Fill...? When The Helmet Is RemovedpinkninjapjJune 8 2011, 04:08:08 UTC
They must be in similar timezones now; Charles could almost feel the metal helmet being lifted from the other man's head as the mantelpiece clock in Charles' study strikes one in the morning.
The students had already retired, except for Ororo, who has curled up by the largest window in the dormitories and was softly singing to herself. Charles touched her mind gently.
You should return to bed, little one. The young girl leaped from the window seat and was under the covers without even touching the floor. She buried her face in her quilt and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
‘’night, Professor.’ She whispered.
Charles chuckled a little. Good night, Ororo.
Ororo’s mind settled as she waited for sleep, and thousands of miles away, another mind, more familiar than any other, was slipping into unconsciousness. Erik’s exhaustion was almost a physical presence, weighing heavy in the back of Charles’ mind.
Charles finished reading Alex’s essay and placed two fingers at his temple, more from an attempt stave off the rapidly approaching headache than to reach out with his powers. He wheeled himself back from his desk, thanking his foresight that made him change into his pyjamas earlier in the evening.
His bed had been adjusted to the height of his wheelchair, making it easier for him to get in and out, and was always made with the sheets turned down. He gripped the arms of his chair and lifted off the seat, swivelling the bottom half of his body around to rest on the edge of the bed. It was a struggle, every night, every morning.
Laying down took more shuffling and shifting, Charles had to grip and manually move his useless legs to slide under the covers. It wasn’t until he lay down with his head resting on the pillow that he remembered his slippers were still on his feet.
He cursed himself and his loss of feeling, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. Charles let his eyes slide closed and his mind reached out almost instinctively, searching for that point hundreds of miles away. A heavily sleeping mind surrounded by cold metal.
Charles slips into Erik’s mind, his dreams lapping like waves in his subconscious.
Charles always finds his way back here, back to the brightest spot.
Because in Erik’s dreams, he walks.
I might continue this later, but I've got exams and other prompts on the brain at the moment. Other anons or nonanons please feel free to fill as well!
Re: Fill...? When The Helmet Is Removeddork_nerdJune 10 2011, 06:03:53 UTC
Oh, Charles! That was really heart-rending! You do an excellent job portraying Charles struggles with paralysis... and escaping to Erik's dreams to relive the simple pleasure of walking... ouch!
Re: Fill...? When The Helmet Is RemovedpinkninjapjJune 15 2011, 11:09:35 UTC
Jesus Christ that last line hit me like a truck. I was trundling along, appreciating the narrative, the buildup, the moment-by-moment details and activity, getting ready to be sad/moved/whatever, and then WHAM. ...You're good. You're very, very good.
Re: Fill...? When The Helmet Is RemovedkiwiitinJune 18 2011, 18:12:08 UTC
Here's another hoping for continuance~! It's beautifully written and heart wrenching... Erik's mind being sort of a safe haven. More or not, thank you for this one! <3
The students had already retired, except for Ororo, who has curled up by the largest window in the dormitories and was softly singing to herself. Charles touched her mind gently.
You should return to bed, little one.
The young girl leaped from the window seat and was under the covers without even touching the floor. She buried her face in her quilt and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
‘’night, Professor.’ She whispered.
Charles chuckled a little. Good night, Ororo.
Ororo’s mind settled as she waited for sleep, and thousands of miles away, another mind, more familiar than any other, was slipping into unconsciousness. Erik’s exhaustion was almost a physical presence, weighing heavy in the back of Charles’ mind.
Charles finished reading Alex’s essay and placed two fingers at his temple, more from an attempt stave off the rapidly approaching headache than to reach out with his powers. He wheeled himself back from his desk, thanking his foresight that made him change into his pyjamas earlier in the evening.
His bed had been adjusted to the height of his wheelchair, making it easier for him to get in and out, and was always made with the sheets turned down. He gripped the arms of his chair and lifted off the seat, swivelling the bottom half of his body around to rest on the edge of the bed. It was a struggle, every night, every morning.
Laying down took more shuffling and shifting, Charles had to grip and manually move his useless legs to slide under the covers. It wasn’t until he lay down with his head resting on the pillow that he remembered his slippers were still on his feet.
He cursed himself and his loss of feeling, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. Charles let his eyes slide closed and his mind reached out almost instinctively, searching for that point hundreds of miles away. A heavily sleeping mind surrounded by cold metal.
Charles slips into Erik’s mind, his dreams lapping like waves in his subconscious.
Charles always finds his way back here, back to the brightest spot.
Because in Erik’s dreams, he walks.
I might continue this later, but I've got exams and other prompts on the brain at the moment. Other anons or nonanons please feel free to fill as well!
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((Also, your icon sends me into nerdy giggle fits!))
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*returns the icon love by lots*
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Hopefully I'll have more time on my hands... eventually.
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*love the icon, bb!*
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This is beautiful as a oneshot. The last line is perfect.
(But oneshots can have sequels, right? *puppy eyes*)
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Haha, I think I might try, in a little bit. Check back here for a sequel in a week or so, I guess!
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oh Chekov, your accent is like a target for jokes
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...You're good. You're very, very good.
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More or not, thank you for this one! <3
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