#naz writes ⋆⭒˚.⋆

[orchidsarchives]

Jason x south asian!reader headcanons (I wrote this with a Pakistani fem!reader in mind. However, I did try to keep it neutral)

- He feeds you samosas and ties your hair for you, while your henna is drying. He has the stupidest grin plastered on his face while doing so, it makes his heart feel full

- He studies your native language to try and communicate with you and your family better. He gets really shy when he uses the wrong grammar or pronounces a word wrong

- Jason has a very special place in his heart for Urdu because it is one of the South Asian languages of poetry (I speak this one lol)

- He definitely learned Urdu, Farsi and Arabic for literary and poetic reasons, now you have to hear him recite different sonnets in multiple languages every day (so cute)

- He studied Islamic history and Hindu scriptures. It piqued his interest and if any of these religions apply to you, then it helps him understand you better

- You always make him wear kohl or kajal in his eyes and he never says no

- You sit on his lap and gently add the kajal in his waterline and he can’t help but smirk in excitement. He likes being close to you

- Jason likes to wear black kurtas. Need I say more? They hug his arms so deliciously, he looks so pretty in them

- Your dupatta (scarf) got caught on his watch one time and he couldn’t stop smiling

- He kisses your hand and calls you meri dunya (my world) and meri jaan (my life)

- He’s disgustingly cringe, he watched an old Shahrukh Khan movie with you once and did THE pose (im crying)

- Orange theory but with pomegranates

- Ultimate brown dad behaviour, let me explain, you tell him you like something and the next day there’s a million packets of it

- He’s a Noor Jehan listener and Galib quoter (me)

- Whenever you wear a lengha or any flowy outfit, he’ll spin you around before pulling you in for a kiss

[starrysound]

face me in every place I've been

Rating: G Genre(s): Angst, some fluff in there, too, if you squint Warning(s): Vague references to abuse Pairing: Caleb x OC Word Count: 1,710 Summary: Nayzak visits the grave of her childhood crush and thinks back on their relationship. * Note: This is not reader-insert. Nayzak is a non-MC character <3 With that said. Enjoy~

The electric piano weighs heavy on Nayzak’s lap as she adjusts her posture on the checkered picnic blanket. She has a glass container full of freshly cut strawberries to her left, and a bouquet of violet and blue hyacinths tied together with a lovely bow to her right.

The gravestone with his name on it is her silent witness—her captive audience. It would be silly of her to admit that, once upon a time, the cold grey slab once filled her veins with a cold, heavy stage fright—as if a stone could actually judge her performance or tease her. This feeling doesn’t plague her anymore, though. She feels more of a sense of companionship, mixed with guilt.

It is guilt over the years she spent paralyzed and hesitant; it is guilt over the moments she threw away–over fears that feel childish and petty now.

Her shame and discomfort brush past her, leaving her face burning hot and heart numb. Her fingers dance across the keys of the piano idly as she hums her soft serenade. If her mind wanders long enough, she can even see him sitting on the ground with his back against the gravestone, lazily resting his arm on his knee. There is a lopsided grin on his face and love in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything; they are coexisting in peaceful togetherness.

(She doesn’t want to admit that she has begun to forget the sound of his voice.)

___

“Hey, Nayzak, where’d you disappear to?”

He plops down on the ground beside her, long legs extended in front of him, bare save for his gym shorts.

She pulls her knees close to her chest and looks over at him. “I haven’t disappeared. I’ve been here the whole time,” she replies.

She doesn’t miss the way Caleb’s eyes narrow with hurt. “You haven’t been around.”

Nayzak feels the heat of her evol ripple and spread in the space Caleb left between them. She cannot stop the bubble from growing, but that does not stop her from apologizing for it. “I’m sorry about that… Can you… sit a bit farther way. Or you’ll get burned.”

He frowns but does not argue. “You don’t have to apologize for that, y’know.”

There is toxic sludge in the air between them, and Nayzak feels it slide down her throat and into her lungs, where it settles like a weighted blanket over her heart.

“Shanu’s been missin’ you,” he says, staring out at the schoolyard. “You gonna hang out with us again? Just like when we were kids?”

The heaviness in her chest makes it difficult to breathe, let alone sigh.

“I’m sorry. I can’t go out.”

Caleb arches his neck, the back of his head gently hitting the wall behind him, eyes shut in frustration. “Your parents…” he groans—the answer to the unspoken question.

Nayzak makes a small noise, but neither confirms nor denies. She feels the burning sensation grow and subconsciously reaches for her aching wrist. Her evol bubble grows further.

“Gran can talk to ‘em, y’know. Just say the word.” There is a rage simmering beneath his words, but that only fills her with even more pain.

She quickly shakes her head, dispelling the idea completely. “That won’t help.”

“But—”

He is so precious and to place him in her depressing, embarrassing life is to taint him. He’d be ruined forever. She cannot do that to him. She cannot break him like that. Not when he has his whole life ahead of him.

“I’m okay, Caleb.” Her voice quivers and she pauses to swallow the lump in her throat before continuing. “I need to focus on my schoolwork if I’m going to go to that competitive university.”

Caleb turns his head to look at her, a smile breaking across his face, but not quite reaching his eyes. “So…” he says, “you haven’t forgotten about our promise, huh?”

She smiles back at him, resting her head on her arms, admiring the way the sun illuminates him from the back, setting the hairs on his arms alight. “I promised I’d be the first person who greets you when you land your plane in Linkon City.”

“Right!” He curls his hand over an imaginary radio and holds it up to his mouth. “Hello, ground control. Foxtrot Yankee 26, requesting clearance to land. Over.”

Nayzak buries her face in her hands as she laughs at the display. And still, it fills her with a great sadness. It is teasing a future that she would never ever step into, because his future and hers exist in parallel universes, never to intersect.

“Ground control, Foxtrot Yankee 26 radio check? Over.”

She feels a sharp jab in her side and raises her head abruptly. Her evol bubble has receded enough to allow Caleb a chance to break through for just a moment and get her attention.

Even if she knows it can’t be her future, she allows herself to pretend, for just a moment. She clears her throat, lifting her own imaginary radio to her lips. “Foxtrot Yankee 26, Ground Control, I read you 5. Loud and clear.” She makes an ‘OK’ symbol with her other hand. “Foxtrot Yankee 26, runway number 8, cleared to land. Over.”

“See you on the ground, Birdie.”

She rests her cheek against her palm and gazes back at him until his face shifts and morphs and turns into smoke and fairydust, and the empty schoolyard stares back at her.

Across the schoolyard, she spots Caleb in his gym clothes, holding hands with Shanu, a girl from the local middle school and another old friend of Nayzak’s. He's speaking animatedly with her as they begin their walk home.

Caleb turns his head, and their eyes meet for just a moment. He raises a hand in greeting, his smile so wide, it’s impossible to miss, even in the distance.

She waves back and looks away first. Better that she looks away first.

___

The rhythm settles into a gentle ritardando as the melody comes to an end. She pushes her keyboard away to make room for her picnic basket. Within it is far too much food—she often prepares enough for two, as though his phantom could simply step through the stone and join her on her checkered blanket.

Her eyes land on the DAA dedication on the gravestone and recalls the day she’d been rejected from the program. She’d failed her mental health qualification. She sighs, pausing her playing to shake away the thought. Parallel universes…

“And in every universe, every version of us… this is the closest we will ever be,” she says, choking on the words.

And he would say…

She blinks away the tears falling on her beautifully prepared dishes in their colorful glass containers.

He would say…

“Then we’ll find another universe.”

His voice is so clear in her mind now, as though he were actually, truly beside her.

“And this time, I won’t leave you behind. Not again.”

Feeling foolish as she does so, she turns her head back to check.

He’s just as she remembers him—the relaxed posture, the smile playing at the corner of his lips, even when he’s being completely serious. He looks as though he’d stepped out of one of her daydreams, perfect in every single way. And he is walking towards her. He is kneeling down beside her, one hand on the ground and one on her shoulder, paying no mind to the evol bubble radiating several millimeters off her body, burning the flesh of his hand.

This is the realest her daydreams have felt. She raises a hand to her arm to pinch it. As she winces in pain, a laugh as light as air escapes the phantom’s lips.

“I’ve officially gone insane…” she mutters. “No. I have been insane for a long, long time, haven’t I?”

“If you’re insane, Birdie, then I’m certifiable.” He lets out a bitter chuckle and cocks his head to the side, leaning in close enough for his breath to chase away the chill on her cheeks with its warmth.

That is when the feeling comes back again—the anxiety… the stage fright. Her face is still red and eyes wet with unshed tears, and his face is so close it’s making her want to stab herself through the heart to stop it from twisting in her chest.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “I’m sorry I caused you all this pain.”

A hesitant hand reaches to trace the edge of his face, along the ray of light reflected upon his cheekbones and the ridge of his jaw. She is careful to control her evol around her hand, so as not to burn him. The same cannot be said for the rest of her body. She feels her evol throbbing all around her, misfiring, unsure of where the boundary is supposed to be between them.

(Six feet under)

He should be six feet under, but he’s not.

She feels the stubborn hand on her shoulder twitch as the evol barrier ripples through it—but it refuses to relent. It remains fixed on her, a solid reminder that this is real, and this is happening.

“How?”

With his free hand, he pulls her fingertips away from his jawline and puts them to his lips, leaving the softest of kisses upon her skin. “That’s… not important right now.”

The numbness of her confusion begins to fade, and she slowly regains control of her body—her evol. She shudders to life, pushing him away from her, out of the range of her barriers, where it is safe—where she can’t hurt him.

“Caleb, you dummy. What are you doing?” she snaps at him, eyes fixed on the hand that had just been on her shoulder. The skin is inflamed. She buries her hand within her picnic basket and pulls out an ice-cold drink, shoving it into his hands. “Here you go. Put that on the burn.”

He does not complain or protest as he is given the drink, holding it against his aching palm. He sits back, his good hand in the dirt, and he is leaning back. The lopsided grin is on his face again… love in his eyes.

[nazalieee]

i keep thinking about writing x reader inserts, but like i’m struggling to think abt if i was gonna write x reader smut which hole do i use for the character to stick their dicks in so i can be more inclusive? 😭😭😵‍💫

[kilitli-dusler]

"Kimsenin iyi ki'si olamazdım."

[relevant-url-incoming]

Fucking Poetry

Sometimes you write and post the culmination of a lengthy drama without giving anyone any of the prior context because fuck it! anyway have two men being exceedingly bad at communication but also very in love! Featuring Naz'erli and Amiliun Nythan, with guest appearances by a long-suffering Akaavi and Master Sumalee who just wants to deal with the whole Voidwolf issue. also smuggler story spoilers if you haven't finished that and don't know how it goes

The last thing Naz’erli expected – hell, the last thing he wanted – was to find Ams there in the room Master Sumalee had taken over, gold beads in his braids clicking gently against his armour as he gesticulated at the Jedi.

“Captain!” Master Sumalee said, visibly relieved, just as Naz’erli wheeled around to go. Akaavi raised her eyebrows at him, making no move to turn as well. He winced and glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ams’ gaze almost immediately. Or. What was it? Captain Amiliun Nythan, if he hadn’t gotten yet another rapid-fire promotion. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but wasn’t it kind of fast and all, for some guy who hadn’t even been a Republic citizen less than a decade ago?

“Naz,” he said. Naz’erli hid his grimace under a stiff smile as he turned fully, resigning himself to a conversation.

“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t realise you were working with Sumalee.”

“You have a Republic-issued wanted poster,” Amiliun said immediately.

“That was a misunderstanding, and it’s all cleared up!” Naz’erli said just as fast. He hadn’t actually known he was ever officially ‘wanted.’ He hoped he was right about it all being cleared. “So, if that’s all, no need to worry –“

“I knew you were running a few errands for the Republic, but fighting in a war zone?”

“I just had to clear my name,” Naz’erli said. “I’ll leave you to your war, don’t worry, I was just here to give the Jedi here a friendly warning and I’ll be gone.”

“A warning?” Ams said. Naz’erli took a few steps toward Sumalee, trying to give Ams as wide a berth as he could. Of course, Ams moved toward him. Typical. Catch Naz’erli with the divorce papers when he was distracted by trying to be a good citizen.

“Look, the Voidwolf has his own fleet and he’s planning to attack shipyards,” Naz’erli said. “I got you Pollaran, I got you Dodonna, no matter how much I probably deserved to shoot them. Good working with you, Master Jedi.”

It hadn’t been, really, but at least she was the first person who’d hired him in a while who hadn’t turned out to be a backstabber.

“Dodonna –“ Amiliun repeated, aghast. Naz’erli didn’t look his way, not at his hazel eyes or the tattoos Naz’erli still thought about tracing or the scars he’d gotten since he cut his own husband off like nothing mattered. Naz’erli had done all the privateer shit to prove that he could care about something, that Ams wasn’t special for it, and look where it had gotten him. He’d cleaned up his mess. He could be done.

And he’d probably finally end up done with Ams, too, if he didn’t get out of here soon.

“Captain Nythan, we’re still recovering from Coruscant. If the Voidwolf strikes our shipyards, it’ll cripple the navy. They could invade the Core Worlds!”

“Master Sumalee –“ Ams said just as Naz’erli said, “Hang on –“

They broke off. Naz’erli didn’t look to see if Ams was looking at him. He hoped not. Sumalee covered her mouth, eyes wide as the connection apparently occurred to her for the first time.

“Captain Amiliun,” she said. “You told me you had a mission.”

“We do,” he said stiffly. Naz’erli chanced a glance his way, trying to block his own face with his lekku. Ams looked queasy – like when he’d been trying to lie his way out of some trouble with his parents, usually for Relmeva’s sake. Naz’erli wondered bitterly what kind of tempers Ams thought he was navigating here, between a Jedi and the man who’d never been able to hold him to account for anything. “This – Voidwolf – if it’s as bad as that –“

“I had thought to ask you, Naz’erli,” Sumalee said. “You’ve been nipping at his heels for some time now.”

Naz’erli didn’t enjoy that metaphor. He enjoyed the look Amiliun gave them both even less.

“He’s just a civilian!”

“I thought I was a criminal,” Naz’erli murmured.

“Naz –“

The thing was that Naz’erli didn’t particularly want to do this. He’d made his point, fucked it up, and fixed it. Job done. The Voidwolf was Sumalee’s problem, the Republic’s problem, and for all Naz’erli’s fake accent and handing people over to them he wasn’t that.

But Ams was. And he was right there, and maybe if Naz’erli pulled this off his husband wouldn’t realise all the mistakes that came before and he’d think Naz’erli was…

What, someone worth sticking around for? He scoffed at himself aloud, interrupting the torrent of words from Amiliun that Naz’erli really hadn’t registered at all.

“Anybody know where that corrupt Corellian senator is hiding out?” he said. That wasn’t exactly specific. He scowled, trying to place the name. “Cai-something.”

“Caicos,” Sumalee said. She stood, clearly more at ease now the dramatics had died down. Ams had his arms folded, glaring at them both, but he didn’t interrupt. Naz’erli doubted that would last. “Dodonna indicated he was the only one on Corellia who has in-person contact with the Voidwolf. You should be able to get coordinates for the Voidwolf’s flagship from him.”

Ams stayed quiet as they planned, but Naz’erli couldn’t ignore him the way he could Akaavi, still lurking quietly by the door. His parents had made a big stink about armour, but also about the idea that Ams and his sister would have to earn it. Naz’erli was used to seeing the softness in Ams out on display, the shape of him something to watch and touch, and now he was in this shell. And Naz’erli was getting poetic, which was a damn good sign he needed to leave.

Lucky for him, the plan was straightforward even if it was crap. Destroy the surveillance. Kidnap a guard somehow. Corner the senator.

“Good luck, Captain,” Sumalee said. “Call me before you take on the Voidwolf. That’s not something you should do alone.”

“Sure,” Naz’erli said. He wasn’t going to.

He turned, meaning to gesture to Akaavi, but Ams was in the way. Naz’erli didn’t know when he’d gotten this close.

“Apparently, I have a job to do, so can this wait?”

“She’s right,” Ams said. “This isn’t something you can do alone.”

“Right,” Naz’erli said. “That’s not what civilians do. Just soldiers. Even soldiers who said they weren’t interested in being soldiers, right?”

“Naz –“

“Don’t call me that!” Naz’erli fought off Amiliun’s gentle, reaching hands, too aware of the women watching them from both ends of the room.

“Right. You’re not a nickname guy.”

“I’m not a nickname guy,” Naz’erli grumbled. Ams’ face twitched. He looked like he wanted to smile. It had been so long since Naz’erli had seen his husband smile. It wouldn’t be fair to see it now.

“Ok, get it over with,” Naz’erli said. “Divorce papers. Fine. You keep chasing me across the galaxy –“

“I’m chasing you?”Amiliun said. “Naz, I go where I’m ordered!”

“You’re – not following me,” Naz’erli said. “What, all of that’s coincidence?”

“I thought you were chasing me,” Ams said. “Maybe you changed your mind about the divorce.”

He thought Naz’erli had followed him all across the galaxy to cut him out. It hurt just as bad as thinking that was what Ams had done.

“Well, I changed my mind now, right? Hand them over!”

“Wait, what? Naz – Naz, slow down,” Ams said. He reached for Naz’erli’s hands again, and this time Naz’erli let him take them. If it was going to be the last time, Naz’erli was getting everything he could out of this. “You’re going too fast –“

“Yeah, I always do,” he muttered. “Should’ve waited to propose until I knew you weren’t going to find something better –“

“I don’t know what you’re saying, because you’re talking to yourself and acting like you’re talking to me –“

“You don’t know what I’m saying because you never even know what you’re saying, and I’m the one who has to say it! You never even had the guts to tell me to my face you wanted a divorce, you just said you were packing up and joining the army and made me read between the lines –“

“Oh, you idiot,” Ams said, marking maybe the third time he’d ever insulted anyone to their face, and seized Naz’erli’s face in both hands. Naz’erli had half a second to breathe before his lips were on Ams’, exploring the shape of them for the first time in four years.

“No,” Naz’erli breathed, breaking away more reluctantly than he’d done anything in his life. “No, this isn’t fair –“

“I joined the army because I figured it was the best way I had to support a family,” Ams murmured, still gripping Naz’erli’s face. He pressed his forehead to Naz’erli’s, and Naz’erli kept his eyes closed. He wouldn’t look. Not if all he was going to see was pity and that last closed door.

Stupid fucking poetry again.

“Naz, are you hearing me? It was never some kind of – of breakup signal –“

“You hate fighting. You said you wouldn’t.”

“It’s all I’m good at.”

Naz’erli didn’t think he was the idiot here.

“Please,” Amiliun murmured. He pressed his lips to the corner of Naz’erli’s mouth. “Don’t make me sign anything today.”

“I don’t care about anything,” Naz’erli reminded him.

“I don’t care.”

“I only care about profit.”

“I only care about you.”

“You also called me a liar.”

“Apparently you mostly just lie to yourself.”

Naz’erli opened his eyes. Ams was still there.

So were Akaavi and Sumalee, badly pretending not to hear every word if the looks on their faces were anything to go off of.

“I gotta go find the Voidwolf,” Naz’erli said reluctantly.

“Right,” Ams said. He stepped back. It was a lot colder in this abandoned casino than Naz’erli remembered. “I have to… storm things.”

Fuck, Ams hated fighting so much. Naz’erli couldn’t stop a smile.

“Be careful,” he said. Ams smiled back.

“Just don’t get killed, and we’ll talk about all of it,” he said.

[councilestatebarbie]

thg was asked about riftgate again in his pregame stream earlier and said that from everything he’s heard from people close to the team moving jt was the right and only option and that he hopes he’s conducting himself better in ny. i can’t wait to be angry about this all over again when someone finally confirms what went on in their autobiography in like 10-20 years

[lookatmysillies]

Naz is very Ivan coded in the sense that they're friendly to a lot of people but puts so much of themselves into their relationship with 1 person (Akane) that she's difficult to know.

[nazsalmeseleler]

Lilith misali hayatım itaat beklersen cenneti sunsan kalsın gerek yok derim

[bluegumballmf]

cooking

[thatwritererinoriordan]

I felt that, Sophia. I felt that.

[swoleas]

SPEAKING of them

I have written some fanfic of them in the past but I am so shy about sharing FFXIV fanfic bc I haven't finished the game and all my mutuals have so yknow 😭

Anyway, this is a 2 year old WIP of a fanfic abt Thancred and friends rescuing Nayzak from an ancient and possibly cursed ancient Ivalician temple which turns into a Silent Hill-esque nightmare because I gotta put people through The Horrors

The melody that passes through the room, distorted in the aetheric fog, sends a tingle through the hairs at the nape of Thancred’s neck. There is a familiar quality about it, something that stirs the gears of memory within his mind, sending him to a time before the calamity. He’d heard her voice before he’d seen her face. He’d been doing business in Vesper Bay and stopped for a drink. She was the hint of a song drifting along the shoreline, with laughter like a breath of fresh air. And when he turned his head to look, he found her twirling barefoot on the sand with two other women (one who would become an adversary and one who would become the Warrior of Light)—but it is Nayzak that he could not shake out of his gaze. She is a stranger, but her chest is fully open, her crystalline core pulsating with fragmented light, and he’d never seen someone so clearly before in his life. Or perhaps it was the drink, and she was a pretty girl. When she noticed him staring, he remembers that he’d foolishly raised his bottle at her with a grin; she’d found that gesture so distasteful that she’d made a face, and he’d laughed right back at her. “Nayzak,” he chokes out, stumbling towards the sound without thinking. Alphinaud perks up. “Did you hear her?” Thancred approaches the doorway closest to the sound and presses the switch to open it. With a hydraulic sigh it slides up. And just as his hopes had floated to the top of his throat, they turned into a thick viscous amalgam blocking his airway. The room is empty.

btw nayzak and thancred's relationship is so important to me bc it rly is like A fell first B fell harder, and unstoppable force (years of pining) vs immovable object (oblivious dumbass), it is thancred accepting that it's unrequited and watching her be happy with other people for years when he has known it would always be her from the moment he first laid eyes on her on a beach in Vesper Bay, and it is nayzak getting hit all at once with the realization all too late that she has feelings, and by the time she's realized, he's moved on

or has he? i don't know. but i sure will milk it for more pining anyway

[where-is-the-angst]

how you’ll hear and you’ll rise above

please leave if you are (a) ~ pedophile, porn promoter, pro russia (im ukrainian). hater, or sex blog! writing blog @a-love-for-poetry

on with the show!

the basics ~ i'm sophia, 'so-fee-uh', minor, fandom enjoyer, fanfic writer, american-born polish 🤍❤️ and ukrainian 💙💛, ENTJ-T, enneagram 8w??, eastern standard time, conjurer, actually sophie foster in disguise, cabin 7, child of apollo <33, writing tutor, menatlly dating like 7 different people (none of which actually exist), music enjoyer, and lover of angst <33

fandoms ~ riordanverse, the song of achilles, keepers of the lost cities, shatter me <3, once upon a broken heart, caraval, folk of the air, the lunar chronicles, a good girl's guide to murder, pride and prejudice, the selection, one of us is lying, the inheritance games and lynn painter enjoyer

favorite ships ~ sokeefe, warnette, patrochilles, kenji x naz (what's their ship name again??), evajacks, javery, liz x wes, kaider, scarlet x wolf, crimson x julian, maxerica, and jarden.

favorite musicians ~ billie eilish, sabrina carpenter, gracie abrams, conan gray, mitski, chappell roan, my chemical romance, arctic monkeys, girl in red, laufey, cigarettes after sex, mother mother, rickey montgomery, etc lol what i post ~ fanfiction, headcanons, thoughts, ideas, writing and more! i'm genrally not available from 7;30 am to 2:40 pm because i'm still on the grind <33

links ~ spotify wattpad pinterest fanfiction masterlist

[kayfey]

DEITY AU (masterpost)

@314immortaldonkeys

so! this is my deity au, otherwise known as

of gods and monsters

i have written one gempearl one shot, ships are currently gempearl and scarian but may change depending on who asks for what pairing.

please do send in asks for drabbles/oneshots, sorry if i take a while to respond!

here is the gempearl oneshot

the official list of gods! subject to change if i find plotholes or want to change shit

sorry that half of them don't have the descriptions i only have the ones that i wrote like a month ago and are rotting in my writing notebook(s)

Grian is the sun god, brilliant, brutal, and entirely unforgiving. He rules the earth half the time, giving the night to the moon, his sibling. He meets his lover in a flash of light and colour and vibrance, and leaves him in the same way. Godly name: Sol

Pearl is the moon goddess. Her calm magnificence does not rival the sun, but merely because she does not choose to. They do not compete, for they are so utterly different. She can be calm, but the moon is not always predictable, though its waxing and waning may be so. She calls for blood at times, others she is a steadfast and silent pacifist. Pearl may be slow to anger, but her wrath is cold and hard. Perhaps her lover, goddess of war is proof. Godly name: Luun

Jimmy is the god of fate. His birds are the harbingers of destiny, whether great or terrible. Fate is a web of interweaving threads of possibility, and to manipulate them is Jimmy's role. He also controls the prophets and soothsayers. Curses and blessings fall under his domain too, as a mark of one broken by him in an old, old game. Godly name: Naz

Now is not the time to speak of this game, but perhaps I'll tell it another time.

Scar is the god of the earth. To shift mountains and transform plains is his power, though he does not truly control the things that live in it. Steady and solid, he can be obstinate at times. However, the earth is not always quiet, and fire and brimstone lurk beneath it's surface. In the same way, Scar is not always the same. Godly name: Essor

Cleo is the deity of the dead. Their realm is everywhere and nowhere at once, superimposed across space. She also deals in souls and righteous punishment. They oversee where souls go after the body dies. Godly name: Mor

Etho is the god of silence and silent killing, patron of assassins and spies. Godly name: Sarn

Joel is the god of anger, recklessness, fear. Godly name: Maian

Martyn is the god of the ocean. (currently no godly name, ideas are welcome)

Lizzie is the goddess of the dark & shadows. Godly name: Xarad

Scott is the god of the stars. Godly name: Vespera

Tango is the god of fire. Godly name: Aratiri

charolyn has excellent themed names go charolyn

[viking-raider]

Salt in Our Wounds - CHAPTER IV

Summary->��Gus is healing and moving about. However, nothing is sunshine around the house.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III

Warnings-> PG-13: Language, Deception, References to WWII

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“You told our father what?” Edmund barked, as you met him outside the cottage, the next morning.

You had peeked out the window for him, ever since you woke.

“Well,” You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “It was Gus that thought on his feet and told Papa that he was working with you on things around the house.” You repeat yourself, licking your lips. “We had to tell him something, when he found Gus coming out of the bathroom, after his shower.”

Edmund carded a hand through his hair and paced on the small porch. “So, you told him that Gus was a carpenter from another village, who's come over to help me put up shelves in the basement and do repairs around the cottage?”

“Yes.” You nodded, fidgeting. “What else were we to tell him, Eddie? I just opened the front door and grabbed some random man off the street, who looked as if he needed a shower?” You huffed, a tad frustrated.

“No.” He sighed, waving his hand, a tired expression coming over his face. “No, the two of you did the right thing. I suppose it's just as good an excuse to explain him to Pops than any other.” He exhaled again and stopped pacing. “Right well, is the man handy with a hammer or saw?”

“I haven't the slightest clue.”

“I'll find out.” Edmund replied, motioning you both inside and found Gus sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading his book.

Edmund looked at you with a lifted brow and you gave him a look that said, why not, since your father knew he was there, making your brother roll his eyes.

“Good morning, Edmund.” Gus greeted him, setting his book down.

“Morning.” He answered, narrowing his eyes at the other man, sitting nonchalantly at the table. “Are you ready to work today?” He asked, squaring his shoulders.

“I am.” Gus answered, taking a gulp of his coffee, unphased.

“Not before the two of you eat breakfast.” You spoke up, pulling your apron on. “So, park yourself at the table.” You ordered Edmund, pointing to the chair across from Gus, defusing the brewing cloud of male bravado.

Sighing, Edmund pulled the chair out and plopped into it, giving you a short nod as you set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. Blowing gently on it, he stared across at Gus, who had returned to his book, but felt the other man's eyes on him and lifted a brow over the top of his page. Edmund cocked a brow back at him.

“So, Gus.” Your father called out from the sitting room, having kept his own eye on him since Gus appeared upstairs.

“Yes, sir?” Gus answered, respectfully setting his book down again and tilting slightly to the side to give Mael his attention.

“Why aren't you fighting in the War?”

“Papa!” You gasped, head jerking in his direction, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “That's rude.” You whined at him, frowning.

“It's all right.” Gus replied, smiling sweetly at you. “I don't mind.” He assured you, then looked back at Mael. “I'm a Conscientious Objector, being Evangelical.” He explained to him, causally.

Mael stared at Gus for a long while, fluttering and tapping the pencil between his fingers against his map. The sizzle of hotcake batter on the red-hot griddle and the bubble of the percolator on the counter filling the quiet space, as no one spoke. Finally, Edmund grunted, shrugging his shoulders and taking another sip of his coffee, putting the atmosphere back into some reasonable balance.

“At least, he's not a deserter or a Nazi.” Edmund commented, putting his coffee cup down and picking up the newspaper you'd set on the table.

“Exactly.” You trumpeted, nodding your head, a tingle of relief running through you, turning back to the griddle to flip the hotcakes. “How many cakes do you want, Papa?” You asked, shoveling the steaming rounds onto a serving plate.

“Three, Peanut.” He answered, still tapping his pencil, but his eyes had shifted to the uneven hardwood floor.

Nodding, you shifted three over onto his plate, before taking up a knife and cutting another in half, adding one half with his three, knowing sometimes three weren't enough, but four could be too much for him.

“Boys?” You called over your shoulder, cracking an egg onto the griddle, beside the two fresh pools of batter.

“Four, please.” Gus chimed, turning a page.

“Same.” Edmund replied, squinting at the small print of the article he was trying to read.

Humming to yourself, you finished cooking up the batter and made everyone an egg, before doling out plates. Everyone had just dug in, when a knock sounded on the door. You and Edmund tensed, eyeing each other, a silent conversation going between you.

“Don't be rude!” Mael huffed around a mouthful of food.

Sighing, you stood up and answered it, finding Dr. Tremblay on your doorstep, black bag in hand, a flood of relief washing over you.

“Oh! Good morning, Dr. Tremblay.” You greeted him, glancing behind you to Gus and Edmund.

“Good morning, mon chéri.” Tremblay smiled at you, kissing your cheek and glancing into the house and spotting Gus at the table, enjoying his breakfast. “I see my patient is feeling better.” He commented, lifting a bushy white brow.

“He is.” You nodded, stepping to the side. “Please, come in. Would you like some coffee or tea?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

“Tea would be nice, oui.” Dr. Tremblay answered, setting his bag on the table.

Edmund looked at the respected senior and cocked a brow over his shoulder to his father, hoping to indicate not speaking of Gus's injury and real purpose in the house. Tremblay returned a squinty eyed glare, just as you set down his cup of tea, making you chuckle at the two of them.

“What's brought you over so early, Sacha?” Mael asked, forking a hotcake into his mouth, but his eyes were cast over the table.

“Oh,” Tremblay waved his hand dismissively, before reaching out for the sugar pot in the center of the table, dropping two granular, ivory cubes into his teacup. “I came to check up on Edmund.” He replied, looking at your brother with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heard from Thom that he might need a new pair of glasses. So, I've come to take some measurements.” He said, patting his bag, still sitting on the table.

“You didn't mention anything about that, Ed.” Your father croaked, looking a bit alarmed.

“I didn't want to burden you with it, Pops.” Edmund answered, squeezing the handle of his fork. “No worries though. Doc has it under control.” He grunted, eyes shifting over to Gus.

Everyone finished their breakfast and Edmund showed Tremblay upstairs, under the guise of looking at his eyes in privacy, while Gus excused himself to the bathroom, following the two of them upstairs. You fret a little bit, picking up the dishes from the table and putting them in the sink, the feeling anxious of not knowing if Gus's wound was healing right or if he needed the antibiotics anymore. You wanted to go upstairs and join them. But knew if you did, your father would likely get more suspicious.

“Are we going to take our usual Sunday afternoon stroll around the garden today, Papa?” You asked, putting a plate on the drying rack.

“I'll see how I feel come time, Peanut.” Mael replied, leaning against the arm of his chair to catch every word the radio presenter was saying.

Nodding, you pulled out the mop bucket and carried it out to the garden, using the garden hose to fill it. Leaning against the wall beside the door, you looked up at the morning sky, steely with angry looking, iron-gray clouds drifting by overhead. You drew in a deep breath, filling your nostrils with the cool and salty scent of the sea, but it also had the faint snap of the ozone, the possible threat of chubby raindrops.

“Well, it looks like my nurse took excellent care of me.” Gus's voice chimed in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Your wound is all right?” You asked, casting your eyes up to his.

“Yes, ma'am.” He smiled, filling the doorway. “Healing nicely and should have the stitches out in no time.” He assured you, lifting his jumper a little to show you. “I also don't need any more shots! Which I am thankful for!” He chuckled, but looked at you quickly. “Not that you weren't good at administering them!”

“Oh no!” You giggled, cheeks warm with embarrassment and relief. “I'm just as glad as you are! I would have much preferred Dr. Tremblay make you take the antibiotic by mouth! The idea of sticking you, or anyone, with a needle is frightening. I'm surprised I didn't wound you further in the process.”

Gus smirked, glancing down at his boots. “I doubt you could have. I have thighs the size of tree trunks.” He remarked, biting his lip for a moment. “Your bucket!” He gasped, catching sight of the water spilling over the side.

“Oh shoot!” You snapped, twisting the nozzle off and letting out a sigh.

“I'm sorry, I distracted you.” Gus apologized, watching you tip the bucket slightly to let out the excess water.

“It's all right. I should have been paying attention.” You shrugged, grabbing the handle.

“Here, I'll carry it in for you.” He offered, replacing your hand with his at the handle.

You brushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear and watched him take it inside, before shaking your head, as if to snap yourself out of something, and followed him back inside. “You can put it right there.” You instructed him, going under the sink to grab the bottle of fairy liquid. “Are you going to help my brother?” You asked in a hushed voice, pouring some of the washing up solution in the water, while glancing over at your father, who had dozed off.

“I don't know.” Gus replied, a crease forming between his brows. “I'm not sure your brother is too fond of me.”

“Edmund is...” You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. “Edmund tends to be guarded. Many relationships in his life haven't panned out. With our mother leaving us and his wife—well, Willa has big dreams. She feels have been held back and blames him for that, by keeping them here in Saint-Thurney. So, sometimes, even when he does like someone, he gives them the cold shoulder.”

“He's waiting for the boot to drop.” He nodded, understanding.

“Exactly.” You hummed, grabbing the mop and dripping it into the soapy bucket. “Now, you need to skitter off my kitchen floor, so I can wash it.” You ordered, shooing him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Gus laughed, swiping his book off the kitchen table, gave you a grinning salute and made for the basement, casting one more look back at you, smirking as you started scrubbing the floor. “Do you want any help?” He asked, finding Edmund framing up the shelves against the cellar wall.

Edmund paused, a nail clamped between his lips, bracing his elbow against the board he was nailing, he took the one out of his mouth, answering. “Are you any good at building things?”

“I find my way around a saw, hammer and a nail.” Gus replied, looking around at Edmund's spread-out supplies. “Just tell me what you want done with them.”

“All right.” Edmund nodded, cocking a brow at him. “I need a few more boards cut. I already have them marked to length. You can do that for me.”

“Sure thing, Captain.” Gus replied, going into his makeshift room to set his book down. “What?” He asked the other man's look, lifting one of the pre-marked boards onto the sawhorses, finding the pencil measurements and grabbing the saw that rested against the leg beside him.

“Don't call me that.” Edmund growled, an angry glare in his eyes.

Gus held his gaze for a moment, a faint smirk on his lips. “My apologies.”

The two of them nodded at each other, then turned back to their work.

There was no afternoon walk to be had, the dark clouds from that morning broke open and saturated everything outside, shutting in the residents of Saint-Thurney. Your father continued to doze in his chair, unbothered by the weather pattering the roof like a percussion symphony. Gus and Edmund were still down in the basement, hard at work, coming up periodically for bathroom breaks and refreshments, and you sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and getting lost in the world of Oliver Twist.

You paused, bringing your teacup to your lips and cast your eyes to the window by the door, sure you had heard something outside, above the rain and carpentry. But saw nothing and shrugged, taking your sip and set the cup down, returning to your sentence. However, a few moments later, you swore you heard it again; putting you on edge.

“Edmund!” You called out, slowly setting your book down, the hairs at the back of your neck began to stand up. You gasped, seeing three men flash by the window. “Edmund!” You shouted, startling your father awake, his eyes wide with panicked alarm.

A thunder of furious pounding sounded on the front door accompanied Edmund and Gus's boots stomping up the basement stairs, frantic and confused. You had rushed over to your father, in an attempt to calm him before he slipped into an episode of shock.

“It's the Patrol!” You cried, rubbing your father's back, eyes trained on the vibrating door, a stream of German demands now being shouted with their banging, mixed with accented French and English.

“Damn my eyes.” Edmund growled, gritting his teeth. “They must be doing random searches, thinking they can catch everyone inside with the weather.” He huffed, wiping at his sweaty brow and glancing at Gus, who seemed startling calm, but tense.

“We have to let them in!” You urged your brother, not liking how angry the Patrol sounded and knowing the longer you waited, the worse it would be.

“I know!” Edmund barked sharply, the gears in his brain spinning for a split second longer, before he took a long step forward and yanked the door open. “What's the meaning of this!? Are you trying to wake the dead?” He demanded, looking the three German Patrol officers over, the Sturmführer was red faced, and all of them were dripping from being forced to wait so long in the rain, for an answer.

“Inspections!” He snapped in Edmund's face, a small bit of spit hanging from his bottom lip.

“Yes, fine!” Edmund replied, rolling his eyes and shoving the door open.

No one moved as the three officers entered the cozy cottage. Your hand shook as it rested on your father's shoulder, periodically massaging it when you felt him tremble, still on the edge of a possible attack from his Shell Shock. Edmund eyed them from his place by the door, sweaty hands clenched into fists as he watched them conduct their inspections. More like a path of intrusive destruction. They yanked books off shelves, opened cabinets and tossed out their contents, pushed over furniture for amusement.

Even nicked things, when they thought the owners weren't looking.

Mael leaned forward slightly, mumbling to himself, causing you to frown. You tried to kneel down to bring your ear close to his mouth and listen to what he was saying, worried for him, but were stopped by one of the officers. He grabbed you roughly by the arm and yanked you up, barking something at you in German that you didn't understand.

“Please, he's not well!” You protested, tugging against him, desperate to care for your father before he slipped too far.

“Nein, bleib, Hexe!” He barked at you, making you cry out, his grasp tightening.

Before Edmund could blink, Gus was halfway across the kitchen, trained on the German holding you, like a bull seeing red. Snarling, with nostrils flaring, Gus twisted his fist in the officer's uniform and yanked them together. Forcing the other man up onto the tip-toes of his black polished boots in the process.

“Let her go!” He barked, giving him a good shake, for effect.

Startled, he let go, you tumbled to the floor at their feet, and rubbed at the burning handprint that was left behind. The air in the cottage thickened dramatically. One of the officer's comrades came rushing in from the garden, hearing the commotion, and fumbled for his sidearm. While their leader came flying downstairs.

“What is this!” The commanding officer demanded, glaring at Gus as he continued to hold his subordinate. “Put my officer down! At once!” He ordered, when Gus didn't move, showing no fear or reluctance towards the three of them, unlike you, Edmund or your father. “Who is this man?” He barked, looking between your brother and father.

“Answer me, at once!” He screamed, face turning red again. “Or I'll have him shot!”

“No!” You cried out, frightened. “Gus, let him go!” You begged him, pulling on his pant leg, desperately. “I'm fine, please!”

“Answer!” The officer growled at the lot of you, his limited patience wearing thin. “Oswin!” He hissed at his officer, who was now pointing his Walther p38 at Gus. “Shoot him!” He ordered, with a hard jerk of his head.

“He's my sister's fiancé!” Edmund blurted out, as Oswin pulled the pistol's slide back, his eyes wild in the heat of the moment, before collecting himself and saying more calmly. “He's just my sister's fiancé.” He gulped, meeting your eye as you looked up at him, stunned, and caught off guard by the omission.

“What man wouldn't protect his betrothed?” He asked the Storm Leader, moving his eyes to Gus.

“A lesser man.” Gus replied, taking the cue, then looked at the commanding officer. “And I'm not a lesser man, to have your filthy runt put his hands on my girl.” He growled, shoving the man away.

“Why have we not seen you before?” He demanded, looking Gus over.

“He was serving, but just returned home, after being wounded.” You explained to him, looking up at Gus. It was the easiest bit of information to give, for them to believe, Gus could show them his wound.

“Is that so?” The officer asked, cocking a brow.

“It is.” Gus answered, pulling up his jumper to show them his bullet wound. “I was wounded in Belgium and discharged. So, I came here to be with her and recover.”

“Can anyone other than those here confirm your story?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the lot of you.

“Yes.” Edmund chimed in, feeling like the situation was on decent grounds. “Dr. Sacha Tremblay. He's been doctoring his wound since he's been back.”

“I will be checking and informing the Director General.” The Storm Leader warned the three of you, and the look in his eyes hinted at his misgiving, waiting for one of you to crack.

“Very well.” Edmund answered, his tone bland, shrugging one shoulder.

The senior officer stared the three of you down for a second longer, before looking to his men, inquiring in German if they had found anything. But the two replied in the negative. There was no contraband or anything that could get any of you in trouble as collaborators to the French Resistance or Allied Powers. Despite Gus standing right there in front of them, plain as day.

Whether they knew that or thought they had enough evidence to take you in, was another story entirely.

[relevant-url-incoming]

If anyone is wondering about the state of my brain now that rhe character creator gives me soooo many options, I have made seven new characters (not counting Aziyev, who was a new design for an older character, or the two i still want to make but haven't done yet). I feel that for me this is very restrained and cool and sensible. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go get Amiliun to lvl 50 so I can make a mirialan bounty hunter on that server. Because I am. SO restrained.

[lookatmysillies]

WOULD I EVER

NAZ BELIEVES SO HARD IN AKANE’S TALENTS SHE’D BE LIKE “you can win yours, I know you can, and then maybe you can get me out of my season since you’ll be so famous and well-connected!” and Akane is like “yeah so for a plan B though—“

Castor, the night after ALIEN STAGE, Season 39: Round 1

"You're not supposed to be outside of your room, you know." It was cruel how close the voice sounded to Kyo. Like he was actually there. Like it was the 38th season again and they were spending every minute they could together before each round brought the threat of separation.

But it wasn't.

"You're not s'posed to be here, either," Castor pointed out tiredly, a lopsided smile on his face as he looked up at Kyo, all dressed up in his Anakt Garden clothes. It was fitting that he always appeared in those clothes. Castor had always thought they looked ghostly; a tongue-in-cheek reminder that they were all already dead.

Kyo leveled him with an unimpressed look. "Very funny."

"You know me, always laughing it up."

"Not right now, you aren't." Kyo raised his head to glance around the boiler room. It was stuffy and smelled strongly of artificial heat, but the guards didn't walk down this way very often. "What's got you so shook about Azure, anyway? You hated him. With a passion."

"I didn't..." He scrubbed a hand down his sweat-beaded face. "I didn't hate him."

"You didn't like him."

"He was a poor imitation of you," Castor snapped, then cringed at his own tone. "He mocked you."

Kyo rested his cheek in his hand, arching an eyebrow. "He mocked you. I was just the instrument."

"Same difference."

"And you're upset about his death."

Castor shrugged and touched a fingertip to a pipe to feel the dull heat emanating from it. "He was a human being. He didn't deserve to die."

"So your value on human life is greater than your own pride after all," Kyo said drily.

Castor tried to scowl at him, but he couldn't bring himself to be mad. Not at Kyo. Not anymore. "Of course it is. If Cirrus had died, my reaction would've been the same. Death is death."

"But you weren't expecting Azure's death." Castor jerked his head back, taken aback. Kyo continued bluntly, "You were sure all those adoring fans would save him. They were so loyal. Just like they are with you. All it took was one pretty mystery to take him out. What would it take for you?"

"We're not talking about my round. I have time."

"And you would've had more if you didn't let yourself be entered into this season in the first place!" Kyo stood with a glare. He wasn't angry before, just matter of fact, but he was angry now, that much was obvious. "Sonii wasn't going to use you for this!"

"She was going to use me for other things, though."

That gave Kyo pause. His terse expression melted back into dullness inch by inch. "Then what's the plan, Cas? You going to... you going to win again and again to avoid this? Watch a hundred people die in front of you? Is that what you think you're doing?"

"There is no plan," Castor bit out. "And we're done talking about this. I said I have time."

"Time to do what?"

Castor looked away, eyes falling on the shadows painted across the hard floor. He didn't know. He didn't know what he was waiting for.

But when he turned back to the spot where Kyo had been, he was gone. There was nothing.

Nothing had ever been there in the first place.