When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open - Chapter 59 - versaphile - Legion (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
“Amahl,” David begins, and then thinks maybe he shouldn’t be so familiar with his doctor when he says this. “Doctor Farouk, I— I don’t know why you’re doing all this, but— You don’t have to. I’m not— I’m not worth all this— It must be expensive, me being here, and I can’t afford, my family can't—” He swallows. “Maybe it would be best if I just went home. I'm— I’m awake now and okay and— Maybe not great, but— I'll— Survive and—” He swallows. “You’ve already done so much for me, I can't— The monster’s out, like you said, so—”
He’ll go home. He’ll see Amy and Dad again and— Try to be Divad for them. He’ll try to be the David they want him to be. He’ll cover until Divad and Dvd get back, just like they always did for him. And if they don't— If they never come back—
If they don’t come back, it won’t be their body anymore, just his. He won’t have to keep it alive. And no one will care if it’s just his body, if it dies. It will just be a relief for everyone. Like when Mom died and it was a relief because she was sick for so long. Listening to her struggle to breathe— Amy and Dad thought the same things about her as they do about him, so he already knows they’ll be okay with it. That the world will be relieved and lie about how sad it is and then just— Move on, without him dragging them down and holding them back like he always does. The world will finally be free of his sickness, and so will he.
When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open - Chapter 58 - versaphile - Legion (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
He’s not sure where he is. That happens a lot these days. He’s stopped— Keeping track. Divad and Dvd are taking care of things for him, taking care of their body. They know what’s best for it. They know what’s best for him. He can't— Decide things, anymore. He can’t make the right choices. He ruins everything so— It’s better that he doesn't— Do things. Exist beyond— Whatever he can do to be useful for their system. He stays with them so he can help them, tell them what people are thinking so they can make it through their classes and survive— The world. If they didn’t have their powers, each other, they’d never survive the world. It’s all so— Beyond him. Impossible. He can't— be anymore, he can’t be the part of him that’s in the world. It’s done, it’s over, no hope of return.
But he’s alone in their body. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s afraid and alone and— This isn’t real. It can’t be real.
He curls up into a tight ball, his panic rising, taking him over. Maybe if he just goes away for a while, he’ll wake up and everything will be okay. Divad and Dvd will be back and he can hide again. If he goes away everything will be okay, or at least— Survivable. So he goes away.
Fic authors deserve more credit.
Story time: I started reading a book about 23 hours ago and just finished it. Also in that time, I slept for 10 hours, spent time with family, was at work, etc. Anyway, I enjoyed the book (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda,) but it felt like it flew by. So after I finished I looked up the word count because what are pages? Pages are meaningless. I only function in word counts anymore.
The estimate I found was 58,580. My immediate reaction was “oh, that’s why. That’s nothing!” But what a shitty response. Because no. That’s not nothing. That’s a whole. Damn. Book. An entire novel! And fic authors regularly bust out 30k, 50k, 100k, 150k words. AND THEY DO IT FOR FREE. WHILE WORKING AND LIVING THEIR LIVES.
So anyway, thank your favorite fic author today because they deserve it. Because they’re amazing. They’re the MVPs.
Legion Fic Exchange?
If I tried to set up a Legion FX fic exchange kind of event, would anyone be interested in participating? Like and/or reblog this post if you would be.
I’d love to do this!
When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open - Chapter 57 - versaphile - Legion (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
David is a very noisy arrangement of atoms. His song is a six-part harmony from a three-piece band.
When he first appeared, David’s song was more— Heavy metal, full of thrashing, violent noise, so much that it was surprising that David was able to think at all. But despite the noise, his melody was strikingly clear.
Melody. Melody. Melanie.
Over the roofs the lilt of a sad Melanie, and now rats and lions chase each other round the orchestra, fiddle string to bass gut staccato.
Hm, where was he?
Oh yes. David. His song is quieter now, one player silent, the other two— Inebriated, their thoughts concordant instead of their usual dissonance; bassmen standing looking sad, all bowed together in mournful lament. The funeral march played for the players. Death without death. What is death but— atoms seeking a new arrangement?