All is Kit (me) | 30s | she/her | sag
sometimes I do art | ao3 writer: alliskit
because I've got no one to hyperfixate with me.
mindless imaginings of faerûn. https://linktr.ee/alliskit
So, when I started this I knew I was putting out a play through fic and there were TONS already in existence so I wanted to do something ✨original✨ but sometimes the traditional method really is the one that works.
Now that I'm onto TGD2, I'm realizing that I've pigeonholed myself. I have so many things I want to flash to or bring light on that I just can't in 1st POV.
Also, in rereading some older work, I realized my strengths really are in 3rd.
SO: we are under construction until I've adjusted.
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS READ THE WHOLE OF THE GRAND DESIGN AS IS! YOU ARE AMAZING AND I'M SO THANKFUL FOR YOU.
The plan is to keep it the same, just swapping out the pronouns and adding a few "introspective" lines. The story in whole and details released will be the same. There MIGHT be a few additional new scenes, but none that will alter the direction if you've already made it to The Grand Disaster.
Once again, thank you all to those who are reading it.
I'll be dropping the whole of the altered version in one go when I'm done editing in Ellipsis.
My final thought on it is this: I get I don’t have to change it, but for artistic integrity, when I know something can be made better, why wouldn’t I make it better?
👇 You can still find links to the fic below the cut:
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
The 2nd installment is here!!!!
The journey continues and the companions really get to see the dark sides of each other.
This time around I won't be posting whole chapters, but rather the first snippet of the chapters. If you want to read them in whole, you can go to Ao3 (guests have access to it!) to read the rest.
I will continue to update the Tags throughout and will keep them updated here too. This story will be much darker, so be aware and mind the tags provided.
..............
Summary:
“Dear Readers,
I, Abbi, always believed alien abduction was plausibly real, but it was for other people. Maybe, aliens like abducting people who are mentally ill so it seems like they’re lying. Maybe, that's why I ended up on the nautiloid. Or maybe, I wasn't supposed to.
Either way, whether by design or by accident, I got to see a world saved. Even if it was technically just a tiny corner of it and not even my own.
Sometimes, it takes just a random group of people motivated to solve the same problem to make a difference, one step at a time. At the behest of my companions, I’m getting my adventure on paper. Sometimes the gods really are listening. And sometimes they're just cunts.
Cheers to the Heroes of Baldur's Gate and, hopefully, we can get a more accurate retelling down since Volo's was — please, don't read it. We didn't have a dragon with us, just a dragonborn."
(This is the 2nd installment of the series, please note the tags! They will also be updated as Chs. drop. They have made it to the Shadow curse and the darkness really does bring it out in everyone.)
Current Content Tags:
ACT 2: The Grand Disaster
CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4
Read it on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/series/5542481
My beautiful Title image by: @swordsbardkat!
Update about this fic:
It is finished! (For now.) Thank you to all who have been here since the beginning and anyone who is jumping into the craziness now!
This has been a wild ride and an amazing personal accomplishment, to have over 200K words written in a year. This is, of course, only Act 1 (book 1 lol), so there is more to come!
Act 2 will only have snippets posted to Tumblr, whole chapters will be available on Ao3.
THANK YOU GUYS! I LOVE YOU ALL!
………..
Summary:
“Dear Readers,
I, Abbi, always believed alien abduction was plausibly real, but it was for other people. Maybe, aliens like abducting people who are mentally ill so it seems like they’re lying. Maybe, that's why I ended up on the nautiloid. Or maybe, I wasn't supposed to.
Either way, whether by design or by accident, I got to see a world saved. Even if it was technically just a tiny corner of it and not even my own.
Sometimes, it takes just a random group of people motivated to solve the same problem to make a difference, one step at a time. At the behest of my companions, I’m getting my adventure on paper. Sometimes the gods really are listening. And sometimes they're just cunts.
Cheers to the Heroes of Baldur's Gate and, hopefully, we can get a more accurate retelling down since Volo's was — please, don't read it. We didn't have a dragon with us, just a dragonborn."
(This is written as an imagining from 1st person POV of “Tav” and the companions writing down their journey of becoming the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate.)
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
I don’t believe in the gods, but I believe that you’re my saviour
Happy accident when playing with underpainting colors! I tend to fall into simple warm and cool tones because I’m not practiced at realistic color butttt… trying to stop when I like how something looks instead of overworking 🧡💜
I will probably return to this one in some way eventually
tagged by @unovafarm @thepalelawyer @shandoratheexplorer @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream @archduchessgortash , thank youuuuu!
If I missed your tag, ping me, please. It was a busy week and I love to read your stuff!
accompanied by this incredible shot by @deianestormborn. Thank you so much, darling! You are also tagged! 🫶
Gentle warning for severe injuries, bloodloss and fever dreams
They all needed tending to. Truthfully, we all did.
Lae'zel's arm had been broken badly enough that even she struggled to conceal the pain. Karlach had borne the worst of the fighting as usual, her body battered and bruised to an extent that frightened me more than I cared to admit. Gale looked as though he had not slept in days, thankfully he had only suffered superficial injuries. Wyll was lightly wounded and stubborn as ever. Shadowheart exhausted. Halsin wore the particular expression healers often do when they are running on determination alone.
To this day, I am not entirely certain how we survived.
I remember looking around our miserable little makeshift camp and feeling a strange, detached gratitude simply because everyone was still breathing.
It felt miraculous enough.
So I told them to care for themselves first.
I was injured, certainly, but not as badly as the others. At least, that was what I claimed.
Whether anyone believed me is another matter entirely.
Shadowheart and Halsin worked together to do what they could. Wyll and Gale fetched water, tore cloth into bandages, emptied the last of our dwindling potion supply, and assisted wherever extra hands were needed. Between them they managed to stabilize Lae'zel and Karlach and patched wounds well enough that we would survive the night.
At the time, survival until morning felt like a sufficiently ambitious goal.
When they put me down by the fire, I practically collapsed onto my bedroll with a sigh.
After all those months on the road, it no longer smelled like strangers. This realization remains oddly vivid in my memory.
There had been a time when every blanket, every bartered tent, every bedroll had carried traces of other people—sweat, smoke, damp earth, old leather and unfamiliar dreams, fears and hopes. Yet somewhere along the way this old bedroll had become mine. The blanket smelled faintly of woodsmoke and soap.
Small things. The sort of things one notices when they are exhausted enough to mistake them for treasures.
The fire crackled softly nearby.
Lae'zel, Karlach, and Gale had been settled farther away behind hastily erected tent flaps to afford them a measure of privacy. Under other circumstances I might have accepted the same arrangement.
Instead, I insisted on remaining beside the fire.
I wanted the warmth. Or perhaps I simply wanted the company.
Looking back, I am not sure which.
The fever had already begun settling into my bones.
I remember shivering so violently my teeth hurt while sweat soaked my clothes and blankets. Every inch of me seemed caught between extremes. Too hot. Too cold. Burning. Freezing.
The wounds in my leg throbbed relentlessly. Sleep came only in fragments. I drifted between consciousness and fever dreams, between reality and whatever strange places the mind wanders when the body is struggling to mend itself.
Most of it is blurred now. Sensations more than memories.
The weight of blankets.
The smell of smoke.
The distant murmur of hushed voices.
The crackle of burning wood.
And through all of it, Halsin.
I remember his voice before I remember seeing him. Deep and steady and impossibly calm.
He was speaking Elvish. I noticed that even through the haze of fever.
There was something different about the way he spoke the language when he thought nobody was truly listening. Softer somehow. Older. Like water moving over smooth stone. The cadence wrapped around me more than the words themselves, becoming something soothing and familiar even when I could not entirely follow what he was saying.
Perhaps he was speaking to me.
Perhaps he was praying.
I didn't ask. I only remember finding comfort in the sound.
Then his hand.
Gods.
Even now, after everything, that memory remains achingly clear.
Halsin's hands are enormous. Capable of splitting wood, shaping stone, shifting into claws large enough to tear through armor.
Yet I had never felt gentleness like his. A cool cloth brushed across my forehead. His fingers moved through damp strands of hair, carefully pushing them away from my face. The blankets shifted as he tucked them closer around my shoulders.
Every touch was deliberate, as though I were something precious.
As though he had all the time in the world.
I drifted in and out of sleep while he remained beside me.
Each time I surfaced from fever dreams, I found him there again.
Speaking softly.
Adjusting the blankets.
Replacing the cloth.
Checking my temperature.
Watching.
Waiting.
And though I could scarcely keep my eyes open, though pain and fever and exhaustion dragged me under again and again, I remember the certainty that settled somewhere deep within me.
I was safe.
Not because the danger had passed.
Not because my wounds were healing.
But because Halsin was there.
Show us what you are working on! @alstromeri-a (if you like) @rdekarios @bg3screenshotdump @litsenn @lllchiaroscurolll @lotus-ignis @saintsandsorcery @elfiramore (if you like) @ele-millennial-weirdo @jbenn656 @zigloo @cinder-rellish181 @chaushaus @alliskit @alleiramagic @mellybaggins @lucretiouswept @dragonsbone @elceewunjo @arlynx and, as always, @lilhumanoid
