Logan’s an adult. He can admit that much. She’s small, even by his standards, and–wiggly, and she dropped out of a tree with a shriek like a mountain lion right on top of him, a blade at his throat before he could do more than grab the nearest available limb.
“Hey, now,” Logan says. One hand is clamped tight around her ankle–probably tight enough to hurt, although she seems unbothered–and the other is drawn back, clenched into a fist. His claws are sheathed, though, and he’d like them to stay that way. She’s too small to be an adult–he works with a lot of kids, and he’s guessing fourteen. Maybe fifteen, at the outside. He’s not in a rush to play slice-n-dice with someone younger than Kitty. Besides, his mouth will taste like blood for a week if she really does slit his throat. “What do you want?”
“You’re Weapon X,” she hisses.
The snarl that rips itself out of his throat is involuntary and sounds inhuman, his lips pulling back thoughtlessly as rage threatens to roll over him like a storm front. “I am not.”
“You are.” Her grip tightens, one hand tangled in the longest part of his hair to expose his jugular. It’s not a great way to cut a throat without an extremely sharp blade, the important arteries hidden under layers of taut tissue, but his skin parts like wet paper under her weapon, sending blood in a steady trickle down his chest. If it was Logan, he could go through all that protective tissue in a heartbeat. He’s sure this girl can do the same.
She’s shaking, he realizes, as if she’s holding back her own storm front by a hair. Every muscle is trembling, although her blade is steady. A breath through his nose says blood-rage-fear to his brain, layered over a scent that just doesn’t seem to register right. Everyone has their own distinct smell, except for this girl, who seems–off.
Christ, but this would be a great moment for Charles, or even Jean, to sense this scuffle and intervene. Logan isn’t really a good candidate for whatever this is. He’s too much of a linear thinker–A leads to B, where A is a problem and B is violence.
He takes a deep breath, as best he can without pushing the blade deeper into his throat, and tries to sound like he’s in control when he says, “How about we talk about this like people?”
“I’m not people.”
Well, okay then. That’s a starting point, at least. “Fair enough. Me neither, ‘cording to some. You want to tell me why you’re upset, at least?” A profoundly terrible thought occurs to him. “Listen, kid, if I did something to someone–”
“I’m not upset!” Her voice is high and thin and ragged, like something feral, like she’s barely forming words rather than just screaming until there’s blood on her teeth. Like he used to be, right after he stumbled out of the lab.
“I mean, you’re the one with the blade at my throat,” Logan says evenly. “So you’re obviously upset about something.”
She flips over his shoulders, lands crouched on the ground in front of him, and– Listen.
He can’t quite find it in himself to blame her for cutting his throat on the way down.
Let’s play a game. Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up. you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, never
That is so cool! Do they eventually migrate into the water in part because of the massive weight of their shells? So their surface area allows the water to help support them and their poor knees?
Also do they travel? Or do they root themselves in place? They’re so cool!!!!
yes!! the ocean lessens their heavy load. Furthermore, they seem to enjoy seeing new places but by the time they’ve reached maturity they move so slowly you can hardly tell they’re moving. this not only conserves energy but also gives the biome on their shells time to adapt to different temperatures!
That’s so cool! And they all probably have different ecosystems and local fauna on their backs too, I’m guessing? So no two living islands are alike!
very much so. In an isolated case, one fully matured (and particularly strong) island never set foot in the water, deciding instead to remain on dry land. All reports say she still roams the desert today! (which desert, however, manages to remain a closely guarded secret)
This is so cool!!!!!
[Images show creatures with a roughly tortoise-like appearance. Their heads and tails are quite close, but legs are slightly longer and straighter. Instead of shells, their backs and heads are covered with plants.
The first is labeled, ‘Living Island – One year old baby.’ It is beside a 6′0 human silhouette for scale, and it’s head is about even with the human’s. It is covered with grass/moss, flowers and mushrooms. Two saplings have sprouted, and butterflies flutter around it.
The second is labeled, ‘25 years old juvenile.’ The 6′0 human is approximately a quarter of its height. 3 small evergreens and piles of rocks decorate its back. Some bracket fungi have sprouted from its neck. (Those are the mushrooms that grow on tree trunks.) Moss or vines hang from its tail, legs, and sides.
The third is labeled, ‘Adult – 500 years.’ It has taken up residence in the water, and its toes look like long splayed roots. A small house is visible on its surface, and it has multiple large hills. A whole forest has grown, and a beach has developed along the visible side. Birds fly above the forest. Some of the vegetation floats around it on the water, and some has sunk into long streamers under it. Of its head, only the end of its beak is visible under the plants.
The final image, in one of the followup posts, shows a lighter coloured island. It’s head is bare, and clouds have gathered around its skull and a mountain on its back. It seems to be travelling through a desert. There’s an oasis on it’s back, and possibly a tiny house beside it? Something brightly coloured but indistinct, anyways. The island is so big that it’s hard to see if trees grow on it, but it looks more like grass and other sparse vegetation? One of the clouds is raining.
Agreed. I’ve stopped reblogging most of the replies because it’s honestly been hard for me to read, and I don’t even write that type of fic.
I admit, I had no idea what the conversation would become when I said I was willing to host it, and I regret how it ended up. I’m very sorry.
I noticed something reading that article you were linked to about a trauma survivor’s perspective.
They focused mostly on fic that didn’t tag, or that showed abusive relationships as romantic and healthy. They made a comment that tagging fic was important – because what messed them up was being told that their own abuse, or the abuse they saw in fic, was romantic.
Maybe, instead of getting defensive about our personal ability to write/read non-con/darkfic, we need to start recognizing that this isn’t about us. If you tag and/or include a comment about how the relationship isn’t healthy, you aren’t the problem. (This isn’t the same as saying, “this is SO sinful ;)” Maybe something closer to, “While I wrote this to be an enjoyable read, the relationship depicted is not actually healthy. Be careful if someone is telling you it is”?)
(Also, I’m so sorry about the abuse writers can get sent, for what they write. How are you supposed to keep perspective if you keep getting attacked? I know some of you get personal messages saying you’re evil, and that is totally unacceptable. This is about general discussion, not personal attacks.)
@ao3commentoftheday (I have a hard time reading questions that are in multiple asks. I need formatting! So I’m @ -ing you instead.)
I have a question for writers.
My mental health isn’t great, and I often read fic as a coping method during bad periods. When your head is bad, all your filtering mechanisms are telling you, ‘don’t talk, your words are valueless,’ and you don’t have any left for, ‘this isn’t something appropriate to share/this isn’t on topic.’
How do authours feel when they get comments about their readers’ mental health?
Examples:
“Ugh, I can’t get out of bed and nothing matters. This fic made life bearable for 5 minutes. Thanks.”
“So I’m kind of out of it. Disassociating big time. Kind of fun to look at your hand and be fascinated by the patterns on it. I wonder if this is what drugs feel like? Anyways, I like your writing? Yeah, I think I like your writing.“
Does it make authours uncomfortable to have strangers spilling their guts like that? Do you feel pressured to help in some way, or unsure what to do?
I don’t want to make comments that are more stressful than they are uplifting. I’m not going to stop commenting, but maybe something more generic like, ‘Was good,’ would be better if that’s all I’m capable of?
Cassandra can read exactly what Bruce wants to say. This makes some family interactions rather frustrating to witness.
(Headcanon that Bruce’s inner voice for dealing with Feelings is Clark’s)
[Comic shows two scenes of Bruce interacting with a son, while Cass watches.
The first has Dick in the medbay, wrapped in bandages. Cass is carting over an IV as Dick cries:
“Why would you – how – How could you say that?! Bruce – I would die for you.“
A tiny Clark floats by Bruce’s head, expressing his inner thoughts, “Why does he keep saying that? Doesn’t he know how much he means to you? That it’ll break you – and the entire family – if he died? You need to tell him he’s desperately loved and destroy that mindset right now!”
Bruce tries. “And I would never ask you to.”
Dick cries again, “Bruce! Don’t you walk away! Bruce!”
Cass is not pleased, but her “ … ” suggests she doesn’t know what to say.
Now we switch to Jason. He’s angry and frustrated.
“First you drag me to the cave. Then you take every opportunity to put me down. Do you even want me here?“
Bruce’s inner Clark is saying, “Repeat after me.
“Jason. I know we disagree about our methods, but you are my son and I will always want you here. I’m sorry that I’m not good with words and it’s made you feel unwelcome.”
What actually comes out of Bruce’s mouth is, “If you don’t want to be here, Jason, you’re free to leave.”
Jason yells, “Fuck you!” He looks about to storm out.
Cass seems exhausted and unimpressed. There’s another “ … ” by her head.
Thank you for sharing that. I think that’s one of the powers a writer has (beyond creating a world and the characters that inhabit it). We can, in the text or out of it, help people see a different point of view… or see their own lives from a different perspective.
kiragecko 