#burdenedxtelepath

[rictorscales]

❛ i accidentally got stoned before my therapy session ❜ // @burdenedxtelepath​

It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to hear from the stuffy British dude whose house you used to crash in as a teenager, but Rictor had learned to expect the unexpected around the time his mood swings started shaking the planet. He was good at rolling with the punches, good at shrugging his shoulders and accepting whatever weird shit came his way. That was what he did now, too. A tilt of his head, a quirk of his brow, and a snort. “Accidentally?” He repeated, shaking his head. “Shit, man, I only went to one session but if I ever had to go back, I’d be getting high on purpose.”

#burdenedxtelepath #charles: high #drug mention tw

[beginagainhq]

CHARLES XAVIER, who looks a lot like JAMES MCAVOY, would love to see BEAST/HANK MCCOY, their friend/caretaker/and who knows what else. They should be 25+ years old and look similar to UTP. Please DO or DO NOT contact DANI before applying!

The wanted connection page has been updated!

#marvel rp #xmen rp #xmcu rp #hank mccoy #hank mccoy rp #wanted #burdenedxtelepath

[roi-des-voleurs]

@burdenedxtelepath cont. from here

( 📩  → remy )   you’ve been pretty quiet all day ( 📩  → remy )   and you’ve kept to yourself ( 📩  → remy )   is something wrong? ( 📩  → remy )   if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine ( 📩  → remy )   i just can never help myself. you seemed…withdrawn. its natural for me to worry

[professeur] non, i'm just...gettin back into the swing of things [professeur] been gone for a while, gotta get my bearings again [professeur] woulda thought you'd be glad i've been keepin my trap shut for a change! [professeur] you can't read my mind through the phone, can you? UNSENT [professeur] if you can plase don't say nothin about what you're seein UNSENT [professeur] merci for the concern, though

#burdenedxtelepath #c: charles xavier

[goddamndumbass]

👘- A memory associated with an article of clothing they have

She can’t go home. She’s been in a coma for twenty days and apparently that makes doctors nervous. But they don’t really mean home anyway, they don’t mean back on Birch Street. They mean some penthouse in Manhattan, some TV-star she doesn’t even like, some life that they keep saying is hers now, but it doesn’t make sense. Goddamn doctors won’t even explain half of what’s happened to her, and Jessica wants to care a lot more than she actually does about that. They say she can’t go home. She wants to tell them she already goddamn knows that, but they never stick around for very long anyway. 

There’s only one nurse she likes. Irwin, according to her name tag. She’s got glasses and big thick bangs and she talks about doing something called ‘gumball shots’ at some Irish pub on the corner. Says she’ll take Jessica there when she’s old enough, even though Jessica never says anything back. She barely even looks at Irwin, or at anyone who comes into the hospital room. (Paparazzi keep ‘sneaking in’ when Dorothy and Patsy visit. Irwin is very firm when she tells them to screw off.) 

Irwin isn’t there when they take the cast off her arm. It’s doctors that Jessica doesn’t even recognize, maybe even interns. They keep telling her how lucky she is, how she’ll make a full recovery, and then they give her a little list of exercises to do at home. Physical therapy suggestions. Jessica tosses the list aside the second they leave the room. 

It’s still on the floor hours later, when Irwin walks by with her coat on and bag slung over her shoulder. She was just stopping in to say goodnight, like she does every damn night she’s on shift, but when she sees the paper, she stops. “Well these are just un-inspired,” she declares. 

“That’s one word for it,” Jessica mutters before she can stop herself. She keeps her eyes on the sheets, not sure what she’d see in Irwin’s gaze, but knowing she wouldn’t like it. She expects to hear those shoes squeak as Irwin leaves, but instead, a ball of yarn is dropped into her lap. Grey and dark compared to the stark-white hospital sheet. A wooden pair of needles falls beside it. 

Jessica picks up the yarn and glances up, brow arched. Irwin is pulling up a chair, and pulling out her own ball of yarn, yellow this time, and another of needles. “I’ll show you how,” she says, as if Jessica has already agreed to this. She doesn’t even know what this is. “You hold the needles like this... And then you loop it like this, see?” she asks, demonstrating the motions slowly. “Your turn, little one.” Irwin stares pointedly at the yarn in Jessica’s hand. 

“I’m fourteen,” Jessica snaps. She lets the yarn fall back to the bed, slumps back on the pillows. 

“That attitude says it abundantly,” Irwin replies, but it’s not an admonishment, not really. It sounds more like a joke among friends -- if she had any goddamn friends. She loops another stitch onto her needle, and motions for Jessica to pick hers up.

Sighing irritably, Jessica picks up the needles. She tries to imitate what Irwin did, but her hand is shaky and her fingers clumsy from lack of use. “It hurts,” she complains, clenching her jaw in frustration.

“It’s gonna do that,” Irwin says, nodding. “That’s part of healing. The hurt.” She reaches over, re-positions Jessica’s hands. Guides her through the motions, helping her thread the yarn onto the needle. “It’s a process, see?” she whispers, looping the yarn again. It takes all of Jessica’s concentration to follow what’s happening. She doesn’t realize at first, that Irwin’s practically hugging her like this. And when she does, she doesn’t say anything. 

If Irwin notices the way Jessica stiffens, she doesn’t say anything either. She helps Jessica through the next two stitches, then sits back down. “It’s hard at first. And it hurts. And to be honest, it never really stops hurting. Just gets easier to push through,” she says, casually, like she really is just talking about the yarn.

Jessica doesn’t reply. But she does the next stitch on her own. And the one after. 

They stay like that for a long time. Jessica isn’t sure how long, and she has no idea what she’s making, but she keeps making those stitches. Irwin interjects once in a while to give her a pointer, or teach her the next step, but it’s repetitive enough that after a while, they don’t have to say anything at all. 

Finally, Irwin stretches her arms above her head, and tucks her project back into her bag. “Beats ‘finger stretches’ and stress balls, right?” she says, smirking at Jessica. Jessica just rolls her eyes and holds out the... whatever it is she was making. Irwin shakes her head. “Oh no. We’re just getting started. It’s gonna be a cold one this winter, you’re gonna need a good scarf,” she says, and then she turns on her heels and her shoes squeak as she walks out the door. 

By the time she’s being discharged, it’s only half-finished. But she keeps at it, in that Manhattan penthouse. When winter comes, it is a cold one, but she has a grey infinity scarf and she wears it every damn day. For years and years, even when it’s threadbare and full of holes. She wears it until the day she drapes it over a headstone. Irwin was right. It never really stopped hurting. 

#aka memories #aka hcs #aka self #burdenedxtelepath

[chicagospryde-a]

( @burdenedxtelepath​ ) || FLASHBACK. Kitty pressed her ear to the large wooden doors separating Xavier’s office from the chaotic halls of the mansion. She was listening for signs: signs to say she should turn back, or go in with enthusiasm, or signs of the Professor doing something scandalous she could gossip about later. Naturally, there wasn’t even a peep, and just as naturally, she phased her ear into the room. Nothing, still. Maybe he wasn’t even there, that’d be a blessing. Then she could swallow down her dumb idea and crawl back into her room and go to sleep and pretend like everything was o--”Oof!” She fell through the door, hitting the ground with an audible thud and a whine. “Ow, ow, ow, ow.” She hissed, picking herself up and groaning with each muscle stretched. Of course, she still didn’t have the best handle on her powers when she was stressed---which she was now, very. 

“Oh,” she sat up, face flushed and voice rendered into an embarrassed squeak. “H-Hi Professor! I was just uh--passing through!” Kitty picked herself up, dusting off imaginary dirt. “Well, I ought to get going! Lots’a homework to be done. You know, all that homework we get! Gotta--uh--write that paper about--uh---w-war?” She winced at her own poor lying; she had come here for a reason, something burning in her mind. For all of her genius-level intellect, it didn’t occur to her that worrying very loudly in her head at a telepath would go just about as well as it should. Her chaotic thoughts rambled on while she stayed stubbornly quiet, unaware of what she was projecting. The X-Men all treat me like a kid crushed together against Peter is kinda cute with a much quieter I don’t think I belong here--the root of why she’d come. 

There were things she wanted to ask: what it meant to be an X-Men and a mutant, why it hurt so much to know that the world hated her, why she still wanted people to like her despite it. She wanted to ask Ororo, thinking the goddess would be understanding. She’d thought of bothering Logan about it too, but in the end she figured if anyone had that kind of insight, it would be Xavier. “S-Sorry, I just...” she gulped, though she proclaimed with confidence earlier that she would leave, she hadn’t moved an inch from her rigid position in front of his door.

#burdenedxtelepath #feel free to have charles read her mind! #also pls let me know if you want anything changed! <3 #xavier 002

[fxllen-one]

@burdenedxtelepath​ --❝ I don’t have a drinking problem. I just like drinking. ❞

As much as Lucifer liked to see people indulging their desires, every so often someone in the club would indulge them a little too much. So it was always worth keeping an eye on anyone who was having a few too many. This man had had quite a lot, but since he was not being belligerent, Lucifer let him be. Still, he could not resist a little comment about much the man was imbibing, and his response was so perfect Lucifer laughed. "Oh, excellent! I'm going to have to remember that one!" He was currently behind the bar, and as he poured a drink for himself, he remarked, "I'm certainly not judging you. The only people who would call that a 'problem' are the ones who are denying themselves. And I would never tell anyone to deny themselves anything fun."

#burdenedxtelepath #c: charles xavier

[dcwnedrobin]

🌋- A memory about their first heartbreak

Memories meme - always accepting !

Everyone thinks heartbreak has to be from romantic love. That it has to be from losing a relationship, from a breakup of some kind.

It doesn’t have to be. It wasn’t, not for Jason.

Jason grew up with his heart shattered into pieces. Losing his mother, dealing with his abusive father, trying to survive one day at a time - one minute at a time, as it sometimes came down to in Crime Alley - left him broken from day one. He’s not sure he ever had a whole heart to begin with, the way the world hammered down on him. Once he was taken in by Bruce, Jason had the space and the comfort to be able to start putting it back together, piece by piece. It was messy, more tape and glue than probably recommended, but eventually it was back in one piece. Eventually, Jason felt whole again.

And then came that night, in that warehouse, with his mother. With Joker. With that crowbar. With that bomb.

Jay hates to admit it, but god, he hoped against all hope that Bruce would find him. He cried for Batman to show up, to swoop down in the nick of time and save the day, save him, his sidekick, his son - but he never came. Not for Jason to see anyway. And as that bomb ticked down and Jason realised he was out of time, all that glue dissolved, the tape fell away, and his heart shattered into a million pieces all over again - all at once, this time. It’s never really come back together ever since.

#ask meme / #child abuse tw #bomb tw #murder tw #death tw #bruce tag tbd #i'M SO SORRY #burdenedxtelepath

[apoisontouch-b]

continued from here || @burdenedxtelepath

She didn’t know what had brought her here, if it was her desire to see the Professor after everything that had happened or a new voice in her head that was reminding her that there were other people in Mystique’s life that had been family. People that might let someone like Anna in if she was around more than just a few minutes of the day. But no one seemed to question why she was there, at least out loud. They looked at her and in a horrifying way, understood where her head was at. Like there was no door between the outside world and her thoughts — and not because the Professor was a telepath — it was because it was just so obvious and Anna didn’t know how to make it less so. Didn’t know how to pretend to be okay.

No one asked and Anna never offered an explanation — it was easier to let them understand in quiet. But then moments like this snuck up on her where Anna wanted something that she knew wouldn’t be offered. No one looked at her and thought that she needed a hug or wanted to be touched, she had spent the better part of her life making sure people didn’t do that. Pushing them away readily.

Ask for what you need. Anna stood there in silence for a long moment, knowing that he wouldn’t shove her out the door — and knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that he’d let her decide where this went — what or who they talked about and for how long — he might not hav said it, but the way he was positioned and simply the way he was as a person, Anna knew. And so, after she took a long look around the room and took in all the changes from his last office — looked at the scattered notes that she assumed were lesson plans and the start of the school being reopened here — she finally asked for what she wanted. He seemed like he was done with working at least for the night, maybe he’d have time. (Was it pathetic that she was there — asking for company because for some reason it felt like his was the only one that could help? Maybe. But a greater part of her didn’t care if it looked that way.)

Wordlessly, he moved and had barely pressed the invitation before Anna was on the couch next to him, falling into the same spot her mother had in her memories — the same spot that Anna had taken with her mother countless times before. It was a spot of safety. Where she could hear his heartbeat like she used to hear her mother’s. He spoke in the way that he could speak, his words quietly echoing in her mind, barely sounding above the other noise in there. (She had so much in there — so many people who kept talking over her own thoughts — she wondered what it was like to read her mind.)

“I know,” she whispered out loud, wondering if saying it out loud was better or worse. (Either way, she was sure the crack in her words would have been noticeable.) “I saw it a few times, like a…” Mystique wouldn’t have felt it the way that Anna did, her and her mother were cut from very different cloths, but the way that Anna felt when she saw those memories? The small flashes of Charles reading his books while on the couch with her, existing next to Mystique in a way that didn’t ask anything else of her — it was relaxing. But mostly? It was safe. Anna felt safe when she saw those. “Like somethin’ that was safe. Ain’t a lot of that around, ya know?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, barely cutting into the air.

She turned to look at the book he had, her mind barely registering the words on the page that he was reading — not that she would have understood them in the first place. But it was interesting to see what he was reading. Wondering what it was like to understand. Another memory lingered closet to the surface and Anna tried to blink it away, but there was too much noise — “How do ya do it, Ch — Professor?” Charles almost slipped out. Mystique’s influence no doubt. “Ya head must be full of all sorts of things… how do ya quiet them?”

#burdenedxtelepath #charles xavier: comfort #charles xavier: 6 #death mention tw #grief tw

[clarkxxkentx]

📔- A memory from a journal/diary entry

Clark was going through his closet, when he saw a old journal and it had a page about the time he had met Bruce Wayne,  Aka Batman.   It had been a interesting meeting, and he had seen threw his mask, but he had made sure to never tell anyone Batman’s identity. Heck the guy had figured out his identity as well and he knew he was that good and he would like to keep there interesting friendship they had.   Smiling at the day he had met Bruce, he put the book back in a hidden spot.

#burdenedxtelepath

[deadjacuzziarchived]

one word prompt / beautiful / @burdenedxtelepath​

There was wonder, in power - in freedom. A place born of unprecedented times, led solely by the desire for those in oppression to be given the rights they deserved. Wade hadn’t really thought of the fact that he was a mutant, before. Not that it really mattered - even has a mutant, he was less oppressed than most. Hell, he’d grown up a white guy in New York City. How hard could his life actually have been?

But now, sitting on the island, legs dangling over the side of the stone wall, one Charles Xavier beside him, peacefully watching the waves ease and press over, and over - it was easy to forget that something so tragic had happened to so many.

Wade wasn’t a permanent resident of Genosha. Didn’t really need to be, honestly. Even with a mutant uprising, Wade’s life hadn’t really...changed. He was still living in the same, dumpy apartment with roaches and a mattress without a box spring. Still buying cheap Mexican food from the cart down the road that he got food poisoning from more often than not. Still going to the same shitty bars, pining over the same lanky Spider-Man, and still thinking about where the hell he was going to end up the further he went down the ‘hero’ road.

There was peace between them, he and Charles. Both staring silently out into the water. Wade slowly turned, expression serious for a moment, “This place is so beautiful. It would be a shame if someone were to ruin the atmosphere by telling you I’ve really gotta burp. Been holding it in for like, 20 minutes now.” 

#> all #> charles xavier #> f2f #> burdenedxtelepath

[rictorscales]

@burdenedxtelepath

The mansion was quiet. Ric figured that made sense, considering. Funerals were always quiet, always stuffy rooms where you could hear a pin drop, always silences broken only by the occasional sniffle. The mansion, right now... It was an ongoing funeral. It was death stretching on indefinitely, it was a haunted house where the people living there were the ghosts. Rictor had never much liked the quiet, and he sure as hell wasn’t an exorcist. So why was he here? 

It wasn’t a question he knew the answer to as he wandered the familiar halls, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wasn’t watching where he was going, wasn’t paying much attention to the haunted house behind him. It was only a matter of time, then, before he ran into one of its ghosts --- literally. These ghosts, as it turned out, weren’t quite as intangible as their name implied. “Shit,” Ric cursed, wincing as he saw who he’d run into. Charles Xavier. Of all the people to run down, it had to be the guy the school was named after? “My bad, Professor.” There was a beat, a long stretch of silence customary for funeral homes. (Was that what this was now? It felt like it.) “Uh, you... Doing okay?”

#burdenedxtelepath #charles: haunted houses #flashing gif tw

[masterofmagnetism]

✉ ✉ ✉ ✉ ( for a text or several that was never sent because i have no self control either )

[ ✉ → Charles ] I set up the chess game we never finished.  [ ✉ → Charles ] I think it’ll be checkmate in twelve moves.  [ ✉ → Charles ] Come play it out with me anyway.  [ ✉ → Charles ] There’s too many things we left unfinished.

[ ✉ → Charles ] I didn’t realize how much I relied on your voice in my head until it was gone. 

[ ✉ → Charles ] I miss you.  I miss the kids.  I want to come home.[ ✉ → Charles ] This isn’t the same.

[ ✉ → Charles ] They looked afraid of me, today. [ ✉ → Charles ] Even Jeannie.[ ✉ → Charles ] Are you afraid of me?

[ ✉ → Charles ] Please don’t be your stupid idealistic self and put your name on the registry.[ ✉ → Charles ] I will not be held responsible for what needs to be done to rescue you if you end up in a cell. 

#c: charles xavier #t: unsent #f: texts #//spans from the Beach Divorce to the Accords #burdenedxtelepath #( the truth is || answered )

[beginagainhq]

LOKI, who looks a lot like TOM HIDDLESTON, would love to see THOR, their ADOPTED BROTHER. They should be 30+ years old and look similar to CHRIS HEMSWORTH. Please DO or DO NOT contact DANI before applying!

The wanted connections page has been updated!

#thor odinson #thor #avengers rp #marvel rp #appless rp #beginagainwanted #burdenedxtelepath

[roi-des-voleurs]

When he wakes up, he’ll find another deck of cards waiting for him outside his door with a note that reads: You will always be welcome here whether you believe it or not. Happy Christmas Remy. I know Yu-Gi-Oh cards are not your norm, but come on. What could be better than taking someone’s head off with the infamous Dark Magician or all five pieces of Exodia?                     Charles Xavier

#burdenedxtelepath #c: charles xavier #(aw that's so nice dani!) #(Remy will definitely appreciate it!) #submission

[firstxman]

❛ they’re too white we have to go ❜ // @burdenedxtelepath​

Charles Xavier was always going to be an important figure in Scott���s life, even if they were on two different sides of a complex issue. Few people had had such an impact on him as Charles, after all --- the story of Scott Summers wasn’t one that could be told without mention of Charles Xavier. And Charles might be wrong about this (he was, the Phoenix whispered insistently), but that didn’t mean Scott respected him any less.

That was why he was here. Neutral ground, a park not far from the mansion, observing a group of tourists photographing a fountain. Charles’s voice broke Scott from his thoughts, and he huffed a surprised laugh. “Coming from you?” He joked, raising a brow. “No offense, Charles, but you’re pretty white yourself.” His voice was light, even if there was a tightness in his chest. Disagreeing with Charles so adamantly about things that were important was an utterly unfamiliar feeling to Scott, and while the Phoenix was doing its best to wipe away his doubts, they were still there. 

#burdenedxtelepath‌ #charles: white

[maidenxfmight]

@burdenedxtelepath

( 📩  → red 🌹 )   jean i have like five missed calls from you ( 📩  → red 🌹 )   and you’ve hid my whiskey again ( 📩  → red 🌹 )   i actually ate last night so can you please bring me my crown royal? pretty please?

[📱to UNKNOWN ] hello, i’m sorry but i’m not jean [📱to UNKNOWN ] have you eaten /today/? it’s really important

#ref: text #text: burdenedxtelepath