What's on this blog you might ask? Chaos, bad jokes and Elder Scrolls content.
If you like that, you might be right here!
Hello there,
I am Julia (you can also call me Semla if you like Swedish pastries) and I am here to promote Elder Scrolls propaganda, mostly about banana elves and other pointy eared bastards. Asks are open for dumbass questions and ideas, I love to hear your bullshit. Also don't hesitate to tag me or send me a DM! <3
I use my free time (and free will) to paint fanart (of my blorbos and yours if you wish!) and write fanfiction. I use the following tags to get a bit of structure into my blog for searching purposes:
#my art (for art)
#my writing (for writing)
#my fics (for overviews of my fic)
I have dedicated OC posts mainly for their design:
Nevri • Morotar • Ria • Canmal
Other links:
AO3
KoFi
Instagram
Deviant Art
Fic Master Post
Writing Playlists
Commission Info Post
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Ohh, I hope I can work through all the WIPs I've been tagged in! Made a start but energy left me :P It will come back, I'm sure!
So long, I'll show you what my brain has spat out. It has not yet let go off the GTA Trend and somehow this did not only end in Nevri with a gun, but also cute Ria throwing a kiss and... *checks notes* Morotar on roller skates? Okay.
I'm dropping this now because I know most of tomorrow is going to be busy. I'll check posts i'm tagged in in the evening <3 work (as in the dogs i'm watching) has made it difficult to work on art or writing :(
I'll share what I have for my entry for "Dream" from @tes-season-unending-fest. Specifically this is from young Ophelia's pov, her watching a worrying health episode with her mother. :') that's totallllllly not going to affect her sleep later
words: 550 || warnings? minor medical episode
Mama doesn’t fall. Her father catches her before it happens. But still, Ophelia sees the almost of it happen.
She sees Mama’s face go pale and strange, sees her mouth open around a breath that doesn’t come right. She sees Papa turn her toward him, one hand at her waist, one hand at her jaw, making her look at him. Mama tries to push at his wrist and fails.
He says something; it’s too low for her to catch all of it, but she hears Mama’s name inside it. Lilliandra. Not Lilli. Not any of the quiet names that belong to their room and the mornings when Mama is still half asleep. He moves her, lowering her into the chair – not her chair at the table, but the one closer to the hearth, with arms she can grip. Mama’s fingers closer around the wood as if the chair might disappear beneath her.
“Breath,” Papa tells her.
Mama makes the small kettle sound again on the inhale.
Ophelia feels cold from it.
Her father doesn’t turn from her mother but calls Serana’s name. Her aunt’s hand tightens at Ophelia’s shoulder.
She doesn’t want to move. Ophelia wants to stay and watch. If she’s taken away, the room will keep happening without her, and she won’t know where Mama’s breathing goes.
But Serana bends besides her, face calm in the awful way adults are calm when they’re pretending. “Come with me, little moth.”
Ophelia refuses, her fingers curl around the table edge.
Uncle Elikar moves fast, moving to the cabinet where the medicines lives. He opens one draw, then another. Glass bottles clink together.
Papa kneels in front of her mother. Ophelia has seen him kneel to speak to herself, to tie her boot laces, to examine a beetle she brought inside. But she’s never seen him kneel like this. His back is straight; his shoulders are still. One hand rests on Mama’s knee, anchoring her; his other hand settles on her upper arm.
He speaks low to Mama, still too quiet for Ophelia to catch all the words, but she catches some. “Slowly— Again — Look at me.”
Mama tries, but the breath whistles again.
Ophelia’s own throat squeezes.
Serana doesn’t pull. She waits half a breath, then says softly in an attempt to comfort, “She’s being helped, Ophelia.” Her hand slides down to Ophelia’s hand; Ophelia lets her hold it because Serana’s fingers are cool and steady.
But Ophelia doesn’t move from her spot, shaking her head in a silent protest.
Elikar comes with the small blue bottle. He doesn’t look at Ophelia. That’s how she knows it’s bad. Elikar always looks at her when adults become too quick. He always gives her one of his little almost-smiles, the kind that means, I see you. It’s not yours to fix.
He doesn’t do it now.
Serana crouches beside Ophelia. Before she tries to say another word, Ophelia shakes her head again, her curls moving with it.
Mama coughs, coughs, coughs, then bends forward so sharply Papa’s hand closes around her shoulder. Elikar says something about dizziness. Papa says something back. Mama makes a sound that might be annoyance if there were enough breath inside it.
Ophelia can’t focus on the words, her ears buzzing in the fear that’s bubbling up.
not going to tag a lot due to being busy (because holy shit my wip list for tags is getting massive but i love you all), but feel free to use this as a tag for yourself reader 🫵
no pressure tagging: @firefly-factory @honeybeebunny111 @umbracirrus @cresu @hircines-hunter @heavy-metal-dick @friend-of-giants @theoneandonlysemla @saltymaplesyrup @truth-01001001-liar @oblivions-dawn @flycasual @juliette-has-a-pencil @pinessydr @sunsettemplar @shadylex @intyaliel @nirnroot-dot-wav
Girl got a gun, girl got a gun, gun, gun
Girl got a gun, girl got a gun, bang, bang!
Girl got a gun, girl got a gun, gun, gun
Girl got a gun, girl got a gun, bang, bang!
I have this song stuck in my head every time I see this painting
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Been really getting into reading and writing, I've read 24 chapters of fics so far just this month! Now I only wish I also had time to draw a little...
Here's a snippet of Rogue Waves (296 words):
CW: None
“What did the priestesses want?” he asked instead, keeping his voice carefully leveled.
Talisse gave him a look that suggested the question itself was offensive.
“I don’t see how any of this is your business,” she said, the words pricking. “Can you stop mixing yourself up in mine and just leave me be?”
“Leave you be?” Ondolemar repeated at last, slower now, as if the phrase itself required examination before he could accept its existence. “You were assaulted in broad daylight in the middle of a city street. By guards. In full view of witnesses.”
Talisse let out a laugh at that. It was fractured, entirely devoid of humor, like a reflex she no longer had control over. She didn’t even look at him when she answered.
“What do you care?” she said flatly.
The question stalled him, and for a moment, Ondolemar simply stood there, expression tightening as though he could physically force an answer into shape. His mouth opened slightly—and then closed again.
What did he care?
The silence that followed felt too long to be comfortable, stretching thin enough that even the wind moving through Markarth’s stone terraces seemed louder.
When he finally spoke, it was controlled to the point of sounding rehearsed.
“The Thalmor maintain order for all loyal subjects of the Aldmeri Dominion,” he said. The phrasing came out as clean as polished metal.
He stopped.
Because even as he said it, it rang hollow in a way he couldn’t quite justify on principle alone.
Talisse turned her head enough to look at him over her shoulder just enough for him to catch the expression—flat, exhausted, and edged with something dangerously close to contempt.
“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my life,” she said flatly.
Got tagged by @dirty-bosmer @anilliscarts @heavy-metal-dick
No pressure tagging, with a soft kiss on the forehead @umbracirrus @cresu @theoneandonlysemla @luciolafantastic @tobianidiot @pocket-vvardvark @sanzas-reverie @captain-of-silvenar @tigerlily340 @red-mountain-flower @kuurankaiho @oblivions-dawn @caz-the-yarncromancer @saltymaplesyrup @dark-brotherhoe @silly-little-diary @artaeums @skyrim-forever @friend-of-giants @intyaliel @honeybeebunny111 @blue-dartwing @hircines-hunter @sulphuricgrin and YOU!!
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It was a couple of days I had this idea in my mind. He is such a dashing terrible man. Lovely.
I started to play ESO a couple of months ago and I should probably continue, but after the hospital I am in no mood for any videogame sadly. At some point.
I think it’s been about 3 weeks since I participated? Anyway, for cross stitching, I’m getting close to the end of another row, although this pic won’t reflect it completely because I only took it last time Dagoth was out of the frame lol
It’s all just dark colours now, and then it’ll be time to work on his body again. Yippee
Also picked up drawing, so I have some lineart for what I’m working on for @tes-season-unending-fest
Forgive Voryn, he doesn’t have his nails on yet. He barely put his hair on in time for this post 🤣
Also I was going for the Nerevarine being all ‘hell nah dude’ or startled that ash zombie leapt forward out of the crowd to act all reverent, but I’m not sure if it translated. Oh well lol
Thank you @dirty-bosmer for the tag! Passing along with no pressure at all to @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @friend-of-giants @truth-01001001-liar @neloths-tea @chiqita @sulphuricgrin @hircines-hunter @umbracirrus @cresu @caz-the-yarncromancer @nerevarbean @flycasual @goodwounded @juliette-has-a-pencil @darkcimba @luciolafantastic @runathequiet @aspendruid @paula-arrts @kauchenoe @rothvantes @tobianidiot
Hi hello, it’s me. I’ve been dead the last couple of days because I’m traveling without an internet connection. I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled crazy in about a week and a half-ish. I’m in the jungleeeeeeee. I’ll should have a somewhat more stable internet connection starting tomorrow so I can at least see what everyone is doing and such.
I don’t have any writing because it’s hard to do where I am, but I did see a bunch of people (particularly in the TES community) draw their OCs as the GTA VI girl and that looked fun so I’m giving it a try. (It’s sketch phase at the moment and I have a few things to fix, but it’s going. Someday I also have to put a background in here….) I’ll probably paint over all these lines later as well as I have been. Anyway…
@dirty-bosmer @hircines-hunter @theoneandonlysemla @reaver-of-kirkwall @softeasun @mareenavee @oblivions-dawn and anyone else who has something. It might take me a bit to get there, but I’m alive.
Idek how long it's been since I last posted one of these, but I'm finally feeling settled after all the life changes. Returning to old hobbies at long last :))
Tagging you all back for this week + @wispstalk @zupergoddess @justafoxhound @kookaburra1701 @thequeenofthewinter @gilgamish @dark-brotherhoe @ladytanithia
Back on my Lucien/Nim crack-fic bullshit:
In his heart, Lucien knows such softness has no place in the Dark Brotherhood, but he can’t bring himself to leave despite her transgressions, despite her weakness. And he resents her for it, that she can walk away when he will be repairing what they unmade for the rest of his days.
Here they are, fighting the same battle against loss, desperate to preserve the last gangrenous limb. Together, they cling to what the grave has already claimed. Proof that no one truly buries their family in the ground. They carry them on their back, in their chest, forever.
At night, Lucien lies awake beside Nimileth, clutching the fleeting warmth of her body. His heart beat slows as the heat of the day wanes, and he wonders how long the memory of a person, of a feeling, could substitute for the pulse of the real thing. Fear and anger overwhelm him, dragging his addled mind to exhaustion, and it’s moments like these where he swears he hears a voice— her voice or something not unlike her voice— clear and cold as a night breeze.
“Listener,” it says, “your family is ruined. Your family is dead, and you are too.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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