#profcharlesfxavier

dontcallmeslim answered:

Send “Zzz” to hear my character mumble something about yours in their sleep.

His back arched off the bed, fingers clenching the sheets as he trembled in a restless trance. A thin coat of perspiration layered against his chest to the cool night air. They were back, he couldn’t say them but he knew there were around. His words caught in his throat, a familiar feeling of helplessness stifling the young leader. A hand shot out, knocking what ever it touched away. Get away! He’s blind, he can’t open his eyes or else someone will get hurt.

But, if he doesn’t he will get hurt. No, he made a promise. The lean body squirmed about, kicking the covers from his bed as he let out a low sound, desperate for someone to hear him and save him. Where was the man who saved him before? Who gave him a home and a purpose?

Scott’s frame jerked, curling up into a tight ball as his nightmares chased him. Some one help him. ”P-Professor..!” God someone please save him again.

Prof-Charles-f-xavier:

The Professor was suppose to be sleeping, but instead he was reading up on the latest book about genetics, determining whether or not the information was false or not- it was a bad habit of his when new material came out. A highlighter was wedged in his mouth, his eyes plastered to the pages, when he swore he heard something. Slowly his hands reached up to his mouth and he pulled the highlighter out, folding the corner of the page he was on with his free hand, and then ultimately closing it.

The Professor, having not gotten out of his wheelchair yet for the night, started to wheel out the door and in the hall way, his mind tracking down what he swore he thought he heard, and who’s door should he had come across but that of Scott.

He wheeled over to the bedroom door, jerking it open, and no doubt did the man’s trembling voice call for him, “Shoosh, shoosh, I am here now, Scott. There is no need to worry, you are not alone any more, my dear friend.”

His nightmares were suffocating him, sweat drenching his bed sheets. Why did he have to be left alone again? Why did he have to be such a disappointing leader? He's failed so many people and now they want him to suffer for it, he could feel their fingers scratching at his flesh, pulling him lower into the depths of his bitter self loathing. His legs kicked out again, the covers now long gone as he writhed against the cold air.

"Professor..!" He chocked out, stirring in the slightest at the mans voice. Suddenly Cyclops was aware that he wasn't alone, his whole body going rigid while he reached over for his ruby quartz. With shaking hands he wheezed, trying to calm down from his abruptly ending nightmare.

((( HELLO~) )

*kisses your precious face*

She watched him for a while, hidden in the upper branches of the huge linden tree. She watched him glance around, then go to her house, and disappear there for a while, talking to her parents. She could hear them, of course, even from this distance, though she wasn't very fond of how her ears looked like when she did that. No one could see her now though. 

And he asked about her, asked weird questions she knew someone would finally start asking. It was only so long her parents could pretend they didn't see, didn't notice all the weird things happening to her. But all they told him, was to find her and she snorted.

(( fine by me! I have to go to bed now, however D: ))

At least the characterization of myself that I used to roleplay as.