#I often find it difficult to just blurt out stuff like that unprovoked

[amethystina]

Hi <3

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about "Gravitational Pull"? Answer it now!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about "Who Holds the Devil"? Answer it now!

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

I hope you are okay and have a lovely day/night <3

Hi! 💜

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about "Gravitational Pull"? Answer it now!

I honestly have no idea. But to avoid this being the most boring answer to a question ever, I guess I can explain that Gravitational Pull was only meant to be a stand-alone fic at first but, as time passed, I realised how tempting it was to keep going with a series of connected "What if" fics where I basically wreck the canon.

Apparently, making Yo Han and Ga On kiss in episode 13 can throw everything out of whack if you want it to.

There will be five fics in total if my plan holds up (fingers crossed?) and will basically feature the rest of episodes 13-16 of the drama. Except each fic will have one, big "What if" scenario slapped onto it which will change the events considerably. And, obviously, also change the events that will take place in the coming instalments.

I'll basically be pushing a bigger and bigger snowball of canon divergences as I move along until I eventually reach the end. And who knows what that ending will entail?

(Why am I doing this again?)

Anyway, in the next one, the "What if" scenario is: "What if Ga On gets shot instead of Soo Hyun?" and the one after that is: "What if Ga On can derail Kim Choong Sik's execution without telling everyone that the Live Court Show is fake?" and so on and so forth.

And they will be posted as separate fics, not additional chapters to Gravitational Pull, since they will all have slightly different themes and focus. It just felt more reasonable from a narrative and storytelling standpoint to post them separately.

And, naturally, the one I look forward to writing the most is the fifth one — because fuck my life x'D

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about "Who Holds the Devil"? Answer it now!

This is just as difficult as the first one, if not more so because, uh, there's a lot to talk about when it comes to Who Holds the Devil. But a lot of it I say in my author's notes already so it's kind of hard to pinpoint something I haven't already said xD

But here's a fun fact: The most difficult chapter to write so far was Chapter 1. There have been difficult chapters since then, especially those that are emotionally heavy or, more recently, demand a certain level of suspense, but none were as difficult as that first one. Partly because I had to restructure it three times before I got it right. The very first draft actually jumped straight to Ga On getting the text from Elijah but I realised that didn't give it enough impact, so I basically rewrote the entire thing two times until I was satisfied.

And, admittedly, it also took me a while to get Ga On's voice right. Or, rather, to let myself write him the way I instinctively tried to do but my brain kept second-guessing. Partly because he was a new character to me (which is always daunting) but also because the style is a little different from how I usually write. My writing is always pretty descriptive, but Ga On takes it to a whole new level x'D Especially where emotions and impressions are concerned. It's all very visceral and that threw me for a second. Not to mention that a lot of it seems to rely on repetition, which most people are taught is a bad way to write. So there was a lot to get used to.

And, quite honestly, I almost stopped writing the DAY after I had started x'D I felt so out of depth and everything was new and strange and I was so nervous about writing a story set in a country and culture I don't actually know (that still makes me panic every now and then) and... yeah. Just a lot of anxiety there at the beginning.

Thankfully, a lot of it has settled by now and I feel a lot more confident about both the writing itself and my characterisation. And that's no doubt why the first chapter will always be the most difficult one I had to write, since it was the one that gave me the most anxiety.

The second most difficult chapter to write was Chapter 23, because I was injured and also couldn't decide on what I was actually writing so the chapter became an unstructured, unstable mess and I almost had to completely rewrite it. And the third most difficult was Chapter 25 because of the sheer level of pain, anxiety, and grief Ga On goes through. The fact that my grandad died while I was working on it definitely didn't help, either.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

I'm so bad at this question that soon I'm going to have to start picking obscure Swedish songs that the majority of you won't understand and just hope you don't call me out on the weird choice xD

Anyway, jokes aside. I answered this question in this ask but, if I have to pick another song, I'll go with There's a Rock by Brolle (or Brolle Jr as he was going by at the time). It's a duet he sings with Frida Snell and I was reminded of how much I love it two weeks ago.

So I'm picking that, not necessarily because it has the most spot-on lyrics, but because it's a song I genuinely love.

(Fun fact: My big sister went to the same high school (-ish, the school system is different in Sweden) as Brolle but he graduated the year before she got there. So her only claim to fame is that she stole his chair when she visited the school for an open house/school tour before actually applying for it)

Questions for fic writers

[untitledcreativeproject]

Day 24. [1460]

[Wrote some expanded backstory stuff for my D&D character. Changed name, also.]

The stereotype of dwarves being an overall surly and belligerent race had never sat well with me as a child. I was never one to start or to finish fights, opting instead to explore all the hidden nooks and secret spaces that my hometown had to offer. My mother was a respected member of some rank within the city guard, and she kept a careful eye on my curious wanderings. I like to think that she appreciated me staying out of trouble, but I know she often worried about my ability to take care of myself. "Any dwarf worth their salt should be ready and able to fight when they're called to,"  she said. "You don't have to like it, Kyrus, but it's a dangerous world out there." Once I grew older, I longed to see beyond the outskirts of the city I knew so well. My mother could never be fully convinced of my safety as it was, so you can imagine how difficult it was for her to let me leave home. After she tried and failed to talk me out of it, she gifted me with two impressive-looking handaxes for my journey. "You're a dwarf, after all. Look the part and enough people might think twice before they try anything." She instructed me to keep my jaw set, keep my shoulders squared, and to basically do my best not to look like a target as I made my way to the nearest town outside the mountain. Life moves so much faster here in Irma compared to back home. Stumbling into my apprenticeship with the Cartographer's Guild took no time at all after my arrival. It... it doesn't even feel like it's been that long since Reeve died. It's been close to six years, but that memory never fades. Reeve was my master, and probably the closest thing I had to a stable father figure. He made maps and told stories of the places he'd been when he was a soldier. I was the errand boy in much of my first year with him, though I suspect he encouraged my travelling around town in order to help me find my bearings. It was upon my return from one such task that I found our map stall vacant one afternoon. I looked around to see if he'd fallen into a chat with a neighboring vendor, but I didn't see him anywhere. I checked the next row over, where Reeve would sometimes try to talk his way into a free meal from one of the food hawkers, but he wasn't there. After a few minutes I thought it would be better to go back to our stall and wait for him to come back. When I returned, I saw him standing out in front of our little booth, talking to another man. When the authorities questioned me about the other man, I couldn't remember a damn thing. He was wearing dark clothes, and from my perspective the two didn't seem to have been arguing. I'm getting ahead of myself though. I saw them chatting and thought nothing of it. Then the stranger moved forward, pressing almost flush against my mentor in one smooth motion. I was still approaching the stall at this point, but I was close enough to hear the sound Reeve made, right before he fell. It was unsettling, the way the bazaar sounds I'd come to love seemed to suddenly come muted and muffled, like my head had been dunked underwater. Reeve collapsed to his knees and time slowed to a crawl. The man--my master's murderer--took a step back and glanced in my direction before retreating into an alley nearby. I could see Reeve's fingers grasping at the cobblestones on the ground, as if he could somehow brace himself and get back up to his feet as blood began to soak through his jacket. My own blood was roaring in my ears. I'm told that I screamed for someone to help him, though I heard nothing of my own voice at the time. Belatedly, I tried to follow where I thought the other man had gone, but there was no sign of him. The look he had given me as he turned to leave... My next thought was that he would be back to kill me as well. Wasn't I a witness to his crime? I found myself lost in the chaos that followed, as more people began to notice the innocent man who'd been left to bleed out in the street. Unable to stomach the reality of the situation, I ran. What if I could have stopped it somehow? I thought of my mother, and of the handaxes she'd given me that were collecting dust back at Reeve's workshop. Shame coiled in my gut, mingling with the fear that pushed me to put more distance between myself and the bazaar. When the grief hit, it brought a wave of nausea with it. I slowed to a walk, stopping briefly as my stomach emptied itself messily in a part of town I hadn't previously visited. I made it a few more steps away before my legs gave out. I sat in the street for a moment, absently wiping the vomit from my mouth. Then a voice called out from behind me. "Hey! It's a little early in the day to be a sloppy drunk, isn't it?" I bristled at that. "What," I snarled, "you see a dwarf lose their lunch in the street and they just have to be drunk, is that it?" I shakily got to my feet, my adrenaline surging again as I turned to face whoever had addressed me. My fists were clenched; whether I liked it or not, that dwarven temper had finally erupted in me. "Oi, oi," the man who'd spoken said as he put his hands up defensively. "Not that I'm a stranger to picking a fight for fighting's sake, but I didn't mean to strike a chord there." He chuckled. "Not that the big man would probably mind." "What?" "Don't you know where you are?" the man asked. He gestured to the statue I'd failed to notice until just then. It was of a flexing, bearded human with a greatsword in hand. I didn't respond, so he laughed again. "Ah, well. This is the Temple of Kord. Welcome." "Thanks, I guess." My fight reflex had passed, and I felt overwhelmed with the weight of the day. My shoulders slumped. "You look like you could use some water. Why don't you come inside?" As I passed through the entrance to the temple, the man introduced himself as Zanos. He explained that Kord was the patron god of the temple, although most of his followers would consider his most important title to be Warrior rather than God. The main tenets of his house were simple: "Be strong, but do not use your strength for wanton destruction. Be brave and scorn cowardice in any form. Prove your might in battle to win glory and renown." A sort of calm settled over me as I heard Zannos recite his faith, the first semblance of serenity I'd felt since fleeing the bazaar. I felt that this was my answer, the missing link that would bring closure to all the loose ends of my life thus far. Here was where I could become strong, to defend myself as my mother wanted. Here I could find the courage I lacked earlier in the day, when I thought I might be the killer's next victim and fled. "How do I join this temple?" I blurted out as Zannos was explaining the other areas of the building. "You want to become an initiate?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Yes," I said. I shot him a determined look, then my face fell and I looked away. "Today... today a man killed my master in cold blood. It happened so fast. He never even got a chance to defend himself." "That's a coward's way of handling a fight," Zannos frowned. "I'm sorry, friend." "Coward...?" It seemed strange to me, calling someone ballsy enough to commit murder in public a coward. "You said your master didn't have a chance to defend himself. Disputes should be settled fairly, whether or not it has to come to blows. Kord would see that man disgraced by being beaten in a fair fight. In the pit, your strength and conviction are the only weapons you need." I thought on Zannos's words and I realized he was right. That man was a coward, someone deserving of scorn. I would become an initiate here, learn how to be strong, and smite the villain who had spilled an innocent man's blood unprovoked.

I would walk the path of a paladin.

[Running Total: 21,886 words]