This Is What Being Regressed Is Like. 2 Me

This is what being regressed is like. 2 me

If you're a nsfw blog you don't have my consent to interact 🖕 this is a sfw space and I'm also a minor bodily. Same goes if you have -18 on your dni, for obvious reasons.

I will check.

I just finished Logan for the second time, it’s such an incredible movie, and I wanted to point out something.

This is just how I interpreted it, but I think that when Logan says “So this is what it feels like” while he meant the relief of dying after a long, painful two centuries of life, but more importantly he meant the feeling of having a daughter, a young, delicate life to hold and nurture, although his time with Laura was fleeting, and mostly filled with arguments and her cursing him in Spanish (I love her so much, her and Logan are my favourite marvel characters) he finally felt true family, what it meant to have time to care, like in those last moments he’s reminded of Charles and how he wanted Logan to make the most of the home they were in, how he realised home didn’t mean the place they were staying, it meant him, his daughter and Charles, they were his home.

Anyway my throat hurts and I’ve got a headache from sobbing so much at this ridiculous movie, never watching this movie again (lie)

TW:Opinion

This probably isn’t a “hot take” it’s not even a lukewarm one, but Scogan (what the fuck were we thinking when that ship name was made) is the OG Queer Logan ship, and it’s better, I’m sorry, I only speak the truth here. Poolverine is great and I love it, but the early 2000s era of Scott and Logan was cinema and I’m obsessed, also, Jean was there, and I love her. So, that’s why Scogan is better.

Real

Just thinkin about Logan picking you up like this if you’re being naughty or throwing a tantrum, he definitely scruffs his age regressor.

Night Terrors

Logan (James) Howlett and fem!agere!reader

A/N: All of my oneshots will be/are written with a fem reader in mind because I write my works self indulgently, however, if it’s requested I have no qualms writing the reader GN

Unless I’m writing a romantic work, there is so age in mind for the reader, however, romantic works will be written with an over 18 reader in mind （╹◡╹）

In this work Logan’s cabin isn’t far from Xavier’s School :)

TW: Logan has sleep paralysis in this one, blood, trauma, Logan’s Adamantium claws

He can feel the thrum of his rabbiting heartbeat in his chest, he can feel the rippling, burning hot metal bubbling and sizzling under his muscle corded arms and legs.

He can hear his grunts and cry’s of pain, he can hear Stryker’s voice, a venomous rumble to it.

He jolts, partially awake now, coming to the startling realisation that he can’t move, he’s used to the nightmares by now, but this one’s different. Blinking up at the pale ceiling of his cabin bedroom, feeling sweat bead down his forehead.

Logan grunts when he hears your cry’s, hiccuping and sobbing, he squints, desperate to move, to comfort you

“Daddy!”

You weep, he can feel your small hands pressing against his arm, scrambling to wake him up, he looks over at you, only able to see the top half of you, he grits his teeth at the state of you, teartracks and bloodshot eyes, you’re so flustered, unsure.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, your eyes start to droop, he still can’t move, he bares down, gritting his teeth, anything to get his muscles to wake up.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

Logan jolts upright, his breath panting and heaving. He turns, his first thought being you, he thumbs over your cheek, waking you up, you blink owlishly up at him, you’re so pale, he furrows his brows, he looks down at the sheets pooling around his waist.

His eyes widen at the dried blood staining the white sheets, he pulls them away, his breath stutters when he sees the gash marks in your thigh, peering down at the metal claws peeking through his knuckles.

They retract, he jumps out of bed, wrapping you in the stained sheets before he’s running out of the cabin, a small emergency bag chucked over his bare shoulder.

He sprints, bare feet padding over tree roots and autumn dried leaves, you paw weakly at his chest, feeling too young and tired to put up any real fight.

He bursts through the door of Xavier’s school, you squint at the bright lights of the campus building, whining, Logan shushes you, a sympathetic hand pushing back your hair as he frantically searches for the med-bay, praying to anything that will listen, he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Hank, awake, but hunched over a desk

“Please, help”

His voice is the weakest you’ve ever heard it, he lies you on a cold medical table, squirming, you whimper

“I’m sorry honeybee, so sorry”

His face is contorted with pain, Hank jumps up, shuffling around to grab gauze and thread, Logan presses a plain pacifier into your mouth, one he’d urgently snatched from the emergency bag.

He was occupied in keeping you awake, the last thing they needed was you fainting from blood loss, he thumbed over your palm, his hand large and warm against yours, he rumbled about promises of whatever food you’d like, sprawling shopping trips for any and all of the toys you wanted, he promised whatever you wanted, to make up for the three scratches crawling up your leg.

Your pupils pinballed as tears dripped down his cheeks, running into his beard, his breath staggering as he came to terms with how much he’d hurt you, how sick from pain you looked, the ghastly scars that will be left, the scars he gave you.

Nausea spilled into his stomach when you cried out, scrambling to get away from the threaded needle Hank pokes at your tender leg with.

“I know angel, I know it hurts, Daddy’s so sorry”

He huffs at your whimpers, his brows crinkled in distraught. He presses a kiss to your damp forehead when Hank announces he’s done, wiping away the drying blood from around the stitches before wrapping it taught in gauze.

You shift, cuddling into his side, wrapping a muscled arm around you, he growls when Hank approaches, you peek over Logan’s shoulder, intrigued, tired eyes landing on the jar of colourful lollies and sweets in his hand, he holds his hands up, surrendering.

Logan softens when he spots the jar mottled with candy, he lets you reach a pawing hand over his shoulder to grab at the sweets, Hank holds out the jar even when you pull your hand out

“Take a few more, you were really brave.”

You don’t hesitate, grabbing a few more lollies.

Logan pulls you up, but now you’re wrapped up in a clean, thicker bedsheet, Hank insisted, claiming that the other one was stained beyond repair and too unhygienic. After a quick but detailed explanation of how to take care of the wound and prevent extensive scarring, you’re waving a dopey goodbye to Hank over Logan’s shoulder. You drift off, clutching at the man.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, requests and reblogs are much appreciated

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

The Chappell Roan to Wolverine and Deadpool pipeline is so real, like they were Knee deep in the passenger seat, genuinely