#asad nazeri
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what if we are government monster hunters and we kiss
@fiddles-ifs
#greenwarden cog#greenwarden#asad nazeri#marianna bautista#gw nazeri#gw bautista#maggiedraws#get some of that bi pan solidarity heart emoji#fiddles getting me messed up for allowing this
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regularly scheduled ten month redraw. #menposting
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tracker: all the horny men following me catastrophically unaware that i am in fact a lesbian
asad: i look at the sun too and i know i'll never get to go there.
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Could you tell us more about each of the ROs personalities? Maybe just even some silly little facts about them? 🖤
Sure!!
Bautista is a consummate stoic tech head; their time in the military rearranged some of their brain, so they jump to conclusions and bend to authority even when they really shouldn't, but they're your best friend. Marianna has more of a hair-trigger temper than Marc does, and generally speaking will be tougher on the player for their mistakes. They're allergic to cats but like them anyway, and they have two younger sisters. They can and will eat raw scorpion peppers and they don't get why no one likes their (spicy. so so so spicy. too spicy) firecracker sauce.
Nazeri grew up nouveau riche, which shows, but is otherwise a nice person with extraordinarily bad taste. Former CIA recruit, best driver in the cast, most fashionable in the cast, biggest ego of the cast. Asiyeh and Amir are both hijabi. Amir dresses like their name is Sock -- lots of bright colors, frogs, mushrooms, overalls, chunky shoes, etc. They wear glasses with fake lenses in them. Asiyeh and Asad are more into delicate, elegant muted pastels and minimalism. They have a thing for the tracker even before the game starts, which morphs into something of a friendly rivalry if they're not being romanced. Wakes up at 6 AM to jog and do yoga.
Devin is a total mystery to many, and operates as something of a community + spiritual leader + mayor + free therapist for the townspeople of Warden. They sure do enjoy their job! The last of Warden's long lineage of Graves, which has occupied the same role and home for two hundred years. They own and operate Marigold Cafe, which is one of the only places to go out and eat in town. They have a blue budgie named Marisol, who is deeply spoiled, and is the cafe's resident radio. Makes their own jewelry. Crochets. Bakes. They have a lot of time on their hands.
Trace is Warden's infamous nuisance animal. There are stories about them dating back to the early 1900s -- but where they came from, nobody knows. Fan of all music, hush puppies, and doggie chew toys. Best friends with Marisol the bird. Cannot read. The worst driver out of the entire cast, and in no circumstance should they be allowed behind the wheel. Technically they do not sleep.
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some semi blending practice with the Greenwarden boys
#not pictured in the first: all of them holding hands literally a minute prior#greenwarden#fiddles if#inter active fiction#digital art#art#fanart#asad nazeri#marcus bautista#marc bautista#oc riggs#mine: greenwarden
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:}
#i did a run where i made choices i would make irl#and nazeri got on to me LMAO :|#i felt bad#so here we are#asad nazeri#nazeri#greenwarden cog#greenwarden#my art
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[tw: scars, implied past self-harm]
Bran's plan to cook the wrinkles out of his brain was going rather well, he thought.
Well, he'd hoped to have the hotel's pool room all to himself—there was one person swimming laps in the pool—but they were unconcerned with the hot tub, which was all that really mattered to Bran. If they changed their mind, Bran could just flip on his Fuck Off Aura, no problem. God, when was the last time he'd been in a hot tub? As gauche as he found Nazeri throwing his money around, it did have its perks.
He slid lower into the tub, fully submerged from the shoulders down. The gently-churning water seared for a moment, and Bran blew out a breath as his body acclimated. He'd already been there for a little while, his body starting to prune, but he absolutely did not care. He closed his eyes. This was the height of luxury. This was the peak. He was going to get out when he was good and ready and not a moment sooner.
It was at about that moment that Bran noticed that the steady splashing from the pool had stopped. He cracked an eye open. Then there was the unmistakable sloshing of someone ascending the pool's ladder. Bran sat up straight, curling in on himself, metaphorical hackles raised. The swimmer, a well-sculpted man with wet hair plastered across his torso, walked carefully across the tiled floor towards the hot tub—or maybe towards the nearby towels? God, he hoped he was going for the towels—and when he pulled off his goggles and swim cap, the pounding in Bran's chest went into overdrive at the sight of Asad Nazeri.
Nazeri, likewise, did a double take at the sight of Bran, and he beamed. "Well! Who'd have guessed!" he said. He stopped at the edge of the hot tub. "Mind if I join you?" But contrary to Bran's expectations, he actually waited there for an answer instead of plopping himself in anyway.
Bran, face burning (definitely from the hot tub), glanced away and shrugged casually. "Sure," he said.
Nazeri happily slid into the water, then hissed. "Ooh, that's hot."
"Imagine that," Bran remarked, still feigning fascination with the texture of the wall. He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs.
Nazeri, meanwhile, sprawled his arms across the pool deck and threw his head back. "Oh, this feels so good," he groaned.
Bran deigned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Isn't it bad for your body to go between extreme temperatures like that after exercising?" he said.
Nazeri just waved a hand at him without lifting his head. "Eh, whatever."
Bran meant to look away, he really did. But had Nazeri always been that broad? Underneath all the obfuscating turtlenecks and tactical gear... He flushed as he became conscious of the fact that he was watching the rise and fall of Nazeri's chest and quickly jerked his head down. The jets had hit their time limit and shut off, so the water was still again, and as tempting as the thought of turning them back on was, that would mean getting out of the tub and freezing his ass off in those brief few moments of exposure to the air.
Then his eye caught something in the water, on Nazeri's leg. A pale, jagged line ran wickedly down the length of his shin. As Bran followed the line, though, he started noticing other smaller pale lines, crisscrossing Nazeri's skin. Subconsciously, he ran his fingers over the angry pink lines etched across his own cheek. The scars continued up Nazeri's torso, across his arms. He wasn't exactly covered in scars, but there were certainly a lot—more than Bran had expected he might have. He scarcely began to wonder if Nazeri had any scars that mirrored his own when that thought was suddenly superseded by the all-consuming realization that across the hot tub, Nazeri was looking askance at Bran and his wandering gaze.
"...Find anything interesting?" he asked with the faint hint of a cheshire smile, crossing his legs.
Bran's whole body seized up. "Uh," he said in a strangled voice. "I—I wasn't—sorry, I—I didn't—" If God or the universe had any mercy, someone or something would smite him from off the face of the Earth that instant. He swallowed, and blurted, "Scars—the, uh, scar. On your leg." He couldn't meet Nazeri's eyes. "Pretty nasty," he mumbled.
Nazeri looked down. "Ah," he said, then paused, glancing back up at Bran. "That one. Old soccer accident. Cleats, you know." He winced, and so did Bran. "That was pre-PIRA, too, so no super-healing to help there. Not fun."
"Oh," Bran said eloquently. "Yikes."
The sound of lapping water echoed around the pool. Bran continued to stare at the hot tub's bottom, waiting for it to open beneath him.
"You can say no," Nazeri said, leaning forward, and Bran's head snapped up. "But, I mean..." He furrowed his brow as he carefully chose his next words. "Can I ask you about—since I told you about one of my scars—"
Bran became acutely aware of his many bracelets all neatly piled with his clothes and folded his hands in his lap.
"...Would you maybe tell me about—?" Nazeri made a clawed hand over his cheek. "Like I said, you can totally say no, I get it—
"Oh—no, uh, sure," Bran said, before he could stop himself. "It's...whatever, it's fine." He gently touched the scars on his face and took a deep breath. "It was, uh, a year ago or so. Got a little careless tracking something." He shrugged. "I was arguing with Bautista that day, my head wasn't where it should have been..." He snorted. "More ways than one, turned out. But Bautista got me out in one piece. Lecture-free, even." He shrugged again and said, "That's about it." He looked away again, still rubbing the scars.
"Can't be easy scars to deal with," Nazeri said quietly.
Bran didn't answer at first. "I mean," he said, tone light. "I've learned to get a kick out of, y'know..." He looked to the left, then fixed Nazeri with a steely gaze as he slowly turned his head back to reveal the scars. Nazeri chuckled, sounding almost...nervous? for a moment? "Obviously it's more effective when you've got the right lighting," Brain smirked, "but, y'know. You work with what you've got."
His smile faded, and before he could stop himself, he said quietly, "It was, uh. The Moment, y'know. For me." He shrank back into himself again. "When you realize..."
"That you can't go back," Nazeri finished. "A physical reminder that whatever life you had before is gone." When Bran looked up at him, Nazeri pointed to his golden, catlike eyes, then pulled his lip down to show his pointed teeth. "Been there, too."
Bran pursed his lips and cast a rueful gaze back to the water. "God," he muttered. "What did we do to deserve this?"
Nazeri hummed. "Well," he said, smiling at Bran. "Not everything that's happened since joining has been bad."
Bran snorted and started to retort, but faltered when he looked at Nazeri. His eyes trailed away after a moment and he shrugged, folding his arms across his chest again. "...I dunno," he said, more noncommittal than doubtful.
"That's okay." Nazeri stretched his arms over his head, arching his back, then drummed his hands on his knees. "We'll just have to come up with something, then."
"...I guess so."
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marc / asad / devin /
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so I drew some emojis for the Greenwarden Discord--
#greenwarden#my art#oh god i have to. tag all of them. shit.#marc bautista#marianna bautista#bautista#nazeri#asiyeh nazeri#asad nazeri#devin graves#trace
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ugly drawings in high quality, also known as:
i procrastinated writing my thesis and that's the result
commentary + HQ pics from the gif under the cut
1st pic: in a world where all my MCs from Greenwarden and their respective ROs live happily ever after, Nazeri, who's never done anything wrong in his entire life ever, is left alone with the dumbass couple No. 1 when Dante goes to get them something to eat, and Marianna and Artemis are off being disgustingly cute somewhere.
It goes:Nazeri, 0.5 seconds into having to deal with Saren/Marc's bs: *looks at the camera like he's in The Office*
2nd pic: the gif. I just really, really wanted to give Saren horns.
3rd and 4th pics: the gif, but separated. do I even know what I'm doing? no. my brain went to weird places about Greenwarden the last 3, maybe 4 days. what's the thing in the woods? why is it hunting the warden? is it hunting what it's doing? it sounds to me like a calling (or a challenge), but idk how to elaborate on that yet. also, Saren isn't so, idk, bulky? but I have absolutely no grasp on human anatomy yet, so.
#greenwarden#marc bautista#asad nazeri#saren pendragon#doodles from the void#mine#will i ever get over my draw everything like anime phase?#no#do i want to?#also no#no shading because i have no idea how shading works (yet)#human anatomy whats human anatomy#i don't have a warden for romancing devin yet#but i'm working on it
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mc: you know, nazeri, i've really come to value our friendship
mc: and that's why i feel i can talk to you about something that's been bothering me
nazeri: feel free - i know if i had a problem, i'd want to confide in someone like me
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yeah 💞
#greenwarden#asad nazeri#i'm not really. into posting my art online much these days lol it affects my mental health negatively#i just know the gw fandom on tumblr probably needs some food. it's been a while. have a guy#things i have not improved drawing in ten months: fabric and hands apparently#greenwarden if
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ive been dying for the past 10 minutes.
s i m u l t a n e o u s b i t c h i n g
#greenwarden#asad nazeri#trace#honestly idk what to tag this i just started like 20 minutes ago#simultaneous bitching#i cant
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So i know this was answered long ago(i think so at least), but i can't seem to find it(cause Tumblrs search function freakin s*cks hard), with that said i wanted to ask about the physical Ds of the greenwarden cast, we know the heights cause of the FAQ but anything else is just like, not findable(or i am just stupid/blind).
Hope that doesn't bother you or anything.
Some javascript function in my brain short-circuited because I really did think you were asking for descriptions of the characters' genitals and I would. Not answer that! LOL
Anyways! I know I've put out descriptions somewhere online, but I'll just jot down a refresher real quick since the search function is chronically shot.
Bautista: 6'4" Filipino person in their mid-30s. Jacked to shit, with a layer of soft flab. Coal black hair in a high and tight cut. Marine Corps anchor tattoo on their upper left bicep. Medium brown skin with a warm undertone, black eyes. A few battle scars. Marianna and Marc look functionally the same.
Nazeri: 5'11" Persian person in their mid-30s. Also jacked, but in a wiry, gymnast way. Dark olive skin with a beige undertone. Asad has warm black, curly hair he slicks back and stubble. Amir and Asiyeh are both hijabi -- Amir prefers bright, funky patterns. Asiyeh and Asad both prefer pastels and neutrals. All Nazeris have thick eyelashes and yellow eyes, with cat-like pupils that dilate and contract depending on light or excitement.
Devin: 5'4" Afro-Cuban person in their late-20s. Soft and rounded, with layers of fat mostly around their tummy and hips. Pear shaped. Long, curly, warm black hair they usually keep pulled back into a low ponytail. Medium red-brown skin with a golden undertone. Covered in freckles. Bright, leaf green eyes. Usually has their nails painted.
Trace: 5'8" White person of indeterminate age. Bony as hell. Mostly sharp angles. They turn sideways and disappear. Porcelain white skin with a cool undertone. Very long, platinum blonde, fine hair. Piercing blue-gray eyes. Needle marks between their fingers. They can technically look like anything they've, uhm. Sampled. But this is their preferred form. F! and M! Trace look functionally the same.
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another successful boys' night
#redraw of nazeri now that i understand my brushes kinda#greenwarden#fiddles ifs#interactive fiction#art#fanart#digital art#asad nazeri#marc bautista#oc: riggs#original character#mine#mine: greenwarden
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"This is your only chance," Bautista said, his lightsaber still hanging on his belt. "Turn yourself in and face your crimes."
Master Duarte, senior member of the Jedi Council, smiled serenely at him. And lightning sprang from her fingertips.
Nazeri launched himself at Duarte with a snarl as Bautista fell, his yellow blades spinning out in a flash, but with the barest flick of her hand she flung him into the Council chamber's wall. She idly watched the lightning coursing from her other hand into Bautista's body a few moments longer, then broke the assault off. Smoke curled off of him.
"Will that be all?" she asked, still smiling. And she looked past the two felled Knights to the third behind them.
Bran clenched his jaw. He held his lightsaber's hilt in his shaking hand. He steeled himself, and pulled Bautista's lightsaber into the other, and ignited the blue-white blade alongside his green.
Duarte sighed. "Oh, my Bran," she said sadly. "I'd hoped you would choose differently." And her white blade snapped into being.
Bran lashed out with his green saber, and Duarte casually knocked it aside, following up with a Force push square to Bran's chest. He flew back towards the wall, but managed to get his feet behind him to spring right back off the wall when he hit it, blades whirling. She deflected those strikes as well, but Bran was pleased to note that he'd put her on the defensive. He pressed the advantage; he struck and spun his blades in a flurry against Duarte's guard. Duarte kept her movements tight and focused, moving precisely as much as she needed to in order to block each strike, and not an inch more.
"You're usually chattier," she observed. "Is something the matter?" She opened one of her hands as it gripped her hilt, and a chair soared through the air behind Bran. He ducked beneath it, and it crashed into the transparisteel window with a dull but resounding THUD.
"You're not worth the breath," Bran growled.
The interruption from the chair had broken Bran's rhythm, though, and Duarte lunged at him and swept her saber towards him from the side. Bran flipped Bautista's blue lightsaber into a reverse grip to block her strike—but she deactivated her blade just as it would have struck Bautista's and just as quickly reactivated it past Bran's guard. He clumsily swiped the saber away with his green blade and stumbled back.
Duarte clicked her tongue. "Really, I'm not sure what you hoped to accomplish with the extra saber here," she said, her tone making Bran feel like he was a Padawan again. She advanced slowly with her saber pointed directly at him. "You never were a very strong Jar'Kai user."
Suddenly Duarte sailed across the room, cracking across a chair before slamming into the wall and dropping her lightsaber.
"And you," Bautista said, singed and breathing raggedly as he stood, "never paid much attention to anyone who wasn't your precious protégé."
“Bautista!” The name spilled from Bran’s lips as his heart rose.
Bautista smiled wryly at him and held out his hand; Bran carefully tossed his lightsaber back to him. “Help Nazeri,” he said. Bran nodded, and rushed to Nazeri’s side as Bautista stalked over to Duarte.
Nazeri was still out cold where he’d fallen. Unmoving. “No no no no no,” Bran whispered. He shook Nazeri’s shoulders. “Wake up, come on.” But he didn’t respond. Bran tried to feel for a pulse, but with the bubbling panic in his chest, he wasn’t sure if he was feeling Nazeri’s pulse or his own. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath, then another. He felt the Force moving through him, around him. He reached out—yes—he could feel Nazeri, feel his life energy. But it flickered like a candle.
Bran cradled Nazeri’s head in his hands and took another deep breath. Slowly—pressing back his desperation—he willed some of the Force in his body to flow into Nazeri’s.
“NO!” Duarte shrieked.
Bran snapped out of his trance to see Bautista hoisted into the air, scrabbling at his throat. Duarte rose from the floor, her face twisted in fury—glaring not at Bautista, but at Bran. “Don’t you dare—” she spat. “He isn’t worth—NONE of them are worth your power!”
The hand she had stretched out towards Bautista curled, and he choked. “Let him go!” Bran shouted, rising to his feet.
Duarte smiled wickedly. “I could be convinced to let you keep both your little toys,” she said. “If...you give yourself to me.”
Bautista’s feet, kicking mid-air, slowed.
Bran roared and surged towards Duarte, his lightsaber blazing from his hand.
Her eyes widened and flicked sideways just a fraction, and she released Bautista.
And then the green blade cleaved through her arm.
Duarte wailed in agony, clutching the sizzling stump of her arm and staggering backwards. Bran pointed his blade at her throat. Tears poured from her eyes, and Bran narrowed his. She was better than this. What was she playing at?
And then he heard the distinct snap!-hiss of several lightsabers behind him.
He didn’t have to look to figure out it was the Jedi Temple Guard.
“You’re under arrest, Master Lachlan,” one of the Guards said. “Surrender your lightsaber and come quietly.”
The Guards started boxing him in with their yellow blades. Nazeri was still unconscious. Bautista was on all fours, coughing and gasping for breath. They’d played right into Duarte’s hands.
Was this it?
After a life full of ruining things, here was one more to add to his account.
...Maybe it was time to close the account.
Bran’s grip tightened on his lightsaber.
And then something impelled him to DUCK, NOW.
He didn’t question it; he threw himself to the floor—just in time as a barrage of blaster bolts pounded into, and then through the window.
And there, swooping down, was that damned junk heap of a ship, the Warden, and it was the most beautiful thing Bran had ever seen in his life.
He threw an arm around Bautista. “Go!” he said. “I’ll get Nazeri, just get on the ship!” Bautista looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded and made a break for it through the cover fire. He leapt out the window and onto the ship’s ramp as it descended into the open air. Bran rushed to Nazeri and slung his body over his shoulders. Duarte howled as Bran ran to the window.
He hit the edge, ready to jump—and a Force push slammed into his back.
He plummeted into the Coruscant air..
Nazeri slipped from Bran’s grasp. Bran let out a strangled cry and scrabbled for, then seized his legs. His mind raced to find a way to survive this, but the sounds of speeders, air rushing past, his vertigo and spinning vision, his fear all overpowered his ability to think. There had to be something there had to be something—
He stopped mid-air with a violent jerk. Nazeri roared with pain.
Bran looked up to see Nazeri—awake!—holding onto an outcropping on the Temple’s wall as tightly as he could. “Kriff, Bran,” he wheezed. “You couldn’t think of a better escape route?”
The Warden was on them almost immediately, and Bautista helped them inside. The trio staggered into the cockpit in time to hear Devin at the controls, whispering to themself in horror, “I shot at the Jedi Temple. I can’t believe I shot at the Jedi Temple.”
“Don’t be silly,” Trace said, her voice crackling over the comms. “I shot at the Jedi Temple! You only piloted the ship that shot at the Jedi Temple!”
Devin swallowed. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.” They glanced back at the three Jedi. “Y’all better buckle in,” they said. “This is gonna be a bumpy ride, and you don’t look so good.”
“What do you mean?” Nazeri said, giving a strained smile. “I always look good.”
Bautista huffed and rolled his eyes. “Sit down and let Lachlan be the judge of that.” Bran and Nazeri both grinned at him, and he flushed red. “You know what I mean!” he snapped.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had Jedi chasing me,” Trace mused over the comms. “How nostalgic!”
“It’s been two weeks,” Bautista grumbled.
“And now we’re all best friends!”
“I don’t think that’s going to be the case this time,” Bran said, looking at the Temple behind them. He couldn’t see her, but he could distinctly feel Duarte watching them fly away.
Silence fell over the cockpit. It wasn’t lost on any of the Jedi that in the Order’s eyes—the Order they had belonged to and worked for for years—they had just committed high treason. The Order’s full might would be sent to track them down.
On the bright side, though, the Order had just lost their best tracker.
#literally nobody asked for this#and yet here i am back on my bs#greenwarden#star wars#marc bautista#asad nazeri#devin graves#trace#lisa duarte#fan warden#bran lachlan#fanfic#fanfiction#mine#tale writes
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