#arcanewinter

I understand the subtext of this question: IS CHARLES BALD? 😅

One of the fun/funny things about this story is deciding how much information David would observe about a person while still envisioning them as I write (I always perceive scenes three-dimensionally as well as aurally). This is especially true of the adults and ESPECIALLY true of his own father. (Also funny because the majority of my fics are Erik POV so I'm not used to describing Charles through the eyes of someone who isn't attracted to him lol. David is NOT going to mention his beautiful red lips.)

Not to be anti-bald, but I have been envisioning this Charles, who is in his early 40s, as looking like James McAvoy (age 46) does right now—dark grey hair, that perfect lighter grey streak in front, etc. Also like current McAvoy, he's well-built up top, since this Charles is a longtime manual wheelchair user. The couple of times David mentions Charles's day-to-day wardrobe, it's always blazer/no tie, which is meant to invoke a specific class position/presentation.

dfgdfg I haven’t written FMA in a million years so gomen I tried to throw in some extra things for you bc i gotchoo and THANKS FOR THE PROMPT!! <3

From this meme! [help me get my writing mojo back as I recover from being unable to type properly for the last 4 months \o\]

“Ithought we had all agreed we wouldn’t go anywhere we could be seen?” The voicecame from behind Roy, but he had heard the footsteps approaching before theowner even took in their breath to speak. 

Ed’sgait had a very specific rhythm to it, and one he hated to admit he hadmemorized. 

“Justneeded to say a few things, before.” There was no reason to finish thatsentence. They all knew what the before meant, what was to come after was theunknown. 

ThePromised Day was upon them, after all. 

“Andif that were the order, then why are you here, Fullmetal?” 

Royforced himself to stay staring at the headstone before him as the boy, nolonger really a boy, but more of a man in the last six months than anything,walked up beside him. His elbow brushed Roy’s forearm, and any other day hewould make a joke about him trying to rub elbows and failing miserably. 

Maybeanother time. 

“Justwanted to say my goodbyes,” Ed’s voice was quiet, and the strangeness of thetone of it finally pushed Roy to glance over to him. He hadn’t seen the youngeralchemist for months and months - his hair was pulled back into a high ponytailand something about it pulled his bangs back, showed more of his face, of hisdefined jawline, of his intense eyes.   

“Hewould have said there was no need for goodbyes,” Roy spoke and then cleared histhroat, because really wasn’t that why he was also there, truly? Hughes wouldhave laughed at him, gripped his shoulder, and told him to shut up and theywould get a drink later to laugh about it all. 

Royclenched his fists. Ed crossed his arms. 

“Wouldyou have lied to him as well, like you’re trying to with me?” 

Thistime, Roy turned his body to face him, and Ed did as well, so they were as eyeto eye as they could be. Ed had grown taller, but he still lifted his chin aswas his habit whenever they faced off like this.

“Idon’t lie to you.” Roy tried to ignore the way Ed’s eyes seemed they weretrying to bore straight through him. 

“Yousoften shit for me all the time.” 

“That’snot lying.” 

Edbit his bottom lip, and then whipped his head back to the headstone. “He wouldbe mad we were here, compromising ourselves.” 

Roymade a sound of agreement only because he was finding it harder to form words.Ed didn’t talk to him like this. Ed was anger and energy and destruction, notsoftly debating whether or not their dead friend would be scolding them. 

Edknelt and placed a hand - his right one - over the name etched across thestone. “I never got to say goodbye the first time, you know. So I figured, thiswas as good a time as any to make up for it.” 

“Weall wish we could have that moment.” Roy shoved his hands in his pockets. Hewould know, he repeated that night on the phone years ago almost every day, all thethings he could have said in those last moments. 

Edturned up to look at him. The fire he knew so well was still there but muted,and it scared a part of Roy, deep down. “Do you really think our plan willwork?” 

“Ithas to.” Roy knelt down beside him, placing his opposite hand on the stone. “Wehave no choice, really.” 

Theyboth kept their eyes on the stone, but Roy kept stealing glances at Ed’s faceas he concentrated on his thoughts. 

Ed’sfingers curled, the metal making a scratching sound as he did. “And if itdoesn’t, what then?” 

In honor of Friday, gimme a line from your latest WIP or project that involves hands. (Search-find hand, hands, fingers, fingerpad, nails, wrist, palm, thumb, heel, lifelines etc)

I was tagged by the incomparable @arcanewinter, who is in fact the charity-auction recipient of my current WIP, a timeloop fic set less than a year after the beach divorce. Not a lot of hands in this one so far it seems lol—I guess because they're actively trying to put a great deal of space between themselves (unsuccessfully). But:

Erik narrows his eyes, and for a protracted moment, they glare at each other in silence. Charles is the first to break, glancing away and clearing his throat as he wheels back slightly. And he can’t help it then—the metal of the chair calls out to him, some unusual alloy that must be Hank’s creation. The whole structure would be interesting enough on its own, but he keeps catching the broad sense of Charles sitting in it, or the specific feeling of Charles’s hands on the rims of the wheels. Without thinking, the sensation is pleasant—but when he does think about it, it prompts a sick sort of lurch in the back of his throat, as he remembers exactly why Charles— “So what now?” Charles says, neatly slicing that line of thought in two. When they meet each others’ eyes again, Charles’s expression is unreadable.

BUT. Arcanewinter already knows that I actually procrastinated on this fic with a little oneshot that I'm hoping to finish in the next week. It is, in fact, a bodyswap fic, and there are a lot of hands. :-))

He wiggles a set of sturdy, blunt fingers that he unfortunately knows all too well, and then he raises his other hand and wiggles those sturdy, blunt fingers, too. They’re his hands—he’s making them move, and he can feel them moving—but they’re obviously not his hands. “For God’s sake, Erik,” his doppelgänger snaps. He points to the mirror above the fireplace. “Stand up and properly look.”

😭 an ask about one of my fics!! 😭 thank you 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

So the funny thing about that one (aka "extremely divorced cherik trapped on a spaceship," which I apparently wrote in 2021?? I feel like it was last year??) is it's the only fic I've ever published that I truly ran out of time for—the mods of the fest had already given me the max extension. I wrote a substantial portion of it the final weekend before the deadline while on vacation with some friends, which included a) missing a sight-seeing activity while I worked on it in a freakin Panera lol b) writing on the car ride home, with my friends being like ??? (It was a big bang though! I couldn't let down my collaborator!)

So yes, there's actually a lot more I wanted to include—I think the back third would have been a bit slower paced, with more action (but gradual) and possibly more of them hooking up as well. Maybe a little more physics...not like this was actually some sort of 2001 pastiche or whatever, but the canonical monoliths have a lot of physics! That being said, I'm happy with how it turned out given the limitations, and the skip to the final scene was written as I'd always intended. I wanted it to be a sort of level-headed "hey maybe we could start over" after the sheer desperation of the reunion in space.

Per your "where are they in a year" question, conveniently, the events in space help curtail any desires to fall into old habits—Charles isn't particularly interested in being a shill for the government, and Erik isn't particularly interested in using space travel as an excuse to blow Charles off/run away. (I'm laughing as I remember that I had Charles work for the NSA...that's up there with the WIP where I have him as a NYTimes op-ed critic lol.)

This fic falls into the way I read their fundamental post-break-up dynamic, including canonically: it's not really about ideological differences, but about the fact that each of them believes the other one dumped him. Do I think "nearly dying in space" means they're both going to have some kind of mature revelation where they think that doesn't matter? No. But I do think that's enough for a reset—and hopefully those external factors help keep them both on land, trying not to deliberately drive each other mad.

Can we talk about how amazing and generous @arcanewinter is? Not only were they kind enough to let me take that beautiful Sailor Moon art print off their hands (and not even let me pay for shipping) but they also included toys for my spoiled little princess.

2. What is your favorite snippet of dialogue?

Probably this exchange between Bulma and Vegeta on the day of their wedding in Something Borrowed, Something Black and Blue:

"Is this really what… what your mother wore?" Because she's never been able to not touch, she reaches out and traces the insignia of the royal house.

"I don't know," Vegeta says. "I never knew her. But if I had, I imagine she would have worn something like this."

Her breath shudders out of her and she presses her palm over the symbol. Hers. "I love you, you know."

Averting his eyes, Vegeta clears his throat, cheeks flushed, and then pulls out another capsule. When the smoke clears, he shoves a piece of paper at her.

She takes it, confused. "What is this?"

"Phase Three: the vows. Learn them. Stray so much as a word and by Saiyan law I have the right to imprison you for up to five years or publicly execute you."

"How romantic," she deadpans.

He nods, pleased. "I'm really pulling out all the stops."

7.  How much do you like symbolism in your fics?

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I love the stubbly sewing brother

Ahahaha thanks! That’s my holy priest, he complains a lot about mostly anything except maybe pretty girls. Also I like that “casually disheveled” look... that is totally not casual at all.

adhdgamer-blog

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I just find it adorable that Nyquists reaction to being incredibly awkward is to just blush and smile endearingly like oh well, there I go again, don't mind me being a dunce, mister friendly death Knight!

He is kinda used to people saying that and he has run out of excuses by now. And well, being the begining of WotLK I can only believe there is so much rumors going around about Death Knights... Maybe they eat people or something, like the undead D:

arcanewinter

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OH MY GOD I WAS HOPING HE WOULD SAY "ME NEITHER" YAAAAS