Charles Xavier

//I am pretty sure that wasn’t everyone but that’s what I could find to reply to. Sorry if I missed you 😬

He moves forward like he might try to snatch the bottle from him but he seems to back down from the idea rather quickly.

“No ice.” He grumbles, folding his arms.

There’s a brief moment where Charles’ eyes soften slightly, it he turns away quickly.

“Just let me drink myself to death. I’m not worth trying to help.”

“I lost too many people to believe that shit anymore. If I’d trusted my gut and hadn’t trusted those monsters they’d still be here.”

He grabs the bottle again, flickering his cigarette away as he does. There’s obvious pain there that’s he’s trying to burry with his bad habits.

//I can’t remember a thing about the rps so I’m gonna read through them all so replies will take a minute. 😬

//ima try to do replies now before i have to go to work. Sorry about the extra long delay. Just a lot going on. I’m just always exhausted it seems lol

//hopefully I can be back here next week sometime. Hopefully. 😩

//I’ve been going through a lot lately. I promise I’ll be back and I’ll do replies. I’m still here lol

//I hurt my shoulder yesterday 😬

He takes a long swig from the bottle he’s holding, completely ignoring the water Peter brought.

“Why do you care?” He asks calmly.

“At least he leaves me alone for the most part. Well, unless I get into some trouble and he comes to clean up the mess.” He laughs bitterly.

“I don’t think it. I know it.”

He rolls his eyes, “My Erik thinks we can coexist with them. Him and his silly brotherhood think they’re doing good. They’re only playing into our eventual downfall.”

“Nothing I want to remember.” He grumbles, moving around to find himself a drink.

He huffs when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

//I really wanted to be on more today but personal things came up. I will get to replies before work tomorrow. Promise.

“Me? Coexist with those monsters?” He scoffs.

He sits the bottle down and takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. This man is just full of bad habits.

//off to see my grandma. It was a last minute thing. I’ll try to do replies as I can.

He grabs another bottle to throw but hesitates this time.

“What do you want?” He questions, lowing the bottle but still keeping it in hand to throw if he wants to.

“Tell your damn students to leave me alone and I won’t bother them.”

He looks down at the other version of himself, eyeing the wheelchair. “The hell happened to you?”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“You’re much more irritating than my Erik and that’s saying something.” He grumbles, rubbing his temple to soothe his oncoming migraine.

//replies soon. Trying to get my stomach to settle. 😞

a cartoon drawing of nightcrawler standing in a room ALT: a cartoon drawing of nightcrawler standing in a room

"The choices we make, the chances we take, define us."

//Literate and Semi-detailed.
//Independent Portrayal.
//Ships w/ chem. (Non) Lewd
//Writer Tag: #X
//Like and Repost?

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“There’s nothing you can do for me. Leave me to drink myself to death.” A slight hint of begging tinges his words.

“I don’t want to remember anymore.” He adds in a softer tone, nearly a whisper.

He tries to snatch the bottle back when it’s taken from him.

“I need that.” He says, his voice surprisingly small and desperate.

He looks like he’s trying to use his telepathy to make Erik give it back but he doesn’t seem able to in his drunken state.

He lets out a bitter laugh, “you’re not my Erik. The Erik I know would never ask me that.”

He holds the bottle up to watch the liquid inside.

“Open it.” He demands.

//I think I replied to everyone. Let me know if I missed you :3

(Get the fuck out of my head.)

He growls, clearly not pleased to have another telepath in his head.

He raises the bottle like he might throw it but can’t quite get himself to do it.

His hand shakes slightly, indicating how hard he’s trying to get himself to throw the damn bottle. He can’t do it.

He lowers the bottle, looking slightly defeated.

“The hell are you on about?” He narrows his eyes slightly as if trying to focus his vision on him.

“Shouldn’t you be off playing nice with the humans?” He asks, seeming to have him confused with someone else.

Charles had found himself another bottle of cheap whiskey and is now taking large swigs from it.

He doesn’t even acknowledge Peter’s presence when he comes back. His focus is fully on his drink now.

At least he stopped throwing things for now.