Welcome!

𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓦𝓲𝓭𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓫𝓼 – 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼.
𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓦𝓲𝓭𝓸𝔀
Who is she? A young woman who loves the extreme, or one who curates her own boundaries with cool elegance. “Dark” is the label others stick on her. But darkness is not a flaw; it is a medium, her medium. A room where contours grow sharper.
Her silhouette—veil, spiked adornments, raven-black gaze—quotes the myths of the Black Widow. An ancient image of the femme fatale who is desired and feared, who does not ask for attention but draws it. In nature, the real spider rarely eats the mate. In myth, however, the danger lives on as a cautionary tale about projections, possession, and control fantasies. This is exactly where she links image and counterimage. She wears the narrative without belonging to it.
Does she wear the gloom as a mask or as armor? Perhaps both. The veil protects, the ink speaks. The tattoo on her shoulder—an occult cat icon—is not mere ornament but a wink: independence, nine lives, a quiet smirk at every judgment. Her hands, pitch-black and glossy, tell of self-empowerment rather than camouflage. She observes, yes. But not to copy—rather to experience, to choose.
Does she need the looks? Maybe. Or she collects them like glass marbles, tests their light, sets them on a shelf, and moves on. Does she cling to unfulfilled dreams? She tends them instead—not as prey, but as raw material. Anyone who sees her as an enemy confuses presence with attack.
Perhaps she is simply a smart, fearless young woman with an old soul. Someone who does not hide her inner map but wears it on her body. Not a hunting instinct, but self-agency and self-love. Not poison, but boundary markers. The legend of the Black Widow supplies the metaphor. She herself writes the version where the web does not bind anyone—it holds.
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven
P.S.: Yes, I am deliberately playing the “advocatus diaboli” here. The character (Neon Devil by Glich) is fun. Let’s see which roles she spins next.

Made with Daz 3D I No Ki I Krefeld, 25.09.2025

𝓖𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮
Between digital reflections and neon lights, a moment of pure aesthetics emerges:
flawless porcelain skin meets a blaze of red hair.

The silhouette remains fleeting, a fragment of tulle, light, and fragile pixels.
Fashion that cannot be captured, but only felt.

An image like an unfinished thought. Radical, playful, yet full of grace.
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven

𝓑𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓐𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼
𝓢𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 / 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓮
On Halloween night the city smelled of rain and rotten pumpkin flesh. Beyond the windows, lanterns grinned, their faces slicing light into the dark. There, in a hidden spot, decay met living breath: an undead with brittle skin and eyes burning red, a girl with an innocent blue gaze. Only a hand’s breadth of air and the hush of pumpkin light pulsing like an old spell stretched between them.

“You hear it too, don’t you?” the girl whispered.

The undead smiled crookedly, her teeth an archive of lost days. Her fingers, bloody and careful, rested on the living girl’s cheek. A twitch of a spark jumped across—hardly visible—yet the air tingled like before a storm.

Warm pumpkin light drifted from the alley. In its orange pulse their eyes locked—innocent blue and consuming red, wave and counterwave. Images rose: a front door that would never open again; a child’s room where someone waited too long. The swelling pumpkin seemed to breathe. With every breath the world traded quiet, darker thoughts.

“Maybe I can bring you back,” said the girl. “Maybe I can send you where I refuse to go,” hissed the undead, her split tongue tasting the air. Both lines remained true.

The next flash of light tipped something over. A red rim glowed in the blue eyes; in the red, a drop of summer sky. Protection or betrayal, healing or hunger—the scale trembled. The universe stretched to breaking.

So close now. One breath. A kiss. Or a bite.

From the pumpkin came one last thump toward the pair, as if it gave its blessing. Then the light collapsed for a single heartbeat. When it flared again, someone stood upright and breathed calmly. The other…

Which one, no one dared to ask. And the pumpkin smiled, as if it knew some answers only belong in the dark—and should stay there. For safety, only for safety…
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven

𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓭 — 𝓟𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓕𝓵𝔂
They say apprenticeships aren’t glory years. In our neighborhood they’re mostly pumpkin years. First-years care for the delicate, wildly neurotic magic pumpkins. That means: pet, rotate, air, praise. Never—and I repeat, never—slap wings on one on a whim.

Our pint-size gnome apprentice, Pippi Nosewise, naturally disagreed. “I’ve got a feel for it,” she said—the exact sentence that makes insurance agents cry. So she whispered a spell you’re only allowed to learn in year three, half overheard, half improvised—and boom: a pumpkin sprouted wings and a personality. Both supersized.

Flying? Works great. Steering… let’s call it “mood-based.” The pumpkin reacts to adrenaline, foreign languages, and anything that sparkles. It loves loops, hates rules, and delights in skimming chimneys so close the weathercocks need therapy.

Because our hero left the field gate open in the rush, the rest thought: Field trip! Some were outraged (“Rule break! Un-pumpkin-like!”), others curious (“Finally out of agriculture!”). Result: a spontaneous pumpkin parade plus loud arguments over who gets to glow in front. Later they’ll call it “a sighting.” Live, we call it chaos.

And the master? Our much-respected, slightly terrifying, fully certified witch with a Class B (for Broom) license? She’s in hot pursuit—upright, shouting, with the face of someone who has saved the world three times and filed the paperwork after. Her radio to command (me): “Keep folks off roof edges, douse open flames, and if anyone asks, say: outdoor educational exercise.”

Meanwhile the kid is clamped to the pumpkin like a statement accessory, clutching a bouquet of glitter balloons that add exactly zero to aerodynamic stability—though Instagram already loves them. “I’ve got him!” she yells, as the pumpkin treats “got” and “him” like friendly suggestions and attempts a classy side-swerve over Main Street.

Cue the educational portion. The witch casts the recall spell—version “gentle but final.” The pumpkin gets a reluctant reminder of its root obligations; our student gets one about her neglected reading obligations. Touchdown in three-quarter time, applause from a safe distance, a sulky pumpkin chorus (“we could’ve done it ourselves!”), and one apprentice with wild hair and a very real learning curve.

Lesson of the night:

1. Wings are not a substitute for character development.
2. Gate closed. Always!!!
3. If a first-year says “I’ve got a feel for it,” they’ll have plenty of feeling later—mostly in the arm from hanging onto the pumpkin.

Tomorrow we practice mindfulness again: breathe, turn the pumpkin, don’t confuse responsibility with “it’ll be fine.” And maybe—just maybe—two of the best-behaved pumpkins get an approved lap over the town square. With a flight plan. And a helmet.
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven

𝓩𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓲 𝓒𝓲𝓽𝔂 – 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓷𝓭?
The night smelled of rain and rotten trash.
Streetlights flickered long after the sirens had fallen silent just like the life of the city itself.
She appeared, silent, almost graceful.
The Zombie Lady, pale as frozen light, with red, flickering eyes that had seen all the evil in the world. Her grip was firm, but not cruel.
The girl she carried in her arms trembled and screamed. Out of fear? Maybe. But she didn’t seem to truly resist...
They say zombies are soulless creatures, mindless husks of what they once were.
But this one whispered something about redemption, about companionship… or maybe about pets?
Her lips came closer. Her breath was cold, her scent impossible to define.
At her feet, a cat with glowing eyes hissed, as if it already knew how this would end.
Behind them, the girl’s friends rushed forward, armed with high-tech pistols, courage, and absolutely no plan.
Was this an attack? An abduction? Or an invitation to another kind of eternity?
No one knows for sure. But one thing is certain: If someone in Zombie City wants your heart...
…it’s probably best not to ask why.
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven

NZ1: Between Fantasy and Coffee Cup ((NZ => Message from the afterlife)
Hello everyone!
I’m Paulina, and today I want to share my first self-written fantasy story with you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short. Just a few words about me, then we’ll jump right in.

Besides messing around with all kinds of creative things on the computer, I love animals—especially cats—gardening, and skateboarding. I loved skating so much that I designed my own mostly dark skate fashion, sewed it, and even wore it on a runway. Alongside my job, reading has always been my biggest passion, usually late at night.
Then the accident happened, and just like that, my skating life was over. No board, no adrenaline, no new outfits. Everything has its time, I told myself, even if it hurt. And yes, I missed the creative energy and the chance to show things more than I expected. Creative underload is almost as bad as cold coffee for me.

So I went looking for something new. Thanks to my partner, I discovered photography. At first it was bees and flowers—easy models that don’t run away. But during the pandemic something completely different came along: DAZ Studio. A free 3D program for creating digital characters and scenes. I watched my partner use it, checked out tutorials, and jumped into this digital adventure with very little idea what I was doing. Plenty went wrong, some things worked, a lovely chaos of trial and error. But I was happy again.

In 2022, as a total beginner, I entered a few contests where the images had to be created with freebies using Iray. I didn’t win anything, but I learned something important: images alone weren’t enough for me. So I started writing little stories to go with them—spontaneous, often unplanned, but full of heart. Suddenly I had a growing story with strange characters and weird worlds. And yes, I was writing again. My creative side was alive.

I still wouldn’t call myself an author—others create world literature. I’m more of a creative scribbler who likes playing with images and words. I’m not aiming for the next big epic. Writing simply means a lot to me. It opens new paths, lets new (and sometimes odd) worlds grow, and connects ideas, pictures, and thoughts—sometimes funny, sometimes more serious. And I often surprise myself with what my characters decide to do.
But of course DAZ Studio kept bringing new features, and new ideas needed testing—so the little story fell asleep again after a while. A pity, really.

Then in October 2024, DAZ Studio introduced Filament rendering. I was immediately curious. I needed a project to try this comic-style render engine in a meaningful way. That’s when I remembered my old fantasy story. Would it work? I tested it—and yes, it fit perfectly. The new style gave the story a look I never could’ve created with Iray.

Of course, it wasn’t easy. Filament isn’t “Iray but fast”, it works differently in every way. So again: testing, swearing, coffee, more testing. That’s part of it. Every artist—or scribbler with a weakness for visuals—keeps learning, so I pushed through. And that’s why I decided to bring the story back to life now, with all its imperfections.
The early, clumsy Filament renders? They stay. They don’t just tell the story, they show my learning process.

It was the same with skating: I didn’t just skate, I made the fashion for it, sewed it, wore it, showed it. A creative process from the first idea to the final presentation. Now it all happens digitally—with ideas, images, and text. It still starts with a vague thought, grows through experiments, and eventually turns into something of its own. Whether on wheels or in pixels, the creative path feels surprisingly familiar.

And yes—coffee. Without it, nothing works. It’s my fuel, my thinking liquid. I’m convinced some of my best ideas were brewed right along with the coffee. So if something seems a little odd, it was either intentional or my cup was empty.

From time to time you’ll see me appear in realistic Iray renders, while the main story continues in comic style.

The title:
Hidden Magic – The Great Rift: In Search of Lost Magic
(Adventures in the Land Between Worlds)

I’ll drop in every now and then whenever something can’t be explained well with images or when I simply feel like sharing a personal side note from the Land Between Worlds.
And yes, I’ll notice if you’re reading along. Ideas and feedback? Always welcome.

But before you meet Amelie and Nikita—my two heroines you can already spot on the poster behind me—something moves in the shadows first. Quiet, subtle, and more important than it looks. Trust me, that part isn’t accidental.
So come with me into the world of these two strong girls, their friends, and a few family members around whom everything will eventually revolve.

Enjoy reading—and discovering whatever still hides beneath the surface.
Yours,
Paulina
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven Krefeld, 04.04.2025, 15:56