xmfcamarriageoftrueminds:motleypatches:DistractionsMeta Commentary on the Relationship Between Impul
xmfcamarriageoftrueminds:motleypatches:DistractionsMeta Commentary on the Relationship Between Impulses of Canon!Charles and crackficAU!Erik.Or, the story of Erik as the muse to the writer Charles and their improbable love in a world where inspiration, love etc. is sold by quality and weight.…or…writer!Charles and his distraction/friend/lover/fellow artist Erik as they went from poverty to prosperity.(McAvoy gifs by lunac7, Fassbender gifs by Unknown)Ah- um- Yes. [If Erik = Artist, AT SOME POINT, Charles = Nude Model. Just sayin’.]I think that’s been written a few times XD So I’ve this Fantasy Renaissance Artist!Erik and Cardinal!Charles (muse and patron) fic I’ve to finish but now I really want to write how…Charles and Erik had fallen in with each other as people would when they were poor, ambitious, but still wanted a room with a view.They secured their lodgings at Genosha, which though located in the cheaper part of the city, still retained an air of genteel shabbiness that its residents could claim misfortune with a degree of believability. Erik had the uppermost floor which had the most space. It was actually the garret and when the sun hit the roof in the summer, turned the space unbearably hot, and it was freezing in the winter. Nonetheless, since Erik got it at five pounds a year, he complained only a little. Below, the actual uppermost floor, was occupied by Charles F. Xavier. His rooms, including a study and its own bath, was twenty-five pounds a year, but prior to his abrupt leave from the university, his income had been several hundred pounds beyond five hundred, so he complained not at all.A day of winter rain that drowned rats, that had ants scurrying up and down the cracks in the wall, Charles had come in, dripping wet, hair plastered to his face, coat soaked, but his manuscript unfortunately dry. He had a notion to throw the whole thing into the fire in the common room. Another rejection of writing “unsuited for these times.”The room had been empty, save for Erik, who looked at him and looked and looked and stared until Charles became a little uncomfortable in his thin shirt that he grabbed his coat and thought he would head up to his cold room except he, too, could not look away.“I took a walk,” he said, dragged his eyes up to the stranger’s face.Erik had no smiles then. He merely nodded and clutched the bundle of his clothes to his chest.“You live here?"Charles asked."The top floor.”Charles raised an eyebrow. He had no illusions about this house. “I live below. There’s heat in my room.”Erik could stay down here. He didn’t. He could’ve said nothing and went up. Instead, he swallowed and said, “If I go up with you, would you let me paint you?”It took twenty minutes after Charles fussed with the clunking heater then over twice brewed tea in the kitchenette and a few biscuits before he abruptly realised what Erik thought Charles meant. He wanted to laugh then. He didn’t. He made no mention of it.He sat for Erik and because he was nervous, started talking. Eventually, Erik responded and the path of Erik thoughts were so startling strange and familiar that Charles began to think and in thinking, saw the view outside his window rather differently.“Time would change,” he said. “The new year’s coming.” -- source link
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