The Muse of the Author
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. I do not own any recognizable
characters. Marvel does. I own me though. At least, I like to think I do.
~~*/\*~~
I stared down at the screen of my laptop where it
was sitting on the bed in front of me.
I had been stuck on this same chapter for a month now, and for the life
of me, I couldn't get back in the swing of things. Writer's block. Doncha
just hate it?
Sighing in frustration, I minimized the window with
the story, and pulled up Solitaire. Ah,
lovely Solitaire. It always helped me
gain inspiration.
After ten minutes of playing, and never winning
once, I leaned my head back on the wall beside my bed in resignation. Was Solitaire against me too?
As my eyes roved over my room, a picture of Remy
LeBeau that I drew myself caught my eye.
I noticed the cards that he was throwing, and an idea came to me.
"Oh, Remy LeBeau, patron saint of card players, help
me win this game of Solitaire." I said to the ceiling. After a moment of waiting, I sighed again,
and turned back to my game.
Suddenly, over the sounds of Queen's 'Save Me'; I
heard a soft –poof-. I looked up,
wondering what that could be, and found myself looking at the most exquisite
man in existence. My eyes as big as
saucers, I took in the long brown trench coat, crooked grin, and red on black
eyes.
"Bonjour, Chere." He said to me in that glorious
Cajun accent.
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in
shock. Finally I was able to
speak. "Y-you. You're Gambit." I blinked a few times, my mouth still hanging open.
"Oui, ma chere." He said. He came over to me and gently closed my mouth, then sat beside me
on the bed. "Yo' know ma nom, wha's
yours?" he asked gently.
I looked at him a second, studying him, then
answered. "Flashgriffin."
"Yo' an Author, cherie?"
"Yeah." I said, the shock of him being in my room,
on my bed, almost fading. Almost. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be with the X-Men?"
"Non, cherie.
Yo' call, Gambit come."
"I called?"
"Oui. Don'
yo' remember? You say, 'Remy LeBeau,
patron saint o' card players; help me win dis game o' Solitaire.' So, Remy come."
Oh, yeah. I
remember now.
"You actually do that? I mean, help people with games?"
Gambit grinned at me, that lopsided grin making my insides
feel like jelly. "Actually, chere,
Gambit come t' help yo' wit' de story dat yo' been writin'. I notic'd dat yo' been havin' troubles wit'
it, an' Remy wanted t' help. But, I
couldn' come till yo' asked me to."
"You noticed?
You've been watching me?"
"Oui, ma chere.
Dat's wha' muses do. Dey fin'
Authors dat need help, an' go help dem."
I thought back to the stories that Ice Princess
Deluxe and Yezra wrote on ff.net about them and their muses. "You mean, you're gonna be my muse?"
He nodded.
"Oui. Gambit here t' be yo'
muse."
"Cool."
"Tres cool." He said, grinning again. "So, let's look at de story."
"Alright." I pulled up the page with my story on my
laptop and showed it too him. As he
read it, I watched his eyes flicker back and forth, watched his reaction when
he came to the parts with him, laughing at other places. When he was done, he gave the laptop back to
me.
"It's great, chere.
I got de bes' idea fo' de next chapter."
And that's how I got my muse.
