school, his idea, that had gathered all of these people together, and detached as he felt from the rest of them he didn’t want to make enemies of them.

Hank crossed the room and sat down on the sofa, next to which Charles had parked his wheelchair. “Fifteen minutes,” he said quietly, squeezing Charles’ hand. He understood, to the extent that anyone could, because he had spent the intervening weeks between Cuba and now at Charles’ side.

“Fifteen and I’m out,” Charles answered tersely. Hank gave him a sympathetic smile and then went back across the room to get something to eat.

Fourteen minutes later the front door opened again, eerily silent, and the room went still. Alex moved to stand more-or-less in front of Sean, who gripped his wrist reassuringly.

Charles bit back a curse when Erik Lehnsherr walked through the door. It closed behind him, swinging noiselessly on its metal hinges. Erik’s eyes lighted on Charles instantly, and an emotion started filling Charles’ chest that felt like the sting of bile in the throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“I came to see you.” Erik glanced around the room—it was definitely hostile. Hank had reverted into his blue form. “Perhaps we could move to somewhere less public?”

“You’ll shoot me in the back in front of these people but you won’t speak to me while they’re present?” Charles could hear the hysteria bubbling up in his voice and felt powerless to stop it. Every beat of his heart as it limped on screamed Erik—Erik—Erik and yet he was furious with the man. Furious at being wounded, furious at being left, furious most of all that Erik’s heart was probably pounding stronger than ever without Charles chasing two steps behind. He had some nerve to show up uninvited with that handsome half-smile so typical of him and just expect that Charles would chase after him again.

….Mostly because he was absolutely right. Charles would never be able to resist the pull of that grin; it drew him to Erik as magnetism drew metal to him, irresistibly and almost inevitably leading to disaster, even while Charles felt a blue-hot searing fury with himself for crumbling so easily.

“Fine,” he spat. “You all go on with your party. I will be back soon.”

He had longed to escape just moments ago and yet he dreaded the loss of backup as he led Erik into the kitchen, several hallways removed from the living room where the others were no doubt starting to whisper about why Magneto was here.

Charles stopped his chair next to the table, turning it to face Erik. “What do you want?” he asked.

Erik wasn’t foolish enough to sit down. Their conversation was far from being that casual. “I wanted to see you,” he said. “To—to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, now you want me to be alright? Now? After everything you did to me?” There was that hysterical sound again. This time, Charles tried to bite it back—it and the tears that were building in his eyes.

“It was Moira’s fault,” Erik said. “Imagine being stupid enough to shoot at a man who can control metal.”

“You certainly had no problem controlling that bullet into my spine,” Charles said.

Erik stepped back as though Charles had physically slapped him in the face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

It had been Erik’s strong, gentle, desperate arms that had cradled him after the accident, Charles reminded himself. It was an accident, after all, no matter how much Charles wanted to place blame on a single person and push that person away to alleviate his grief. Erik had caused him pain, but he had also held him, eyes devastated, hands straining with rage.

“And yet you always do,” Charles said. “I left that beach less than I was before. Not because of the injury, but because I had to leave without you.”

Erik said nothing, staring at Charles expressionlessly.

He couldn’t help laughing now, one hand going up to brush his hair roughly back from his face. “Why don’t you just rip my heart out of my chest while you’re at it? It would be easier to handle than knowing that it wasn’t love you felt for me. What was it, pity? Contempt?”

Finally Erik moved again, kneeling in front of Charles and covering one of Charles’ hands with his own. “I loved you then and I love you still,” he said, his voice hushed but more intense than Charles had heard him except in the heat of battle, or a fit of temper. “Why do you think I came all this way?”

Charles let the gathered tears fall, only for Erik to brush them away. “I regret little that I’ve done in my life,” Erik said. “It’s all been for a reason, a cause. But hurting you, no matter that it was an accident…that I do regret. Every night I hear your cries, see your tears, and it’s been eating at me.”

“No matter how bad you have it, I’ve got it worse,” Charles said, the break in his voice betraying his attempt at coldness. “You think the memories you left me with after that beach haven’t been gnawing on me like maggots on so much rotting meat?” There was more Charles wanted to say, but he stopped. “You’re not wearing your helmet,” he realized. He reached over and ran his fingers through Erik’s hair. It was longer already than it had been two weeks ago. “Why—?”

“I wasn’t sure you would believe me,” Erik said. “If I’d the worn the helmet, you would’ve said…”

“I would’ve said you were a liar,” Charles finished. “Because it’s easier to love a liar who’s laughing behind your back than to love someone who loves you back, if he’s hurt you.”

Erik nodded. This time, Charles caught the flicker of remorse in his eyes, deep-seated and powerful. “You know what, Erik? I don’t expect you stay with me. You’re too set in your convictions for that. But we’re done hurting each other—I want better than that for us.”

“Charles, I swore the moment I held you in my arms on that beach that I would never harm you again.” Erik’s eyes were as serious as they were only when he was talking about the mutant cause. It wasn’t about Erik’s intentions, though; Charles had meant it as a promise, as a forgiveness, as a bandage for the barbed-wire words he had already pushed into Erik’s heart.

“And no, I won’t stay, but I’m not leaving you,” Erik said. That, too, was a promise. An apology. “My heart and soul are with yours, wherever I go.”

True to his word, Erik didn’t stay. That night was all they had. This time, it was Charles who held Erik in his arms, Erik’s head pillowed on his chest, one hand curled around Erik’s jaw so Charles could feel the pulse in his neck. Erik slept, and peacefully; Charles didn’t.

There would be time for that later. He wouldn’t have Erik to have and to hold forever, and he didn’t want to waste a moment, but he didn’t begrudge Erik what he knew was one of few truly restful sleeps in his entire life.

Early the next morning, Charles sat on the porch, watching the dawn light up the sky in pale shades of lavender and pink over the still-dewy lawn. In the trees, birds were already singing, and a spider was busy in its web on a bush next to the railing.

It didn’t hurt so much to watch Erik go, his cape rippling like water behind him as he walked down the driveway, with the warmth of his kiss goodbye still lingering in Charles’ heart and on his cheek.