#nazire-tag

[gh0stedvhampir]

Nazire my beloved <3- 😍🧸💌

😍 : What does your OC find irresistible in others?

Nazire actually absolutely adores someone who cannot resist the nature of chaos; if you dive right in head first, it's a great gesture. (This is why he likes Silka a lot). In physical traits, long hair, black hair and silver/grey hair, thick and fat people, tender men (particularly those who care for the vulnerable), women in leadership, generally people of a variety. Bisexuality in full swing yo

🧸 : Into public displays of affection or are they more reserved?

I would say Nazire is quite reserved, but no. If he's with Parvaati then he's absolutely into PDA, and will show it without a problem.

💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?

Nazire still owes Parvaati a dance, honestly. Picnic of stars, controlled and consumed by peace and quiet. Some place with a quiet firefly light, and a place to spend with the other.

[v1ctory-or-sovngarde]

I am a child of Hammerfell, born of the sands of the mighty Alik'r. In that great desert, blood is a shade of crimson I can scarce describe...

decided to make a chibi of one of my own blorbos. Nazir baby I love youuu

tiny version + sketching stage :) did you know that the ebony warrior npc has the same face as nazir. uesp said so. i'm obsessed with this factoid. nazir's alter ego is the fucking ebony warrior. king shit

[arnaerr]

@lucien-lachance I made a thing for you

[gh0stedvhampir]

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

fuck this is so good

| LINKS | COMMISSION INFO | TWITTER | INSTA | PATREON |

Commission for @gh0stedfrog

[chex-mex]

All hail the Listener! 

pssst i added captions to the images...

Introducing my oc Xio~

I thought it would be funny if I placed him in charge of a group of deadly assassins. Not to say he isn’t all sorts of bad himself.

A thief turned assasain via the happenings at Windhelm and Riften thereafter.

His lust for murder greatly overcame his crow brain for shiny clinky gold coins so he left the Thieves Guild. Having the blood of an Emperor on your hands and being the Night Mother’s special boy feels far more rewarding than jewels and gold lined purses. Plus DB contract work seems to reward one well enough anyways.

He’s just the Listener though. I have another oc in mind for the role of Dragonborn.

[galacticjoelle]

Love them

[ehlnofay]

Summerfest Day 4 - SANCTUARY

“Oh shit!” Torr says, startling enough that he jabs his knee into the corner of the table. “I forgot your presents!”

They’re in the kitchen, the lot of them – Torr and Nazir and Gabriella and Babette, gathered around the long dining table, Torr’s pack slung over a chair back, his bare feet tracking cave dirt over the rug laid so neatly over the stark rock floor. It’s a good place to be, the kitchen; drier than most of the other rooms and always smells nice. And it’s where the food is. (Torr doesn’t take any of it outside of mealtimes unless they want it enough to ask – half because they don’t want to overstep, half because the others are insistent about eating patterns – but they come in sometimes to look at it anyway. It’s nice to know it’s there.) They’re kind of hungry now, actually; might ask for something once Nazir’s done with crossing things off the books and once they’ve given their gifts.

Which won’t take long. They’re not very big gifts.

But it felt important to get something. Torr was out on his first series of jobs, the lees of the Brotherhood’s stagnant backlog of contracts, and the idea of coming back to that bone-patterned door empty-handed was unconscionable. Maybe it’s an ingrained etiquette thing, though Torr’s never been much for social mores. Maybe it’s recompense.

(It’s definitely recompense.)

Torr still doesn’t know them very well, everyone else here. And on one hand, there was the impulse to keep every coin he was given for travel to send back home, like he promised he would. Like he promised. But on the other hand – on the other hand, he has to weigh new trousers and tunics that don’t make him sweat in Falkreath’s moderate weather, and an always-lit hearth, and three meals a day. With extra, if they need it. Blankets. A bed for them alone. Raw stone ceilings. Armour and new knives. Books. Gabriella helping them read. Veezara teaching them swordplay. Babette teaching them alchemy. Soap. Nazir letting them help cook even though they’re pretty sure that Nazir finds them a bit annoying. Quiet, when no-one’s yelling. Relative privacy. A designated space in the study. A cloak for travelling. Everything, everything in the world. Torr still doesn’t know them very well and it’s still weird and it probably will never not be, but they’ve made it better. Good, even, sometimes. They’ve been so kind and given so much and it makes Torr’s stomach hurt. He had to do something.

Something besides the jobs. Which went well, he thinks, relatively speaking. They got done. No near misses with the law or anything of that sort. He’d felt a bit bad for the one man – the poor scrub-beggar holed up in the remains of a long since ruined house. Reminded him of Silda, a little. A shame for him – if he’d only been born in Windhelm, he might have been one of the people Torr is doing this for, rather than a casualty.

It hadn’t felt good. But hunger and frostbite feel worse. So.

In any case, there’s none of that in the kitchen – just the ever-roaring fireplace, Nazir barely raising his eyes from his writings, Babette leaning so far over the table that Torr’s afraid she’ll topple her chair. “You got us presents!” she says delightedly, chin pressed to the tabletop. “Ah, you’re such a darling.”

Torr shrugs, turning to undo the ties of his pack. “Don’t get too excited. They’re small.”

Lounging catlike against the wall, Gabriella says, “It was very generous of you all the same.”

It really wasn’t, but Torr isn’t going to argue.

They dig out the first of the squashed little parcels, tied with fraying string, and slide it across the table so it bumps into Nazir’s book. Impassively, he checks off one last thing in his book before picking it up and lifting an edge of the waxpaper.

(Torr really wishes he would make facial expressions more often. Or do something embarrassing. Just so they wouldn’t find him quite so intimidating.)

He huffs out a breath. “What she said,” he says, failing to clarify which she he’s talking about, and turns to do something with a cabinet off to the side.

Torr lets it be, dragging out the next two of the too-many packages clogging up his old pack.  “I was up in Danstrar, near the port, and I saw this little stall selling these. They looked nice, and I thought – oh.” The first sugared nuts tumble into Gabriella’s hand, narrowly avoiding falling to the floor, and she oohs in appreciation; Babette, red-eyed and knife-toothed, looks, at least, amused. Torr says, “Shit.”

The Brotherhood’s blood-eater buries her nose in her treat parcel and comes up grinning. “Don’t worry. It’s a nice sentiment. And they smell nice, at any rate.”

“Shit,” Torr repeats. He presses his fist to his teeth. “Sorry. I didn’t – I think I forgot?”

What use would she have for candied almonds? Damn it. They were expensive, too – sold right off the ships, imported from somewhere down the south of Cyrodiil, or something. Though that’s a relatively minor thing (Nine, the cost is a relatively minor thing!) – this was supposed to be something nice. A little luxury, like all the things he’s been afforded since he arrived. To forget that Babette doesn’t eat (doesn’t eat food) is so ridiculous. All the time that he had to remember, too! Hell, he feels an idiot.

(He feels a bit worse than that, truth be told. For the first time in memory Torr has nothing worth giving; sitting around like a lump while comfort is showered upon him – when he hasn’t even sent the kids any money yet, when he can’t get the simplest gesture right – doesn’t agree with him.)

“Sorry,” he says again. His voice is muffled around his knuckles. “I’ll get you something else, next time I go out.”

Babette is smiling. She flaps a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, pressing down on one sugar-bright nut with a narrow finger; her face goes contemplative. “I used to have these at festivals, when I was a little girl. Actually a little girl. It’s sweet.”

Torr keeps chewing at the rough, frostnipped skin of his fingers.

There’s a noise, then – sudden and distracting – as Nazir shuts the cupboard door and drops a slouching corded pouch on the table. Torr jumps.

“Payment,” Nazir says, simply; the corner of his mouth is ticked up. “Usually we handle it in notes, but I suspected you’d want something a little more tangible. I dug this out of the safe.”

(The bag is dull yellow leather, seamed and sagging with age. Its string trails lazily over the table. It was loud. It looks heavy.)

“Tangible is good,” Torr says faintly, and reaches out to pull it closer to them with the crook of a bitten finger. It’s heavy, scrapes hair-raisingly across the tabletop as it moves. The lip of the bag lolls half-open, the cord like a hanging-out tongue. They pull it properly open.

There’s no coins.

Torr’s whole life he’s dealt in coins – shittily minted, dull grey and chicken yellow, so light a faint breeze could rip them from his hand. Ratty hacksilver, once or twice. This is bullion – bars and sticks and chunks of metal glittering in the hearth-light, cold and weighty to the touch. There are pendants too, for hack, one containing what looks like some kind of gemstone? Maybe fake – would it be rude to bite it right now? What’s Torr on about, he wouldn’t know the difference even if it were between his teeth.

Niranye would know. Torr needs to contact Niranye – no, tell Talres to talk to Niranye, and be wary of anything she says that doesn’t sound right. She’ll try to con him if she thinks she can get away with it. Torr will have to send weights, value estimations – they’ll need to ask Nazir – need to figure out how to even send this safely, what feels like half a ton of silver and half that on top in gold. If they should send it all at once, or separately, and on what cart? Would it be worth the expense to hire someone to keep it safe? Does he need to tell the kids how to use it, or – no, they’ll figure it out, surely; Katla’s canny and far too worldly-wise for her age, and she might make stupid decisions sometimes but she wouldn’t mess this up. She knows what they need. Then there’s that debt to Nurelion that Torr never paid off – normally they wouldn’t bother, but the old alchemist taught them so much surely it’s the least they could do. They’ll get some of it to Ambarys if they can (though he’ll never accept charity), and Silda –

“It’s all there,” Nazir says drily, cutting through their racing thoughts; when Torr looks at him, his lips are pulling, and they feel very distinctly that they’re being laughed at.

Their fingers, still dirty with travel grime they haven’t washed off since they got back half an hour ago, leave smudges along the polished surface of the bars. They’ll ask Astrid – she’ll know the inns and outs of moving this kind of wealth across the province. She’ll know.

(Nine hundred or so, Nazir said it should be. Nine.) Torr pulls his fingers back as reverently as if he’d been touching a holy object. “Thank you,” he says – head feeling like some dizzy winged thing about to detach and fly off into the clouds – and leans the heel of his hand on the table. “Um. Gabriella. I need to write a letter. Can you –”

“I’ll help,” Gabriella says, and damn it all, she’s got her fingers pressed to her mouth like they can hold it still; she’s laughing at him too.

But there’s a leather bag of almost a thousand septims on the table and Torr’s too giddy to get indignant. “Thank you,” he repeats, half-dazed.

Babette prods at him with her knuckles; when he looks down, her gleaming eyes are fixed on his face, three sugared nuts rolling around in the palm of her outstretched hand.

“What?” Torr asks.

Babette rolls her eyes. “Come on, Torr. You’re a big kid. You can feed yourself.”

Torr blinks. Their finger curls around the dangling drawstring of Nazir’s leather pouch. “What?” they repeat; shake their head, say, “No, it’s yours. It’s for you.”

“It’s mine,” Babette echoes, “and I’m not going to eat it, and it’s my choice who does. Take the nuts.” The points of her teeth look wicked sharp in the firelight; her face is soft and gauzy as the childhood neither of them ever had.

Torr got them for her. Fresh off the Danstrar port, grown in the south of Cyrodiil, in the far-away sun they’ve never touched; Torr got them for her, for all of the rest of them. It was all they knew how to do.

“You’re not going to make me feed you,” Babette says, imperious.

Torr takes the nuts. They taste of sugar and fine-spun sunshine.

[gh0stedvhampir]

OIUGGHGHGOHG OOHHHHHH GYUUUHHGHGHGHHHDFJKDFJD i'M FUCKING DEAD THIS LOOK AT MY SON.

magic goes whoosh! comm for @gh0stedfrog

[skyrim-forever]

If I left out your fav put ‘em in the tags! Went from off the top of my head the most talked about

[curvedswords]

I am a child of Hammerfell, born of the sands of the mighty Alik'r. In that great desert, blood is a shade of crimson I can scarce describe.

~Nazir

Center photo is art done by @ housemarcellus (it still wont let me tag you im sorry)

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Valentine's Day Mini-Poll!

[gh0stedvhampir]

ship ask game -- Nazire and Parvaati 8, 15, 16, 33, 48

8. What do they love most about the other? Why?

Well, Nazire adores her aggression. He thinks she looks incredibly hot the moment she starts girl-bossing into the sun. He loves her smile, and the way her hair moves. He loves the way she commands a room. I think most of all he loves her concern with her close circle. How she's got eyes in the back of her head, and is a fly on the wall in every situation.

As for Parvaati, I think she finds his stubbornness and attention to detail endearing. I also think she likes that she can snap her fingers at him and he'd genuinely jump for her. She's not big on certain types of commitment, but Nazire's dedication has won her over in the end. She's very attuned to Nazire's habits. [Even the bad ones]. Parvaati is a character who is best described at her ability to avoid a situation [except when she's yelling at Nazire for making a bad choice, and Nazire is just like ":D YES BULLY ME MORE MA'AM." ]

[Anyone who has met her knows she has a certain air to her in which you feel compelled to listen when she gives a decree.]

15. What songs remind you of their relationship?

Paris in the Rain by Lauv, Holy by Zolita, NFWMB by Hozier

16. Would they ever get matching tattoos? If yes, what would these look like?

Nazire would absolutely, Parvaati would take some convincing. Nazire would get a snowpea because that's what he calls her. Parvaati might jokingly suggest a horse. [Gun emoji]

33. How do they flirt? Who’s the worse flirt?

Opposite times, Nazire is an excellent flirt, and knows just how to butter her up. Parvaati is a good flirt, but Nazire is good at getting her to relent.

48. Do they talk about their future together? Why or why not?

Yes, and no. The future is complex for the Vistani, fate is as it does, and Nazire believes in the weave of fate the way the Vistani do. That being said, Nazire has laid down his feelings for her and will pursue them without holding back.

[argisthebulwark]

I was tagged by @elfinismsarts and oh boy, i've been writing a lot and posting very little so thank u.

Post the first sentence of your last ten fics, or if you just have one long-fic, then the first sentence of the last ten chapters. i'm doing the first line bc my intro sentences are always short.

Miraak Somnophilia(nsfw): I just need some sleep. Touch-Starved Miraak(nsfw): Years gone in the blink of an eye, lifetimes gone without a second thought. One-Bed Trope w/ Bryn: “Sorry.” The woman behind the counter sighed and flipped through her ledger again. “We only have one room left.” Mean Brynjolf(nsfw): “You’re good at stealth, lass.” Brynjolf leaned close, large arms caging her in. She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze when he gripped her chin, forcing her to stare directly into his eyes. Prophecy w/ Miraak: And as the Last meets the First, To one’s will the other will bend. At the end of the Last’s blade, The reign of terror shall end. Maybe You'd Like a Taste(nsfw): “One sip of the elixir and your wishes will be granted. Great wealth, everlasting life or perhaps limitless power could be yours!” Brynjolf Grief Posting: “You’re going to be okay.” Brynjolf carried those words with him through the tough times, the nights when he couldn’t sleep and the days that dragged on too long. Brynjolf/Nazir for the Sexyman Polls(nsfw): “When I heard I was up against a redhead I was worried it’d be that clown.” Saving Miraak Smut(nsfw): Apocrypha shook as it crumbled, its sickly ocean thrashing as the structures buckled under Mora’s rage. Brynjolf Gets Pegged(nsfw): “Gods.” The Guild Master had never seen Brynjolf like this - hands gripping desperately at the sheets, red face buried in their pillow. 

i only did the last ten fics i've posted because the last ten fics i've worked on are either very rough or not skyrim related lmao.

i feel like i've tagged people in a lot of stuff today so i won't clog your notif pages - but if you're writing and we're buddies, please do this and tag me. i wanna see em.

[blazey-kun]

Blazey's intro blogᝰ.ᐟ

𐙚Main Names: Blazey-Kun / Uzie Doorman / Alvay Azurah / Apna Vorry / Lavender

╰┈➤ 𖹭Other names/Nicknames: Alazini / Nazir/Naz / Din / Along/Ally / Pisang/Pis / AlvayRabs / Nasi lemak / NasiCorey.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

.☘︎ ݁˖Age: 13 years old !!

𐙚⭑𓂃──────────────────────────𓂃⭑𐙚

Pronouns: They/Them / Xe/Xyr / It/It's / He/Him / She/Her / Use any of my main names as pronouns

^᪲᪲᪲Gender: Bigender / Xenogender

════════════════════════════

♡ྀི ₊ Sexuality: Abrosexual / Demisexual

Other identities: Achillean / Fictionkin/Alterhuman

────୨ৎ────

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ Fandoms:

Mechamato

PJSK

Boboiboy

Murder Drones

SMG4

The amazing digital circus

FPE/Katieverse

Yaelokre

Sprunki

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

⋆˙⟡ — Kins:

Boboiboy blaze

Uzi doorman

Meggy

Mario

ˆ𐃷ˆ Lil more information about myself:

I am: ADHD, Short-Tempered, Ambiverted, Anti-Social(sometimes), Forgetful, And sometimes can be quiet

On the other hand, I can be: Cringey, VERY extroverted when we get to know more each other, Chill, Chaotic, And dumb

I am an animator/tweener, Artist, Editor, And writer!!! All for hobbies only

I have nyctophobia, which means i'm scared of the dark very much......maybe Autophobia(fear of being alone) and Acrophobia(Fear of heights) too

Apples and bananas are my favorite fruits!

I use tone-tags!!

I swears either all the time or barely

Taken by my one and only aliceee~/r <333

Classic word from some teenagers, I HATE SCHOOL

I'm a motherfucking MULTISHIPPER🔥🔥🔥🔥

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ Socials

Wattpad !

YouTube !

Instagram !

Bluesky !

Discord server !

PRONOUNS AND STRAWPAGE!!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

(unimportant maybe)

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ NAVIGATE !!!

Blazey's Arts – My drawings

Alvay's Edits – My edits

Uzie's Animation/ Uzie's Tweening – My Animation and/or Tweening

Apna's project – upcoming projects i'm working !!!

Ally's randomized – Stuff being random

Ally's promotion – promoting my socials, fanfics, story, and server

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

That's all for now~!

[archangelsunited]

Lines Tag Game

I was tagged by @elfinismsarts @friend-of-giants @mareenavee

And I am tagging anyone who wants to show off their fic! I want to see, so tag me!

Reread Foul Redemption to find the lines, which was a lot of fun. It can be found here:

A line from your fic that makes you laugh:

  “Lord Harkon doesn’t want to see you, Lokir,” Tyre said, pulling out his dagger. “As a chicken or as a vampire.”

A line from your fic that makes you sad:

Elisif is having a flashback of trying to convince her husband not to fight Ulfric.

“I love you, please. Just this once- please think of me.” Elisif thought.

               “Love won’t solve this, my Queen.”

A line from your fic you're proud of

  Cicero hadn’t changed- or rather, the feeling of safety hadn’t changed. Elisif was sure Cicero was connected to her. A chain wrapped from her hand to his heart- She only had to give the right tug.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

This is right before Elisif's mental break, and I think she would have something to say besides shut up.

  Right next to the Arentino boy. Sithis, sithis no. She didn’t want to kill anymore; it wasn’t fun. She didn’t.

Be calm, my Listener. Be calm.

  SHUT UP

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character.

“I am about to endanger your life for training purposes.” And for comedic purposes. The darker reason, the one that sat under Nazir’s collarbone in a tense icy ball- was that as happy as Nazir was, he couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. He couldn’t like Elisif, couldn’t watch her and teach her if she was going to die soon. The best way to deal with the problem was to get it over with- to make sure she got herself killed before he cared more than he already did- before he started fantasizing about the way she screamed in pleasure or pain.

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

One of the reaccuring issues that comes up is Elisif's relationship with money. Even as a Jarl, she never had control of more than fifty gold at a time, so this was a big step.

        “I could buy a house.” Elisif seemed startled. “A few more jobs, and I could buy a house in Solitude.”

Nazir grinned to himself, so she could.

So she could.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Lydia, as usual, landed on her feet.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

“I hope you killed the woman you took the dagger from, my friend,” Tyre said softly. “She doesn’t take kindly to thieves.”

      “I took it off one of her friends, a traitor to our ranks- Ondolemar. He was stationed in Markarth. No one has gone in or out of that hold in some time.

Dagon’s dagger. The mer said. An interesting piece of work. Several of your brothers and sisters have worn it in my name. It will go back to the Living Dead, as it always does.

A line from your fic that's shocking

This is the first time Elisif didn't fall head over heels for a character, and I was very proud of her.

     Thrice-Pierced got up off of her quickly. She stood and pulled the top of her dress back over her breasts. She pulled the skirt back down around her ankles as well. She stood like Elisif the Fair used to stand. She thought about the scars on her face- but then she dismissed them. She folded her hands in front of her. She gave her most regal glare.

   Thrice-Pierced gave a large swallow, and she watched his pupils widen.

    No, thank you.

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Look at the character development! Look at it!

Elisif kept watching as the party went by and Vici and her husband sat in front of the crowd. Elisif had sat there once.

        It may have been the worst decision of my life. Elisif thought to herself. For all she had gained from her marriage, she had lost it all again.

[v1ctory-or-sovngarde]

𝖜𝖎𝖕 𝖜𝖊𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖉𝖆𝖞

a humble offering. honorbound snippet + wip art. tagging @stellarsightz @throughtrialbyfire @jinjieee @wildhexe and if you've already done it this week feel free to tag me in the comments of your post so I can see your stuff~!

Standing at the base of the Throat of the World was, Kaidan discovered, quite sobering. He stared up the side of the mountain. Seven thousand steps. He’d never made the pilgrimage, never felt the need to, but now he was going to do it for a reason he would have never even dreamed of. As it turned out, the librarian at the College did have answers for them. If Miz’ri really was the dragonborn, he said, she needed to climb to High Hrothgar and speak to the Greybeards. All of Skyrim must have heard them shout to summon her. And so, their stay at the College was much like it had been before: replenish supplies, sleep in a real bed for one blissful night only, and depart the next morning. “We’d better start climbing if we’re going to make it by nightfall.” Miz’ri passed by him to examine the etched tablet at the first steps.  She had only been partially present for the trip, spending any carriage rides poring over the one book Urag had agreed to let her take out of the library. Even then, it was only allowed since the College had a second copy of The Book of the Dragonborn. She didn’t ask Kaidan many questions on the way to Ivarstead, instead consulting the text, but it was just as well. He didn’t have anything to tell her about the dragonborn that the book wouldn’t already explain. Seven thousand. His legs were going to be killing him by the end of this.

also......could it be? nazir chibi in progress????? 👀