The first time he saw light in it's rawest form, was when he crossed the line he never even new existed. Guided by her laughter, lead by her excitement, he followed slowly. Distant, quiet, attentive. Nothing had changed, it seemed. But as the turquoise sparkles finally hit his skin, something began to tuck at his insides. Unfamiliar and raw. At that moment, Paul understood what Dawn had tried to tell him all along - the world was vast, deep and full of wonders. And there was no greater gift than marvelling at it.
I'd planned to paint something for my other little story on AO3, Abyssal Rispetto.
Well, my exam on monday went well and I was motivated a lot to try something new. I usually don't delete the Sketch Layer, I've only done that... three times maybe? It's exciting though and since I love background paintings, I decided it was time, to try something more complicated now - bodies without sketches.
And now I'll go to bed.
Hope you're all well and I wish you a nice little holiday, if you celebrate it!
I’m afraid some of ya’ll just don’t have the freak gene that lets you enjoy ACTUAL enemies to lovers. Ya’ll think that trope is just like coworkers fighting over a promotion or smth like no give me people that have tried to maim and kill one another or give me nothing
(Ignore how botched up two of his fingers are, okay? I failed anatomy and art 101. And apparently my vision wasn't working while coloring.)
Slightly inspired by the that trend, "I'm slowly forgetting your face," but instead, we're forgetting no one's faces! ('Cause if you asked me to draw one, you're getting a poorly drawn facial composite that's going to make you laugh out loud or scare children away) We're capturing them with a camera with a cap that's still on, and a girl which (i don't think that's her sweater 🤔) does not want her photo taken this lovely morning.
THIS WAS A ROBUX COMM FOR MY WONDERFUL FRIEND @cupids-froggy !!
it has been at least. 4? 5? years since ive drawn anipoke related stuff? SO THIS WAS SO FUN i really miss my old pokemon fixation this was such a joy to draw 🫶
I've always had this annoying quirk, that whenever there is character customization in a game, I gotta design my character after another character I love, because otherwise I won't identify with them.
The character I used the most for this is... Paul...
So... I used him in Diablo IV too, as a Rogue and a Necromancer.
Since I love the snake theme for him and I always wanted to draw a grown-up version ofmy favorite character, I thought I'd try it today.
My exams are far from over but next week I'll have the final phase and then I can draw again. A lot.
Well, after only drawing what my Uni wanted me to draw, I found the time to update an old drawing from me way back when I used pencils and paper (I still do, just not as frequently as my graphicstablet now).
It's my favorite boooaaahh Paul again and of course, the signature white snakes of death and doom.
I gave 'em blood this time. Makes 'em look more like danger noodles.
And I updated Paul's clothes a bit, gave em texture, some patterns and adjusted the colours to look a bit more natural. I learned a lot about color theory and shading the last few weeks and now I had the chance to try some of it out.
Of course, I'm still far from being a master, faaar away from it, but it's kinda cool to see my progress in a year.
Anyways, have a good day and stay safe! See you in February!
And they laugh at the fact that they shouldn't be here at all. They should be resting, hidden beneath the frost, some of them should even be dead. But he dreams, and so they exist. He's never dreamed like this before.
My first drawing for this year and of course it had to be something related to Pokémon, heh. No butterflies in the stomach, but dreams formed as curious little insects inspecting a world, they'd usually never be a part of this time of the year.
Make of that whatever you want ;)
I've drawn this specific one on paper back in August, when we got our new wintergarden. Sadly I only had time to properly put it into color digitally now, after my last exams, but oh well, better late than never, right?
The Streets to Whiterun was a soundtrack I enjoyed immensely while playing Skyrim back in the day and I rediscovered it recently. So naturally I put on the 10 hour version and on I went to finish this drawing :D
I hope you enjoy it and are having a good new year so far. I'll start writing again soon, had to take a break after my exams, but I'm back in business again, so stay tuned.
not only can i not draw faces, but i can't draw hands either. 😂
I was going to wait to post this until I made an ao3 fic to go along with it, but my mind is battling with probability of who knows what and scholarship opportunities to write. So unfortunately I didn't get to write anything. I might later. Who knows.
For the Drabble meme, could you please do Ikarishipping with number 8? Thank you!!!!
“Was that your first kiss?”
The words are whispered, a little breathy, a little playful, when their lips part. It’s still kind of weird, being close like this, but she still enjoys it—which is why her skin prickles with abandonment when he scowls and draws away from her.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Paul mumbles, wiping his mouth, gaze falling to the wayside.
Dawn jerks upright. “Oh, I—I wasn’t!” she panics, waving her hands. “Honest!”
Paul eyes her with doubt. Dawn inwardly groans. Great. Just great. Months and months of gradually working him over, getting closer where neither had expected it, and she throws it all away over one thoughtless remark.
“Look…” She folds her hands in her lap, looking contrite, hoping she can salvage this. “I like you. And just now, you were… so, so sincere and sweet, and it wasn’t what I expected—so I wondered. But you don’t have to answer. I don’t need to know; it’s not important or anything.
Paul leans back on his hands. The suspicion is gone from his eyes, but now his gaze is assessing.
“It was,” he says after a moment.
Dawn perks up. She manages a smile.
“Well… it was good,” she shyly commends. Then, adjusting herself onto her knees and leaning forward, she asks, “You know what’s better than a first kiss, though?”
Paul raises an eyebrow. He says nothing but makes a small gesture indicating she should continue.
“A second one,” she says.
He actually smiles at that, and she likes the shape of it under her lips when they meet again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hello everyone!
I'm back with another chapter for my Ikarishipping One-Shot Collection, that turned out to be a collection of some... not so one-short stories.
It's the second chapter for 'Wrath', the story losely based on the Incredible Hulk movie from 2008. I gotta warn again, that the topics from the last chapter, the ones which I made a trigger warning for, are still gonna come up in this chapter and probably also the next one. So be aware of that and only read, if you feel comfortable with it.
Uhm... as 'comfortable' as one can get with these explicit topics... Hope you know what I mean...
My life's gotten a bit better again, I'm very very slowly getting back on my feet, but it's a process and there are still many things, that don't work out right. But writing this really helped a bit and so this is another very long and deep chapter.
I like long chapters, I dunno why. What about you guys? Is the chapter length alright so far?
This whole writing thing is just for fun and to get my head out of the game for a minute, but it can't hurt to try and get better at it, right?
As always, I love interacting with you guys and if you liked a story, be sure to tell me in the comments, as well as when there are some issues you discovered or you got some constructive criticism for me - both is welcome here!
I won't keep you from reading any longer now, thanks for saying hello ^^
Last time I forgot the little sneak peek, soooo... Here it is :D
Far away from the rest of the civilized world, this cabin had developed a charm all its own, which Dawn could only describe as comfortably rustic. Early in the morning, she was awakened by energetically squawking magpies that had built their nests in the surrounding trees and seemed to be trying to disturb each other. They were almost like annoying neighbors, which Dawn was fortunately spared in Twinleaf Town. Not even Barry would classify as such a neighbor. He was a childhood friend with quirks that took some getting used to, but he was a good guy.
Unlike these extremely obnoxious magpies, who only stopped screaming when the first rays of sunlight appeared above the treetops. Sighing, Dawn rolled out of her warm duvet and sat up, her blue hair hidden in a bonnet to protect it from split ends. She only wore it at night to sleep, otherwise her hair remained loose and exposed to the air, a strategy that had always yielded good results so far. Carefully removing the bonnet from her head, Dawn glanced wearily at her cell phone. It was only six in the morning...
Paul was surely already awake, knowing him. Or maybe he had been so exhausted that he was still asleep? She felt a little curious, but at the same time, a big yawn made it clear to her that she herself should probably get some more sleep. Dawn stretched until her muscles were properly losened and she felt a little more awake before she crept down the creaky wooden stairs to the living room.
She tried to be as quiet as possible and put on her thick wool socks so as not to wake her guest, which, to her delight, she actually managed to do. Paul was still fast asleep, sprawled out on the sofa, obviously catching up on some long-awaited rest, which she could tell from the fact that his blanket was only half covering him. Already much more relaxed than yesterday and snoring quietly, he had rolled onto his side and hardly moved a muscle. It was as if a bomb could go off right next to him and he wouldn't even notice.
Dawn had to smile and decided to put the blanket back over his shoulders. As she did so, Paul grimaced slightly and turned onto his back. It was an extremely unfortunate moment for this movement, because when he opened his eyes a little later, blinking sleepily, Dawn's head was hanging right over his face. Her large, sapphire-blue eyes were the first thing he saw that morning and— “WAAAAHHH!!!”
Dawn almost fell on her butt in shock when Paul apparently scared himself to death and wanted to crawl into the sofa to escape the potential threat. Luckily, Dawn had just managed to catch herself on the living room table and was quickly back on her feet, while Paul had clung to the back of the sofa in a flash and was breathing heavily, trying to calm his pulse.
“Are you crazy?!” he barked at her, causing Dawn to exhale indignantly. “I can't believe my ears! I was just trying to put the blanket back over your shoulders, you jumpy weasel!” She threw the corner of the blanket she had been holding at his head and turned away with her arms crossed. “Good morning to you too.”
Paul needed a moment to compose himself and put a hand on his chest, as if that could prevent his heart from jumping out of his chest. He didn't answer, but immediately raised his wrist to check his heart rate. “Almost 180... Damn it, Dawn... Do you know what you could have caused?!” he hissed, still trying to calm down. The young woman with blue hair gave him an offended look, even though there was a certain guilt in her voice when she replied, "I didn't mean to scare you! I just wanted to cover you again! No one could have guessed that you'd be so easily frightened!"
Touché, actually he wasn't. Paul had never really been impressed by pranks and attempts to scare him. He put one hand to his head. Had he been in such a deep sleep? That would be the first time in... far too long. Paul slowly sat up and watched with relief as his pulse rate slowly returned to normal. At least that. It could have been much worse, he knew that. If his pulse had been around 200...
He didn't want to think about what could have happened and instead turned his attention to Dawn, who was now stomping into the kitchen to make breakfast. She took eggs out of the refrigerator and a pan from one of the large drawers to prepare scrambled eggs for both of them. Maybe some bacon or at least diced ham, if she had any left. While Dawn searched the refrigerator again for the ingredients, Paul stepped up to the stove and looked at the chicken eggs she had placed on the counter. “Scrambled eggs?”
“...”
Oh, she was angry.
Well, she could be angry, wouldn't change a thing. He knew the risk of getting on his nerves now, and she knew it too. His ego demanded that he remain strong and not apologize for his harsh words, but his stomach compelled him to... well, not say anything, but do something. He turned on the upper, large burner and looked over Dawn's shoulder to see if she had any cooking oil available so he could start on the eggs. Maybe helping her would cool her down a bit.
Dawn noticed his head over her shoulder, something she had become accustomed to by now. Paul had been taller than Dawn since he hit puberty, a whole head taller at 18. And now, with this new body, he had grown almost another half a head. He was like a big bear behind her. “What are you looking for?” “Cooking oil.” “Here.” She handed it to him and finally fished a packet of diced ham out of one of the drawers in the refrigerator. Behind her, she could already hear a very faint hissing sound.
“Powerful stove.”, Paul remarked, himself surprised at the speed with which the cooking oil began to bubble. “New stove.”, Dawn replied before adding the diced ham. What a conversation... They were now standing close together, not in each other's way, yet separated by a slight wall of tension. Dawn reached for the spatula she had placed in front of Paul with the other ingredients and was about to take one of the eggs out of the carton when Paul handed her one. She accepted it and broke it over a tall plastic cup, which puzzled Paul.
“What are you doing?” “Making scrambled eggs.” “In a cup?” “Just watch.” Another egg followed, and then another, before Dawn added a small splash of sparkling water. Paul initially grimaced, until Dawn pressed a red lid onto the cup and began shaking it vigorously until only a thick yellow liquid remained. She poured it into the pan through a screw-on closure on the lid and watched as the egg began to fry. “Huh. Why the water?” “The carbonation makes the egg fluffier. A tip from my grandma.” “Ah... Cool.”
When he finally returns home, there's still a soul waiting for him.
------
My little Halloween Painting, because it's sad and dark :D
It features a future scene for my ongoing project 'Front Line Sonnet' on AO3.
Paul is a soldier and fighting in a war neither him nor Dawn wanted. She stays home, cares for their little home and goes to work, trying to keep everything afloat, while Paul's fighting in the trenches of no-man's-land.
If you're interested in reading, here's the link - it's a story, that's very important to me and I'll definitely finish in time. Enjoy!
I've been having trouble with school for quite some time now, my university is... giving me a hard time with some financial problems, but I hope they're gonna be settled soon.
To keep my head from hurting too much about it, I decided to add a funny idea I had for Dawn and Paul to my list of Ikarishipping stories.
Abyssal Rispetto is a story placed in the arctic ocean (mostly), more specifically the Greenlandsea. Paul and Dawn are humans adapted to survival in this harsh environment, but spend their lives in completely opposite directions of the ocean. While Dawn lives at the surface, breathing air, enjoying the aurora borealis and company of her friends, Paul lives alone, deep down in the abyss, where his only company is the vast emptiness of ... nothingness.
Through certain circumstances, Dawn and Paul meet and begin to form a deep disgust for each other. But for some reason, fate always drives them back into each other's way...
If you want to, you can check it out on AO3, like all my other stories.
Have a nice day!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hello, I'm back with another chapter for my historically inspired Ikarishipping Fanfic!
Sadly I'm still in a stressful phase and on top of that also sick with the flu now :') So until the 15.02., when my exam is over, I will probably not be able to write another chapter.
But no worries, I'm still planning, still throwing thoughts around, the sketchbook for this story is growing by the minute with ideas :D
Now, feast your eyes on a little snippet of the next chapter, which you can of course find on AO3.
Have a nice day!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My dearest Paul,
It is so wonderful to hear from you again at last! I had already feared the worst, with the newspapers reporting fierce fighting at the front and calls for donations everywhere. I am therefore extremely pleased that you are well and neither injured nor... well, you know. I don't want to think about that at all right now, not when I have a letter from you in my hands! It's a little difficult to read this time, the letters are very close together – but I'll decipher it. If I have misunderstood anything, please correct me in your next letter, okay?
And first of all, I would like to congratulate you on your 26th birthday and wish you a happy new year! My handsome, charming, fluffy plum, all the best in the world and may you stay healthy and happy. I'm writing this letter a little early, but hopefully it will reach you in time so that you can hold it in your hands on the right day and enjoy it. I've sent you another parcel and I know Reggie wants to send you one too. Hopefully they'll both arrive safely so that you can enjoy your presents on your special day. I've packed some of the jam Zoey gave me in the summer, a loaf of brown bread with a few eggs and a sack of potatoes. I've also included a new hat, as you requested in your letter, and a warm scarf that I knitted myself. I hope you like it; I thought you could use it up there. You've always been a bit sensitive around your neck.
I've also packed two little surprises for you. I hope they'll bring you a little joy in these gloomy times. You mentioned one of these surprises when you were here on your short holiday, so I'm sure you can guess what it is. I made the other one myself with lots of love, so please don't lose it, like the photo in the snow, all right?
Well then, on to your lovely letter!
There was no fighting over Christmas? That's surprising and wonderful at the same time! I was so worried that you would have to spend Christmas in a hail of bullets and wouldn't even have the opportunity to rest, eat and celebrate on these special days. I would love to have you here, you know that. I think it's absurd that they didn't allow you all to come home for Christmas, but unfortunately that's just wishful thinking on my part. You can't just pack up all your things and go home when the guns are pointed at your own country, can you? Hopefully it will all be over soon; the forces on both sides must be exhausted by now, right?
Christmas is not only a celebration of joy and sharing, it is also a celebration of love. Surely all soldiers, no matter which side they are on, longed for a quiet moment in which they could relax and open their presents. And rightly so! You should be allowed to celebrate just as much as we who are stuck here at home, waiting for something to change. Although that's not entirely true. Not everyone can bear that risk... I'm not cut out for politics anyway; they'd probably put me in prison before I could even say anything. Or maybe...?
Is there actually a quota for how many shots you have to fire per day? I would almost believe that some officers would apply this quota to soldiers who are taking a break in the rear trenches. What a consumption of ammunition... Are you punished if an unpleasant officer catches you firing fewer cartridges? Or have your superiors already come to terms with the fact that orders from above cannot always be implemented in reality? You surely know yourself that such a requirement is quite difficult to comply with, given that so much shooting has to be done every day that the whole forest is emptied of its inhabitants in fright.
My last letter got me into quite a bit of trouble because I dared to complain about the duration of the war and how foolish it is not to be allowed to lay down our arms for even a few days. That is why I now intend to be a little more cautious. So, I hereby apologise once again for my inappropriate comments and hope that my next letter, this one, will reach you safely at the front. I am therefore all the more pleased to hear that my wish has been granted and that you were indeed able to spend the holidays without heavy fighting.
Perhaps I should write a letter to His Majesty. Complain to him that you have to endure such strange rules. It's not just the fact that you can be punished for firing too few cartridges, even though in real combat you have neither the time nor the nerves to get properly upset about such a thing. He was in the army himself, he is its highest member, its leader. Surely he will understand, don't you think? Would he even read a letter from a simple woman from the deepest forest...?
At least in the newspapers, he is still praised to the skies for his leadership qualities and his closeness to the people. Who knows. I'll inquire if there are any possibilities, even if it's just for fun. Then I can at least say that I wrote a letter to the king. Or I'll ask one of the newspapers if I could write an open letter...
Ah, these are just the kinds of thoughts that come to mind when I sit here at your desk. I know you don't mind, but I wanted to let you know that I'm using it again. Only for your letters, of course, otherwise I'll leave it alone, but it helps me to think when I have something tangible nearby that reminds me of you.
Ahaha, what a shame, I keep saying it, a beard would suit you so well! It doesn't have to be a full beard, a few well-groomed stubble would be enough for me! Or maybe a twirled moustache? I don't know, beards have always had something about them that radiates class. Not that you need it, you're in a class of your own. But it gives a man a whole different kind of elegance. If you can't stand it, I won't force you to grow one, of course. Your head is already itchy enough thanks to the lice, an itchy beard would just be another burden, especially since they can spread there too. Reggie said he sent you two new combs especially for the lice, hopefully they'll help you a little against those nasty creatures... In any case, it might even be a crime to hide your handsome face under a beard.
Now that you've had time to take care of your well-being, I'm reassured. You have often spoken of difficult conditions due to mud, cold and rain, and it breaks my heart every time I think of you sitting in the dirt, freezing and wet to the bone. It must have been liberating to be able to wash with soap again, right? They have collected a lot of things here in the village to send to you at the front for Christmas.
To answer your question again, of course I know about the charitable donations, they advertise them heavily here. I donate regularly, whatever I can. Is the soap usable? Hopefully they only packed fresh, unused soap... You know our specialists here.
Fortunately, I haven't heard from them in a long time. To be honest, I don't even know if they're still alive. Do you think anyone would go to their funeral? I think I would, purely out of politeness, but no one ever really liked the Gerlach brothers. They didn't make much of an effort to make friends here in the village. A matter for another day.
Thank you very much, my fluffy plum, that's really sweet of you. You're right, the train couldn't stop me this time. My mother came with me; she moved to ******** to support me until you can finally come home. So we travelled together on the train for the Christmas party, which I was very happy about. However, I hid behind the corner at the bakery as the train pulled in so I wouldn't have to see it. After that, it was okay, my knees were just very weak when I got into my compartment. The journey to ************* was very nice, though; it was quiet and pleasant, especially when the sea came into view.
We travelled on a through train, the kind where you can change carriages during the journey if you want to. They're not as noisy as I thought they would be; I like these trains. For some reason, I had long thought that the connecting parts between the different carriages would squeak incredibly loudly... I'm not quite sure why I imagined that, but I'm glad it's not really the case. We had good food throughout the journey; Mum had packed us sandwiches with sausage and cheese, as well as some fruit tea.
The visit to my grandparents was really nice, I can't deny that. I just couldn't stop thinking about how you picked a fight with my grandfather last time. You had fun throwing the meanest comments at each other, almost as if you'd been doing nothing else your whole lives! I know that my grandfather isn't the easiest person to get along with, so I had actually expected that you wouldn't like him at all. And vice versa, because you stubborn head are even less willing to listen than he is. But in some way that I can't explain, you found pleasure in it and turned it into a crazy game of trying to get each other's backs up.
Don't think he's forgotten your comment about his wooden leg. The old man still has a bone to pick with you about that, and when he heard that you wouldn't be able to join us for Christmas because of the war, he immediately started ranting that you were just trying to avoid him and that the next time you visited, he would, and I quote, stick his shotgun in your mouth as punishment. Well, beneath all the loud ranting that comes so easily to him, he really missed you, and so did my grandmother. Surely you can go duck hunting again when you're back; that would make him happy. Maybe his broken hip will get back into shape then, through sheer excitement. Even though I'm not a fan of you shooting birds out of the air again...
Grandmother actually made her wonderful dumplings again, they were perfect, as always. They were served with a delicious gravy and some red cabbage, as well as meat that had been cooked for a long time in the pot, so soft and tender. As always, it was delicious. I wish you could have been there, you would have enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I didn't ask for the recipe, but I can write to her and ask her to send it to me, then we can study it together and make our own dumplings, all right?
When we were up there, I was able to spend a little time on the beach. Now in winter it's even cooler and stormier up there than usual, but there was no snow and the sea was so beautifully churned up by the wind. The sky was overcast and the water so deep and dark that you could have believed it was trying to eat the beach out of some ancient grudge. You could hear it roaring loudly, even more imperious and angry than usual, in my opinion. When I looked into the steel-blue waves of the sea, a cold shiver ran down my spine, as if the concentrated wrath of nature itself were pouring down on me. It reminded me of you and your deep, jet-black eyes, which looked so seriously into the forest that morning when we met early in the kitchen. You had just been watching the birdhouse, something was bothering you a little, although I unfortunately missed the chance to ask what it was.
On those days, the sea seemed to me to be just as determined to express its mockery of the insane events in the realm of humans as you always are. And I can't even blame you anymore. Fortunately, Ekke Nekkepenn didn't come for me this time either. Maybe you scare him even more than he scares me.
