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Our founder is a accomplished artist and a very good
one at that :D
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Gallery Folders

Featured
The Missive by deathbycanon
Haunted by deathbycanon
Dianthe in the Garden by deathbycanon
Hocus Pocus by deathbycanon
Founder Phatpuppy's Works
Primavera by Phatpuppyart-Studios
Scarborough Fair by Phatpuppyart-Studios
Skeleton Sweets by Phatpuppyart-Studios
Down Home on the Farm by Phatpuppyart-Studios
Digital Art Volume 6
ADOPT AUCTION 'ROYAL FLOWER' (OPEN) by Cheefu0w0
BISMUTH ALCHEMIST ADOPT AUCTION by Cheefu0w0
Dogday escapes, from a dream i had by Wolfmarian
CatNap Asserts His Dominance Over Las Vegas by rainbowskunk7
Featured 3
Hellvira by deathbycanon
Wicked Sorceress by deathbycanon
Midnight Summoning by deathbycanon
Almost Made It by Yuukon
Digital Art Volume 5 FULL
TORG: When Cosms Collide by JoelChaimHoltzman
all that is left by KuroCyou
D and D Character - Moon elf by Huy137
Zora by zombiebunnyy
Photography Volume 4
We'll never meet ... by angevla
Englishman in a sun bath... by aloner777
Watchful Eye by angevla
Rin Rin Signal! by aPandaCosplay
Photomanipulations 5
Benokle  Adoptable OPEN by Benokle
The Sound Of Settling by RGPC
The Reapers Garden by MarquisAmonArt
~OPEN~ YCH Auction #23 by pronteas
Traditional Art Vol 3
Worse Together by NobodyX7
Jeholopterus by EsthervanHulsen
Twilight Sparkle by jackyleo738
Tangerine Bullet Train (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) by MeduZZa13
Artisan Crafts
(OPEN) Adopt Auction #145 Officer by Anrig
(Closed) Animation Adopt Auction #143 Gun by Anrig
Then I'm Self Taught - Part 5 by jackyleo738
(OPEN) SALE Commissions Info 5 SLOTS! by Lozanica
The Written Word Vol 2
The Lady In White - Chapter 13 - Under The SurfaceXIII – Under The Surface Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? Who painteth the shadows that are beneath The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be With the fears and the love for that which we see? – P. B. Shelley Despite the cold, drops of sweat soon appeared on Dr Jekyll's forehead and his shirt stuck to the skin of his back, while he himself was stuck in the mud up to his knees. He definitely did not envy the professional gravediggers for their work in the heavy clay. “Have you done this often?” he asked his coworker, panting. “No,” Dr Frankenstein replied, also quite exhausted. “Actually, this is the first time. Until today I used to obtain my study objects from the morgue.”“Shouldn't we have struck the coffin by now?” Henry growled annoyedly. “How deep did they bury this fellow?”“Six feet, of course,” Victor answered with a smirk. “London gravediggers cannot take the liberty of doing a sloppy job.” The chemist only gritted his teeth at that and drove the shovel into the ground again until finally, the pan hit something hard with a thud. “Got him!” he triumphed.“Shush!” his friend reprimanded him again, then they hurried to excavate the simple wooden box that passed for a pauper's coffin.* Lucy sighed at Richard's stammered statement on the failure of the real estate acquisition. It truly was a pity she had not made use of the opportunity to buy the mansion right there and then and instead listened to her servant, stringing the vendor along. Apparently, he was not as brilliant an expert in these matters as he had claimed to be. On the other hand, however, part of it was her own fault, for had she not punished him by throwing him out, bereaving him of the chance to act as her agent, he might have made the purchase possible. She let her gaze wander over his humble figure, unconfidently keeping his head down, awaiting reprimand. Indeed, he was a man with many weaknesses of character, constantly conspicuous by misbehaviour, but he was also an innocent victim of Dracula's arbitrary cruelty, torn from his mortality and involuntarily transformed into a night creature. Just like herself. From the first moment she had met him, nay, even before, from the moment he had reached out for help from within the walls of Bethlem Royal Hospital, the lady in white had seen behind his facade. He might wear the mask of a nervous secretary, a miserable servant or a nasty madman, underneath, however, under the surface she beheld a deeply afflicted soul, a fragile child never taken notice of, a delicate man never loved, lonely all his life. Her disappointed expression turned into a sad smile. Richard blinked several times, pale blue eyes flickering through the room in unease and Lucy feared he would fall to his knees again and assail her with pleas for clemency, but eventually he dared looking at her.“You are not... angry with me?” he asked, bewildered.“No, I am not,” she replied, her tone calm and soothing. “I consider your recent punishment enough, for you have proven your loyalty sufficiently.”His gaunt features lit up in joy at her words. With two steps he was at her side and, after a brief moment of gazing at her in awe, boldly took her hand in his. It seemed as if he intended to raise it to his lips for a courteous kiss, but Lucy did not sense feelings of decent politeness from her servant. There was something else, neither resembling his usual admiration for her nor any of his lewd fantasies, no, it was emerging from deep within his very soul. In a slow, smooth motion, he placed her hand against his chest, holding it with a gentle firmness she had never observed on him before. She could feel both his temperature and his pulse through the layers of brocade, whereupon she looked up into his blushed face.“My heart, Milady...” he spoke under his breath. “My heart beats only for you.”*Careful not to make a noise, Frankenstein and Jekyll worked on Fenton's coffin with their shovels and it did not take them long to lever off the brittle lid. Bending down, Henry got a hold on the decrepit wood, then, however, he hesitated. The whole situation felt so strange. Had he experienced anything so unreal ever before? Was he truly about to face a dead vampire? “Henry!” Victor hissed in his ear. “What are you waiting for? Get a move on!”“Do it yourself, if my work pace is not meeting your expectations!” Jekyll hissed back, offended.Sighing, Frankenstein bent down as well and lifted the lid. In this very moment the moon rose over the treetops and a stripe of pale light fell into the dark, muddy pit, eerily illuminating an equally pale body, but as old and uneven the lunar face in the sky was, as young and untouched appeared the features of the boy lying in the ground. When he beheld the coffin's contents, Henry's eyes widened in surprise. Although seemingly fragile like porcelain, the vampire's skin was still smooth, and despite the unnatural blueish and grey colours, the lips were still full and the hair still curly. Had there been a contest for beauty in death, this corpse would have taken the sole lead.“Shouldn't he look a bit more...?” Jekyll asked bewildered, searching for the right adjective. “Decayed?” Victor suggested. “Indeed, after more than a year in the ground, he should.”His scientific interest awakened, the physician raised an eyebrow. “These strange circumstances prove again how little we know about the creatures, and of how much importance further research will be.”With that, Frankenstein seized the boy by the bony shoulders, hauling him up from the coffin, and after another moment of hesitation, Henry eventually brought himself to lend his friend a hand with the recovery of Mr Fenton's body.*As Lucy's cerulean gaze travelled from her servant's chest, heaving heavily beneath her hand, up to his burning cheeks and half-lidded eyes, unease began to rise within her. Was Richard Renfield actually confessing his love to her? Oh, the poor boy! How could she tell him that she did not feel the same way for him? If she had not already done so by throwing him out, she would now, with the next sentence from her mouth, break his heart.“Richard, I...” the lady in white searched for the right, least harmful words.“Do not answer!” her servant dared to interrupt her, lips quivering with emotions. “I only want you to know.”Then, he eventually released her hand and turned to leave. As he had reached the doorstep, however, her bell-like voice sweetly sounded through the dimly lit room again: “Richard, wait!”He turned around, an unreadable expression on his gaunt face, but she could still sense his disconcertment, the turmoil in his heart. “And I want you to know, that whatever may come, I will care for you.”A sad, but relieved half-smile lit up his features.“Thank you, Milady,” he answered in a faint whisper, before he disappeared in the blackness of the corridor.*And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream. Its length? A minute's pause, a moment's thought. And Happiness? A bubble on the stream, That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.And what is Hope? The puffing gale of morn, That of its charms divests the dewy lawn, And robs each flow'ret of its gem—and dies; A cobweb, hiding disappointment's thorn, Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound? That dark mysterious name of horrid sound? A long and lingering sleep the weary crave. And Peace? Where can its happiness abound? Nowhere at all, save heaven and the grave.Then what is Life? When stripped of its disguise, A thing to be desired it cannot be; Since everything that meets our foolish eyes Gives proof sufficient of its vanity. 'Tis but a trial all must undergo, To teach unthankful mortals how to prize That happiness vain man's denied to know, Until he's called to claim it in the skies. John Clare sat in the shadows of a subway tunnel, heavy head leant against the dirty brick wall, limp legs sprawled out in the dust as he put away the sheet he had used to write down the verses of his crestfallen heart. The unforeseen fall of a rising star! Yesterday he had lived in a white mansion, reading Shakespeare, rejoicing at his work being published, now he was banished to the deepest intestines of this degenerate city. Thanks to his supernatural strength, it had not been all too difficult to outrun the policemen, but of course they would keep searching him, all of Scotland Yard would hunt him. And so, he had decided to go into hiding again, for down here under the surface where no human being could survive for long, they would not look for him. The unpleasant atmosphere of the tunnel did not bother him, the absence of the lady in white's gentle light, however, created an agonising emptiness in his chest. John sighed, closing his weary yellow eyes. He had no hope to ever see her again. He could never return to Hampstead Heath without putting her in danger of being caught by the police as well – unthinkable what humans would do to her, when they found out what kind of creature she was! Her loathsome servant on the other hand... John almost wished him such a fate! It was clear to the poet now that Renfield had been the one to frame him for the butchering of the birds in the park, and surely – despite the fact that John had released him from his punishment and provided him with nourishment – out of pure malignity he had also called the inspectors. If the little creep had intended getting rid of him to have his lady for his own, well, then he had succeeded. Clare saw no chance of avenging himself, he could only hope that someday, Renfield would pay for those dreadful deeds.*Still a bit beside himself, still deeming the whole night some surreal dream, Dr Henry Jekyll stared down at young Fenton's immaculate body on Victor's operating table. He watched while his friend scrutinised the dull blue eyes, the row of white teeth, then cut open the boy's chest and examined the organs, which all seemed as taintless as his exterior. Eventually, Frankenstein treated the small wound on the back of the vampire's neck where a sharp shard of glass had once severed his spinal cord. “This would be all I can do tonight,” the anatomist said as he cleaned his hands from brownish blood – the only part of Fenton that did not appear fresh.“But he is still dead,” Henry observed in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow.“In order to revive him we will have to wait for lightning to provide us with enough electricity,” Victor answered professionally, ignoring his friend's mood.“It is winter, Victor,” Jekyll's voice now oozed with cynicism. “We will possibly wait half a year for the next thunderstorm!”“Possibly, yes,” Frankenstein admitted, then smirked in an equally sarcastic way and added: “But since our patient seems to be immune to decay, we have nothing to lose, have we?”A wave of white-hot anger crashed down on Henry's already tense mind upon this and he forcefully gritted his teeth, almost biting his own tongue.“No, we have nothing to lose, Doctor, not anymore!” he spat, dark eyes flashing with rage. “Because I have lost my memory already!”“Please, Henry, calm yourself, it was just a joke,” Victor tried to soothe him. “The weather is favourable, one more snowstorm like the one last week would be sufficient.”The physician then took a step towards Jekyll and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.“A bit of patience, trust me, my dear friend, only a little bit...” his steady voice indeed calmed the outraged chemist, who exhaled deeply, fixating the shorter man's grey-blue eyes with his black gaze.“I take you at your word, Victor.”*Dracula was gone from his mind. Finally and definitely, he was sure about it. His Mistress's power had banished the devil's brother to hell where he belonged. Furthermore, Richard could feel that her promises to protect him and care for him combined with the consumption of her blood had strengthened their bond again, strengthened him again and despite the fact that she did not reciprocate his love for her, he felt at ease and contented. Without hesitation he had taken on his newest task, which was tidying up the late lord's study, dusting forgotten shelves, sorting out old folders and files. After a year of mourning, Lady Lucy wished to get rid of her husband's belongings, at least of the ones not emotionally charged and only concerning business. She seemed to not yet be sure what to do with the decluttered room and Renfield sincerely hoped she would cede it to him as his own workspace. Howsoever, a certain drawer containing a certain diary, he would in any case leave untouched!While he was leafing through copies of old tax declarations, the sound of the doorbell unexpectedly echoed through the Godalming mansion. Diligently Renfield hurried downstairs to see who was disturbing the peace that had enfolded the white marble building in the last days and taking a careful glance out the window, he descried two familiar faces: Inspector Fleming and Sergeant Gainsborough. A hideous feeling of unease crept down his spine at the sight of the policemen. Had they come here again to ask him more questions about John Clare? Maybe because they had not caught him yet? Or because they had already arrested him and the undead bastard had revealed the true identity of the Hampstead Heath perpetrator, of the backyard murderer?! Pearls of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. Speaking of identity... they still deemed him Lord Godalming! Renfield took a shuddering breath. He had to remain calm, talk to them without giving away the slightest hint of nervousness, keep up the web of lies he had so subtly spun. Pulling his brocade tie tight, he turned to go for the door, when suddenly the rustle of white taffeta reached his ears and horrified, he beheld the elegant apparition of his Lady, standing at the portal, her lace gloved fingertips already at the handle. Oh God, no! He wanted to call out to her, scream her name, anything to prevent her from opening that door, but it was too late.“Good morning, gentlemen,” the sweet tone of her voice eerily resounded in the entrance hall.“Good morning, Lady Godalming...?” Renfield could hear the inspector addressing her.“Yes?”“I am Inspector Fleming, Scotland Yard,” the taller and older policeman introduced himself. “If it is convenient, we would like to talk to you about John Clare.”“John Clare?” Lucy repeated after him, bewildered. “Has something happened to him?”“This is a matter we should rather not discuss on the threshold, Milady. May we...?” “Well, yes, come in then, please...”Like rooted to the floor, unable to move a limb Richard stood there, watching as the two men entered the hall, taking off their hats and following Lucy to the parlour.“Oh,” The young sergeant uttered a sound of surprise at his sight. “His Lordship is here, too. Good morning, Milord!”*If I to you but sorrow bring, But aching hours and brackish tears, And that poor drooping Hope whose wing Flags 'neath the weight of clogging fears, Then let me in the desert hide This fatal gift, this feverish breast; Or, better,'neath the sounding tide Be hushed, and evermore at rest. – A. Austin Like in a state of trance, Renfield followed his Mistress and the policemen into the parlour and completely beside himself, he sat down on the sofa, right next to her. He did not dare throwing a glance at her porcelain features, terrified of her reaction to the sergeant mistaking him for her husband. She, however, despite her astonishment upon the visit from the inspectors, radiated such a profound calmness, her reassuring presence soothing his tensed senses, one might have thought she had missed the hint at his insolence. “You were not informed of the strong suspicion against John Clare and his flight from your estate last week, Milady?” It wasn't a question. “I was away on business,” Lucy hesitatingly said. “I only know that Mr Clare went missing.”“But did your husband not inform you?” Inspector Fleming kept on asking, throwing Renfield a sharp glance.Richard almost flinched at the words so definitely revealing his false play, but Lucy still seemed to completely ignore it. Nevertheless, he had to swallow the lump in his dry throat, lick his parched lips, before he could make an attempt at an answer.“I did not wish to cause any unsettlement,” he eventually managed to state without stammering or babbling. “Not until there is more clarity to this strange case.” The inspector furrowed his brow at this.“Clare is suspected of mayhem and murder as well as animal cruelty in several cases. We received anonymous hints and a description of the perpetrator which matches him perfectly,” Fleming explained, while Gainsborough scribbled something into his notebook. “Last week, when we gathered information on his whereabouts in the neighbourhood, the suspect jumped out of the window of this very house and fled through the park. Unfortunately, we lost him and have not been able to find him again yet. We will, however, search for him with all forces available.”While the older policeman had been talking, Lucy's elegant hand had risen to her lips in shock, now covering her open mouth. “My God,” she breathed, her cerulean eyes wide with fright. “And I deemed him an upright man, a poor poet, a lost soul in need of patronage! I took him into my house, unaware of what...”Her bell-like voice broke, and she seemed unable to finish even the thought of Clare's possible crimes. Renfield, however, did not sense a glimpse of true horror from his Mistress. Was she only acting like this? And why would she do that? “He lived here for some time, right, Milady?” Gainsborough asked. “And he never did or said anything that could be considered a hint to his true nature?”Lady Godalming only shook her head.“Do you have an idea where Clare could be now? Where he could hide? Does he have any relatives or friends in the city?” Fleming carefully, but unrelentingly questioned.“No, I do not,” Lucy whispered. “I am sorry, Inspector...” Although he still did not perceive any feelings of unease from her, his Lady looked so unlike her usual radiant self, so different from the celestial apparition. Like of their own, Richard's hands found hers and held them tight. A faint smile appeared on Fleming's wrinkled face at the sight of the seemingly close couple.“Alright,” the inspector finally said. “I do not wish to bother you further.”He then stood up and gestured for Gainsborough to follow him. “Milady, Milord, rest assured Scotland Yard will leave no stone unturned to find that madman,” the sergeant promised, before the policemen bid them farewell.*Walking down the stairs and leaving the Godalming estate through the front garden, the younger man threw his superior a questioning glance.“Strange people they are, don't you think, Sir?”“Aristocracy...” Fleming mumbled, folding up the collar of his coat against the icy wind.“I mean their uncommon appearance, Inspector,” Gainsborough specified. “Their translucent skin and those glassy eyes, as if they were both suffering from the same disease.”The older policeman simply shrugged his shoulders at that.“Their health is none of our business, Sergeant,” Fleming stated, knitting his brows. “Instead of musing about such irrelevances, you should rather spend your time investigating on our fugitive murderer.”“Yes, Sir!” Gainsborough hurried to answer.*When the main door had fallen shut behind the policemen, the strange, pale couple stood there in the entrance hall, facing each other in silence. Richard still did not sense a glimpse of his Mistress's emotions, nor could he read her expressionless features. After a long moment, he finally dared to swallow the lump in his throat.“Why...?” was the only word that passed his lips.“Why?” Lucy repeated after him. “Why, you ask?”Blinking several times, he found himself unable to answer, unable to form a coherent sentence.“Why did I play along in this farce of yours?” Lady Godalming suggested, her tone a bizarre mixture of sadness, reprimand and cynicism. “Why did I not tell the police who you really are and who truly committed those dreadful crimes? Why did I not punish you for your cruel, dastardly scheming against Mr Clare? Why did I protect you?”Breathing heavily, Renfield averted his eyes, fixating the pattern of the carpet, while his nails painfully dug into his palms. He wordlessly waited for his Mistress to go on berating him, then, however, a sudden surge of horrifying, agonised emotions broke through the wall of impassibility she had built around herself, crushing down on him, washing his mind away.“Because no one is to know what we are, stupid boy! What do you think they would do to us if they found out about our nature?!” Lucy cried, her bell-like voice wavering, dissolved in fright and pain as he had never heard it before. “It breaks my heart that I must help you frame a good soul for your deeds, it breaks my heart to see an honest man wrongfully hunted, maybe caught, maybe executed. But rather him than us! Rather him than me! I do not wish to be imprisoned, I do not want to die!”Richard's pale blue eyes went wide with consternation. For the first time since he had met her, his Lady in white appeared not confident, not in control of herself and her surroundings, but showed him another side – fragile and defenceless, hurt and afraid. For the first time her slender form did not illuminate the vast hall with her radiant, otherworldly presence, instead she appeared small and forlorn, lonely and devastated. Sharing her every emotion, not only through their linked minds, but also because he himself so perfectly knew fear and loneliness, he couldn't help but take a step towards her and touch her slim, trembling shoulders through the voluminous white taffeta of her sleeves. “Mistress,” he breathed. “I am so terribly sorry!”As she looked up at him, her lovely features so full of grief and anguish, her eyes burned into his, before tears began diluting their cerulean colour. Drawn into the abyss of her misery, Richard felt with her not only in his heart and soul, but physically, every fibre of his body tormented by stinging pain. In this very moment he realised the Master had never forced him into committing treachery and murder. No, it had always been his own doings, his own sins. And he himself had brought this excruciating agony upon his beloved Lady, with his selfish actions, his jealous intrigues, his abominable crimes. “If you wish, Milady...” he spoke under his breath, his broken voice a mere whisper. “If you wish me to, I will leave this house and never come back.”
Art Vs Artist (15 years) by jackyleo738
[open] ADOPTABLE AUCTION by Verner-G
Wolf At The Night by jackyleo738
Stocks and Resources
Adoptable 005 (OPEN) by Vaeyri
Miscellaneous Art
YCH #39 Auction OPEN (animated) by Grimlai
Group Stamps
Adoptable 004 (OPEN) by Vaeyri
Customization
OUR LADY LA SIRENA II by beliebelcan
Featured 2 FULL
Stella Cadente -those damn eyes- by SoniaMatas
Digital Art NOW FULL
Digital Art Volume II NOW FULL
Sky Realms Online book 1 - Grayhold by tjota
Digital art 3 NOW FULL
Wyvern Auction [CLOSED] by Trioza
Digital Art Volume 4 FULL
Beatrice by Saidge42
Photomanipulations FULL
Rainy by Shyngyskhan
Photomanipulations 2
Samodiva by Silviya
Photomanips 3
Remembering winter by angevla
PhotoManipulations 4
where the gaze is lost... by angevla
Photography Full
Photography II
enlightenment by angevla
Photography Vol 3
GACHA ROLL HAZBIN HOTEL/HELLUVA BOSS ADOPTS (OPEN) by Lusiady
Traditional Art Full
Llenn! by SASHlMlSAN
Traditional Art Vol 2
Maie by HelviRiitta
I think that says it all. :D

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