run, rabbit, run.

// HEY GUYS !!!!! yeah yeah this is the Usual ‘taking a break’ post u see on every rp blog ever etc etc YOU KNOW THE DEAL. unfortunately, every winter i go into what is called STAR WARS BRAINWORMS MODE which means im currently back on my boba f*tt blog that ive been writing since 2017 LMAO ... i miss writing david so so so fucking much but when i get brainworms i can literally handly only one cultural property, i cannot juggle between them at all

but i will be back to writing david soon enough, when the sw worms die out and-- GUESS WHAT. DAVID WILL BE IN THE COMICS SOON. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT MYSELF, IM SO EXCITED. MY IMPACT. MY ENERGY . I CANNT WAIT TO SEE HIM ON KRAKOA

🌋 – “I know, but you’re one of us, you know. I’m tired of seeing groups and factions striking against one another.” She sighs, and takes a little sip from her fruity drink. “Magneto was my esteemed teacher for years, as was Emma… I will never see them as enemies. Now we’re all together… It’s a relief, to be honest.” 

She grins when he asks if she’s enjoying it. She lifts her glass and considers the colorful drink. “I am enjoying it. I doubt peace will last – but I will enjoy it as long as I may.” 

“i know i am, one of--...” sure, he gets to put a very thick x in the mutant checkbox. a very, very thick x. technically, david is one of them. “i just don’t feel like it.” 

a corner of his mouth jumps to form a very crooked smile. more of a wince, really. 

if anyone had predicted this is what she’d be doing on her weekends, she’d have never believed them. she’s genuinely enjoying herself far too much to even  think too much about what it all means.

she grins, can’t help but laugh at his hesitation. “ don’t be like that, ” she says, teasing “i hadn’t really thought it through. even after searching through people’s memories, i was TERRIFIED. ”

she’s better around him, softer in a way that she isn’t with anyone else. maybe it’s how honest he’s been with her; there’s something quite EASY about being with another telepath, at least one who isn’t distrustful enough to shut off. emma’s ever really done easy before, and it confuses her with david. she’s had to remind herself that perhaps she’s not the only one who doesn’t know which step to move forward with; he’s on the same boat with her. 

which makes her wonder, if he’s ever been sailing. a grin carves itself onto her features, a light snort, so trypically uncharacteristic. she lets the image float over to him, what she’s expect him to be like if she asked him to man the yacht for a few minutes.  

“i was briefly poor, you know. i know what a frozen pizza costs. still haven’t been to taco bell, though,” she says, taking his arm. she wouldn’t want to assume, but they’ve been comfortable with casual touching so far. as they leave the room behind and cross out from the hallway, she briefly pauses, wondering which way to go. fountains it is. 

“you like fountains? i like fountains,“ she says. then, far too casual, but as blunt as she is, only with him, she says. “ you’re allowed to laugh, david. i hope you know that. “

“uhh, fountains sound great.” david didn’t have an opinion on fountains before today but he has one now.

he’s okay with being touched, he’s okay with being led. a sense of direction is a rare resource in his life and he gets it where he can. emma takes him under his arm and he leans into that immediately, maybe too eagerly.

“i know that, i just-- you know, don’t want to, offend you...?” now that he said his fear out loud it sounds kind of pathetic. emma is made out of very stern stuff, a chuckle and a snort from some mentally ill guy isn’t even going to make a dent.

there’s something emma needs to know and david says it, instead of sending tendrils of GOOD-SAFE-STABLE feelings to her. he could show emma memories of himself sitting by her side, getting stitched together by just watching her go on despite everything. he could fill her mind with pure warmth and throw in more telepathic imagery that conveys how welcome he feels here. but he thinks that if he says it out loud, it will mean more.

❛ and i'd... i'd look up at the lights in the sky, and... they'd talk to me. the stars. and i thought they talked to everybody. and i told my dad, and he said... at first he said, 'they talk to me, too,' but he meant it like a... metaphor. ❜ 

DAVID HALLER from LEGION FX. mutant, telepath, world-breaker.

david stops in his tracks, startled. he opens his mouth and tries saying several words at the same time, turning them into a gibberish mush: “oh, c’m-- that’s-- pfshh-- okay.” 

the energy at the front end of their expedition seems a little charged and david dares not to catch up with elliot and the suit guy. instead, he sticks hands deeper into his pockets and half-jogs to join mr. robot’s side. only one breath is visible in the chilly air. 

david’s not entirely sure why are they in a forest but he also doesn’t feel the need to question it. he’s in a snow-covered forest because elliot is in it and if elliot is here it means he has something important to do. and david trusts elliot and the sense he puts into the world. it’s just that-- he doesn’t want to come between him and the suit guy. not right now. so for the time being, he sticks with the ghost.

“i don’t want you to feel stupid.” david pops his eyes at mr. robot, huge and vulnerable, just begging to be scooped out with a spoon. “but for the record-- i really appreciate everything you do.”

a droning choir of ‘oh come onnnn’ fills out his skull and it sounds like a beginning of a riot. david squints one eye at the jealous outburst but doesn’t attempt to analyze it, that would be too weird ( nasty, ungrateful, ugly child !! ). he nervously rubs at his ear with the heel of his palm and continues digging his grave: 

“i don’t know if elliot ever told you that but, um, i think you’re doing a great job. and i know, i know you don’t like me--” a pause for a quick amused exhale, it billows into the winter air like a hot-air balloon. “--but i’m not your enemy, i swear, i wanna see this through too.” 

he glances at elliot and the suit guy who seems to be a minute away from screaming out every little frustration living inside of him. suddenly david feels very comfortable to be here, in the back, explaining his entire existence to mr. robot. 

“because, um, i care about him and you care about him too, so--” david reaches out with a hand, moving it to pat mr. robot’s shoulder but that kind of seems awkward-- then again, putting his hand down now would be even worse, he already committed to the movement. david’s fingers furl and unfurl in hesitation before he finally settles on fist-bumping mr. robot’s chest in a gesture of support.

“no, you’re not.” not-david smiles sadly. “but if it makes any difference, i’m don’t think i’m here either.” 

he digs his hands into the pockets of his suit and he’s pleased to find such useful, mundane things inside of them. some quarters, car keys and a crumpled-up pack of gum. he loves it, he rolls these perfectly normal objects between his fingers. he and elliot are standing in front of a vending machine, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling window panels. not-david can’t remember seeing elliot around this much sunlight, it’s like looking at someone brand new.

he looks good. healthy. like he’s been sleeping well even though there’s a hint of a really scary question behind his huge eyes. 

“but i think you’re-- no, i know you’re real, man.” not-david bounces on his heels, sways forward and back. “i’m the one who’s fake. see, i think... i think they tried to introduce me to you, a copy of me-- him-- david, but... you know, his powers... no, you don’t know, you don’t know him, me, yet... he doesn’t know you either.” 

not-david throws his head back, snorts. he’s just an echo, he’s not equipped to deal with any of this. it doesn’t matter, he knows he’s a failed experiment already. whoever made this place, this little section of a perfect world, can already sense something is off. someone knows too much and as it happens, that someone is usually david. or not-david.  

“i don’t think you’re going to remember any of this.” he presses a number on the vending machine in front of them and tries to ignore the shaking of his hand. the form he was given in this world is already in the process of being neutralized. “it’s not your fault, it’s-- i’m just, self-aware for some reason and... i’m not supposed to.” he pops his lips loudly at the word ‘supposed’. david, the real david, probably doesn’t even know that someone tried to bring a copy of him to this place. doesn’t even know that his powers kicked in to save his reflection from blindly following the routine written out for him. and that it’s exactly why he will soon cease to be.

it seems that not-david got trapped between two good intentions. he can’t be mad.

“it’s a nice world.” he picks up the pack of twizzlers from the vending machine. he offers it to elliot but backs away after a slow shake of his head. “i mean, look at me, the suit? i think the real david would like that. someone is taking good care of you.” 

he struggles to open the pack because twizzlers weren’t meant to exist in this maze. they’re not patched in yet but david tends to bend reality around himself. kind of like the opposite of water-- when poured into a container, he twists it to accommodate him perfectly. so, of course, even his copy gets to have twizzlers if it wants them. 

“you won’t remember this, but when... if, if you meet david, for real, don’t, uh, expect too much, okay? he’s really bad at first impressions.” not-david grunts out. he can’t seem to rip the pack open but that’s alright because this futile struggle is an excellent distraction from the fact that he will soon cease to be. “and, he’s-- he’s going to be weird, but, you know… give him a chance? i think, i think he’s gonna need it. it’s, he’s a complicated guy. just-- try, okay? please.”

not-david stops fighting. he wants to sigh but that’s not enough. instead, he shakes his head, sniffs hard. he’s not legion, not really, he knows that. but he tried anyway.

he still gets mornings like these. mannequin mondays, he’d call them if he felt like he was stable enough to crack jokes about his own brain. 

he’s draped over the couch like a blanket, limp and malleable. spirit is sitting on the floor in front of him. she moves his hand closer to her chest so she can continue painting his nails and he lets her because, the thing is, the truth is, actually, he can’t move. not today. he’s here, but he might as well not be, but he is because he paid for a ticket to this movie and it would be a bit of waste of money if he just walked out, so yes, he’s here. just locked inside. 

david watches the little brush swipe up and down, leaving black, tar-like smears all over his nails. he can’t actually follow the movement, he just stares at one spot and waits for spirit’s hand pass through it. david blinks softly and wants to scream. 

i think you’re doing a great job, he wants to yell to her. i love painted nails but i always forget to reapply the polish, i just let it chip away. i can’t force myself to keep up with it, you know?? my brain is like-- dry spaghetti, i think someone had to snap it in half before stuffing it into my skull, you know?? can you hear me?? can anyone hear me at all?? when i can’t hear a question i sometimes just nod and smile, have you been doing this to me?? have you all been pretending you can hear me this whole time--

“with each morning, i am less afraid.” says spirit because one of them should be saying something. 

david wants to move his eyes to meet her gaze. he can’t, but he imagines it. he doesn’t think it’s triumphant. spirit is probably looking at his hand with hooded eyes and something resembling concentration. this isn’t a jab, she’s not being boastful. this shit is hard. all of it. 

but it gets better, spirit seems to yell back. it fucking gets better. 

( freshwater by akwaeke emezi ) // not accepting .

david blinks.

“well, uh, i wouldn’t-- like that.”  he scratches at his cheek because he’s not sure what to do with his hands, but the problem is that he has two of them and only one is currently occupied. his palms shuffle around a bit until they finally settle down on his thighs. and then they fly up in a fake defensive gesture: “ahhh, don’t kill me, i have so much to live for.” 

david laughs a very awkward laugh, it’s dry and miserable but it matches the surroundings so it should be forgiven. 

a nurse walks past them, holding a clipboard at an angle that makes it seem like she’s being led around by it. she gives the two of them a watchful glare and david feels his shoulders hike up defensively. they both wait until she disappears and only when the coast is clear they lean into each other like a pair of conspiring school kids in detention. 

“but i get it, okay?” david whispers. “if i hadn’t met you in here, i’d… i don’t know, i think i’d go crazy.”

kind of a weird statement to make as a committed patient of a mental hospital but lenny will understand.

“it’s not stupid-- we’re just... you know. dealing with all of this.” 

‘all of this’ includes pills, orderlies with pins and needless, therapy, the universal truths repeated over and over, new patients arriving every week and then getting released the next while david is left behind wondering what is he missing and can he learn it from the next patient that gets committed to clockworks. it’s a loop, everything is always the same in here and the only constant that doesn’t bore him to death is lenny because lenny is never constant. 

david opens eyes wide. his breath is crashing against her neck because he hasn’t stopped leaning in.

“had ??” he puts down the glass of water and turns around to face her properly. his lips are half-parted, eyes unmoving. “--sharon, what makes you think you're no longer dreaming?” 

david stares at her for one concerned second before snorting explosively, very pleased with himself.