#púca

[sanctus-ingenium]

A certain fisherman [...] went to the same place again to fish, and he put a row of hooks on his heels in case he met the Púca again; he attached them like a horseman's spurs. When evening drew near, he made a halter of the fishing-line for the Púca. The Púca met him the second time. He himself caught the Púca, put the fishing-line over his head like a halter, and started to ride him. He drove him wherever he wanted to go, and he kept putting his heels with the hooks like spurs to the Púca's sides, so that the Púca was shedding blood from the pricks of the hooks.

Excerpt from "The Púca: A Multi-Functional Irish Supernatural Entity" by Deasún Breatnach

buy a print of this piece here :>

[slightlyhozy]

“Through the Cold, I’ll Find my Way Back to You.”

Chapter 2: “All my love and terror, balanced there between those eyes.”

Characters: Púca! Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Original Female Character

Summary: Maisie Quinn, after inheriting a home in Ireland from her late grandmother, slowly learns a dark past about the land in which it was built on.

Word Count - 2,098

Warnings - None except for animal death and descriptions of their bodies

A/N - I’m still learning how to write longer chapters, I will get better!

That day, I had looked into whatever the hell this Púca was. Seeing that it wasn’t necessarily a danger in any stories made my anxiety ease, which was a bit embarrassing since I didn’t even believe that it existed.

Closing my laptop, I looked around my new bedroom, the wooden floors were effortlessly dusty and cracked. Grunting, I opened my laptop again, in pursuit of finding someone in the area to install new flooring in certain rooms.

Settling was getting easier despite the fact Mary was the only person I really knew, On a good note, I already had a form in for a commission out in Dublin; they wanted me to paint a mural in the lobby of their office building. I figured the best way to go about living in a new country was to make connections anyway.

——————————————————————

That night, I lay with Lenny in my arms, surrounded by blankets, as some movie played. I pressed a kiss on his head as we cuddled. My mind kept drifting back to the monster, my mind constantly justifying why it wasn’t real; I knew it wasn’t real. I thought about the property and area surrounding it; there were never any bad vibes; it always seemed normal.

While thoughts scurried around my head, a familiar scratch caught me off guard, making me jump. The fox.

My head turned to the door, sighing, I was tempted to go and feed the fox. Thinking back to my conversation with Elsie, interfering with wildlife really wasn’t a good idea. I had just moved here, I should at least put the effort into making a good impression, if not to anyone in particular.

As my dog growled, his attention turned to the door, and I began to pet him in an attempt to calm him down. I understood he tended to be protective of me but never like this, over an animal. “Lenny, shhh.” Scratching behind his ears, he whimpered towards the door, moving to lay back beside me.

Trying to focus on the movie, I could hear the creature outside screaming for attention, it was borderline eerie. I continued to sit, it wasn’t my place to feed it, that was the fox’s job.

After ten minutes, I couldn't handle it anymore. Turning off the TV, I stood up and walked to the stairs, going up to my bedroom for the night.

——————————————————————

I grumbled, pulling weeds from the gravel of the garden. I had been at it for hours now, only joined by the sound of Van Morrison singing in my ears and the chirps of birds in the trees. Other than the labor, it was therapeutic.

Sitting back, I took a swig of water, looking around the garden. The weather had been nice, it was early September, so the weather had started getting colder than it was before. The sky was white, and the trees were less vibrant. As I pulled out the invasive plants, my eyebrows raised as my eyes fell on a small mouse.

The furry rodent in question was undoubtedly dead, but the only injury was a bloody wound on its side. As I continued to pull weeds, 3 more bodies were found. Initially, I believed that there was a cat that lurked in my garden, but then also the lack of injury or puncture to the bodies made no sense. I felt as though I was turning into a skeptic or just feeling the effects of my disorder. Before I could spiral, I was brought back to life by a bird call.

Looking up into the tree, I immediately recognized the black stripe along its eyes, much like a bandit’s mask. Oh. It was a shrike, I wasn’t even aware they had those in Ireland. Internally, I thanked myself for having a bird phase, otherwise, I would be sent into a phase of paranoia over dead mice. Still, I was puzzled around the fact that the mice weren’t eaten, simply impaled, then dropped.

I wasn’t too sure what could be wrong with the animals in the area, perhaps there’s a disease spreading amongst species. I wasn’t informed enough to really have a clue, but it was almost creepy.

While I pondered, another bird flew next to perch beside the shrike. After a moment, the two began to squawk and fight with eachother, their beaks clashing. Not being interested in watching what could happen to the smaller bird picking a fight with a brutal predator, I collected my garden tools and water bottle, making my way back to the house.

Lenny was sniffing around the yard as I cleared out the mouse corpses, like I had the other animal on my porch. The sun was slowly setting, and all I could think about was getting a proper drink and starting on a personal art project, the subject of which is still a mystery to me.

——————————————————————

Over the next few nights, the fox seemed to only get more aggressive. I frowned as I stared at my front door, this time, a dead rabbit was left. Did it think that I ran out of food? The rabbit itself would be unedible if I even wanted to eat it, it was completely squished, presumably roadkill. The wood along the door had been scratched, deep. A shiver ran up my spine as my finger reached out to trace the marks, the light inner wood going about half an inch deep. I wasn’t even sure how it was possible, but I also knew that I would now have to invest in new flooring and a door.

I was a bit worried that it would attack me if I didn’t feed it; with no evidence to back this up, any creak or sound outside would make me jump. When I slept, I dreamt of it attacking me or Lenny. So now, after three nights of ignoring the animal, I decided to give in.

It was almost one in the morning, finally, my couch had been installed, freeing me from the pain of having to haul my long limbs off the ground. With a small tub of ice cream in my hand, I was binge-watching Breaking Bad. The sound of Walter White monologing went through one ear, out the other as I anxiously awaited the arrival of the fox. I was almost worried it wouldn’t come. Why was I worried? Why wouldn’t I want it gone?

As if it were summoned, a familiar squaking woke me from my thoughts, immediately sending me to pause my show and put my ice cream somewhere Lenny couldn’t reach. I shushed him with my finger to my lips. As I went to look through the window. To my expectations, the small animal stood on the top of the steps, its green eyes gleaming under the poarch light.

Afraid of any chances of Lenny putting himself in danger, I led the dog to the study, shutting him inside, the door muffling his barks and growls.

In the kitchen, I worked to fix a wet bowl of dog food and a scoop of pumpkin purée on top. Opening the door, the fox stood expectantly. I set the bowl down, quickly moving to shut the glass door so I could see it eat. Again, it’s eyes stalked me as it ate eagerly, as if I had starved it. Perhaps it couldn’t hunt, wouldn’t…? If it couldn’t, where were these dead animals coming from?

——————————————————————

Fresh air. Fresh air was what I needed, space, was what I needed.

The morning after the encounter with the fox, I decided to go to the beach with Lenny. Throwing on a grey knit sweater, black jeans, boots, and a beanie, I clip on Lenny’s leash, his tail wagging faster than it had in a long time. As I go outside, I make sure to clean up the brutalized hedgehog left on my porch, the guts splattered across my porch. As I cleaned up the insides, visibly unhappy, I simultaneously fought Lenny back from eating it.

Smelling the sea was a specific kind of nostalgia, the beach itself wasn’t too different than some back in Washington. The air kisses my cheeks as I fight it, the clashing waves soothing my ears. I clutched the leash, hoping he wouldn’t try and run along the beach.

I felt grateful that there was no one in the morning, just me, my coffee, and my dog. I wonder if I was becoming a loner, back home, I seemed to be going out every day, with friends and making them as well. Now, all I had available was Mary. As much as I enjoyed some alone time, I wondered how long it would take until it became too lonely for me, I wondered how long it would be until I found a routine with my work, more clients, and when I would meet local artists.

Taking in the scent again, I closed my eyes, the cool wind making me feel more grounded and alive than I had in a year. Keeping them closed, I continued to walk into what seemed to be a never-ending path, curving around the water.

As if enjoying my solitude was too much, my eyes scrunched up as my shoulder was bumped. My eyes shot open as I helplessly watched my coffee cup fall against the sand, the contents leaking into the grains. Lenny immediately went to investigate, sniffing and licking the spill.

After picking up the cup, I look up the figure that disrupted my walk. He was tall. Around 9 inches taller than me, his nose and cheeks were a dusty pink from the cold, the coloration obvious from the cold weather.

His beard was nicely groomed, but his hair was messy and greasy.  Above his pronounced cheekbone, there was a small, healing cut across the skin. His eyes were cold and endless, not kind but not uninviting. Where the hell did he even come from?

“Sorry… Uh, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t too sure why I was apologizing, according to my therapist, it was one of my weakest traits. The stranger stepped back, sizing me up.

He didn’t reply, I could hear Lenny by my side, growling lowly. “Really, sorry, he’s just protective... I promise he’s a good dog.”

“It’s alright.” His voice was deep, rich, and smooth like honey, he was hansome in general, just unsettling. He brushed a gloved hand through his brown curls, his green eyes following me.

I wasn’t sure what to do, I was pretty desperate for interactions, and he only seemed 10 years older than me at most. “Nice weather?” I cringed at my terrible use of small talk.

“Alright. Cold.”

“I mean, it usually is... cold.” Awkwardly, I itched at my neck, unsure what to do. “I’m Maisie.” I held my hand out, his eyes just darting to stare at it, not accepting it.

“Andrew. Are you American?”

I swallowed nervously, I didn’t want to come off as an uneducated, arrogant American prick. “Uh, well, yes, I just moved in... I live over..east..” My arm extended to point towards my home.

“I know.” My face immediately grew concerned, he knew? How?

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply.

“Andrew… Do you live around here? Or do you like, drive down here for walks.” His brows furrow, as if I were asking something invasive.

“I live near here, I like water.” His hand reaches up to scratch at the scab forming on his face, I notice how one of his glove fingers has the tip torn off.

I nod along awkwardly, maybe he didn’t get out much? “Yeah, me too... It’s nice to live this close to the ocean.” He doesn't answer again. “I lived in Seattle, so I was really far away from the ocean, sometimes, we’d go visit family on the coast.”

His brows furrow. “Where’s that?”

“Washington? Uh, it’s in the Pacific Northwest of America; Kurt Cobain was born there.” He seemed clueless. “Oh…” My face furrows with concern as I see blood, almost black, start to drip down his face. “You…your scab… It’s kind of..” I try to point it out casually, not trying to be rude.

Moving his hand away, Andrew moves to lick his finger, his brows raising. “Oh,” He doesn’t seem too concerned with the color of his blood as he observes it. “Habit.”

“Right,” As I am about to speak more, my phone rings—the flooring installers I had been talking to. “Oh, sorry, I need to take this.” I whisper to him as I back up, pressing my phone to my ear. He just gives me a weak wave as I turn away, waiting for my turn in the cue.

As I turned back around not even a minute later to say goodbye, he was gone. Andrew. The weirdest and one of the rudest men I had ever met.

A/N: ANDREW DOESNT STAY LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TIME I PROMISE HE ISNT BORING

[birdsofrhiannon]

[im-an-anthusiast]

Trickster Spirit

"My little trickster spirit,” he would call her, stroking her hair affectionately, and read her another story. A story of knights and dragons, of champions and tricksters, of heroes and villains. They were all true, in a way, her dad would tell her. There are always people who need help in the world, always people who will offer that help, and there will always be people who deceive and forsake, her dad would say. She didn’t want to be like that, she would think. But she wouldn’t tell – she would stay quiet, like the good little trickster spirit she was.

“My little trickster spirit,” she would call her when she was older, and tell her another story. A story of knights and dragons, of champions and tricksters, of heroes and villains. They were all true, in a way, her mum would tell her. There always has been Magic in the world, and there always will be Magic in Erin’s blood, always will be Magic tracing to, connecting her to her ancestors, called Púcaí, trickster spirits, or otherwise, her mum would say. She didn’t want to be like that, she would think. But she wouldn’t tell – she would lie, like the good little trickster spirit she was.

“A little trickster spirit,” she would say to him, telling him her story. A story of knights and dragons, of champions and tricksters, of heroes and villains. They were all true, in a way, she would tell her very best friend. She had always known only a life with Magic in it, she had always wanted to tell him, and she had always been too afraid to. She didn’t want it to be like that, she would think- and surely, she would eventually tell him. She wanted to be the knight, the brave and honest hero. But she wouldn’t tell – she couldn’t, like the disgusting little trickster spirit she was.

[squawkingscreamers]

So it's been forever since I've posted here. We're all still kicking and flapping and biting and squaking. Today is the 5 year anniversary of the day I brought Púca home. She's still the most well-behaved and snuggly of my flock🤍 I love you, ghost chicken.

[odditycircus-2002]

Hellboy and Diyana Commission

Done by the amazing and talented @moot-ramsey!!!😁😁😁😁

It was worth every penny to have done!🤩🤩🤩

Why is Di giving a peck on HB’s face there? I like to imagine she won a bet that Hellboy inadvertently agreed to😆 If there’s one thing about Faes, they’re a fan of loopholes and technicalities. At least this time, rather than someone’s crops or first born, Di just wanted to give a kiss to HB. Luckily for the big guy, Diyana felt like going easy on him and giving him a peck on the corner of his mouth instead.

Hellboy isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that Diyana didn’t kiss him on the lips😆

[o-xurxur-o-sosoj]

things that add up to "im a literal switched by faeries-style changeling:"

+ my g. great gramma said when i was born, that she remarked that she didnt know if she could ever love me because i looked too much like my father (oof damn), and I ended up quickly changing to look like my mom and ??? something else. She is still the most active ancestor in my daily life.

+ physically disabled in myriad ways bc my body is just not human and not meant to function here or is inherently frail or something. sometimes faeries would give their frail babies to humans to raise?

+ Madness and odd behaviors and inclinations that arent easily boxed into clinical labels even despite the autism n shit being stereotypical of changeling identified folks.

+ a long history into childhood of liking the name Puck/relating to Puck, and eventually going on to relate to various fae called pookas, down to shapeshifting to and having hearttypes/theriotypes of forms like fox, crow, wolf, dog, goat, cat, rabbit, human, and more that are related to pookas.

+ have a "true form" that has looked eerily the same as at least 2-3 other self described pookas in the kin community that i had no influence on or from. Very Large, almond shaped eyes like alien eyes, a long, lion-like tail, an oddly lanky + bony body with a big tummy, a long mane, a featureless semi-animal face, and features that shapeshift over time.

+ look physically like a Fair person, get commented on as fairy-looking all the time, have small pointed ears, eyes that have ... characteristics both ethnic and Fair, we will say, and other physical characteristics of Fair Folk

+ everyone that joins our system doesnt just gain a connection to humanity (each in their own specific way, for me its prehistoric pre-humans) but their own connection to animality and shapeshifting and other traits that are distinctly not human, no matter what species or fictotypes they came in as. I suspect this is bc its just hardwired in.

probably lots of other very personal things ill keep to myself for now. Wondering if anyone else relates to this, in the sense of being a biological changeling and/or having this specific sort of "true form" Pooka presentation?

(not a pshifter, rad/queers dont interact)

[poupeesdecirque]

Next batch of my new 'doll characters' drawing project you can see I switched to a different medium here. Later on I decided to ditch the idea to 'copy' photos as some dolls really have nice photos but as drawing it's not .... really inspiring.

Also I decided to go more into the route to truly draw them like I would draw the characters and not how I would draw the dolls. That helped greatly to find a vibe into the project.

I do add little details about the characters/dolls on instagram I'm not sure if I should do that here as well?

But it might be interesting especially for those who don't follow my blog since forever... I used to do a "10 facts about" ages ago it yeah.. you really have to dig for it.

Ray - Based on Raiya Hisumi from Monokuro Kitan, ironically the character is called "doll" often. He's right now the leader of the Toysoldiers and carries the IX (the higher your number the better you are ranked).

Púca - Was my first Shell of Epiphanus but had different ideas, first I wanted to shell Itsuru from Monokuro Kitan with him but then... went wild and he turned into my big first modding project. The character is one of Pierre's first creations and if you meet him it means your end is in sight.

Jamie - Vincent's teacher as Seira passed and later on his partner. He works at the Sideshow because of the scars he got as a child. He has a lot of self confidence and actually doesn't care to be seen as a "Freak".

Pierre - My Reaper. He is just EVERYWHERE. His look is losely based on Baroque and Orgel from Violinist of Hameln, as at first he was supposed to be a Doll of Baroque. But really Pierre is just everywhere, he's a gambler, and he almost always wins. He even won the position as Reaper in a game.

Lydia - Lydia is a happy little girl, she has a twin Brother called Noah. Both are actually from the otherworld but were raised as normal humans. Her role is small in the overall storyline.

Takizawa - Based on Takizawa Seido from Tokyo Ghoul:re, was actually Samuel's first shell but I was never happy with that choice. Turning the doll into Takizawa was a quick decision, I'm still very much satisfied with that.

Xy - Xylophone is loosely based on Orgel from Violinist of Hameln, or more he is the prequel variant of the corpse that is used by Orgel. He's a traveling artist with his brother Dyl. Both are AU-Characters.

Nathan - A rather problematic character, he's a drug dealer and abuses drugs where he cans. To destroy some evidence he swallows a new one and ends up well.. in a otherworld circus that is supposed to rather people who killed themselfes. He slowly forgets himself until he meets a beautiful girl and falls in love with her, she helps him to keep his memory intact.

Vincent V. - Based on Vincent Volaju from Cowboy Bebop (the movie), one of the best antagonists. I just love the movie and the series.

Elay - Said girl from the circus that helps Nathan. She has forgotten her own story but maybe... she can remember later.

Guignol - Part of Willow's traveling Carnival, a talking doll that she picked up (she picks up everyone and everything :') )

[u-friend-or-ufo]

Púca, that's what he is. A púca!!!

[sanctus-ingenium]

the massacre at fort colombe

[tostawafle]

happy men's mental health awarnes month

[seasidesapphix]

why is wirt sikes such a hater

[of-fear-and-love]

Harvey (1950)

[odditycircus-2002]

10 Fun Facts on Diyana Swann

A/N: Diyana Swann is a Hellboy OC of mine. And this work you see here was done by the amazing @moot-ramsey😁

Diyana has two livers

Diyana wears gloves to cover up burn scars and the branding mark left by her former master.

Diyana has some autistic traits such as lack of social understanding; odd ticks and repetitions when stressed; devoted to her routine and how she keeps things in order. However, most of the time, the humans around her chalk it up to her just not being human.

That said, while she has a preference as female (since their clothing has FAR more variety she likes) she has changed into a male on occasion before changing back to female.

Has an EXTREME fear of snakes and an aversion to spurs. Refers to spurs as “pointed metal of pain”

Despite her age, she doesn’t know about the Solar System or the the fact there’s other planets.

Diyana Swann is not her actual name.

She knows Hellboy was supposed to be the Beast of the Apocalypse, but simply doesn’t care.

When Diyana smokes her cigarettes, they’re a good indicator of her mood. Blue means ambient, red means something close to anger, yellow meaning fear or anxiety. The intensity of the color is an indicator of how strong she feels it.

She’s the last living pooka and member of her family.

[visually-corrupted]

Does your Púca like my crystal chakra? #dailyinkmonster #irishfolklore #celticmyth

[birdsofrhiannon]

Phooka by Louisetheanimator