To Me, My X-Men!

Claremontian by upbringing; RoLo shipper since 00s, since before canon was not even close.

[bananabrain0]

GOD I hope I do not get banned for this.

I grew up clinging to mutant stories because they always felt like home. The X-Men became my found family when my real family felt distant or entirely absent. I was born in a small village, most relatives dead before I could meet them, moved far from home when I was very young. As someone who's always felt like an outsider, an immigrant, a person who could not relate to a regular family, I discovered my footing through the stories I read or wrote.

Writing fanfiction has been my sanctuary. It's a space for healing, escaping, and finding my community. The power of these stories, the way they let me explore my identity and feel like I belonged, has shaped who I am as both a person and a writer.

Recently, I made a decision that terrifies and excites me equally. Money's very tight right now, and instead of stepping away from writing, I thought: what if I could share this craft with people who want something deeply personal, something crafted just for them?

I'm opening fic commissions (click on link to access the gig deets)

One shorts, long stories, sfw or nsfw... Whatever narrative has been living in your head, waiting for the right words — I'd be lucky to bring it to life. This feels vulnerable to share, but if you've ever dreamed of having a story written specifically for you (or simply want to support my continued writing), my commissions are open.

You can find my existing work on ao3

I must be clear: I'll continue creating the free stories our community needs. But this feels like a way to sustain that work while offering something special to those who want it.

💙

[bananabrain0]

Ororo finally looked up, meeting Logan's eyes across the kitchen.

What she saw there crashed into her like atmospheric pressure spiking before a hurricane — not doubt, never doubt about the fundamentals. The certainty in his gaze was absolute, primal, the kind of conviction that lived in bone and blood rather than conscious thought. He would kill for her. Not metaphorically, not as hyperbole, but as simple fact — anyone who threatened her or the child would die, and Logan would make that death count for something. It was written in the set of his shoulders, the way his hands had gone still around the warm bowl, the particular focus that meant he was always alert about the threats even now in the supposed safety of home. And she knew, with the same bone-deep certainty, that she would do the same. Would call down lightning that would crack the world open if it meant protecting what was theirs. Would become the tempest that myths warned about, the weather witch who forgot mercy in service of what was important.

That part was never in question. That part was as fundamental as breathing. They would die for each other. Kill for each other. Burn the world down if required.

But everything else? The mechanics of building a life together? Building a… family? That space gaped empty and enormous between them, a chasm that felt impossible to bridge in their current state of hollowed-out exhaustion.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[comicpolls]

Biggest Fashion Icon: Semi-Finals Match One of Two

Talia al Ghul

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Voting ended onOct 8, 2025

[bananabrain0]

"You know what this team needs?" Jubilee announced, dramatically gesturing with pizza. "We need to clone Logan. Imagine having six Wolverines!"

The comment hit the room like a stone dropped in still water.

Conversations paused. Logan's beer stopped halfway to his lips.

"God help us all," Scott muttered.

Good-hearted laughter erupted — Bobby nearly choking, Jean hiding her grin, Kurt's distinctive chuckle mixing with Ororo's musical laugh.

"One's plenty," Logan said dryly, raising his beer in mock toast.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

The Sky Moved With Her

Thunder crashed directly above them, and Ororo lost control for a heartbeat. Her power sought Logan's adamantium skeleton, electricity wanting to complete some circuit she didn’t understand.

Lightning struck the mansion’s lightning rod, the sound deafening as her connection with the weather responded to proximity that felt both natural and terrifying.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

Trust.

“Light ‘em up, Storm.”

The bolt came down like heaven’s wrath. Logan felt every hair stand as electricity crackled inches from his skin — close enough to taste copper, precise enough to leave him breathing.

Trust. The word thundered through him as he launched through corrupted steel. Absolute faith that Storm knew exactly where he was, exactly what he needed, exactly how much divine fire to unleash without incinerating everything worth protecting.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

“This was never about me,” Remy whispered, cards faltering in his grip. “I led you here, Logan. Shit, I led you right to him.” His voice cracked with desperate regret. “I’m sorry. Mon Dieu, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, but it was,” Sinister corrected gently. “You were perfect bait. The one person Logan would follow into obvious danger.”

Logan lunged — claws seeking Sinister’s throat — but his legs gave out halfway. Darkness closed in fast. The last thing he heard was Sinister’s satisfied whisper: “Sleep now. When you wake, we’ll revisit some familiar places. The place where you were truly born.”

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

Then we fight through it. You and me.

“You’d follow me?” His question came out uncertain, vulnerable in a way Logan rarely allowed. “If I started X-Force, if I trained a team for missions the others couldn’t handle… you’d trust me with that?”

“Anywhere,” she breathed, the word carrying absolute certainty even as her hand slid up his chest to curve around his neck. The admission surprised her with its honesty. “But Logan, what if I hesitate? What if the closeness clouds what must be clear?”

His eyes darkened, and she could feel his pulse quicken beneath her fingers. “Then we fight through it. You and me.”

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

"He is not an animal to be caged."

Static crackled through Ororo's hair as the thought crystallized: Logan, alone in the forest with senses that could detect a heartbeat from miles away but couldn't tell friend from foe. Wind rattled the mansion's windows as her emotions bled into the atmosphere.

"He's not an animal to be caged."

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

Ororo/Logan: Redemption

"I called it down knowing it would probably kill us both," she said, sitting on her heels. "But I couldn't let you live as that thing. And I couldn't live knowing I hadn't tried to save you."

Logan knelt across from her, close enough that she could see the conflict in his eyes. "When the electricity hit… for a split second, the pain burned away everything else. I felt you in my arms — not prey, not conquest. Just… you. And I knew I was carrying home the most precious thing I'd ever touched."

"We both needed to be destroyed in that moment," Ororo said murmuringly. "The version of me that was afraid of her own power, and the version of you that believed you were only good for violence."

"Didn't just save me from the beast." Logan's voice was barely above a whisper. "Saved me from thinking that's all I was."

The silence full of possibility stretched between them. Logan's gaze dropped to the scars on her arm, the ones that had caught moonlight when she'd shown him the evidence of his violence.

"I marked you," he said, voice thick with self-loathing.

"Yes." She didn't flinch from the truth. "You did."

His fingers hovered over the red and dark brown line, not quite touching, tense. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes." She watched his face, saw the pain there. "But not the way you think."

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

Hunter/Hunted

The abandoned cottage reeked of wet wood and animal musk. Rain still whispered through the fractured roof, dripping from tall trees even after it had stopped. Water pooled on the splintered floorboards.

Shadows moved before Ororo did.

Ororo forced her breathing into a steady rhythm — four counts in, hold, four counts out. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, but she couldn't let him smell the adrenaline spike. Predators read fear like a roadmap to weakness. She'd learned this tracking wounded animals in Kenya as a child: never let them know you're afraid, even when terror claws at your throat.

Her heartbeat slowed. Better. The electrical charge building in her cells dimmed to barely perceptible levels.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw his gaze first — watching from the ruined hearth. Logan was now crouched near the old dark hearth, barely visible but radiating tension.

Naked except for a tattered lab coat hanging in shredded fragments, exposing his entire body underneath. His skin was marked with drying blood and punctures — catheters still dangling from veins like forgotten wires. Medical tape hung in tatters from his ribs. He didn't know he was a man. Didn't know he was Logan.

He was something else.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

"Glass"

"I love you." Ororo said, the words came easier this time, settled and sure. "I choose you."

Logan's eyes blazed, barriers crumbling. "Christ, 'Ro. I thought I'd lost any chance of this."

"Never," she said simply, and kissed him.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

"Glass"

"You two fight like you share the same brain," Kitty observed. "It's actually kind of unfair to the rest of us."

"It's all about timing," Ororo replied. "Logan understands weather patterns almost as well as I do."

"And Storm knows exactly how much voltage I can handle," Logan added.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

Broken Confession

"I been in love with you for months. Watched you walk through hell and lead like it meant nothin'. Wanted you so bad it hurt to sleep. But I knew better. Didn't think I had the right. So I kept it buried."

Logan's hand hit the glass, flat and hard. "Sinister twisted it. Took what I felt and turned it feral. Love? Turned that into control. Care? Into a fucking chokehold."

"That's why the beast went after you. It knew you mattered. Saw the alpha female. Saw what I wanted and grabbed it the only damn way it knew how."

"By force."

"And the worst part? Some twisted corner of my head… remembers what it felt like. You under me. No fight left. Feels like rot in my bones… 'cause I liked it."

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bananabrain0]

GOD I hope I do not get banned for this.

I grew up clinging to mutant stories because they always felt like home. The X-Men became my found family when my real family felt distant or entirely absent. I was born in a small village, most relatives dying, I moved far from home when I was very young. As someone who's always felt like an outsider, an immigrant, a person who could not relate to the regular family, I discovered my footing through the stories I read or wrote.

Writing fanfiction has been my sanctuary. It's a space for healing, escaping, and finding my community. The power of these stories, the way they let me explore my identity and feel like I belonged, has shaped who I am as both a person and a writer.

Recently, I made a decision that terrifies and excites me equally. Money's very tight right now, and instead of stepping away from writing, I thought: what if I could share this craft with people who want something deeply personal, something crafted just for them?

I'm opening fic commissions

One shorts, long stories, sfw or nsfw... Whatever narrative has been living in your head, waiting for the right words — I'd be lucky to bring it to life. This feels vulnerable to share, but if you've ever dreamed of having a story written specifically for you (or simply want to support my continued writing), my commissions are open.

You can find my existing work on ao3

I must be clear: I'll continue creating the free stories our community needs. But this feels like a way to sustain that work while offering something special to those who want it.

💙

[bananabrain0]

The prices seem huge because there is a minimum limit on fiverr. If you know how to bypass this limit, I will gladly change the prices to lower.

If you DM me on fiverr and say you're from Tumblr, I will double the size of the work for you 💙

[kingalicent]

never forget peter parker having to tell johnny storm he’s spider-man during a hostage situation at the high school. after he’d somehow kept that a secret for the 10 years they’ve worked together and had rendezvous on the statue of liberty.

[bananabrain0]

Too funny to pass up

[zyberboi]

windrider 🌪️