New Catagory Availagle In My Wheelchair Fundraiser.

Christy's Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser,

Hi Guy's.I created this Artwork as a way to raise funds for an outdoor Electric Wheelchair for myself.I've been trying to raise funds for 14yrs without success,My story is on the Buy me a coffee Website below.All I ask is if you could Like and Share and to please read my story.

All my ARTWORK is genuinely FREE on BUY ME A COFFEE.You only donate to my Wheelchair if YOU choose to Donate.Artwork is FREE to download immediately.You can download as many images as you wish.No limits.1000's of images on different topics.With more images uploaded every week and new topics added to choose from.

Thank you for reading. Christy.

Patreon is Donation or Sponsor only.They Charge Me even if items are free.Sorry.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE

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NightCafe Ai.

Irish Celtic Mythology.

VOL 7. Oillipheist the Irish Dragon Serpent.

The Oilliphéist: Guardian of the Murky Waters

In the heart of Ireland, where the veil between the mortal realm and the Otherworld grew thin, there existed a place both feared and revered—the shores of Lough Neagh. Its waters, like darkened mirrors, held secrets older than memory itself. And at the heart of those depths slumbered a creature of legend—the Oilliphéist.

The Origins of the Oilliphéist:

The druids whispered that the Oilliphéist was born from the primordial chaos, a serpent forged in the forge of forgotten gods. Its scales shimmered like midnight stars, each one etched with symbols of forgotten languages. Its eyes—two fiery orbs—held the knowledge of ages, and its breath carried the scent of distant lands.

The Curse of the Oilliphéist:

The villagers knew better than to venture too close to Lough Neagh. For the Oilliphéist demanded tribute—an offering of livestock, precious gems, or even a maiden’s hand. Those who dared defy it faced dire consequences. Their homes flooded, their crops withered, and their cattle vanished beneath the murky waves.

Generations passed, and the Oilliphéist’s wrath remained unyielding. Its coils, longer than the tallest oaks, circled the lake, binding it to its watery domain. The villagers whispered prayers to the old gods, seeking protection from the serpent’s malevolence.

Cian, the Brave Warrior:

But fate weaves strange patterns, and one day, a young warrior named Cian emerged from the mist. His sword, forged from the heart of a fallen star, gleamed with otherworldly light. Cian had heard the tales—the Oilliphéist’s curse, its insatiable hunger for tribute, and the sorrow it wrought upon the land.

Determined to free his people, Cian set forth. The water stirred as he approached, and the Oilliphéist’s eyes emerged—a pair of fiery orbs fixated on its challenger.

“Bold mortal,” hissed the serpent, its voice echoing across the water. “Why do you disturb my slumber?”

Cian stood firm. “Your reign of terror ends today,” he declared. “Release this land from your grip, or face my blade.”

The Battle Beneath the Waters:

The Oilliphéist laughed—a sound like distant thunder. “You think a mere sword can defeat me? I am older than the hills, older than the stars. I have seen empires rise and fall.”

But Cian was undeterred. He lunged, striking at the serpent’s scales. Yet each wound healed instantly, and the Oilliphéist coiled tighter, threatening to drag him under.

Desperate, Cian remembered an ancient incantation—a secret passed down from druid to druid. He chanted the words, invoking the power of the elements. The water churned, and the serpent writhed in agony.

“Enough!” roared the Oilliphéist. “I yield.”

The Oilliphéist’s Confession:

It uncoiled, revealing its true form—a creature of sorrow and longing. “Long have I guarded these waters,” it confessed. “A curse binds me here, and only a hero’s sacrifice can break it.”

Cian hesitated. “What sacrifice?”

“The heart of a true warrior,” whispered the serpent. “Plunge your sword into my breast, and the curse shall lift.”

Cian’s hand trembled as he drove the blade into the serpent’s chest. The waters surged, and the Oilliphéist dissolved into mist. The curse lifted, and Lough Neagh sparkled in the sunlight once more.

Legacy of the Oilliphéist:

Cian returned to the village, hailed as a hero. But he carried the memory of the Oilliphéist—the guardian of murky waters—forever etched in his soul. And so, the legend endured—a reminder that even monsters had stories, and sometimes, their fates were intertwined with our own.

And there, by the shores of Lough Neagh, the Oilliphéist’s tale lives on, whispered in the wind and reflected in the ripples of ancient waters.

Christy,

Male, Husband, Dad, Family man, Friendly, Easygoing.

Dad's [ Christy ]Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser.

Please only help to support me if you can afford too.

Otherwise please help yourself to my artwork.

It'is genuinely FREE for everyone to download and enjoy.

Just click the Buy me a coffee.It's my artwork Shop.

1000's of Pics.New pic's added every day.

FREE artwork drawings 3d images for all occasions.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor .

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE .

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor .

Funniest Cats 😹 Silliest Creature on Earth 😂 Best of October

Christy Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser,Hi.I created this Artwork as a way to raise funds for an outdoor Electric Wheelchair for myself.I've been trying to raise funds for 14yrs without success,My story is on Buy me a coffee Website below.All I ask is you read my story & Give me a like.All ARTWORK is genuinely FREE on COFFEE.You only donate if you choose too.Thanks Christy. Patreon is Donation or Sponsor only.They Charge Me.Sorry. Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor . Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE . Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

Christy's Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser,

Hi Guy's.

I created this Artwork as a way to raise funds for an outdoor Electric Wheelchair for myself.I've been trying to raise funds for 14yrs without success,My story is on the Buy me a coffee Website below.All I ask is if you could Like and Share and to please read my story.All my ARTWORK is genuinely FREE on BUY ME A COFFEE.You only donate to my Wheelchair if YOU choose to Donate.Artwork is FREE to download immediately.You can download as many images as you wish.No limits.1000's of images on different topics.With more images uploaded every week.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

Irish Myths

VOL 9. The SELKIE. An Irish Mermaid Story

The Selkie’s Secret

In a forgotten corner of the Emerald Isle, where cliffs stood like ancient guardians and the waves whispered forgotten lullabies, there dwelled a fisherman named Eamon. His cottage clung to the rugged coast, its thatched roof weathered by countless storms. Eamon was a man of few words, his eyes etched with the sorrows of a lifetime spent chasing elusive fish and memories.

One tempest-laden evening, as rain drummed upon the windowpanes and the sea roared its defiance, Eamon stumbled upon a sight that would forever alter the course of his existence. There, nestled amidst the seaweed-strewn rocks, lay a treasure—a seal pelt of silver-gray, soft as moonlight and shimmering with otherworldly grace. Eamon’s gnarled fingers traced its edges, and he knew he held something more than mere fur. This was the skin of a Selkie—a creature of myth and melancholy.

The legends whispered of Selkies—of their dual existence, their fluidity between land and sea. By day, they swam as seals, their sleek bodies slicing through the icy depths. But when the moon hung low, they shed their skins, emerging as ethereal women, their eyes reflecting the mysteries of the abyss.

Eamon hid the pelt beneath his bed, its presence a secret shared only with the wind and the salt. Days turned into weeks, and his cottage became a sanctuary for the lost and the weary. Sailors sought refuge from raging storms, widows mourned husbands swallowed by the sea—all found solace within those walls. Yet Eamon’s gaze often strayed to the hidden pelt, wondering if the Selkie would return.

Then, one moonless night, as the stars blinked like ancient eyes, Eamon heard it—a melody that tugged at his heart, a lament woven from moonbeams and longing. He rushed to the window, and there she stood: the Selkie. Her skin was pale as foam, her hair a cascade of seaweed green. Her eyes held the wisdom of ages, and her lips curved in both fear and hope.

She was naked, vulnerable—a creature caught between realms. Eamon retrieved the pelt, its silvery strands slipping through his fingers like water. He held it out to her, voice barely a whisper. “Take it,” he said. “Be free.”

The Selkie’s tears glistened. She reached for the pelt, her fingers trembling. But then she hesitated, torn between love and duty. For Selkies faced a cruel choice: to remain with mortal lovers or return to the sea. Their hearts were bound by moonlight and salt spray.

Eamon understood. He had glimpsed eternity in her eyes, tasted salt and starlight on her lips. And so, with a bittersweet smile, he released her. The Selkie donned her pelt, her form shifting until she became a sleek seal once more. She nuzzled his cheek, a silent farewell, before slipping into the waves.

As the sea swallowed her, Eamon wept—for love unspoken, for a Selkie lost, and for the ache that would haunt him till his dying day. He walked the cliffs thereafter, eyes scanning the horizon, listening for her song—a melody carried by the wind, sung by a Selkie who danced beneath the moon.

And so, the legend of Eamon and the Selkie passed from generation to generation—a tale of sacrifice, of love that transcended realms, and of a fisherman who held the sea’s secrets close to his heart.

And there, my friend, ends our journey—a whisper of magic and longing that lingers in the salt-laden air, where Selkies still dance upon moonlit shores

Christy,

Male, Husband, Dad, Family man, Friendly, Easygoing.

Dad's [ Christy ]Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser.

Please only help to support me if you can afford too.

Otherwise please help yourself to my artwork.

It'is genuinely FREE for everyone to download and enjoy.

Just click the Buy me a coffee.It's my artwork Shop.

1000's of Pics.New pic's added every day.

FREE artwork drawings 3d images for all occasions.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor .

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE .

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor .

Hi Guy's

A DIFFERENT POST TODAY. A Crazy one.

I Just wanted everyone to know I received

MY FIRST DONATION today.

I'm on a high.I was going to give up.

Then I opened my email today and seen a beautiful message

from Paypal.You received your 1st donation.

I cannot say who as that would not be polite.(MAD :From USA) is the only thing i can say.Thank you M,A,D.

Thank you everyone for sharing my posts and all the support I receive.Hope is back on the menu.I would jump up and down with excitment if I could Ha Ha

.Thanks Guys.Christy

Christy,

Male, Husband, Dad, Family man, Friendly, Easygoing.

Dad's [ Christy ]Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser.

Please only help to support me if you can afford too.

Otherwise please help yourself to my artwork.

It'is genuinely FREE for everyone to download and enjoy.

Just click the Buy me a coffee.It's my artwork Shop.

1000's of Pics.New pic's added every day.

FREE artwork drawings 3d images for all occasions.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor .

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE .

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

PLEASE STOP THE ABUSE.

Hi Everyone.

I keep getting messages about WHY I use Ai.WHY I don't feel guilty about it.Plus a lot of very abusive messages and emails,This is not having a good effect on my mind and health.

Here is a short explanation of WHY.

After catching a Virus while working.I was left Paralyzed with brain damage,I went from a healthy Physical worker{Builder} A scuba diving instructor and a love of everything outdoors.From Running,Diving,Swimming,Hill walking,Charity sports fundraiser.To a vegetable.I have lost everything else.But Ai gave me back my Art.After 14 yrs staring out a window.Wishing for the worst.I was given a way to express myself again.It's impossible for anyone not in the same position to grasp the miracle this is to me.All i need now is a way to get outside to make the most of this miracle.I am now using that Ai as a way to try and raise funds to purchase an Outdoor Electric Wheelchair.Nothing Evil.i am not trying to ruin TRUE artists livings or push Ai onto anyone else who might otherwise use or collect REAL Art.I love real artwork.It was once a big part of my life.Nothing can replace the genuine artwork and ideas of the human mind.NOTHING.

I don't have the choice to create artwork anymore.There is a lot of other human beings in exactly the same position as myself.We can not make you understand what Ai has given so much of us.But we can ask that you TRY. We do no harm to you and simply wish to live and enjoy a tool that makes our lives more bearable and to be left alone without feeling guilty for this small miracle.

I hope this helps you to understand a little better.

Thanks.Christy.

Christy Wheelchair Fundraiser.

Links;

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

Christy's Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser,

Hi Guy's.I created this Artwork as a way to raise funds for an outdoor Electric Wheelchair for myself.I've been trying to raise funds for 14yrs without success,My story is on the Buy me a coffee Website below.All I ask is if you could Like and Share and to please read my story.

All my ARTWORK is genuinely FREE on BUY ME A COFFEE.You only donate to my Wheelchair if YOU choose to Donate.Artwork is FREE to download immediately.You can download as many images as you wish.No limits.1000's of images on different topics.With more images uploaded every week and new topics added to choose from.

Thank you for reading. Christy.

Patreon is Donation or Sponsor only.They Charge Me even if items are free.Sorry.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

IRISH MYTHOLOGY

VOL 14

The Changeling in 2 parts.

Description & A Short Story.

The Enigma of Changelings: A Dark Tale from the Shadows

In the heart of ancient Europe, where mist-clad forests whispered secrets and moonlight danced upon dew-kissed leaves, there existed a belief—a haunting truth that clung to the fringes of reality. This truth bore the name of changelings.

1. The Abduction: The tale began with the fairies—the elusive beings who flitted between realms. They were neither wholly benevolent nor entirely malevolent. Their capricious nature led them to covet the mortal world, especially its most vulnerable inhabitants: the unbaptized infants. These innocent souls, still untouched by holy water, were like ripe fruit dangling within their grasp.

2. The Substitution: When the moon hung low and the hearth fires flickered, the fairies would descend upon humble cottages. With stealthy hands, they snatched away human babes, leaving behind their own twisted offspring—the changelings. These substitutes were not mere wooden dolls or lifeless replicas; they were creatures crafted from moonbeams and sorrow.

3. The Telltale Signs: How could one discern a changeling? The answer varied across cultures. In Irish legend, a fairy child might appear sickly, refusing to grow like a normal infant. Their physical traits were peculiar: perhaps a beard on a baby’s chin or unnaturally long teeth. But it was their intelligence that set them apart—their eyes held ancient wisdom, and their laughter echoed with secrets.

4. The Unusual Behavior: Changelings, when they thought themselves unobserved, revealed their true nature. They danced in moonlit corners, their feet tapping rhythms unknown to mortals. Some even played ethereal instruments, their melodies haunting and melancholic. But this behavior was unique to Irish and Scottish folklore, a secret language shared only by those who dared to listen.

5. The Desperate Solution: Why did the fairies exchange children? Some say it was malice—a cruel jest played upon human families. Others believed it was practicality. In pre-industrial Europe, survival was a daily battle. Families toiled for sustenance, and a permanent drain on resources threatened their very existence. The changelings’ insatiable hunger became a menace, gnawing at the family’s fragile stability.

6. The Grim Reality: Infanticide, though unspeakable, sometimes became the desperate solution. Parents faced an agonizing choice: sacrifice one for the sake of many. The fairies, cunning and elusive, remained indifferent to mortal suffering. They took not only babes but also newlyweds and nursing mothers. The old fairy folk, weary of their own existence, would occasionally swap places with human infants, seeking comfort in mortal arms.

7. The Echoes of Fear: Belief in changelings persisted until the late 19th century. In 1895, Bridget Cleary met a tragic end at the hands of her husband, who believed her to be a changeling. The myth clung to the collective memory, a dark corner of the mind where fear and folklore intertwined.

STORY

Once upon a time, in the mystical hills of Ireland, there lived a humble farmer named Seamus. Seamus and his wife, Brigid, were blessed with a beautiful baby boy named Liam. Their joy knew no bounds as they cradled their precious child in their arms.

But the fairies who inhabited the nearby woods were mischievous beings. They envied the happiness of mortal families and often meddled in their affairs. One moonlit night, as Seamus and Brigid slept, the fairies crept into their cottage. They whispered ancient incantations and cast a spell upon little Liam.

The next morning, when Brigid went to check on her son, she gasped in horror. The baby lying in the crib was not Liam. His eyes were dark and hollow, devoid of the innocent sparkle they once held. His skin was pale, and he wailed incessantly, unlike the contented Liam they knew.

Brigid’s heart sank. She knew her real son had been stolen away by the fairies, replaced by a changeling—a creature left in exchange for the human child. Desperate to reclaim her son, she sought the advice of the village wise woman, Aoife.

Aoife listened to Brigid’s tearful tale and nodded knowingly. “Fear not,” she said. “To break the fairy spell, you must outwit them. Tonight, leave a bowl of fresh cream by the hearth. When the fairies come, they’ll be drawn to it. But keep your eyes peeled, for they’ll reveal their true intentions.”

Brigid followed Aoife’s instructions. As the moon rose, she sat by the fire, clutching Liam’s tiny shirt. The room grew colder, and the air crackled with magic. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and in floated a group of fairies. Their wings shimmered like moonlight, and their eyes glowed with mischief.

They gathered around the bowl of cream, their laughter echoing through the cottage. But one fairy, with eyes as green as the forest, hesitated. She glanced at the crib where the changeling lay. Brigid held her breath, watching.

The green-eyed fairy leaned over Liam, her fingers brushing his forehead. “He’s ours now,” she whispered. “Your son dances with us in the moonlight, while this changeling suffers in your mortal world.”

Brigid’s resolve hardened. She lunged forward, snatching the changeling from the crib. “Take your creature back!” she cried, thrusting the wailing baby toward the fairies. “Give me my Liam!”

The fairies screeched, their glamour fading. The green-eyed fairy’s wings turned brittle, and she vanished into thin air. The others fled, leaving behind a trail of stardust.

Liam stirred in Brigid’s arms, his eyes clearing. The changeling, now frail and feeble, dissolved into mist. The spell was broken.

From that day on, Liam thrived, and the fairies dared not cross Brigid’s threshold again. But every now and then, on moonlit nights, she would hear faint laughter in the wind—the echo of the green-eyed fairy’s promise.

And so, the legend of the changeling lived on, a reminder that love and determination could defy even the most otherworldly enchantments.

Christy's Electric Wheelchair Fundraiser,

Hi Guy's.I created this Artwork as a way to raise funds for an outdoor Electric Wheelchair for myself.I've been trying to raise funds for 14yrs without success,My story is on the Buy me a coffee Website below.All I ask is if you could Like and Share and to please read my story.

All my ARTWORK is genuinely FREE on BUY ME A COFFEE.You only donate to my Wheelchair if YOU choose to Donate.Artwork is FREE to download immediately.You can download as many images as you wish.No limits.1000's of images on different topics.With more images uploaded every week and new topics added to choose from.

Thank you for reading. Christy.

Patreon is Donation or Sponsor only.They Charge Me even if items are free.Sorry.

Buy me a Coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/myfrontdoor

Paypal donate https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=UQD48H4SCEEPE

Patreon support https://www.patreon.com/MyFrontDoor

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