A.N: Okay peoples. This is a one-off story that I wrote after watching the X2 movie. It is purely just a joke, so take it too seriously.
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The small group dressed totally in black walked silently across the crisp grass. Each person with a gift inside them, a mutation of sorts. They have the incredible gift and ability to write. And write they did, incredible stories of an world where Humans were evolving in a new race, where men can live forever and touch can kill. Each of these writers held a pad of paper or a laptop as they soberly made their way towards the open graves.
Among these writers were the X-Men, the group in which a selective group of writer chose to write about. Tears ran down Rogue's face as she was comforted by Bobby's warm embrace.
Beside them Logan stood silently, a look of disappointment on his face. His expression of grief was shared by The Professor and a selective group of the other students and friends of the x-men. The group paused in front of two empty graves.
A single author stood forward, her face hidden behind a thin black material. Sparing a glance towards the graves, she faced the crowd and her clear voice broke through the mournful silence.
"Dearly Beloved, We are gathered today to say our finally goodbye's to two of our most beloved genres."
Gesturing towards the two gravestones, the crowd looked down at them. In clear silver letters were written Logan/Jean andLogan/Marie shippers.
"We all loved to explore these genres and make them our own. For some of us, they were our favorites. But now, due to the storylines in the new X2 movie, these plotlines are now expired."
Logan growled slightly towards the coffins as they were gently placed above the graves. Wails from unknown writers were heard as the coffins were ceremoniously lowered into the ground.
"We must now all look to the future, to new and different plotlines. And although we move on, this genre will be sadly missed."
The Author finished her speech, patting tears from her face. Moving slowly, she brought a piece of paper out of her pocket. Gently kissing the paper, she let it drop from her fingers into the grave, where it came to rest on top of the coffin. The crowd slowly dispersed, each author added her forever-lost plotline to the grave.
Wolverine stood silent, watching as two teenagers began to fill the empty graves. He had felt the sting of the latest movie. No more Marie, No more Jean. He angrily wiped away a single tear which threatened to fall and turned away from the graves. Looking at his feet, he slowly began to move away. As he reached the car, he felt a pair of comforting hands on his back.
"Do not worry Logan." A soft voice behind him said softly. "Everything happens for a reason."
Logan raised his head and looked directly into Ororo's clear blue eyes. "Yeah, I guess." He grumbled, looking back sadly towards the graves.
"Come on." Ororo said softly guiding him into the car, a slight smile across her face.