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@legion-transcendent
I .
Rule .
Me .
Whatever the Cost.
An Indie, Semi-selective, Mutuals only RP blog for David Haller, Legion, from Marvel's X Men comics.
Biography || Rules || Verses || Starter Call || Memes
Written by Din and following from @the-taboo-king.
“i do not,” aurora responds without hesitation, absolutely knowing what david has described quite well, having experienced the same trepidations, fears, and wishful thinking herself. there is too much to say when it comes to her own relationship with being taught how to be normal and being forced to blend in and fit into the mold carved out for her, so she doesn’t. instead, the beaubier talks about someone else; someone she may not have grown up with, or always see eye-to-eye with, but still someone she knows, treasures, and has sat in the trenches with.
her twin brother.
“jean-paul was in the closet for many years,” she begins, finally breaking the silence. “he was told to keep his relationships under the cover while he was the face of many prestigious things, from his sports career to the superhero teams he represented. do you think he felt happy and secure? or felt loved when people didn’t know him? or if they did, he was made to feel people would turn on him?”
“masking may help in short-term cases, all of us do it more or less, usually for professional reasons or for the sake of diplomacy in social places,” jeanne-marie explains, not quite meeting david’s eyes though her voice may remain calm, steadfast. “but it is no way to live. people can’t love you if they don’t know you; masking gets in the way of that, mon ami. masking gives ammunition to those who wish to suppress you anyway. in the end, nobody’s winning, so why bother? or pretend we will rewarded for our obedience? even the bravest soldiers end up with nothing in the end, why should we martyr for a winless battle.”
He blinks, body straightening and muscles tensing some with her instant response. Wow, now that’s some self-confidence. He’s not sure he totally believes her and he could find out but that would be rude. They’re having a genuine, real conversation, and David only deep dives a brain when he needs to. When he really needs to get something out of someone’s skull. He doesn’t need that from Jeanne-Marie. Still, he can’t help the drop in his gut and the way his posture sags. He kinda feels a bit dumb right now.
Jaw tightens, gaze sliding away from her. His legs cross and he starts floating, gaze settling on a spot on the horizon. Some silence settles between them, and David feels his skin crawl. He kinda feels like he fucked up there. Then comes her voice again with a story. Not her own but her brother’s.
A part of him wants to snap, wants to hiss that it’s not the same, but that doesn’t serve anyone. Just makes him sound selfish and dismissive and when he takes a breath to think about it the similarities are there. Hiding his plurality, hiding the fuckery in his brain, can be just as exhausting and damaging as living a life where you can’t love who you love. David sighs and closes his eyes. He takes some soothing breaths as he listens on the story of Jean-Paul’s repression.
“Aye … aye, I know,” he says once the story is over. “I know. I just …,” A pause and David shakes his head. “Sorry. Thinkin’ what ifs. Reflecting. All that good shit. Didn’t mean to dump my shit on y’ like that. Glad you’ve gotten to the point where y’ don’t feel the pressure to conform, to pretend.” He turns his face to her again, giving a small smile and a shrug. “Sometimes I find myself carin’ ‘bout other people’s opinions. Despite … well.”
David gestures to the whole of himself. The impossible hair. The refusal to wear anything more than a pair of sweatpants. The fact that he blatantly tells gravity to go fuck itself on the daily. The fact that he has become so unapologetically himself and all that entails.
Please. What am I supposed to do with myself?
Like the shudder of static electricity in dry air or the drop in pressure before an arriving storm, Charles feels the tension in David start to boil over. He remained focused on his task, peeling, scrapes of the metal blade to the side of potato, releasing small divots of peel. Then long, languid strokes, just for the idle focus on it, even as he hears the aggravated thoughts of his son. It's impossible not to. Like standing next to an orchestra, hands clamped over the ears, praying not to hear any of the tune or melody. He lets the thoughts wash over them like water but he finds himself putting the peeler down at the same time that David puts the grater down. Almost a mimicked gesture. It's a tangled knot of emotion and empathy; his powers wrapped up into David's. If Charles wasn't concerned for the potential psychic storm they could whip up, he'd be a bit fascinated.
Instead, he turns, hip pressing against the counter, and arms crossing. He has an advantage over David: age and maturity. Charles has simply been doing this longer than his son and he can detach himself from the feelings. Look at them with a sort of analytical lens. He breathed, slow in and slow out, a drop in weight to pull David back down.
"All because someone didn't like your latkes?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow. It's a teasing question, but Charles lets himself soften. "David, one or two rejections from your peers is not cause to give up. Nor, does it mean that living outside of that clinic is impossible. Might be, perhaps, more difficult than you hope. But impossible? No. I don't believe that."
He picks up the peeler and resumes his work. Only a few more potatoes anyway, might as well get them done. It gives him something else to focus on as well.
"David, at the risk of theorizing," Charles continues. "I would like to point out that everyone goes through phases of social development. A five year old is more progressed than a toddler, not just in physical development but also in experience in dealing with others. The same can be said of a ten year old, a teenager, an adult. 'Being a person,' is a skill. Like making latkes or peeling a potato. You get better at it with practice."
To prove his point he swiped a long, spiraling strand of peel.
"It is true, most likely, that your experiences at the clinic and in early life has made it so you are behind the curve from your peers," he admits. "You have simply not had the same time to develop the skills that they have. On the other hand... it is a skill. It's not an inherent trait that others have and you don't, David. It's just something that you need to practice and unfortunately, practice does require the occasional failure now and then. But that failure doesn't damn you. It means you're learning."
He finishes his potato and places it in the bowl.
"And I do find that giving people food is a good way to make friends."
He feels it too. The way his father’s empathy brushes up against his own anger, his own frustrations. David knows how volatile his emotions make his powers but it’s hard to care about that when he feels so deeply. When his emotions are nothing or too much. It’s hard to want self control when there is justification for what he feels. And yet, he doesn’t want to feel this frustration, this fear. He wants it to be easy. He wants so desperately to connect with people, but the problem is, it won’t ever be easy. Nothing will ever be easy for David Haller.
Beside him, Charles breathes. Deliberate breaths. Meant to calm, meant to ground, and David closes his eyes. He focuses on his father’s breathing and finds himself mimicking it. He finds his own mind trying to match the tempo of his father’s. Although, that teasing question definitely earns Charles a scathing glare from his son.
David does listen. Does manage to calm down, even if his jaw locks and a finger taps rapidly at the counter. Is it really just a matter of practice, of learning? It’s hard to see that sometimes. Hard to feel that when he can hear all those thoughts from the other students that sound like fear. That feel like horror and hate. He’s not even being all that truthful to people. He’s trying to hide just how powerful he is. Trying to make it so only his dad and maybe Hank know that he could end the world if he was having a particularly bad day. It might just get so much worse if they knew.
No, no. He has to try. He can’t give up. What’s the fucking point of anything if he gives up?
“I … Yeah, okay,” he mutters, because he can buy the explanation that he’s behind the curve. Muir Island really fucked him over, didn’t it? “It’s just … frustratin’. I don’t …,” He trails off into a sigh and pushes himself away from the counter.
He turns to the cooktop, putting the oil in the large pan. There is a pause as he stares at it for a second, trying to figure it out. There is a brief conversation in his brain. A chat between him and an alter. It’s a question about how this thing works and the alter, Mother Betty, answers. She walks him through it and soon David has it on and is heating up the oil in preparation for getting these latkes cooked.
“I don’t wanna go back into a clinic,” he points out, determination in his voice even as he keeps his back to his father.
[💀] - Echoes of Aincrad is out today. Goodbye folks. Gonna go get trapped in SAO.
Rogue had learned a lot about David's mutation since he arrived on Utopia. Most of it hadn't come from the cold, clinical description given by Dr. Nemesis. She rarely understood what he was talking about half the time anyway. Her knowledge had come from interacting with David. Both verbally and through the use of her own abilities. It made her more sympathetic to his problems, especially considering how tough it had been for to understand her own mutation.
None of that necessarily prepared her for the sight of this other alter taking over. She knew they sometimes brought about temporary physical mutations, but it was painful to watch.
She listened carefully to the words that were spoken, though they made little sense to her, but any attempt to ponder them more is interrupted as David returned, clearly shaken by the experience.
As much as she wanted to assure him things would be fine, she couldn't deny the possibility. Thousands in one? That sure sounded like Legion. But then what? He was going to be crushed under the weight of all these different alters? Wasn't that exactly what they had been trying to avoid? That was why she was helping, to get David to a place where he wouldn't collapse under the stress of his own mind.
"Let's not rush t' any conclusions, sugah. The future ain't exactly concrete or so Ah hear. So whatever you saw, there's always the chance to change it."
A chance to change it? Maybe. But David has tried to change his fate. To change his life for the better. He went back in time in an attempt to change everything. In an attempt to give himself a life where his father was with him more. Where The Dream became real and maybe, just maybe, he could be happy. Or at least less broken. But it didn’t work. He didn’t understand his father and his relationship with Magneto well enough. Instead, he killed his own father and changed everything for the worse.
David still hasn’t had a chance to really wrestle with that. With what that caused. Being lost in No-Space gives a guy very little chances to reflect. Especially when you lose all sense of self, all sense of identity, and your mind just goes on an alternate identity creation spree. Really not great in so many ways.
“I-I don’t know. I d-don’t think …,” David starts, trying to breathe. Hands once again grip at his shirt, fingers tangling in the cloth. “There are … there are moments in time that can’t be changed. Focal points that must be permanent. I think … I think the day I shatter is one o’ them.” Eyes move to Rogue; they can’t focus on her but there is pleading in their mismatch depths. “What if this is too? What if I … what if my destiny is to destroy my own people?”
There are tears marring his cheeks now. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to be this.
[💀] - My brain while I'm trying to watch X-Men '97: Where is David? Do you think we'll ever see David? An animated Legion episode that goes full weird would be so cool.
[💀] - Started reading some Star Wars official fanfiction and this is good shit!
Please reblog this if it’s okay for me to just pop into your ask box to RP with you, even if you haven’t reblogged a meme, because I just want to RP with you
send "you're just like your father..." for my muse's reaction to yours saying that.
William looks up at the other prince from his position crouched on the floor and offers him a lopsided smile as he agrees to go for a walk. He keeps working, carefully making sure that everything is lined up well before tucking the chalk back into the pocket where it came from.
"It's a small trick my mother taught me for the case that I need a distraction to get away safely." He explained, looking down at the matrix to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes before accessing it. "I am not very well versed in the details, honestly. She hasn't taught me much, though I'd love to learn more."
Unfortunately, that was one of the many things that his was not allowed to do. His uncle insisted that it was her witchcraft that was causing the Queen's illness, and as such, did what he could to limit the time that William was spending alone with her. There were times when he almost resented that, but he knew that his uncle was doing what he believed was best to keep him safe.
"Shall we see what happens?" He asked David, waiting for his response before reaching down to touch the center of the sigil. It shimmered with a weak blue light, solidifying into a magical copy of the two princes. They were very convincing, and it was only if you got up close and really looked that it would be noticeable that they were not the real things.
William grinned and started to move away, heading towards one of the large tapestries that hung on the walls. He pulled it back, revealing what appeared to be an ordinary stone wall. The boy stepped forward, passing through the wall before turning back to poke his head out of the illusion. "Come along."
David hums, concentration on his features as he studies the runes. He wants to understand the matrix. He wants to learn, just as William does, and like his fellow prince, David’s own magical studies are limited. His father only wants him to learn enough to control and suppress his power. Enough to keep him contained. He doesn’t want him to learn more, to truly understand his potential. But there isn’t much a determined, brilliant and a bit unstable prince can’t get access to, and David is extremely determined. Which is why his nod to William’s question is more enthusiastic than it needs to be.
A shimmer of blue light later and David’s eyes grow wide. A small gasp passes his lips, curious gaze locking on the duplicates of the two princes. They look so real, so solid. They’re even moving like the two are having a conversation. William grins, proud of himself, and David steps closer to peer at himself. Mismatch eyes. A little too thin. Gaunt cheeks, even now. Yep, that’s him. Sure, he’s now fighting a small bought of poor self-image, but this is fascinating. He leans even closer and that’s when he sees the imperfection. There is no sound, of course, and the lips aren’t quite moving naturally. Not to mention the slight translucence up close. David chews his lips, a hand rising as he starts to give into the impulse to poke his duplicate in the face.
William’s voice coming from the side makes David jump, hand getting pulled away. He turns his gaze to the other prince, finally noticing the fact that he appears to have phased through a wall. David blinks, shocked before he makes himself move.
“Right. ‘Course,” David mutters and jogs after the other royal, pausing just long enough to test the illusory wall with a tentative poke before plunging into it. He feels the tingle of magic on his skin and finds himself holding his breath as he passes through. Once he gets to the other side he turns a wide grin to the other prince. “That was fuckin’ amazing!”
rp partner: so idk how u feel about really dark threads and violence and gore and stuff but–
me, putting my finger against their lips: i’m in
[💀] - As a long time Magic the Gathering enjoyer, specifically the lore more than the game, I really hate the whole IP grab they're doing right now. ... But if they bring out a Legion commander deck I am 100% going to be on that like white on rice.
Heavy is the hand that wields the knife. She should talk to someone, anyone who would listen, but what would any of them have to offer other than platitudes and shifting blame so that she became more of a victim of circumstances? "You are probably one of the few to consider my opinions 'refreshing.' Though that's not the word most people use." Confrontational was more like it. Or playing Devil's Advocate. She was the machete that cut down the bush instead of beating around it. "Thankfully, I have other means of getting the negativity out. Nothing to do with words, of course." She was pretty sure she didn't need to elaborate. "And you? How do you get the negativity out?"
Ah, yes. The violence. Not David’s choice of coping mechanism. He doesn’t like hurting people, even though he’s done it many times. Even though there is a level of joy, of completeness, when he does use his power. But in a way he supposes he can understand the utility of aggression as an outlet. He’s just decided to go down other routes because giving in to his rage, to his ability for extreme violence, only ever does more damage than good. David has accepted he’s not a pacifist. He’s accepted he will use brutality if needed, but he always needs a reason. Not just violence for violence’s sake.
“Hmm, not always an easy thing,” he admits, a small sigh cutting into his words. He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders slumping. “I … try to find constructive outlets. Doesn’t always work though. Meditation and mindfulness keeps some o’ me contained. Art sometimes, if I got the energy for it. I find lettin’ it out through paintin’ or music helps me.” A pause. Chewing of the lip. “That bein’ said I have teleported to the middle o’ a desert an’ done some anguish fuelled screamin’ that may have involved an energy release similar to a dyin’ star, so … there is that.”
no ai usage over here. you’re gonna get my shitty authentic writing whether you like it or not
Nathan Young (Misfits 2x03) || Robert Sheehan
