Back after a break. Don’t quite know what’s going on yet. :) Also, thank you all for all the feedback! I feel like I have co-conspirators treading through this land of mischief and shenanigans. :D
the author is surprised into sitting at the sidelines smoking nervously as the events unfold
(and turtletotem, if she ever sees this :D original post found here)
This is gorgeous!!! Everything I could have wanted. :)
So, I’m leaving on vacation tomorrow, and I really wanted to finish this chapter, but I had to work to the very last moment, and this is as far as I got. I know it’s frustrating. :(
In which Charles is moping, and Erik is getting better acquainted with the wonderful world of delusions.
I love this story so much! Erik, you are such a softie.
Thanks to this little piece of inspiration, I managed to put together another little bit. Have fun. ;)
Fair warning: haven’t reread it once.
in which Charles risks his life, and Erik is very unhappy
/flails with love for this story
p2/? of Random Greencard!Au
Erik regretted this decision already.
He’d gotten bullied into wearing a suit by Azazel (“you are getting married today Erik how often does that happen”), bought the cheapest set of rings available from the nearest jewelry store, and gotten hauled to a courthouse, outside which he was now pacing while Azazel texted his girlfriend.
“My mother isn’t going to be pleased.” Erik predicted.
So. What if Erik was a street rat who stumbled on a lamp that produced the very blue genie Mystique, and he parades around as really cocky and annoying Prince Magnus of Genosha because he thinks it will woo Charles.
I wrote this at 4AM last night. It’s what you’d expect of a 4AM drabble.
I’m so sorry.
“I think,” Charles said firmly, “you should leave. I might be making some allowances for the fact that you’re clearly deranged, but the guards won’t be so kind.”
Prince Magnus, to his credit, could put on a very convincing expression of disappointment. Though the slight pout might have been overdoing it.
“If you insist,” he sighed, climbing onto the balcony railing.
He turned, raising an eyebrow.
Charles had just enough time to open his mouth before the prince leaped off the balcony into a seven-story fall.
Blind panic was the first thing to flood his senses. Charles found himself crying out, stumbling towards the railing, reaching out futilely for Magnus’ hand when he knew it would be too late - the prince had seemed arrogant, that was for certain, and his fashion sense was showy to a fault, but surely he wouldn’t extend his dramatics to a death-defying leap? (Death-inducing, more like.)
If so, he was even more foolish than Charles’ thought - an impressive show wasn’t very useful if one was too deceased to enjoy the results.
It was the lack of a distant ‘thud’ that made Charles pause. Or perhaps he had been expecting a ‘splat’. Charles was not well-versed in the sound bodies of stupid princes made when they hit the ground, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t a soft ‘clang’ several feet below the railing.
“Prince Magnus?” he called tentatively.
“Yes?” The man immediately responded, peeking up over the top of the railing.
“What - ” Charles’ voice immediately failed him, as the prince rose steadily above the balcony, a shining sheet of metal under his feet. It rippled sinuously as it hovered in mid-air - utterly impossible. Astounding. Beautiful.
The prince leaned over, reaching out his hand in one smooth motion.
“Would you like a ride on my magic carpet?”