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jackiequick · 6 months ago

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In fifty years, will all this be declassified? | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Pairing: Amelia M. Parker & Grant Ward (WardParker)

Summary: In other words, suffering is worse than falling down low..

Characters feature/mentioned: Kara Palamas, Melissa Wallace, Marlene Kassdy, The Young Avengers

Timeline: Set a year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Agents Of Shield Season 2 (2014-2015)

Warning: Mentions of torture, blood, needles, heartbreak and fighting

Fic Type: Angst

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A/N: Goodness, someone help them all. Also sorry if it's a long fic! I hope you enjoy it ;) And yes I reference a Taylor Swift song as the title hehe

Inspired by: Agents Of Shield 2x21/22

—

Dry pastel lit color faded between the clouds, as the soft yet grime shades filled the room.

The air thick with dust and the distant sound of wind howling against the cracked windows. A mild, yet faint screeching pierced the silence, mingling with the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere in the shadows.

The autumn chill that sinked though the cracks of the door made its way towards her body, responding her eyes to slowly flutter open. She squinted her eyes turning her around to see the area she was set in.

Confusion wrapped around her like a mask; the last thing she remembered was sifting through the scattered remnants of an old agent’s life in a deserted apartment, searching for files that could’ve been used for other purposes.

It was darkly and dimly lit when she made herself present in that apartment reaching for the last lines of the forgotten report, hearing a soft thud, a shadow looming behind her—then nothing.

Amelia blinked, forcing her mind to piece together the fragments, but all she grasp was the nagging dull pain against her neck. Her fingers twitching waking themselves up only to hit a wooden board. She glanced down to noticed her wrists were against a table, yet her ankles were tied backwards to the chair.

She tugged against the restraints, but they held firm, the rough fibers biting into her skin. Panic clawed at her throat as she took in her surroundings: the rusted beams overhead, the scattered debris underfoot, and the faint light filtering through the grime-coated windows.

With every strained breath, the cold air seeped deeper into her bones, heightening her senses. The screeching outside grew louder, mingling with the pounding of her heart.

Just then, a door creaked open somewhere in the warehouse, and her breath caught in her throat. Amelia huffed and winced catching sight of who it was.

Grant Ward.

Following behind him was Agent 33, Kara Palamas, an a former SHIELD agent. Her was brain given some deep suffering, due to memory loss from Daniel Whitehall and of course she was helped afterward, tested by Fitzsimmons, then she left again. More or less…

Grant smiled sitting across the table from her. One of fingers lightly pushes a strand of hair away from Amelia’s face to see her clearly. Grant will never admit it but he didn’t like having her kidnapped, but he needed SHIELD to reveal any information that had on the Projects and Daniel Whitehall.

Amelia was one of SHIELD most well known and possibly active agents they had. According to the rumor mill she was loved and appreciated, having help put The Young Avengers together, being his co-captain in the very beginning of Coulson’s team back in 2013 and the list went on.

But he knew that Amelia Parker only scratched the surface, of the people she was surrounded by. He knew that none of the recruits and so-called friends truly cared for her, watched her six. If they did care, they would’ve found her by now. Hell, Agent Hill was the one who pushed her senseless into being the agent she was today.

The poor workaholic agent who was pushed to the brink of it all, making the choices to see the good in others and step in to put herself in danger for the sake of the people around her.

For the sake of the mission.

Pushing down all the hurt and blame for her own sake. Taking the hits, making the kills and watching the ones she cared for suffer.

All Grant wanted to do was keep her safe, have her join him in the mist of SHIELD’s fall back in 2014 and live on the run. But she refused to stay with him.

Because her loyalty was too high and her trust in others were on the balancing act of being destroy right before her eyes.

And yet, here she sat in front of him, her own green eyes staring right into his brown ones.

“Hi baby.” He said in a calm low tone.

She held a tight calm smile as she responded, “Hi.

“I’mma cut to the chase. You do know why you’re here, right?”

“Cause you miss me, hon?”

Kara, who was standing a few steps behind Grant, crossed her arms and held back a scoff at her remark. She knew the two had history, which annoyed her completely.

“Miss you? That’s a bold assumption,” Kara shot back, forcing the humor even as her pulse raced slightly.

Grant leaned forward, the smile fading as he studied her. “You’re in a warehouse, tied to a chair. I don’t want to play games, Ames.”

Kara shifted, her posture rigid as she eyed Amelia. “You don’t have to protect her anymore, Grant. She’s not one of us…”

“Not one of us?” Amelia echoed, the bite in her voice sharper than she intended. “You think that just because you’re playing for a different side now, it makes you less of a traitor?”

Kara bristled, but Grant raised a hand, silencing the tension in the room. “This isn’t about sides,” he said, his tone even but strained. “It’s about information. SHIELD’s been sitting on something big, and I need you to help me find it.”

Amelia’s mind raced at the thought. The thought of betraying her former team sent a chill through her. “And what if I refuse? What makes you think I will help you?”

He leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. “Then you’ll stay here. And trust me, we both know I always find another way to get what I need. But it won’t be pretty for you.”

“Is that a threat, baby?”

“Call it a promise. I said don’t ever want to hurt you, Ames, not again, but if it comes to it, I will.”

Amelia’s eyes fell of Kara and exhaled, “And her?”

Grant noticed her gaze and leaned backwards. His expression turned serious as he said, “Kara, is none of your concern.”

“Liar. What is it that I did that so wrong to her?”

Kara shifted and met her gaze, leaning forward with a slight glare. “You know what you did, you're responsible for my kidnapping, you and Wallace had my location rigid and led me to Whitehall. When I did escape, Marlene and the others were late to get me back to base. I was tortured and enslaved for what felt like ages!”

Amelia’s eyes darted as she shifted, trying to stand up from her chair. She snarled, “The location was rigid to begin with! It wasn’t mine or Melissa’s fault. It was none of our faults!”

“Then apologize!”

“For a miscommunication? I did weeks ago!”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“..why have it be just me? Not strap Melissa or anyone else to a chair?”

That’s when Kara allowed a small smirk to appear on her face.

“Because. Melissa will just give me a snarky remark and scream, she’s not trained for the physical and mental discomfort across the body. But you are.” Kara explained to Amelia.

Amelia’s eyes darted back to Ward with a warning tone. “Grant.” She muttered.

Grant stood from his seat and grabbed a device from the wall as he contained the explanation to a minimum, “We’re using you as an advantage here, Ames. If we want SHIELD to give us what they want as well and see a piece of them crumble, why not have one of their finest agents be the representation of it all?”

“Which means?” Amelia asked.

“We will keep you here.” Kara said, “In result, disorient the other agents such as Melissa, Marlene and your precious boyfriend, who I bet has no idea that your gone, into running around in rampage looking for you. The more pain you inflect, will give the others no choice but to give us the information needed.”

Amelia’s heart raced with a mix of fear and defiance as the words hung in the air.

She scoffed as a small smile broke across her face. A shake chuckle escaped her hips for whatever reason. “You’re both just petty and delusional.” Amelia remarked. “Even if it I am not found by them, and I’m tortured. You realize that The Young Avengers will get concerned and try to find me, right?”

Grant crossed his arms and shook her head, as he strapped a wires and tightened the chair a bit more. Beforehand, he used anesthetic to remove any sensation of pain from Morse-Parker, however the sensation of the shockwaves and needles will be an unbearable pain, hitting her body all at once.

Kara claimed to many beforehand, that was the pain she felt when she was harmed by Whitehall and when she regained control of her mind once again.

When no one answered her remarked about The Young Avengers—Liane, Rick, Rochelle, Cole and the others—would grow panicked and try to find her, it was a clear as day response. They were too busy and selfish to care for others’s turmoil to save them. Kara and Grant convey that answer by just exchanging a glance at Amelia.

Amelia's heart raced, a mixture of defiance and dread coursing through her veins. “You really think that will work? You’re underestimating them.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, masking the worry gnawing at her.

Grant tightened the straps, his brow furrowed with frustration. “It’s not about underestimating them. It’s about making them desperate.”

Kara’s smirk faded as she stepped closer. “You think they care enough to risk everything for you? They’ve got their own battles to fight. You’re just a pawn in this game, Amelia.”

The weight of her words hit harder than any blow. Memories of laughter and camaraderie flashed through Amelia’s mind, but the shadows of doubt loomed larger. She shook her head, unwilling to let them see her falter. “You’re wrong. They won’t stop searching for me.”

Grant leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “And if they do find you, what then? You think they’ll storm in here and rescue you? They don’t even know where you are.”

Kara stepped closer, her voice low and chilling. “They’ll waste time chasing ghosts, and by the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late.”

-----

A silence fell, heavy with unspoken truths. Amelia felt the chill in the air deepen, a reminder of her vulnerability as the hours went by. She felt herself growing hungry and weak by the second, as her eyes tried their hardest to not give into the weight and close themselves.

Deep into the night, the weight of Grant and Kara’s words hit pierced harder than any words. Every moment spent in the room, tied to the chair, her wrists trying to wiggle out of the restrains and the needles digging into her fingers send an engulfing pain across her body. The wires sending shockwaves through her body, were just as bad, she could practically taste the metal in the air, under her skin.

Amelia was on the brink of giving into the pain and torment, that she was lost caused. She wasn’t going to be saved. That Kara and Grant were right. She was fool to think SHIELD and The Young Avengers—her friends—would care to save her. To release any evidence in hopes of having her come back to them.

That loyalty and trust that tied her to her team was slipping between her fingers.

She could’ve sworn she heard typing of a laptop and invoices being messaged between the two in another room, whenever Kara or Grant weren’t inside with her. She could hear Grant’s low murmur, the occasional sharp retort from Kara. The sound of certain agents from the messages, such as Marlene, her voice was faintly heard, so was Melissa. A flicker of Jeremy’s tone of voice and a few others that she didn’t quite recognize.

She wondered if Jeremy was negotiating a deal to the data on Whitehall or some kind of information in general. She wondered if Melissa trying to relocate the trace of the phone's pattern to her location, or maybe Marlene had just threaten to murder Ward.

Gods know what the others on the line must've been discussing.

However nothing from The Young Avengers.

As for their mouths moving? Conversation between the three echo though the warehouse, a mixture of screams, snarky remarks, and words that were sharper than a knife. Grant was one of the few people, who knew her better than anyone, he had a hand in training her and sense her downfall from a mile away.

He knew that she knows that there was no one coming from her. And if they did. They would be too late, suffering the lost of someone who they assumed, they care for deeply. It was a twisted symphony of betrayal and desperation that echoed around her, each note driving the point home: she was alone.

Speaking of echos being said, at one point, when Amelia refused to once again to apologize to Kara, the closure to heal according to Grant, the brunette slapped Amelia across the face before she walked around the chair with a wicked smirk.

“If you want a nice view of my ass, sweetheart, that will be...” Amelia said in a slight witty tone, however her voice trailed off, hearing the sound of fabric and a wince of a blade, “..what is she doing?”

Grant didn’t let her swift her neck around to see the damage about to inflect upon her, instead snatching her chin under his fingers, forcing her to face him. For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, a hint of regret flickering in his brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Ames. We can work this out—” He said in a soft tone.

“No.“ Amelia cut him off, her tone resolute, almost shaking in a hush tone, “Not like this..”

Before she can even repeat her words, a sharp passing of a knife slide across the back of her knees, her inner knees, as she let out a deep whine. She squeezed her eyes and gasped breathing heavily, her chest rising and fall, due to the action taking place. Her eyes water as she gulped, catching Grant’s gaze as she tried to wipe her face towards Kara.

Amelia’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain radiating through her legs, refusing to show weakness, however it was clear. Grant’s grip on her chin tightened, his gaze searching hers for a flicker of compliance.

Kara stepped closer, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You really think you’re in control here? You’re tied up, and your friends are miles away. This is your reality now.”

Amelia felt the weight of her words sink in, but she wouldn’t give in just yet. “And if I break? If I give they what you want? What happens then?”

She shrugged, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Maybe we’ll let you go. Maybe I won’t. It all depends on how entertaining you are.”

Before Amelia could respond, Grant’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “Enough, Kara. This isn’t a game.”

Kara rolled her eyes, dismissing his concern. “Oh please, Grant. You’re not her keeper. She made her choices.”

Amelia’s eyes flickered between the pair. Despite Grant’s protectiveness over her, he was true as day that he cared for Kara just the same. He may claim to still love her, but his heart had made space for Kara. She scoffed, honestly, with how delusional they both were, they desires each other.

“Choices?” Amelia scoffed, her voice steady despite the pain. “Um, I didn’t choose to be here, and you know it.”

Grant’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and a hint of guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t want this for you, Amelia. I wanted to protect you.”

“By letting Kara and yourself torture me?” she shot back, her gaze unwavering. “You’re not protecting me, Grant. You lied to me once, you’ll do it again.”

He always said that one thing, she will understand everything he ever done, but she won’t. One look from Kara and Grant, and she realized she was more than a pawn, in this sick game. She’s the queen. The moment she decide to cooperate or her teammates come and find her, give them any information about Whitehall, the game changes.

If she might even survive this.

----------------------

The hours went by, no help, no hope of salvation—none.

It was hopeless.

She whimpered and winced, gasping for air as her fingers were being pierced by needles and her body was attached to the wires from earlier. She has been yelled at, bleeding and bruised.

She was purely shaking at this point. At least she was able to convince Ward to release her ankles for some breathing room. However, she was cold. From her feet to her toes, despite the clothing she was wearing, she was feeling the air bouncing against her skin.

As she wiggled her wrists against the restraints, searching for any weakness, the faint sound of footsteps approached. She held her breath, heart pounding, readying herself for whatever was to come.

The door creaked open, and Grant stepped inside. He paused, meeting her gaze with a mixture of concern and resolve.

“You okay?” he asked, a hint of sincerity breaking through his hardened facade.

Her voice was slightly shaky under her breath, “Is that even a question?”

“Ames.”

“Not even close, and you know it.”

“It’s gonna be a long night, I knew you’ll be tough. Coulson’s got an eye for talent.”

“So did you..”

He sighed, his harden facade slowly returned, as a tone that was undoubtedly unreadable appeared. He sat down across from her. Her breathing was deep and hitched, her glares softened ever so slightly, before slowly hardening once again.

“You and I are a lot alike, Ames.” He began, his voice simple yet smooth. “Emotions buried deep inside where nowhere will ever find it.”

She shook her head lightly, “Why’s that? Because you know me very well?” “Because the reason why you kill and fight and recruit others..it’s not because you feel it’s a duty.”

“It is..you caught onto that lesson very early on. Being pushed to the prime level, because it hides whatever uncertainty you have..”

“That’s what you think? Are you referring to me or yourself?”

Amelia paused remembering a conversation she had with Skye involving the context of Ward. He kills because of his emotional attachment and his desire to help, not just for his own desire but for a gain.

But there was something more to that.

After a moment Amelia said under her breath as she admitted, “..it’s not because of nothing, or that it’s a duty to serve..it’s because you feel too much..i feel too much..”

Grant watched her eyes gearing up, the shift in her eyes, at the realization. The pain, the despair, the suffering, the repeated questions and conversation. It was like memories flashed—every laugh, every time she was snapped at, every snarl or glare, every moment of believing in trust and faith—it all came crashing down upon her.

The right push and she can be forced to see the truth, even if she denied it. Hell, the words that Amelia said hit Grant as hard a brick. It wasn’t false, he did care, sometimes way too much. But like he said, he buried it deep, to save himself the heartbreak and torment.

However he did say if Amelia didn’t corporate, or if SHIELD didn’t release information on Whitehall, he will do a certain job. One that she has seen done before..

“Baby, listen to me.” Grant said, bringing her back to the moment holding up needle in-between his fingers. “Kara needs closure. Your teammates are already suffering with no idea where you are, thanks to Kara. But you, just admit you betrayed her and we can end this.”

She scoffed, “You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Betray her? Honey, may I remind you that you betrayed your whole entire team! You betrayed me.”

“For the—! For the hundredth time, I was loyal to Garrett, not HYDRA!”

“For the hundredth time, I don’t care!”

“Amelia!”

“What?! You always have that excuse or decide to blame Garrett for your choices!”

“We both know, if it was the other way another and you were in my shoes, you would understand! We talked about this!”

“I know! And for the that, I say, screw you!”

That’s when Grant leaned forward against the table, his body dangling among the chair he sat in. Their face were mere inches apart, they can feel the other’s hot breath against one another’s face. Every scare, bump and bruise, laced across their face.

The tension was heating off their bodies, their breathing was thick and hitched.

“You don’t know me as well, as you think you do.” He growled under his breath, his back arched and his palms pressed against the table.

“Sure I do, baby.” She responded, growling in the same exact intensity.

However she held a light smirk, ripping off her restraints that she spent the last hours loosing up, grunted as she both hands grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the table.

She held out a breath, snatching the needle from his grasp and stabbing him with it. Grant broke free from her grasp just as quickly, as Amelia stumbled backwards. He launched at her as she jumped over the table and kicked him the chest.

Before they two knew it, they were dancing around, blocking and trying to punch one another into corners. Spinning, turning and trying to slam the other into a wall. Grunts, pounding from footsteps against the ground, shouts and screaming were heard from within the warehouse, as they broke though the walls and into the hallways.

--------------------------

At one point, Amelia raised her height was going to cause her a real disadvantage, Grant was taller than her by a lot. So just as he was about to launch at her once again, she reached up to a poll, grasping a tight grip before swinging her legs forwards launching Grant to break though the window of the door.

“I taught you well..” He muttered, a hint of pride in his voice, before grabbing her and swinging the brunette around as they head butted one another hitting against the tight narrow hallway.

Amelia head was slammed backwards, pounding firm near a wall, before her body slid downwards onto the floor as she grunted and let out a groaned. Grant towered over her just as Kara hurried in, holding her gun towards Amelia.

She was ready to shoot her, but didn’t, yet. She wanted to hear the apology, understand her pain. She exchanged a look with Ward.

“Anything you want to say to Kara?” Grant asked, letting out a deep breath.

Amelia’s eyes darted between the door of them, her vision was blurry as she said, “..yeah.”

“She’s waiting.”

“I’m not sorry anymore..” Amelia muttered under her breath.

Kara exhaled, lowering the gun, “This isn’t right..I’m not feeling, she’s not sorry..”

Grant took the gun from her stuffing it into his back pocket and placed a hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright, baby, I know what to do..”

Her gaze flickered between the pair, one look from Grant and Amelia knew what was coming for her, he going to pull the trigger. The hours were running up.

He’ll do the one thing she seen him do, only once, years ago.

It will not just make her suffer but the ones who claimed to love her...

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

AHH! It was a lot I know but let me know what you think! Thoughts, comments and what you love about it all. Pls like, comment and share for more.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines s @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary y @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle @infinetlyforgotten and etc

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m1dv1ght · 3 months ago

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Okay, Agents of Shield Fanfic idea (coming from someone who’s only half way through season 2, i think im on like episode 15 or smth it doesn’t matter) but imagine a oc, or reader, idk, who is part of the team, maybe has worked with Grant before and like wants to bang him or whatever, and then obviously Skye joins or wtv, and like reader is like lowkey jealous of Skye because Grant likes her, and then fast forward they find out Grant is evil works for Hydra, and like one things leads to another and Skye and Reader/Oc end up becoming closer and then suddenly they both realize, hey, f ward, im in love with you. And then ✨lesbian✨ (or bisexual because i 100% see and live for bisexual skye) like i could never write a full on fic about this(but i cant write a full fic about anything so yk), but i could write little blurbs/headcannons about this if yall want

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ask-missparker · 1 year ago

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The reckless denial | Agents Of SHIELD Fic

Setting: Takes place during season 2

Characters mentioned: Skye, Fitzsimmons, Mack, Coulson, Rick Banner, Luna Marsh, Cole Lehnsherr and Liane Felton

Established Pairing: Rick & Luna

Fic type: Blurb

———

—Last said in the last post…

And most importantly, Amelia undergoes an even more shocking turn of events due to shield discovery of alien, inhuman and mutant activity across the country. During an trip to Puerto Rico, one of islands underneath the caves held the rumbling ability to unlock unhinged truths.

While Skye and Tripp were down there, in the mist of the explosive wave that resulted in Skye’s odd transformation, Amelia was effected in the blast getting hurt as she watched Tripp die.

But that wasn’t the only thing that happened…

Amelia woke up on the thick warmly crumbling ground with a splitting headache cause she was throw against a deep wall in the cave. She bleed a bit from the blast, seem to have taken a strong impressionable hit.

She rolled onto her chest, pushing herself to stand up as she winced racing around to the edge to only looked over to notice Tripp’s in crumbling ashes. Dead, as if he was turned to stone then been destroyed within a matter of seconds.

She noticed Skye on standing there, surrounded by dust and rock, as the whole place was rumbling and pillars were falling apart within the cave. She looked at her with fear, confusion, and surreal shock as her fists were uncurling themselves.

Amelia didn’t hesitate to hover a hand over Skye’s back ushering her out of the cave, as she helped lead everyone out of there as safety as possible. The rumbling continued frequently as they all moved along the path then stopped by the women they reached most of the other half of the team.

~~~~

Some time later, everyone returned back to the SHIELD facility, being looked over and being patched up for any damage. Skye was quickly moved into a separate clear room, being watched up machines, scientist and medical staff until further noticed.

She was basically in quarantine for a while, meanwhile everyone else was doing their best to figure out happens next. Everyone was quarantined for a bit to heal and release whatever might’ve been in their system from the swimming blast.

Fitzsimmons were suspicious as they ran tests on her state. They all were suspicious at how Skye was still standing but seemingly hurt.

Her vitals were interesting to say the least, Amelia was more than curious about it as she took recommended Advil for her headaches during the whole situation. Hell, they were grieving Tripp’s death in their own way! She noticed everyone’s cyclone ways of dealing with the aftermath of the storm they were all hit with.

A storm of emotions filled with sadness, anger, anxiety, depression and straight up denial of it all. Trying to forget everything happened but they couldn’t. Hell they were ready to fight one another and throw a few chairs. Skye was shaking and crying at the mere thought because she was the one to see the process of his death, everyone just saw the aftermath. Blaming herself as Amelia and Coulson comforted her, knowing it wasn’t her fault even though it felt like it was to her.

~~~

To keep herself from getting too overwhelmed and wanting to smack someone like Mack or race off to use Hunter as a mini punching bag, she decided to escape to Avengers Tower for a bit due to not being there in a while.

The consuming energy that floated around Amelia as she watched and hung out with friends such Rick, Liane and Luna calmed her down. They asked her what happened but she was under strict orders to not say much of the circumstances to her visit, despite the fact that she wanted to let them know. Assuming it was on the news right now of the rumbling from Puerto Rico and tunnels being collapsed.

Rick being the more cautious person there, sensed something was off about her energy. He sniffed an underwhelming amount of concern and denial from her but he sensed something more, after hearing about the strong headaches. And the fact that seemed to have not slept in a long period of time. Luna was more than curious about it all and wondered what happened, promising to not tell the others as Amelia pointed to the TV screen and slowly explained how there was a swimming blast that knocked her out cold. She tried to connect the dots.

Liane’s firey personality was suspicious and skeptical of Amelia Parker, wanting to figure out what exactly happened to her physically after hearing the story beats of her tale. She watched her fingers tinker, her eyes narrow as of she was having another headache, almost nervous like Luna. Imitating her impressions and anxiety from curiosity that surged into her veins, as Liane grinned as her and Rick went to talk.

It confused and concerned Amelia as she stayed talking with Luna at how much they felt about the situation. One moment she’s fine and another she’s feeling ticked off due to Rick and Liane’s dispute as Luna kept wanting to ease her mind.

~~~~

It felt like her head was hurting, spinning as she sense the uprising engulfed energetic personalities bounce off from one another. Like she can sense their feelings battling to stay a bay. Amelia thought back to the argument at the SHIELD between Mack, Bobbi, Coulson, May, Hunter and herself as she sensed Skye’s discomfort for a split second, yelling over everyone to cool down separately.

This anxiety written feeling crept up her back, feeling hot and heavy blinking between Luna and the table in the living room. As if her vision went blurry for a moment, like she might pass out. Luna held her up and asked if she was alright, with her own powers she could sense she was freaking out as she called for Rick and Liane for help.

Luna gasped greatly noticing a flicker in Amelia’s eyes then disappeared just as quickly. She barely saw any color in her eyes.

~~~~

Rick raced in surprise to see Amelia having a anxiety attack, it was rarely a thing to see with her always being just fine, but it concerned him watching her as he tried to help calm her down. It reminded him of himself but less strong but still there something that didn’t match up, sensing a slight denial difference taking in her whole appearance as it clicked. She was effected, traumatized by it all.

Luna moved over to let Amelia have some space to breathe, as she never good at calming others down without getting scared or anxious herself. Especially after seeing what she saw and whispered it into Liane’s ear.

Liane gasped and almost screamed hearing her, noticing some things as Luna did more promptly. The subtle shifts and movements that Amelia made, as she glanced at the girls and back at Rick with almost a glare, sensing the same as him, something was going on.

She quickly calmed down, as her glares soften thinking about Skye for a slip second and the whole fact that Fitzsimmons was suspicious of everything, running test on a couple of people like Mack while she was gone. Her focused returned to the trio because as she zoned out, they were talking among themselves.

~~~

Then she heard it.

Liane out of curiosity and excitement yelled, “OH MY GOD SHE IS ONE OF US! Another mutant of some kind?!” Luna gasped looking back at her friend questioning how is it possible but she was interested. Rick was the most confused being a man of espionage and science fiction, he wondered the extent of this difference, if it was something semi-permanent or long lasting. But a part of him was intrigued.

But Amelia was recklessly in denial about all of it. The shock, sorrow and questions didn’t wrap around her head, yet. She was a normal human being, an agent of SHIELD and got examined earlier by Fitzsimmons, her vitals were fine.

Suddenly Cole busted through the door and shouted, “Ah ha! I knew something was suspicious was going on the second she wanted into the room!”

Rick rolled his eyes and snorted as Luna chuckled. Liane smirked. Meanwhile Amelia raised an eyebrow at her best friend, “Your unbelievable sometimes, you know that?”

Cole just grinned.

—> Thanks for reading. ✨That’s what I got! Comment down below with ideas and reblog your thoughts

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @mallowbee4 @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @sherloquestea @rooster-84 @starkleila and etc

#agents of shield #marvel blurb #mcu fanfiction #mcu x oc #aos fanfic #daisy johnson #fitzsimmons #leo fitz #jemma simmons #young avengers #agents of shield oc #agents of shield fanfic #agents of shield season 2 #grant ward x reader #avengers fanfiction #phil coulson #fyeahmarvelocs #daisy & mia

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sharkboy305 · 4 months ago

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Thinking of making an oc where he and Grant are childhood best friends and he's been in love with Grant for so long. So when Grant dies he goes completely off the deep end and decides to do whatever it takes to bring him back to life

#marvel #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#grant ward #oc #original character #oc x canon

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letsgobarbs · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Ooh thanks for the tag @probablyreadinsmut you wanna see my little hoard of words? you want a lil peek into my brain lab?

Here's a live of me cooking up my fanfictions this week:

But feeling very overachieving today because I finally posted another Chapter of His Young Wife (Marcus Acacius x Reader) last night.

And here's a little snippet from the new Homecoming (Dave York x Queer, Muslim!OC) chapter:

David Anthony York was wicked. He had to be. There was no other reason he had haunted her thoughts by day and her dreams by night. Maryam was taken by him since the first time she had seen him. He had looked up at her with the softest eyes the colour of molasses. Except, they hadn't been warm or sweet. His eyes reminded her of the dark pebbles down the riverbed smoothed over the years by a steady stream. Even with one eye covered under an eyepatch, they were so pretty that she was tempted to call them a gift that spoke of a gracious Creator. Tempted, but not convinced. She just couldn't trust eyes that told no stories, they didn't have the texture of tree bark, or specks of amber or black. His eyes had been a blank, even slate covered in a shiny, wet sheen that reflected the light but offered no noor, no real warmth or glow from within.

He had looked so lost and pained with the scrunch between his brows and the deep creases that ran along his forehead. But something about the weakness and vulnerability in his eyes had struck her all wrong. His puppy-dog, baby-cow eyes didn't distract her from the falsity in the way David York had held himself. His pursed lips and tight jaw heralded a brewing storm. It had been an anger and rage so all-consuming it took root in his bones simmering under a facade of trained stillness that belied a man who had ceased grappling with his morality, a man who had beat his own conscience back with a stick until it no longer whispered at the back of his mind. The man with the prettiest eyes set on the face of a killer.

Maryam knew the folly of giving any man an unearned chance to be close. But would it be unearned? Every action of his had gone against her first impression of him. He had been kind to Carol. Most other men in his place would have either trapped their wives in the marriage with guilt or threats, or raged against them for ‘ruining their lives’. But David had granted Carol her freedom through a smooth divorce, along with the house and an alimony. He had even stood up to Carol’s parents; he wouldn't allow them to meet their granddaughters if they couldn't accept their own daughter. He was a good father. She had held both Molly and Alice when they missed their daddy and had watched Carol struggle to fill his place in their lives. However, surely, it is best to err on the side of caution. She knew first-hand how monumentally stupid it would be to establish any sort of connection with a dangerous man.

You're being delusional, Maryam. There was no way that man was even thinking about her, let alone contemplating a connection. There was no connection. No spark. No heartbeat skips. No nothing. Men like him didn't want women like her— they lived in very different worlds. So, despite the futility, she was still thinking about the freckles on his right cheekbone, there had been four prominent ones forming a diamond shape and several lighter ones that trailed up towards his temple. It reminded her of the Little Dipper. Maryam was tempted to turn to her mother and request she pray and cleanse the house of bad vibes. Her daughter was likening a man’s freckles to constellations and that had to be a sign of Jinn or some spirits whispering these thoughts into her ear like the stories from home. She was bewitched.

Now, that suburban middle-aged man wouldn't know the first thing about black magic and influence. Maryam recited her verses anyway as she put on her shoes— partially out of habit, but to also ward off evil, protect against accidents and fate’s whimsy, and for mental fortitude and strength. She was going to see David York. Something about the way he had looked at her when she left his apartment made her worry. Molly and Alice are with him half of the weekdays and every other weekend, the custody arrangements were still being tinkered with to suit everyone involved. But Carol was taking the girls to stay with Theresa’s family for spring break.

Maryam had inquired about him with Carol, hoping to assuage some of that worry, only to learn he had recently lost friends. She hadn't wanted to pry further, it was weird to keep asking Carol about her ex-husband even if it was from a place of concern. She didn't want that concern to be misconstrued because that's all it will ever be. Nonetheless, she felt nauseous— not because she felt guilty for seeking out her friend’s ex-husband but because she was hiding it from her. This was the sort of thing you discussed with friends— perhaps not the freckles and doe eyes part, but certainly the worrying bit.

Maryam had been at a club to support a friend at their big DJ gig where she had met Carol. They had both felt out of place, and Maryam had bought her a drink. The night had been life-altering because Carol experienced her first kiss with a woman. Maryam had pressed Carol against the wall in a secluded corner of the club, their kiss had tasted of espresso martini and strawberry cheesecake. The experience had been wholly overwhelming because Carol had cried her sorrows into Maryam’s arms who had ensured she reached home safely to her kids and by the time they met for breakfast the next day, they were best friends.

For context: Carol thinks Dave is dead and this is her 'trying to move on' process that makes her sorta realise that she is a lesbian and she had been trying to conform to that husband and two kids lifestyle her conservative, god-believing parents expected of her. Carol dates Theresa now. And Dave isn't going to turn away a willing prey walking into his home out of concern for him— so stupid of Maryam really.

I'm also cooking up my Pero Tovar in the winter prompt for the writing through the seasons challenge organised by @guiltyasdave (Hope you're having lots of fun and relaxing on your bday trip <3) and @sizzlingcloudmentality

Do I have actual paragraphs for it? No :) But I have plot points and I have ideas, and I love my ideas, I think they're neat. It's going to be a reverse mail-order bride trope lmfao. Because I like a mail-order bride story. Pero thinks he was just interviewing for a servant post, he could figure his way around cooking and cleaning when he couldn't find another fighting gig. But he somehow ends up in one of those medieval rattling wooden prison transport carts with wooden bars and also somehow hired as a mail-order husband. Best believe the other girlies in that cart are giving him side-eyes.

share your stuff you guys lemme see what's cooking: @pedrospookie @slimybeth69 @galaxyedging @iknowisoundcrazy @joelslegalwhre @jessthebaker @pedroswife69 @joelswritingmistress @missyorkswhore @peepawispunk @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @everybodylovedcontractors and anybody else who wants to share <33

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #wip #dave york x oc #marcus acacius x reader

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roleplayfinder · 2 months ago

Note

I'm on the search for some Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) threads. 🐺

About Me: 25+. She/Her. I write on Discord (servers or DMs) or through Tumblr messages. I like to stick to Tumblr for plotting. I write in third person, past tense and anywhere from 1-4 paragraphs (~100-400 words). I work full-time during the week, so I can't guarantee daily replies. I aim for daily when I can, but more realistically it'll take me 2-3 days to reply. I have no triggers. I enjoy writing NSFW/smut (any plot/smut ratio), but we can keep things clean, if that's your preference. I typically do not double.

What I'm Looking For: Please be 18+ to interact. Write in third person (I don't mind what tense you use). No one-liners. Replies in 5-7 days. I don't mind waiting longer, as long as you let me know beforehand. I prefer canon x canon pairings but am open to discussing canon x OC. I'm just a lot pickier with those. MxM ships are my favorite. I'm open to MxF as well. I like canon/canon divergent plots the most.

I'll just be listing my main muses (anyone in bold and italicized, I'm especially wanting to write as right now). I'm open to discussing ships.

My Muses:

Benjamin Poindexter (Netflix Daredevil or Comics!Bullseye)

Billy Russo

Bruce Banner

Bucky Barnes

Frank Castle

Grant Ward

Jack Thompson

John Walker

Kilgrave

Lance Hunter

Lincoln Campbell

Loki Laufeyson

Nathan Summers (Comics)

Andrew!Peter Parker

Phil Coulson

Ray Nadeem

Reed Richards (Comics)

Simon Williams (Comics)

Tony Stark

Victor von Doom (Comics)

Like this post if you'd like me to reach out to you.

#twenty-five and over #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel rp

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tragedybunny · 1 month ago

Text

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 6

༺Summary༻

Serafina and Astarion saved Baldur’s Gate - and each other. Now all they want is a nice little adventure together and Astarion to walk in the sun once more. Unfortunately Sera’s patron, Titania, sets herself against the relationship. Can their love survive the ire of the Fey Queen?

In this Chapter: Serafina and Astarion are on the hunt for a treasure that will allow Astarion to walk in the sun again. Their first time as an adventuring duo doesn't go quite so smoothly though. Things start to fall apart when Serafina's patron, Titania, makes an appearance.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Rating༻ Mature

༺Warnings༻ Angst

༺Word Count༻ 2873

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies!

As always I couldn't do this without my dear friend and support system @icybluepenguin

Read on AO3

All chapters here on Tumblr

“A secret horde, once owned by a vampire lord who plotted against Larloch. Hidden in a cavern beneath the Troll Hills, long abandoned. Can't imagine it would be too difficult to get to.”

Those had been Gale’s words about the first artifact he'd been able to find that might impart sun-walking to a vampire - a cloak that belonged to a long dead vampire. According to their friend, this vampire lord had believed that he could defeat the lich lord Larloch, and take his city from him. He’d been acquiring and hiding magical treasures and weapons when Larloch had discovered his treachery. It was possible the cavern remained untouched as no accounts of it existed afterward. Gale had also given them a severe warning to stay as far as possible from the Warlock's Crypt lest they attract Larloch’s attention themselves.

And that was how they ended up here: Astarion inside a dank hole in the side of a hill several weeks journey from Baldur’s Gate, and Sera perched above it, fey magic nearly radiating off of her as she held it at the ready.

It had taken a few nights of fumbling around the hills in the dark until something had faintly brushed against her detect magic spell: the moss-covered rocks and logs that obscured an opening. All of it was done with as much stealth as possible - neither of them were keen to run into the beasts the hills were named for.

The magic ward that had been placed amongst the disguised doorway was dispelled by a scroll and there were no mundane traps to be found by Astarion. So they quietly cleared the entrance and gazed into the darkness below. To both of their elven eyes, the area was visible as though lit by faint lights. Descending down was a roughly hewn stair of stone.

Astarion hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “You stay up here, I’ll head down and explore.”

“Protecting me from danger? You’re too sweet,” Sera said, with obvious sarcasm.

“Don’t be silly. I need you up here to provide cover.” Astarion flashed her a toothy smile. “Just don’t accidently blast me.”

So Astarion had carefully made his way down into the cavern, stopping every so often to continue searching for dangers. Sera, meanwhile, gathered fey magic around herself until it crackled between her fingers and sparked in the air. Brilliant flashes of greens and golds - like the regalia of the Summer Queen herself who’s power Sera had been granted access to.

The cave continued beyond the range of her vision and Astarion began to fade from her view.

“Can you still see me?” The spell made Astarion’s whisper sounds as though it were right at her ear.

“Barely,” she answered back in a whisper.

She couldn’t quite make out the words but several balls of light materialised, illuminating the cavern.

“Let me shed a little light. I found something, and everything seems clear down here.”

Astarion stood at what looked to be an aged chest, already examining it carefully with his deft fingers and a set of thieves' tools.

“Just don’t get careless.”

The echo of Astarion’s voice carried a scoffing laugh. “Darling, who do you think you’re talking to?”

Sera bit back a snappy reply. Astarion was still Astarion, and that included his sharp tongue. But as she turned her attention back to observing Astarion’s progress with the chest, the air around her warmed and filled with a floral scent. She froze, startled at the aura of power she hadn’t felt so sharply since the day her life had been forever changed - the day she'd pacted herself to Titania.

A faint shimmer appeared in the air and coalesced into the form of a tall, impossibly beautiful elven woman, clothed in a gown made from the forest itself, the green of leaves and moss flowing into bright forest flowers. Her skin was sun-kissed, with eyes of bright gold, and hair that seemed to shift with the vivid reds and oranges of autumn leaves. The Summer Queen stood beside her in all her glorious regalia.

“Your majesty,” Sera greeted her patron, adding a slight bow, wary of what occasion would be enough to summon her from her fey wild. Her breath stilled with tense waiting. Whatever had brought her to this plane, Sera knew she was about to be pulled into it whether she wished it or not.

Narrowing her eyes without returning the greeting, Titania immediately focused on where Astarion still worked on the chest below. “Is this really what you want?”

Titania had never been shy in her opinions on Astarion and their relationship. But a Fey Queen, and the patron who had helped her escape her old life, wasn't someone she could recklessly defy.

Slowly, she released the breath she had been holding. “Why do you ask?”

An impossibly loud click echoed from below, followed by the sound of the earth shifting. Sera’s stomach shifted along with it - something wasn’t right.

“Oh hells!” Astarion shouted, any notion of stealth lost.

“A short-tempered, self-centered, impossibly vain vampire spawn…”

Sera turned her focus to Titania, despite the growing evidence that something below was terribly wrong. A faint glow radiated from her, as though the sun had lent her a bit of its radiance. It was gentle and warm but Sera knew it could become a blazing inferno if her mood shifted. She would have to step carefully, and quickly, to satisfy her concerns.

“He’s so much more than that-”

A dry click-clacking came from the disturbed dirt and yanked her attention back toward the cave. From the ground were rising bleached bones, baring weapons in their skeletal fingers, encircling Astarion. Sera’s heart dropped.

Her mouth opened to call out to him, but his head quickly snapped toward her. “A little help, love,” he snarled.

A disapproving, but yet somehow self-satisfied noise departed Titania lips. “So you say. Would he show his better nature if he knew what was planned for you and his Master?”

Her tone reminded Sera of how one would speak to a disappointing child; a tone she was all too painfully familiar with. Resentment flared in her. But instead of a flush of heat, Sera felt as though ice flooded her veins. This was what was so important to bring Titania from her throne? To risk Astarion’s life? A petty argument about her love life.

From below Astarion cursed in Elvish, signaling the situation was getting more dire.

There wasn’t time to continue the argument with Titania. Even if it meant invoking her ire. Driven by fear for Astarion, and rising anger, Sera’s composure cracked. Her hand flew up to point an accusing finger, recklessly, at her patron. “Don't you dare -”

Her words died in her throat as flecks of frost emanated from her impossibly blue hand. At the edge of her memory something stirred, like a dream half remembered.

In the silence, Titania studied her for a moment with a look of consternation, before reaching out and clasping her hand with her own two gently warm ones. “Clearly your emotions about the spawn have overcome you. We will finish the conversation later, when you find yourself in a more rational state.” Something in her words didn’t quite ring true but Sera didn’t wish to start another debate. And with another shimmer of light, Titania was gone.

Before she even fully vanished, Sera was moving, bounding down the jagged cut stairs, gathering magic into her fingertips, trying to ignore whatever it was that had just happened to her. But what she loosed was not the normal eldritch blast bolts but frozen bolts. The skeleton she hit staggered under the weight of ice that suddenly formed around it, and toppled to the ground, shattering like so much glass.

With the expulsion, Sera felt as though the cold were draining from her skin, a warm tingle left in its wake. The mystery of it would have to wait - the rest of the skeletons weren't affected by the loss of their comrade, continuing to wield rusty and worn weaponry against Astarion who deftly dodge the blows, answering with clubbing strikes of his dagger pommels.

“Inveniam viam,” Sera dissipated and reappeared at Astarion's side, another eldritch blast at the ready. This time the three familiar bolts appeared, driving the skeletons back and giving them some breathing room.

“Nice of you to join the fun,” Astarion snapped.

Sera didn't bother to answer, saving the fresh irritation for their enemies. Her gloves allowed her spells to strike even at close range, letting stay tight to Astarion’s side and weave between their foes. A few more cantrips, plus Astarion’s now free moving attacks, left the skeletons shattered at their feet.

“Who in the hells were you talking to up there?” Astarion growled, not allowing either of them to catch their breath.

“Titania. Who else would have just appeared like that?” Her head throbbed and she felt the cold blossoming inside her along anger at him. Did he really believe she'd stop for a conversation with a passing stranger?

Astarion responded with a fangy hiss, not mollified by her answer. “Was she trying to get me killed? And you just let her distract you?”

Gods, she hated whenever an argument would erupt like this. “It's more complicated than that and you know it!”

Both of them were silenced by her breath becoming steam in the space between them.

Astarion blinked very slowly, staring intently at her. “You're…blue,” he said, finally.

With a deep breath, she tried to summon a sense of calm, thinking of how Halsin had spoken of his meditations to clear his mind and become closer to nature. Her rage had summoned the condition, maybe she could dismiss it with serenity. At least until they had less pressing concerns than a forest full of trolls above them. “A worry for later. Let's just see if what’s in the box was worth all this trouble.”

Astarion eyed her sceptically but she watched as the old habit of burying his emotions set in. They both knew they needed to move before trolls were drawn to the cacophony they’d made. “Fine,” he huffed and turned toward the box, violently flinging the lid open. “FUCK.”

Peering over his shoulder, Sera saw nothing but a single cloth pouch, as black as the night sky with galaxies of gold and silver thread embroidered on it. It rested at the bottom of the chest, purple and gold backed cards spilling from it.

To Astarion, it likely looked like nothing more than a deck of elaborate playing cards, but Sera could see the cards pulse with magic Entranced, she reached around him to grasp the pouch. “That’s - “

“A deck of cards, I noticed.”

“A Deck of Many Things.” Sera said, reverently, securing the pouch shut and tucking it in the bag at her waist next to her spellbook from Titania. While not what they were looking for, this was powerful magic indeed, and not something to be trifled with lightly.

“Well, at least there was something down here.”

A glance in his direction revealed narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. Despite her and Gale urging caution, he had gotten his hopes up for a miracle on the first try and now was bitter with disappointment. “We’ll just have to head to Watedeep and see what else Gale has come up with.”

If she stopped for sympathy now, he’d wind up seeing pity in his spiral of agitation and resent it. Better to keep moving and let the edge wear off those feelings.

Turning back to the stairs, she took one step before a grip on her arm halted her.

“And when we do, is your Fairy Godmother going to keep interjecting herself?”

Groaning, Sera snatched her arm back from his grasp. There he went again! The last thing she wanted was to think about Titania’s irritation and threats - and whatever else was going on. “I don't know but we need to move.”

“So we just ignore that and whatever she did to you?”

Once again, the familiarity of something caressed her mind and she recoiled from it. “That…that wasn’t her. I don’t know what it was. Can we just go?”

Astarion growled in irritation and started stalking to the stairs as Sera struggled to keep up. He was clearly not taking his vampiric speed into consideration at the moment.

The two of them bounded up the stairs in tense silence, freezing as a tremor shook the hillside.

“Fucking hells,” Sera whispered. The trolls were coming. Just one more thing she didn’t need.

Charging forward, she clasped Astarion’s shoulder, feeling the slightest tensing of the muscle at the touch. So much violence had been done to him, his body might never truly forget. “Invisibilis.”

The two of them faded from view, enough cover to hopefully make it out of the hills without fighting any curious trolls. Astarion said nothing but clambered up the rest of the stairs and out into the night.

Biting back some choice words, Sera followed after him. Just as she emerged from the cave, the trees near them parted and a staggeringly large and stunningly ugly creature emerged. A hunched and twisted thing with two heads and sickly green skin, it dragged its arms alongside of it as it sniffed the air. A fell troll, larger than a regular troll, and twice as vicious.

Sera felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Invisibility wouldn’t hide their scent. She could feel the hollowness where her fey magic had been drained. Her skill manipulating the Weave was not so far advanced to be reliable. There was enough left for maybe one good spell. Turning, she tried to catch Astarion’s attention. Only to find him infuriatingly hurrying down the track they had followed into the forest.

“Son of a -” Sera’s words faltered as the troll stopped and sniffed the air in her direction.

Not willing to wait and see if the troll’s sense of smell would out her, she moved, keeping as quiet and quick as possible. Her pulse thudded in her veins and the world narrowed to one thought - get away. The two of them might be able to handle a troll, but it was a bet she wouldn’t take in their current state. All that was left was to run.

“Astarion!” she hissed with a low voice, knowing his hearing would pick it up.

He whipped his head around and paused, giving her a questioning look, but slowing enough that she was able to catch up.

“What were you doing back there?” he asked when she finally reached him.

Behind her the troll made a spine-chilling, guttural vocalisation and began to move from where it had been stopped. Slow, plodding steps, as though it wasn’t quite sure of what it had scented, while still sniffing the air.

“You left me behind,” Sera whisper-shouted even as they moved faster.

Astarion rolled his eyes, and made a hurry along gesture. “Don’t be ridiculous. I thought you were right behind me.”

This night had been a disaster since Titania's unbidden appearance - Astarion’s massive attitude, no sun-protecting treasure, and whatever in the hells was happening to her that she still couldn’t think about. This pushed her over the edge, and into forgetting the danger of the troll behind them. “Did you even think to check? Or don’t I matter next to walking in the sun?” she shouted, watching in horror as their invisibility melted away and Astarion stared at her blankly.

A rage-filled snarl sounded behind them and the earth shook.

“Gods damn it!” Sera’s fingers dug into Astarion’s leather armor, leaving small nail shaped gouges. “Quod dico face.”

The two of them disappeared with a flash of gold light and a popping noise, reappearing several hundred feet down the track and a life-saving amount closer to the edge of the hills.

In deafening silence, they tore down the last of the track, and spilled out of the scrubby oaks into the grassland surrounding the hills. The troll had seemingly abandoned pursuit when his quarry disappeared into thin air and they were free to make their way back to their camp near the Winding Water river. It was said the trolls wouldn’t leave the hills - as though some force compelled them to remain there.

They continued to not speak even as camp, and day, drew near. Sera's anger had long since burned away, leaving an empty ache in its place. They’d never fought like this before, even through the trials of hunting down Cazador and facing the Netherbrain. They had been her certainty, her rock. Now it felt as though nothing was certain, and her world was unraveling around her. What if this was it - if Astarion was done with her already, if it was all over before it had even really started, if all her dreams about their love were nothing but silly nonsense? She couldn’t even begin to think about moving on or what came next. But every time she tried to speak to him, to alleviate her fears, the words wouldn’t come.

And in that sad silence they walked on.

It was a far cry from the hopefulness those last days in the Gate had brought to them.

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #bg3 tav: Serafina #my fanfic #my writing #astarion x oc #fangs and fairytales #astarion x f!tav #tavstarion #warlock tav #feylock #archfey warlock

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prpfz · 2 months ago

Note

25+. She/Her. EST. 💚

Please be 21+ to interact!

I'm looking for some Marvel / Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) threads.

I write on Discord (DMs or servers) or through Tumblr messages. I write in third person, past tense and usually around 100-400 words. I work full-time during the week, so I can't guarantee daily replies. I typically get them out within 2-3 days. I typically do not double.

I'm looking for writing partners who write in third person and write around the same word count I do (or longer, as long as you're okay with my typical post length). I would like 1 reply a week. I'm okay with waiting longer, as long as you let me know beforehand.

I'm okay with writing NSFW or keeping things clean. MxM ships are my preference, but I'm open to discussing MxF. I'm mostly interested in canon x canon pairings. I'm pickier with OCs, but I'm willing to listen to ideas you have there.

I'll just be listing my main muses. I have a lot of favorite ships, and I'm willing to try out new ones. Unless stated otherwise, my muses are based on their MCU/not quite-MCU live action-version.

Anyone in bold, I especially would like to write as right now.

All characters will be 18+.

My Muses:

Benjamin Poindexter (Comics or MCU)

Billy Russo

Bruce Banner

Bucky Barnes

Frank Castle

Grant Ward

Jack Thompson

Jeffrey Mace

John Walker

Kilgrave

Lance Hunter

Lincoln Campbell

Loki Laufeyson

Michael Morbius (Comics)

Nathan Summers (Comics)

Willem!Norman Osborn

Andrew!Peter Parker

Ray Nadeem

Reed Richards (Comics)

Robbie Reyes

Simon Williams (Comics)

Tony Stark

Victor von Doom (Comics)

Like this post, if you'd like to work something out, and I'll get back to you ASAP.

give a like and anon will get back to you

#mcu roleplay #mcu rp #fandom roleplay #fandom rp #marvel roleplay #marvel rp #oc roleplay #oc rp

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fandom-rpfinder · 3 months ago

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Hey! 25+ writer, he/his, looking for adult writing partners!

The three fandoms I'm looking to write at the moment are: GOT-verse (Game of Throne & House of the Dragon), Marvel, and Netflix's You. I prefer to write the males so need to worry about doubling. NSFW-friendly; willing to write an 80/20 plot-to-smut ratio in either direction and anything in between. For Netflix's You, I'm looking to play Joe Goldberg against Love Quinn, Guinevere Beck, Peach Sallinger, or potentially an OC! I may also be open to doing some oc x oc based on these pairings. GOT-verse Pairings I'm looking to play: Daemon Targaryan x Rhaenyra Targyan (Milly Alcock), Viserys Targaryen x Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark x Sansa Stark, & potentially similar pairings and oc + oc pairings based on them. I'm a bit more open when it comes to Marvel; it's easier if I list some of the characters I'd like to write and write against. Whether we use MCU or illustrated appearances for the characters is character/dynamic/plot dependent! This list is not exhaustive! Characters I'd like to play: Bobby Drake, Bucky Barnes, Grant Ward, Lincoln Campbell, Miles Morales, Peter Parker, Pietro Maximoff, Scott Summers, Tommy Shephard. Characters I'd like to play against: Daisy Johnson, Emma Frost, Felicia Hardy, Gwen Stacy, Jean Grey, Kate Bishop, Kitty Pryde, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff.

🎥📺

#game of thrones roleplay #game of thrones rp #got roleplay #got rp #you rp #you roleplay #marvel roleplay #marvel rp

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dark-rpfinderr · 3 months ago

Note

I'm on the search for some Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3), Game of Thrones (GoT), House MD, and Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) threads.

What I'm Looking For: Please be 18+ to interact. Write in third person (I don't mind what tense you use). No one-liners. Replies in 5-7 days. I don't mind waiting longer, as long as you let me know beforehand. I prefer canon x canon pairings but am open to discussing canon x OC. I'm just a lot pickier with those. MxM ships are my favorite. I'm open to MxF and FxF as well. I like canon/canon divergent plots the most. As long as the plots are set within the fandom's universe, I'll generally be okay with doing just about anything.

I'll just be listing the muses I'm most interested in writing as for each fandom (anyone in bold and italicized, I'm especially wanting to write right now). I'm open to discussing ships.

Baldur's Gate 3:

Abdirak

Astarion Ancunín

Cazador Szarr

Enver Gortash

Gale Dekarios

Halsin

Ketheric Thorm

Lorroakan

Raphael

Rolan

Zevlor

Game of Thrones:

Alliser Thorne

Benjen Stark

Beric Dondarrion

Brynden Tully

Daenerys Targaryen

Jaime Lannister

Margaery Tyrell

Petyr Baelish

Roose Bolton

Stannis Baratheon

Thoros

Tywin Lannister

Yoren

House MD:

Chris Taub

James Wilson

Lawrence Kutner

Remy Hadley

Robert Chase

Marvel:

! = More comics based than any other media.

Benjamin Poindexter (Netflix Daredevil or Comics!Bullseye)

Bucky Barnes

Frank Castle

Grant Ward

Kilgrave

Lance Hunter

Lincoln Campbell

Loki Laufeyson

Nathan Summers !

Andrew!Peter Parker

Phil Coulson

Ray Nadeem

Reed Richards !

Simon Williams !

Tony Stark

Victor von Doom !

Like this post if you'd like me to reach out to you.

like this post and anon will reach out!

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jackiequick · 27 days ago

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Bringing The Team Together [Agents Of SHIELD]

Pairing: Amelia M. Parker (OC) & Grant Ward

Other characters present/mentioned: Maria Hill, Jemma Simmons & Leo Fitz, Phil Coulson, Skye, Melissa Wallance (OC), Ji-Hoon (OCs), The Young Avengers (OCs) etc

Setting: Agent Of SHIELD season 1 Pilot

Summary: Just when Agent Amelia Parker thinks she’s off the hook, she gets sucked back in. In other words, her old boss Coulson has the idea of making a team

–

1 year, 5 weeks, 2 days and 104 minutes. That’s how long she was gone from SHIELD directly, more or less. Or it’s not like she is counting away, right? She was on a short-length mission with Ward as she stood outside the building watching his six in the helicopter as he got the job done inside. Usually though? She was stuck “babysitting” the Young Avengers, making friends with them as they called it and keeping an eye on the team.

Which usually meant hearing romance gossip, being chased down as someone broke into The Tower and or trying to chill as they all got along. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, she did. But sometimes she felt misplaced, like the oddball in the midst of it all. It didn’t help that Hill and other agents were consistently making them look bad in front of the young heroes, who weren’t that fond of them to begin with.

And now? She was being held in a black ‘debriefing room’ as they called it, in front of Maria Hill who was dressed in her usual entire suit. She sat down in the semi-comfortable chair, with her elbows resting against the metal table wearing her usual black clothing.

“What does SHIELD stand for, Agent Parker?” Hill asked in her usual stern tone.

Amelia glanced up at her as she answered, “Uh, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“And what exactly does that mean to you?”

“Are you really asking me that? Cause we both know i’ll say one thing and you give me a remark about it.”

“Agent Parker.”

“Fine. Compassion, loyalty and heart—that’s what it means to me. Or at least, that’s what it should it be because–”

“Parker. Enough. In case you need a reminder, I'm your boss here.”

“Ehh, wrong. Technically Coulson was my boss, you just stepped in when he died…”

Amelia looked away as Hill just silently watched her. Her fingernails tapping a rhythm against the metal table, waiting for Amelia to continue her statement or not.

“And it also means we’re the people who fight.” Amelia expanded on her previous statement with a deep sigh, “SHIELD means we’re the divide between the world and the much...weirder world. Sadly, we often protect people from things they aren’t ready to hear.”

Hill nods with her eyes directly on the young agent before saying, “Correct. And I know you may not always like it—a lot of people, many not always like it, as it does cause issues. But we do it. And if something shows up, we try to get to it before someone bad does.”

Amelia just nods silently and hums, inhaling as her gaze shifted to the older women in front of her. She did wonder why Hill brought her in here, after she gave her an item she had in her pocket about the Rising Tide.

“Everything is changing, Agent Parker.” Hill said standing up, once she gave the item to a fellow agent to store safely and turned to face her, “A little while ago, people went to be thinking the craziest thing in the world was a billionaire flying around in a red and gold suit. And then aliens, along with a god, invaded New York, having to expose plenty of people…such as the mutant, gods from distant planets, a man from the 40s and other non-human heroes.”

“Mhmm.” Amelia hummed, “I know. I was there, I saw it all from the Helicarrier, Hill. Why are you telling me this? To bring back old memories? Or are you trying to stir the pot even more? If so, I'm not interested and you might as well send me back to The Tower…”

“I’m telling you this because at the moment, you’re being removed from The Young Avengers case.”

“What?”

Hill nodded, crossing her arms as she circled around the room and walked before stopping. She didn’t know what Coulson or the others had planned, hell, she didn’t exactly care. But she did know that Phil was removing one of her agents off the database and onto his area of the field instead. Meaning, she won’t have a clue what her youngest agent, Amelia, will be up to, only if she returns for certain things.

“Agent Wallance will be taking your place, effective immediately .” Hill started taking a spot in front of her, “You’re going to be removed from The Tower and working on a new area.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Amelia exclaimed, “You’re putting sweet ol’ Melissa in that place, having a more prominent role?”

“You sound so surprised. Don’t tell me, you're going to miss being surrounded by those heroes?”

“N—no. Not exactly..I mean, they grown on me…just, why?”

“For that you’ll have to ask Agent Coulson.”

“Pff, yeah, sure, his spirit is gonna appear or something?” Amelia remarked with a sarcastic joke and scoffed, “You know Coulson is gone, Hill. I vividly remember Agent Ji-Hoon pulling me away from the hallway, so i don’t see the mess that Loki made once he killed Phil..I’m clearance level 6, got the full report.”

Suddenly, a voice appeared out of the shadow as a body stepped out, with a soft smile.

“Welcome to level 7.” Said the voice, being none other than Phil Coulson, as he glanced between Amelia and Hill.

“I…” Amelia uttered, taking a sharp breath and gasped as she turned around to face him, “..how?!”

“Oh? I just walked in through the back. Sorry, that corner was really dark.”

“No, not that! How?!”

Amelia’s jaw was dropped, as she listened to how Nick Fury faked Coulson’s death to motivate the agents and they knew they couldn’t have said anything to her, or else things must’ve gone sideways. Especially with how the Young Avengers basically had someone on their team who could practically smell lies from a mile away. Meaning Rick and Rochelle. Plus, none of them were level 7, so they didn’t need to know.

She just nodded in shock, before Coulson gave her a soft smile with an open arm, pulling the young agent into a hug.

———

As they exchanged words and escorted out of the elevator, in which Ward joined in a few minutes before. According to Hill, they told him first thing in the morning and was waiting to tell Amelia about this. Coulson gave them both a recap on how he ended up with this particular position and Ward remarked how something must’ve pulled Phil back in the game, as they entered another room. A control room filled with coaches, computers and monitors on the wall that showcases The Rising Tide getting footage before SHIELD has, an unregistered gifted man with an identity unknown. In other words, a superhero.

Hill said that Coulson decided to create a mobile command unit, in which Ward and Amelia were assigned. Amelia asked if Melissa and Ji-Hoon would join, especially since Ji-Hoon has level 7 clearance. Hill said that she’ll have them join in as soon as possible. Coulson added that he wants to have the team together and working around the issue to get to this new unknown identity. Amelia nods.

“This man’s world is about to get very weird.” Coulson stated looking between the monitors and the two agents. “He’s gonna need some help.”

“That’s where I come in?” Amelia asked, pointing to herself, “Coulson, I may have experience but it doesn’t always translate well with others. They’re either extremely traumatized or very sensitive about being brought in, needing help.”

“I know that. But oftentimes it works out very well for us.”

“Okay. We’ll try.”

“I’m sorry. I was trained on day one as a specialist. I go in alone, I get it done. Defusing a bomb? I’m your guy.” Ward suddenly said with his arms crossed and then pointing to Amelia, “A welcoming committee? That’s her speed.”

“Excuse me?” Amelia remarked, crossing her arms as she looked at the taller agent, “I’m not the welcoming committee.”

“Didn’t you spend 5 months out of your year recruiting and welcoming The Young Avengers?”

“Someone had to do it.”

“You just made my point very clear. And I think Ji-Hoon would agree.”

“Not funny.”

Coulson, as always, brought them back to the main conversation as he referred his attention to Ward first. “I know it’s not what you want.” He said holding a binder as he started to open it, “Agent Hill did a very detailed assessment of your last 3 missions. Combat? Top grades. Espionage? She gave you the highest marks since Romanoff.”

“Damn.” Amelia muttered, “If Romanoff heard that..”

Ward nods in approval and appreciation towards Hill as the brunette woman nods in return.

Coulson continued with a soft smile, “Under people’s skills, she drew a little poop, with knives sticking out of it.”

“What? It’s…” Ward said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder as he looked over to see the drawing.

“That's bad, isn't it? And given your family history, I'm surprised it’s not worse. But…I think you're the guy for this. If I'm wrong, you go straight back to your bombs.”

Suddenly, Streiten entered the room, “Team’s approved. Physicals are all fine. Fitz-Simmons is not cleared for combat. Along with Agent Wallace. I’m told that won’t be an issue. Agent Ji-Hoon is in perfect health. Agent Parker is cleared for combat. Agent Ward here… he’s almost too fit.”

Ward’s gaze perked up as he walked over pointing a finger and said, “That’s an issue. That should be an issue. Maybe I can’t join the team..”

“God, are you dismissed.” Hill muttered as she was looking over the files in the binder, “Parker, follow him. You need to get packing anyway.”

“I–but...” Amelia protests with a whine.

“Go.”

She groaned and followed Ward out the door, as they entered the elevator. She leaned against the wall within the elevator as she smiled, “You’re still joining, aren’t ya?”

“I have no choice.” Ward glanced over at her once the doors closed and smiled, “Besides, someone has to keep my girl in check.”

“Aw, you just want to spend time with me.”

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it.”

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“But you love it when I am.”

———

—————

Amelia arrived at The Tower to collect her things, as she went to pack her stuff into a duffle bag. She noticed Melissa Wallace, her friend, entering the room and questioning where exactly she was going. Amelia replied that she was being sent on a mission, she was given level 7 clearance today, as Melissa’s eyes widened in intrigued, and slight confusion. She knew she couldn’t say too much, so she gave Melissa what she needed to know as the brunette gasped.

“Wait, wait, wait–you got level 7 clearance for a mission with Coulson? But he’s dead.” Melissa exclaimed, pushing her glasses up, “Mia, we talked about this. Phil Coulson is dead and gone, you grieved and moved past it.”

“I’m not lying, Mel.” Amelia said with her eyes shifted back to her duffle bag.

“We all saw it happen! Hill is probably messing with you and–”

“You’re cleared for this assignment too, you know?”

“I–what?! But I'm not..huh? I’m still confused how you ended up on level 7.”

Just then, a tall asian man, none other than Ji-Hoon, appeared closing the door behind him. He was hiding from Liane and trying to get some moment of peace.

“Who’s got level 7 clearance?” He asked, as the shorter brunette looked away.

Melissa answered him with a finger, “Mia did.”

“Seriously? Right on, Mia! I’m not the only level 7 agent here anymore.”

“Am I seriously the only one who isn’t cleared for this?!”

“No. Marlene is level 5 and Nikolai is level 6.”

“I–rude! Back to the main point, Mia is now welcomed to level 7 and is leaving us for some mission with her ghost mentor.”

“For the last time, he’s somehow not dead!” Amelia yelled in annoyance and looked up from folding up a sweater.

“Yes he–” Melissa exclaimed but was cut off by their friend.

Ji-Hoon crossed his arms and hummed, “She’s not wrong, he’s not dead. I got the full report this morning.”

“Wait what?!” Melissa asked with widened eyes and blinked. “So you know about this whole thing?”

“Sorta.” Ji-Hoon replied with a shrug, “I only got to reading page two, before Liane burned a painting this morning.”

“So we’re on this assignment?”

“Yeap. According to the file, Mia is going first and once my shift is over this week, i’ll be joining them.”

“..and me?”

“You’re not cleared from combat but you are going.”

Melissa muttered, “I—Go figure.”

“Just wait until Hill bring you into a black debriefing room.” Amelia said smiling and put a hand on her shoulder, “You’ll see.”

Ji-Hoon heard Liane’s voice calling out to him and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really did hope he will be called in sooner, than later.

“Elsa, where are you?!” Liane shouted down the hall, teasing him with the nickname, “Did you get moody and hide in your ice castle again?”

“One more Frozen reference out of you and I'll freeze all your Speak Now merch alive! You hear me?!” Ji-Hoon shouted as his hands curled into first before sighing, “I swear with her…”

Melissa winced and rubbed the back of her neck before asking, “Uh okay…anyways, so, who else is a part of this team that Coulson is building?”

“Uh, you, me, Ji-Hoon, Ward..” Amelia answered listing off the names she remembered from the file, “Fitz-Simmons, Melinda May is just the pilot–”

“May is just the pilot? Okay, that’s a lie.”

“Ask Coulson, not me.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it.”

With that Amelia gave her friends a smile and hugs before grabbing her duffle bag, and rushing out the door. Liane saw where she was heading and muttered, “What is she going?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Ji-Hoon shouted at the blonde.

———

~~~

—————

~~~~~~~~

That’s all folks! Let me know what you think? 💭

FUN FACT -> The SHIELD Academy has 3 Divisions — Operations, Sci-Tech and Communications. Sci-Tech are considered by many as the popular kids of The Academies, having underground parties in which students from different divisions come together and have fun 😉 however Ops & Sci-Tech students didn’t always like to interact very much 🤷🏻‍♀️ but Communication students collab with others plenty of times!!

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines s @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @rickb-chaos @rose-of-oz @terry-perry @triptuckers @superspookyjanelle @infinetlyforgotten @rowinablx @andreaxrossi @capsshinyshield and etc

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findroleplay · 5 months ago

Note

21+. She/Her. Please be 21+ to interact! I have three fandoms on my mind right now that I would love to get threads going with: Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3), Game of Thrones (GoT), and Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).

I'll only be listing my main muses for each (there might be others I'm willing to try out). I'm pretty open when it comes to discussing ships. I do prefer canon x canon but canon x OC is fine too. I can do MxM, MxF, or FxF. I like incorporating NSFW/smut into threads (the plot/smut ration can be anything). If you'd rather not, please let me know from the get-go. 🌹

My Muses:

Baldur's Gate 3: Abdirak, Alfira, Astarion Ancunín, Cazador Szarr, Enver Gortash, Gale Dekarios, Ketheric Thorm, Raphael, Relonor (my male Drow Dark Urge), Rolan, Shadowheart, Zevlor

Game of Thrones: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren

Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Frank Castle, Grant Ward, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Phil Coulson, Ray Nadeem, Reed Richards, Tony Stark, Victor von Doom

I write on Discord or through Tumblr messages. I do not double, and it may take me a few days to reply because I work full-time during the week and may not always be available on the weekend.

If you're interested in doing something with me, I'll reach out to you when you like this post.

#rp #roleplay #Baldur's Gate 3 rp #BG3 rp #Game of Thrones rp #GoT rp #Marvel rp #Marvel Cinematic Universe rp #MCU rp

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ask-missparker · 1 year ago

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The shift in character change ~ Agents Of SHIELD Headcanons ⚔️

The surfing change in Amelia Parker, also known as Amy Morse is a subtle but gentle change that pushes her over the edge.

-> This was originally gonna go on the main blog but because this is about a agent of shield turned turned into something else, it only made sense to me to put it on here!!

— Small warning spoilers for Phase 1 & Phase 2 projects

- She joined SHIELD with the intent to help people the best as can, explore the possibilities that the world has to offer, use her natural skill set and grow as a person, making friendship along the way.

- In Iron Man 2, she cameos as a couple voice messages to Coulson and on vacation to Stark Expo with her family. Which is when The Drones attack happened, being physically hurt by one of them in fear as she rushed to help civilians to safety. She was fine don’t worry! A little traumatized but doing alright.

- She cameos in a few short moments in Thor as well. As she deals with Uncle Ben’s death too but she’s fine even if it bothers her, remembering he would want her to keep going.

- But The Avengers, is when the shift starts to happen more promptly, apart from the chaos of the film. Being one of the agents of the carrier, during Loki’s attack she has to try to rewire plans the entire time by sending out agents to take care of things.

- As she is running down the hallway, it’s when she hears on the radio and notices Coulson’s death by the hands of Loki!

- The god disappears and shakes everyone up, Amelia is just badly hurt as she watches Fury speak his last words to Coulson. It leaves a scar in her heart, having her friend and mentor fall during the attack. She acts like she’s fine but cries a little, trying straighten herself out.

- After The Avengers she is a little over the edge due to Coulson’s death, scaring nightmares of The Drone attack and SHIELD throwing work at her. So it keeps her busy with things to do.

- In 2013, is when things changed. Coulson comes back surprisingly and forms a team to discover the world post-Avengers 2012! And Amelia is signed to be there, reunites with her mentor/father figure, doing better. With that, the team grows with Fitzsimmons, Skye, May and her very good Grant Ward.

- Of course, Amelia has her ups and downs during season 1 of Agents Of SHIELD, pushbacks on missions, questionable moments with the team and exploring the unknown.

- But what completely pushes her over the edge is in 2014, second half of Agents Of SHIELD season 1, when everyone finds out Hydra was under their noses and tired of hiding in the shadows.

- Amelia is shocked, stressed out and questioning her every move. Not knowing who is on her side or not. She didn’t even pull her punches to protect herself and her teammates! A part of her regret not being more careful however it was understandable.

- Hell, Coulson brought them all to a bunker for their protection and to find a way to figure things out where at some point were put under lie detectors to make sure everyone was telling the truth about themselves. Everyone passed but there was still this lingering feeling something was off a couple of days later due to the situation.

- And when she thought she could take a huge break, she got the reveal that Ward is HYDRA! That’s what broke Amelia and pulled the plugs that pushed her over the edge, if she wasn’t already.

- She was extremely upset, conflicted and overwhelmed with emotions. Amelia was in denial and didn’t even have the heart to attack him, because as much as he lied to her. And gave his reasons to why he kept that secret. A part of her still loved him.

- Ward was passing out drama and trauma like it was hot cakes! Leaving a scar on everyone, including her. What’s even crazier than that, is that they didn’t kill him afterwards but kept him locked away in the SHIELD facility basement in New York City.

- Season 2, she deals with the aftermath of plenty Shield agents being Hydra ones, along with the new discovery that involves technology and human beings with possible abilities coming out of hiding.

- So she over the edge at this point, wearing a little more grays and blacks. Changing her hair to not be recognized in public. Amelia is helping to rebuild SHIELD headquarters with her team into what it once was, keeping secrets from The Avengers and boarding herself with work. Frequent missions and visits to Ward’s cell for answers to questions he might know, until they decide to have him moved somewhere else instead.

- And most importantly, Amelia undergoes an even more shocking turn of events due to shield discovery of alien, inhuman and mutant activity across the country. During an trip to Puerto Rico, one of islands underneath the caves held the rumbling ability to unlock unhinged truths. While Skye and Tripp were down there, in the mist of the explosive wave that resulted in Skye’s odd transformation, Amelia was effected in the blast getting hurt as she watched Tripp die. But that wasn’t the only thing that happened…

—

I could add more stuff but we would be here for a while, I’m more than happy to answer questions for Amelia’s journey 📝

Let me know what you think 💭 btw don’t worry old OG Ames is coming back lol

Tags 🏷 : @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @mallowbee4 @luna-d-marsh @rickb-chaos @rooster-84 @sherloquestea @halesfavoriteharlot @thecavalrywife @thisgirlisonfayeeer and etc

#agents of shield #agents of shield incorrect quotes #ask missparker #shield agents #the avengers #iron man 2 #phase 1 #phase 2 #phil coulson #grant ward #marvel oc #daisy & mia #grant ward x reader #philindaisy #agent coulson #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield blurb

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darkrpfinders · 3 months ago

Note

I'm on the search for some Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3), Game of Thrones (GoT), and Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) threads.

What I'm Looking For: Please be 18+ to interact. Write in third person (I don't mind what tense you use). No one-liners. Replies in 5-7 days. I don't mind waiting longer, as long as you let me know beforehand. I prefer canon x canon pairings but am open to discussing canon x OC. I'm just a lot pickier with those. MxM ships are my favorite. I'm open to MxF and FxF as well. I like canon/canon divergent plots the most. As long as the plots are set within the fandom's universe, I'll generally be okay with doing just about anything.

I'll just be listing the muses I'm most interested in writing as for each fandom (anyone in bold and italicized, I'm especially wanting to write right now). I'm open to discussing ships.

Baldur's Gate 3:

Abdirak

Astarion Ancunín

Cazador Szarr

Enver Gortash

Gale Dekarios

Halsin

Ketheric Thorm

Lorroakan

Raphael

Rolan

Zevlor

Game of Thrones:

Alliser Thorne

Benjen Stark

Beric Dondarrion

Brynden Tully

Daenerys Targaryen

Jaime Lannister

Margaery Tyrell

Petyr Baelish

Roose Bolton

Stannis Baratheon

Thoros

Tywin Lannister

Yoren

Marvel:

! = More comics based than any other media.

Benjamin Poindexter

Bucky Barnes

Frank Castle

Grant Ward

Kilgrave

Lance Hunter

Lincoln Campbell

Loki Laufeyson

Nathan Summers !

Andrew!Peter Parker

Phil Coulson

Ray Nadeem

Reed Richards !

Simon Williams !

Tony Stark

Victor von Doom !

Like this post if you'd like me to reach out to you.

#bg3 roleplay #bg3 rp #game of thrones roleplay #game of thrones rp #marvel roleplay #marvel rp #mcu rp #mcu roleplay #mxm #mxf #fxf #dark roleplay #dark rp #spicy

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write-and-wander · 9 months ago

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Yawning Grave | One: Decay

Astarion x Ayzora (F!OC)

Description: It's the day that everything changed for our beloved heroes- the nautiloid. However, for Ayzora, it's a pit she thoughtlessly walked right into. She needs to consider all of her options to escape ceremorphosis- but it's a lot more complicated when the heart and its undying hope are on the line. If it were only her in this mess, everything would be so much more straightforward. Maybe people really do change things...

Warnings: N/A | Word count: 6.8k

| One | Two | Three | Four | ...

Read on Ao3

The cool late evening has shifted firmly into a dark early morning when Ayzora takes her place at the top floor of her tower. The full moon’s light trickles in through blue stained glass, casting her own likeness onto the white carpet. Neverwinter is at its quietest at this time; optimal for the concentration her nightly ritual requires.

She rests her cloak on the back of her plush throne-like chair and sinks into it. With a careful incantation and a well-rehearsed dance of the hand, the silver beacon of her tower thrums to life with the magic of a complex scrying spell. Ayzora centers the spell at the Baldurian temple of the Raven Queen- a habit she has come into recently to make up for the prayers that have gone unheard since the goddesses’ demise at her hands and her friends’ blades.

The prayers of those who come to the house of the goddess of life and death no longer surprise Ayzora. They’re most often requests for healing; for warding off death for themselves or a loved one for just a while longer. Sometimes there is an odd request for a magical boon, or for death to visit a particularly formidable enemy; and while these are not requests she can always grant (moderation is key), she will still answer on occasion.

As she lets out a quiet sigh, the scrying eye’s view comes into focus before her. Hushed prayers begin to fill the cool air of her otherwise empty room.

Tonight, a tired elderly man asks for healing for his spouse- Ayzora ensures they are well by the next morning. A blonde dwarf begs for protection against her long-time enemy- Ayzora places a temporary protection spell on her home. A navy-skinned Tiefling asks for the restoration of her paralyzed arm- Ayzora conjures a cure for her ailment that will take effect by the end of the next tenday. An elf asks for freedom-

She sits up, suddenly made attentive by the unique request. Why come to the Raven Queen with such an ask? Ilmater, god of sufferers, or even Tyr, god of justice, were clearly better suited for granting freedom- and their temples weren’t far.

The pale figure stands in a dark corner of the cathedral, whispering his prayer: freedom, at any cost.

The necromancer immediately recognizes the familiar glow of undeath- one she, too, bears- in its own hue. Her confusion only grows. Surely he knows the Raven Queen despises undeath? She listens, searching for answers.

His prayer is whispered so softly it’s nearly incoherent, even with magical amplification. His words are disjointed bits of pleas, self-curses, and scoffs over his situation. Nonetheless, his request eventually comes across: freedom from his master, whether by divine intervention or blessing. Anything to escape.

In response to his desperation, something from deep within her begins to bubble to the surface- hope. For years, Ayzora has sat in her lonely tower, answering the same sort of prayer time and time again. It started as a sort of responsibility she felt she carried, but shifted into the inches she sought to traverse as she climbed her way towards redemption. Though committed to her own sort of recompense, there remains a hopeful heart within- no matter how still in its undeath- that believes she could yet be the savior she once imagined herself to become. She just needs a chance.

This vampire spawn could be that chance, Ayzora wonders, but who is his master?

The scrying spell shimmers and fixates on the elf.

He spends a moment in silence, as if waiting for an audible response from the queen of death. He doesn’t recognize that there is no longer a raven queen.

No one does. At least, not yet, it seems. Ayzora is the self-made queen over the domain of the self-made goddess; a slayer turned saint, justifying her history of slaughter with countless acts of selflessness in the name of a murdered deity.

The silence lingers a while longer. The elf’s gaze turns downward with a huff, and he leaves, making his way to a nearby tavern.

She rolls her eyes at the outing, but maintains the invisible scrying eye, determined to find his master. She makes herself a cup of tea and retrieves a well-loved book- The Adventures of Half-Orc Guy- before sitting back in her chair, mindlessly summoning the blue skeletal specter of a mage hand. The translucent bones open a cage and pick up a small black rat, carrying it to the center of the carpet. The hand returns to the cage to close the gate and vanishes.

A half-rotted cat emerges. Only its face and paws are covered by fur and flesh while the rest of its skeletal body is spotted with patches of decayed fur, frozen in time by undeath. A faint blue glow emanates from the cat’s chest, matching the dark blue of his clouded eyes- Ayzora’s magical signature.

“Eat up, Droop,” she coos.

The cat lowers to the carpet, eyes trained on the rat. With a wiggle, he pounces on his prey, sinking his yellow-grey teeth into the animal. A ghastly exhale resonates in the room as the life is drained from the rat and consumed by Droop. When he lifts his head with a chirp, only a pile of ash remains in front of his paws. He walks around his owner’s chair, brushing himself from head to tail against her legs, before curling up on the carpet.

Ayzora clears away the ash with a quick prestidigitation and a soft, “good kitty,” before turning her eyes back to the silvery scrying screen shimmering against the dark stone wall.

Silently sipping her tea, Ayzora watches the vampire spawn tempt a young half-orc into going home with him. She hardly pays attention, her eyes only glancing up from her book on occasion to see if the spawn’s master has come into play.

“Astarion,” the spawn says.

Ayzora’s head snaps up. A name.

“Astarion,” the half-orc repeats, the slurred speech indicating slight inebriation.

She can’t help but parrot the two, the pale elf’s name softly falling from her lips. For a moment, her gold-green eyes are glued to his ruby red ones. Astarion, she repeats to herself. As if entranced, she begins to study him. Starting at the silvery white curls framing his angular face, her eyes move to trace the sharp angles of his jaw, then drift up to the soft creases cascading from the sides of his nose to the ends of his pale lips-

Lips that now gently trail along the jaw of the half-orc.

Ayzora abruptly stands and moves to an adjacent room, her book in hand.

She cannot fully drown out the sounds of pleasure that soon follow- she needs to know when it ends if she is to find this spawn’s- Astarion’s- vampire master. However, she can ignore it for a while, and lose herself in a story she knows by heart.

Eventually- sooner than she had expected- the noise dies down in return for quiet conversation. She closes her book, setting it on a table, and returns to her seat, watching with a yawn.

Astarion and the half-orc leave the bedchamber to be met by a raven-haired elf, clothed in a regal black and red ensemble. Cazador Szarr, his self-introduction names him. He invites them to dine, and Ayzora’s eyes widen as the suddenly dazed half-orc is separated from Astarion by the red-eyed Cazador.

That must be his master… and this was all a ruse.

A squealing rat lands at Astarion’s feet.

“Eat.”

Azyora’s eyes dart to the once-ashen now-empty spot on her carpet. Droop sleeps contentedly beside it.

She looks back up.

Astarion’s empty eyes meet the twin-crimson glow of Cazador’s. The order is given. Astarion is sent back out into the streets to find another, with the promise of another feeding in return.

The spawn exits the grand palace and begins to make his way through the city via back-alleys and shortcuts, carefully searching for his next victim.

But the sky is no longer the velvet navy blue of the night.

The sun is rising.

With hardly a thought- other than a silent curse to the Dawnfather- Ayzora dons her cloak and rushes to her towers’ teleportation circle. In the connected room, she haphazardly gathers some of her travel gear- just the essentials- and returns to the main area. She throws open a drawer in the adjacent desk and pulls out a fresh piece of chalk. Carefully, she dips it in the shimmering green inkpot atop the desk and inscribes new runes around the perimeter of the circle. Stepping inside, she instantly sends herself to Baldur’s Gate.

She appears in a brief glimmer of magic atop a corresponding circle in the temple of the Raven Queen- the only one she knows by heart- and runs outside.

The violet and amber sky paints Baldur’s Gate in a wash of gold while shadows slowly stretch like creeping limbs from the sides of buildings onto rough stone pathways.

She weaves through the morning crowds and dashes through thin alleyways, making her way as fast as she can towards the last place she had seen the pale elf. Rounding a tight corner, she whips past houses coming to life with the dawn of the morning, eyes scanning wildly for a mess of white curls.

The bell tower of the city rings, echoing against the walls that feel like they’re closing in on the panicked wizard.

After crossing another busy street- nearly bowling over a merchant carting his goods to the town square- she sees him.

Astarion is pressed against a stone wall, carefully tucked into the shadow offered by the tall building. He leans around the corner, mentally plotting his next move.

Lively chatter turns to desperate screams echoing across the city; but Ayzora can’t tear her eyes from the figure at the opposite end of the alley, no longer separated by the miles between Baldur’s Gate and Neverwinter.

He looks back in a quick sweep of his surroundings when his eyes suddenly lock on hers.

She freezes. The weight of all the possible consequences of this mad chase suddenly come crashing down on her consciousness with a force that rivals the bell tower collapsing in the center of town.

Clouds of dust fill the streets of Baldur’s Gate, masking the source of the audible panic.

Astarion pauses for a moment, considering saying something to the frozen, cloaked moon elf; but quickly decides against it and peels around the corner. He heads straight towards the commotion, aiming for an easy grab by playing the ever-convenient “helping hand.”

Screams ring out over the rushing thunder of a crowd-turned-stampede forcing its way through the labyrinthine city, falling on Ayzora’s deaf ears.

She cannot command her feet to move, despite the panic rising in her chest. She cannot command her mouth to scream, despite the desperation to reach Astarion. She cannot think, despite the racing thoughts storming her mind. However, she cannot stay. She must move.

Move.

With strained effort, Ayzora forces her body to lurch towards the opposite end of the alley as she begins to speak the vocal component to a locate creature spell under her ragged breath.

Looking down the street Astarion had disappeared in, a cloud of dust billows through the open morning air as a great unnatural shadow crawls along the cobblestone.

Ayzora’s words catch in her throat when she looks up a moment too late and the realization hits: a nautiloid.

A slimy reddish-purple appendage wreathes through the air, reaching towards Ayzora. She flinches, falling backward as fear's icy claws grip her wholly; and everything fades to black.

Time passes Ayzora by in barely-coherent flashes.

Everything feels like it’s spinning; like she can’t quite steady herself.

Her body is pressed against something distinctly flesh-like. It’s warm. Humid. The air is musty and thick.

Screams still reverberate from farther away, sounding more like whispers that crawl along pulsating walls.

Light. A rush of fresh air is accompanied by a narrow purple face with soulless glowing eyes. A mind flayer inches closer to her, tadpole in hand. She writhes to no avail. Black.

Uncomfortable warmth rises to intense heat.

A silver-armored figure passes by.

There’s a flash of something bright and a loud sound.

Wind rushes past.

A click and a hiss.

Ayzora’s eyes wearily open. She takes an unsteady step out of the pod that nearly became her coffin. Her shaking legs fail, and as her feet hit the ground she collapses to her knees. She looks up to at last takes in her surroundings: the inside of a nautiloid, clearly in bad shape, hurtling through the hells.

Adrenaline kicks in and forces her up.

Her hands jolt up to her shoulders. She breathes a sigh of relief. Messorem, her cloak, is still there. Her hands trail to her chest and rest on her amulet; still here. She takes stock of what she has on her. Not much… shouldn’t have left in such a rush. Her spell book is still tethered to the bag of holding’s straps which cross over her torso as a belted harness. The spell book and bag rest against her back, hidden beneath her cloak. Though a little worn, her gear and clothes generally seem to be intact; and outside of the ocular-cranial intruder, she seems to be free of injury.

Straightening herself out, she breathes deep and utters the incantation for a gate spell with the intent to return home.

Her shaking hands begin to trace invisible runes and-

Nothing. No light, no shiver of magic along her fingertips, no interdimensional gate opening to her tower.

Her brows furrow. Maybe I just need to relax. She physically resets, giving her posture a moment to settle, and tries again.

Nothing.

She unbuckles her spellbook from her back and throws it open.

Nothing. The pages, save for the first two, are completely blank. Towards the spine of the book are perforated remnants of paper.

Fuck.

Of the hundreds of consequences Ayzora was concerned would arise as a result of chasing after the pale elf, turning into a mind flayer while stranded in the hells without her full spellbook was certainly not one of them.

Survival mode fully sets in as the weight of the situation settles in a pit at the bottom of her stomach. She takes a deep breath, physically shakes off some of her nerves, and encourages herself out loud with a, “time to move, Ace.”

A dragon’s roar kickstarts her dash forward. Leaving the other pods behind, she makes her way to a higher level of the ship when a whispery cry echoes in her mind. Following the voice’s direction, she finds a body butchered beyond recovery. Its skull and scalp have been carefully cut, exposing the sentient brain which now calls to her. It, too, asks to be free.

For a moment, she’s reminded of the first time she met Droop- the tortured and terrified goblin she saved and adopted all those years ago in Phandalin. The one she named her cat after; her only company in that lonely tower.

I could use a companion, she reasons, even if… unconventional.

Holding her breath, she carefully sinks her slender fingers in the wet, gory space between the open skull and pulsating brain. As gingerly as she can, she removes the creature from the bloody skull and sets it on the ground.

Us, they call themselves. To the helm, they beckon.

“Then to the helm we go.”

The bloodied duo staggers through the destruction and decay quickly overtaking the nautiloid, Ayzora following the scuttling intellect devourer to what is supposed to be the helm. They manage to return to what must be the main level and trek through an open passageway showing off the full view of Avernus, the first layer of the hells.

Waves of heat threaten to choke Ayzora as the air singes her throat with each inhale. She pauses, holding her breath.

Imps, cambions, and devils fly through the air in a cacophonous swarm while a battle between planes ensues before Ayzora’s eyes.

The ship rumbles.

Ayzora dives for an enclosed part of the ship, terrified of being thrown off the side and left to be consumed by the hells.

She makes it into a large room, Us following at her heel, to see unconscious bodies lying on slabs arranged in a circle. Another pod sits empty on the left. Straight ahead is a center console with three nodes, a plaque above each.

She approaches and examines them, trying to decipher the plaques. Her hand hovers over one, power emanating from the button into her palm.

A muffled yell pierces through the walls, echoing into the room.

Her head snaps to the right, hand retreating to her side in an instant.

She cautiously follows the noise, approaching the door to her right.

The ship lists hard.

Her feet slip on the suddenly steep ground, forcing her body downward with a thud as the ship enters a free fall.

The heat dissipates, replaced by a rush of cool nighttime air.

With a panicked cry and flailing arms, Ayzora tumbles through the nautiloid until her back slams into a hard surface.

Everything is spinning, faster than ever. She can hardly think. Think!

The door that holds her in squelches open as everything retreats in the living ship’s desperate attempt to preserve itself.

Cool air hits her still-sweaty back. A night sky overtakes her view, the burning nautiloid rapidly growing smaller.

She’s falling. Fast.

Brace yourself, Ace, she thinks. You’ll wake up soon.

Once again, Ayzora feels her consciousness slip away, and she is swallowed into black nothingness.

Warm.

Everything is warm. Radiating on her face. Bright. Cradling her back. Soft. A breeze passes by, sweeping cool kisses on her cheeks and carrying salty air into her nostrils.

Her eyes flutter open.

She stands on unsteady feet as she carefully checks herself over for injuries. Aside from a few burns sustained in the ship’s fall from hell, she’s… just fine? Odd.

Ayzora pulls a small healing potion out of her bag and removes the cork in a pop. She pours a few viscous drops on her burns, soothing the pain, before drinking the rest with a grimace and replacing the cork. Never really get used to the taste.

She looks around, trying to get an idea of where in Toril she could be. She’s lucky to have made it to the shore- she’s nearly completely surrounded by a bright blue ocean that stretches past the horizon. Hopefully this is at least the Sword Coast… Just past the looming ship- on which some fires still burn- is a forest. Directly ahead of her, a few intellect devourers scuttle about the wreckage.

Us! She runs forward, calling out for her new companion.

The brains-on-legs turn to face the necromancer, silent. There is no whispery voice calling her “friend.” They all begin to run at her.

Oh, shit.

A creature arrives on the left and swipes at Ayzora. She manages to twist out of the way just in time, but it only gives the one that snuck in front of her the chance to draw four streaks of blood from her shin.

Ayzora’s hands lift instinctively to her shoulders, unclasping her cloak. She extends her right hand out in line with her shoulder and brings her left hand around the back of her head, both hands shifting in perfect unison while the cloak disappears in a blue shimmer. Her hands align, and the obsidian handle of Messorem materializes. With the momentum strengthening her swing, she sweeps her scythe across her front, slicing through the two enemy creatures in front of her. The silver blade reaches her left side and she opens her hands for a moment to twist the handle, reversing the blade’s direction for another swing.

“Ignis!” A stranger’s voice echoes in the hollowed space.

Ayzora looks up.

A white dragonborn runs to an intellect devourer that had not yet reached Ayzora. A raven-haired half-elf follows at his tail, stopping just behind him.

With the vocal command, a mote of fire flies from the half-elf’s hand to the creature on Ayzora’s left, killing it instantly.

The dragonborn brings his quarterstaff down on the brain before him, forcing out squeals of pain.

It swipes at the hulking white figure, but slips on the puddle of blood beneath it, only catching air in its claws.

“We’re here to help!” The cleric calls.

Ayzora nods. She opens her mouth to thank the stranger, but is cut short by the sting of claws digging into her thigh.

The intellect devourer in front of the dragonborn falls dead under the sorcerer’s quarterstaff while Ayzora cuts the last one in twain with Messorem’s bloodied silver blade.

“Thank you,” she finally manages. She holds Messorem in front of her and pulls her hands back towards her in a perfect reverse, turning her scythe back into a dark blue cloak and clipping it onto her shoulders.

“Would you happen to be a survivor of the crash as well?” The dragonborn asks, approaching Ayzora. He speaks with his whole chest, his resonant voice filling the space.

“Yeah, do you know how we’re still alive?”

“I was hoping you might have an idea,” the cleric replies, stepping forward. “Shadowheart,” she introduces herself, extending a hand towards the elf.

“Ayzora.” She shakes Shadowheart’s hand and turns to the sorcerer.

He looks down at her pale hand for a moment, processing a wave of thoughts in silence. He tenses, eyes widening, like he's fearfully forcing his own body to still. Hesitantly, he raises his hand, scaly palm pressing against hers. With a firm shake and a quick retreat, he finally responds: “Dark Urge.” Hand safe at his side, he broadens the distance between himself and his new companion with another precautionary step.

Ayzora nods, taking a mental note of his unique name and odd behavior, but chooses not to comment. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

The three of them return to the point of her awakening. The sand is still indented where her body once lay.

“Not in the slightest,” Dark Urge answers.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shadowheart interjects, “As long as we find a healer to take care of our worm problem.”

“Right,” Ayzora answers. Nearly forgot about the tadpole.

Just as soon as she is made aware of it, it writhes in her brain as if it just woke up, and a sudden throbbing pain pulsates in her head. She grabs her forehead with both hands, eyebrows knitting together.

As if recalling memories, she sees flashes of lives that are not her own through the eyes of another.

First, nothing. Like an expansive void threatening to swallow everything whole.

Then, two perspectives intertwined.

Waking up on the nautiloid. Meeting a githyanki. Burning imps with acid.

Trapped in a pod. Begging Dark Urge for help. Continuing onward, artifact in hand.

Fighting a cambion. A Mindflayer. More demonic creatures. Reaching the transponder. Falling. Darkness. Sunlight.

Suddenly, Ayzora’s mind is her own again. She stumbles backward. “What… in the hells?”

“The illithid tadpoles,” Dark Urge explains, his calm tone settling Ayzora’s panic, “they seem to connect us to one another, somehow.”

“We don’t quite understand ourselves,” Shadowheart adds.

Ayzora nods, lifting her palms from her forehead and brushing her hair back with her fingers before her hands rest at her sides.

The cleric dives into a little more of an explanation, along with a proposal: to travel together. It would increase everyone’s odds of survival through the protection that comes with a group, while solving their shared illithid problem. Ayzora nods along and looks around while Shadowheart verbalizes a to-do list: gather some supplies, find a place to set up a camp, get directions…

Ayzora’s mind wanders. Gods, what a mess… I don’t know if I want to risk waiting for a healer. Might just be better to sneak off tonight, and-

“Hey, you there,” a voice calls, cutting her train of thought short.

Ayzora looks up toward its source.

Everything goes numb.

A pale elf with white curls is looking right at her. “Come here! I need help!”

Without another word, she walks towards him.

“Though I think we should- wait, where are you going?” Shadowheart shifts abruptly and follows Ayzora up the hillside, Dark Urge close behind.

“Hurry,” the rogue urges as the necromancer approaches, “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” He steps back and points. “There, do you see it?”

Ayzora follows his line of sight, her eyes landing on a rustling bush. Shadowheart and Dark Urge reach the two and watch a few paces behind.

“You can kill it, can’t you?” He keeps his eyes trained on Ayzora, ignoring the others for the time being. “Like you killed the others?”

She looks at him, thoughts trapped in the gelatinous mess of a suddenly silent mind. Her panic is hidden- as always- behind a stoic expression.

There’s a moment of silence.

His expression shifts in confusion.

She clears her throat. Pull it together, godsdamnit. “Of course.” Slowly, she takes a step towards the bushes and finally tears her eyes away from him.

He nods, taking a cautious step to the side to stand behind her.

One moment, she’s watching a boar make a mad dash away from the group.

The next, she’s on her back, a cool body pressed against hers while a dagger hovers over her neck.

“Shhh, not a sound,” he coos. His voice, just above a whisper, tickles his captive’s neck with hot breath, “not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

Ayzora’s chest stills as she holds her breath, frozen. What-

“And you two- keep your distance,” he threatens in a sudden yell that makes Ayzora jump. “No need for this to get messy.”

“I need her alive,” Shadowheart bites back. “Stow that blade, or-”

Dark Urge raises his clawed hand in front of her, silencing her. He takes a fighting stance: a silent, ‘no need to talk, just be ready to act.’

Shadowheart nods and follows suit, assuming her own prepared stance.

“I have other business, I’m afraid,” he tells the cleric in a condescending tone. “Now,” he begins, his voice dropping once again as he turns his focus back to Ayzora, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

Ayzora nods, swallowing.

“Splendid. And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks,” he spits, “did to me.”

“Same thing they did to me,” she answers, matching his low tone. She keeps her head still, but looks sideways at him. “I was taken. Just like you.”

“Don’t lie to me! I- AGH!”

Ayzora cries out at the same time, her tadpole writhing yet again as it connects to the one lodged in her attacker’s brain. Her vision is once again flooded with someone else’s memories- with his memories.

The streets of Baldur’s Gate, dressed in the rich darkness of the evening. Orange light spilling out of taverns brimming with life. Stalking in the shadows. Seducing. Capturing. Following yet another order. Foul blood filling hungry maw. Something sharp digging into bare flesh. Carving. Searing pain-

Pain that, at last, subsides. Her mind clears.

The elf presses his dagger to Ayzora’s throat, blood threatening to trickle down her cold neck. “What was that?” he demands, his voice dripping with fear. “What’s going on?!”

Shit. What did he see? “It’s the tadpoles. I can explain,” she pleads quickly, raising her open hands in surrender, “just let me up.”

He watches her for a moment, weighing his options, before slowly lifting his dagger and opening his arms. The blade still points at her like a viper waiting to strike.

She slowly shifts away from him, out of his arms, and stands to her feet.

He pushes himself off the ground and stands, watching her with an expression noticeably softer than before. “You… really aren’t one of them…”

“No,” she concurs, shaking her head. Her hands remain up, palms facing him. She’s only just returned to her feet, and yet her posture is once again poised, as if slipping back into a comfortable mold.

“And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards,” he relaxes with a laugh.

Ayzora’s eyes flicker to his lips, catching a flash of his fangs nearly hidden in his wide smile.

“Apologies.”

“Accepted.”

Shadowheart and Dark Urge take a few steps closer as the rogue’s daggers are finally sheathed.

“My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

Relief washes over Ayzora, settling the rolling waves in her stomach. He must not remember. Or, at the very least, he doesn’t recognize me. Good. “Ayzora,” she introduces. “I was there, too. Visiting.”

Dark Urge and Shadowheart follow suit, making their introductions.

Astarion nods. “So, do you know anything about these worms?”

“I know they’ll turn us into mind flayers if we don’t get moving and find a healer,” Shadowheart answers.

Astarion looks between the three in front of him.

Dark Urge gives him a solemn nod.

Ayzora stares at him- at her chance to finally do something that feels like it matters. Her chance to actually save someone. I… can’t just leave. What would be the point of any of this if he became that.

“They’ll turn us into…” His words are lost in a fit near-hysterical laughter. “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

“We’ll find a healer,” Ayzora tries to reassure him, her resolve unexpectedly strengthened. Okay. Save Astarion: Find us a healer; Get to Baldur’s Gate; Kill Cazador. I’ve managed worse.

“Or an expert. Someone that would know how to control these things. There might still be time,” he reasons, looking at each of them.

Control… and with control, power. Whispers creep along the shadowed corners of Ayzora’s decayed mind. Her eyebrows threaten to pull together as bottled rage chips away at her perfect shell. You were robbed of your godhood last time… It may at last be in your grasp…

She thinks of everything she went through “last time.” My friends, Remus and Ryon. My family. My parents, who got away with it all. Reidoth, left behind. Zedd and Laz, slaughtered. I gained more power than most people could even fathom, and what fucking difference did it make? It still came with a price. I still lost everyone.

She balls her fists in the fabric of her dress, forcing the rest of her body to slip back into elegant grace with an ever-grounding deep breath. When there was nothing else, there was her breath. Always. No, Ace, we’re not doing that again. No. We can be different. This has to be different.

“Come with us,” Ayzora blurts.

Astarion’s eyes settle on her. There’s a sort of glimmer in his gaze, the sides of his mouth pulling an almost-smirk that sinks into something of nonchalant smile. An easy grab, he thinks.

“We’ll better our chances as a group,” she adds, as if clarifying her intent.

His expression doesn’t change, locked on her. “You know, I was ready to go this alone… but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea.” He shifts towards her, tilting his chin slightly downward with a confident air, as if she was the audience to his soliloquy.

As if she was the only one who needed to hear him- the only one he wanted to hear him.

“And you,” he continues, giving her a less-than-subtle look over, “seem like a useful person to know.”

She wonders if she can still blush. The lack of warmth on her cheeks is, for the first time, reassuring. Deep breath. She turns to Dark Urge, silently offering to give him the lead with a soft nod.

With hardly a moments’ hesitation, he accepts her offer with grace. “I believe it is best for us to continue onward,” he begins, shifting the conversation back towards something more productive. "If there are any other survivors, they can meet us at camp; but night will fall soon.”

Shadowheart nods, “We should probably split up, then; it’ll save us time.”

“I will make camp,” Dark Urge says, “Give me your supplies. Everything will be prepared when you meet us.”

Astarion turns to Dark Urge. “I think I’ll accompany you,” he announces. “I prefer smaller groups, anyway.”

Shadowheart removes her bag and hands it to Dark Urge with a quiet, “thank you. We’ll see you there.”

Astarion turns to Ayzora, hand held out towards her in patient offering. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of her level of trust with him.

“I’ll be careful,” he reassures.

She wants to believe this is what he sounds like when he’s genuine.

She slips her hands under her cloak and unbuckles her bag of holding before placing it in his open palm.

He takes the bag and slings it over his shoulder before nodding to Dark Urge.

With that, the two walk off to scout for a place to camp, leaving Ayzora and Shadowheart behind.

Ayzora watches them leave, staring at the mess of white curls she so desperately sought out before, and now seemed to seek after her. It was a strange feeling. Like something had taken root in her chest…

Ah, right. Hope.

“Let’s be on our way,” Shadowheart declares, heading back into the wreckage.

Ayzora nods and jogs a few paces to catch up to Shadowheart, walking beside her.

Their mouths remain still for almost the entirety of their search, digging for supplies and items to sell while occasionally calling out for survivors.

All the while, Ayzora thinks of Astarion. She mulls over moments in her mind on repeat, her thoughts falling prey to an endless loop in chasing its own tail. He stopped in that alleyway. Yet, he left me there. He held his dagger to my neck. He took my things to camp. He stopped. He left. He held. He took. He stopped. He stopped. He stopped.

“I think I hear someone,” Shadowheart says low, eyes fixed on a rocky area just outside the still-burning nautiloid.

Ayzora’s eyes snap to the cleric’s.

Shadowheart doesn’t meet her gaze, instead walking forward.

The necromancer finally turns her head to look and sees the thing that captured Shadowheart’s attention: a portal grounded in a giant rune, clearly unstable.

When the two arrive, Ayzora attempts to close it in fear of what might come through, but her hand is wrenched back to her side in searing pain as the magic bites back.

A human hand flies out, and a voice echoes from the flickering purple opening: “A hand? Anyone?”

Shadowheart grabs the hand while Ayzora attunes to the raging magic of the portal, calming it like an arcane grease that allows the trapped man to slip out.

With a tug, he comes tumbling out, sending Shadowheart to the ground with him. When they make it to their feet, they’re greeted by a cheery wizard.

“I’m Gale, of Waterdeep,” he introduces with a firm shake to his rescuers. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“At teleportation circles?” Ayzora asks, giving the wizard a look-over. She’s heard of the magical prodigy before- but she had never had the pleasure of putting a face to the infamous name.

“And, well, at magic.”

I wonder if his spellbook was ruined too… Ayzora opens her mouth to ask, but Gale speaks first.

“Say, but I know you two, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

“We were,” Shadowheart says with a questioning tone.

“Then I can only assume you two were also on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region?”

“Unfortunately,” Ayzora confirms. “There are others, too. We’re traveling together until we find a healer. You’re welcome to join.”

“Most excellent!”

Ayzora starts to turn on her heel, but feels a gentle hand on her arm that stops her.

“Oh,” Gale interjects, releasing Ayzora’s arm and looking between her and Shadowheart. “Before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you,” he says with a slight bow, “for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have a feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor.”

“Of course,” Ayzora responds, her tone gentle. While she would normally find herself rolling her eyes at the verbose elegance most classically-trained mages display, she finds it oddly comforting for the time being. The company of another wizard- especially a non-Baldurian- was a welcome solidarity.

“I suppose you haven’t seen any other survivors, then?” Shadowheart asks, giving the area one last general look-over.

“Unfortunately, I can’t say I have,” Gale answers.

“We’ve searched everything twice over. I think we can safely assume any others would have made themselves known by now,” Ayzora assures. “Besides, we still need to figure out where the others made camp.”

“You’re right,” Shadowheart concedes. “Shall we?”

Ayzora and Gale give a nod before he gestures to Shadowheart, inviting her to lead the way.

The three find a nearby trail and walk down it slowly, searching for their other companions and calling out their names on occasion. After a while, with no sign of them or their camp, they return to the wreckage to orient themselves and take an alternative path following the coastline. As the amber skies warn of the impending night, they at last see the smoke of a campfire.

Arriving to camp, a large fire pit sits in the center of a clearing, roughly surrounded by tents. Dark Urge’s tent sits between Shadowheart’s and that of a githyanki he and Astarion found earlier named Lae’zel (who makes a blunt introduction). Gale begins putting up his tent, and Ayzora finds hers between him and Astarion’s tent.

After the sun sets, Gale manages to put together a halfway decent meal while Dark Urge shares some encouraging news: there’s a druid grove nearby. While sitting around the fire and eating, the group- save for Astarion, who was in his tent- agrees to head there first thing in the morning. But for now: they need rest.

Ayzora sits by the fire for a long while, staring at the dancing flames. Her hair is neatly braided and resting on her shoulder, trailing down to the hem of the blouse of her at-ease clothes. With a straight back, her legs are crossed and her hands are folded in her lap; perfectly postured, even when alone.

Someone is softly snoring, nearby. Crickets chirp in a consistent drone, rising and falling like a heartbeat. An owl hoots. The fire crackles. A tent door flaps closed.

Ayzora turns around with a start.

Astarion stands in front of his tent in a loose white blouse and fine trousers, watching her.

She stands, taking a few paces towards him.

“Well, hello,” he greets as she approaches. “You’re up rather late.”

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight. I just wanted to thank you for setting up my tent.”

“Consider it repayment for the… incident.”

Ayzora nods with a smile, “then we’re even.”

Astarion sighs. “So, we’re resting here? Turning in for the night?”

“I suppose… Have you slept in the woods before?”

“It’s all a little new to me, I admit. The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns…” he trails off with a smirk.

Ayzora cocks an eyebrow at him.

He takes the hint, returning to the topic at hand. “Curling up in the dirt and resting is, um… a little novel,” he says with a more optimistic tone.

“Once you get used to the quiet, it can be nice. Besides, we don't know how long it’ll be until we settle again. I fear tomorrow might be a long day…”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Well, yes, but it’s been quite a while.” Ayzora looks around, scanning for wildlife. She’d forgotten how comforting the walls of her tower are- now, even with her tent, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. It’s unsettling. She takes a deep breath. “Anyway… we should get some rest.”

Astarion scoffs. “I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process this.” He lets out a sigh. “You sleep,” he offers with a small smile, “I’ll keep watch.”

Ayzora studies him, trying to get a read. As far as she can tell, he seems genuine. Genuine enough, I suppose, given… well, everything. With another deep sigh, she nods. “Thank you… I think I might actually sleep, then.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Ayzora,” he purrs with a smile. “Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

Ayzora settles in her tent.

While she’s thankful she brought her own things, giving her some sense of the comfort of home, she struggles to settle without the weight that normally sits on her right side: Droop. She’s exposed in these woods, yes; and yet, she feels isolated. Lonely.

But Astarion is keeping watch. She can still save him. Starting with the druid grove.

Find a healer. Get to Baldur’s Gate. Kill Cazador.

And maybe save herself in the process.

She drifts into trance.

In the quiet of the night, Astarion stalks into the woods.

Author's Note: I'm really excited to write this fic, even though I have no idea how many people are actually going to read it. Ayzora is one of my beloved D&D characters from a campaign I played in once a week for 3-years, and after playing Baldur's Gate 3, not only was it incredibly reminiscent of the campaign we played (the parallels were so wild, it was a blast), but Astarion also reminded me a lot of Ayzora. I love both of them dearly; and while I can always give Astarion a happy ending full of love, joy, growth, and hope, Ayzora unfortunately did not find the same end for herself. This story takes place after the campaign I played (altered quite a bit to remain consistent with BG3 canon) as a means of giving Ayzora the chance to be Radiant Hopeful herself, one day. I think love changes people.

Other notes:

- The Dark Urge *is* essentially Tav, in this case. The Tav playthrough is the D'Urge playthrough in this story. This allows the Dark Urge to exist as a fleshed out character, but it also gives me the freedom to write Ayzora as a fully Original Character, more akin to one of the Origin characters.

- Dungeons & Dragons lore/canon is incorporated into this story, as it was integral to Ayzora's story. Think of this more like a BG3 AU where it leans just a *little* closer to D&D. Regardless, one of my beta readers isn't familiar with D&D or BG3, so while my target audience is BG3 players and those familiar with D&D, I'm writing it to ensure you don't need any of that knowledge to read. Surface-level should be just fine!

- Ayzora is a High Moon Elf Necromancy Wizard, for those of you that may have been wondering. We'll get into the rest of her character as we go.

This is cross-posted to my Ao3, @ write-and-wander, so be sure to subscribe to the fic there if you want to see it first and be notified when it updates!

Chapter Two: Decline

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