#sídhe

[animenekos]

Ao no Exorcist: Yuki no Hate-hen; Blue Exorcist: Beyond the Snow Saga - Episode 8

[jadeseadragon]

John Duncan (Scottish, 1866-1945), The Riders of the Sidhe, 1911, tempera on canvas, 114.3 × 175.2 cm; Dundee Art Gallery and Museums Collection.

[spacewreck51]

Ughhhh dusk isn't for another 40 minutes but it's the Moon of the Changing Season tonight and I need to leave at least something for my local They Themselves and im getting restless to feel the chill in the air and I have work to do and ajokahsljaidkjskskakpkeowywi

[negreabsolut]

Els genets dels Sídhe, per John Duncan. Tremp d'ou en tela, 114'3 x 175'2; 1911.

[lightofthemagdalene]

I feel like it looks super basic but I’ve been learning how to draw on my iPad and this is the first thing I’ve actually felt was finished!

[domosaidao]

Honra aos Espíritos Locais

Assim como nossos ancestrais viveram pela Terra antes de nós e nos trouxeram até aqui, os espíritos locais são ainda mais antigos e tão merecedores de respeito quanto os outros. A região onde vivemos literalmente é a casa deles muito antes de termos pisado nela e a chamado de nossa. São eles os espíritos habitantes da vegetação local, dos rios e córregos que cortam as redondezas, dos animais que nascem, crescem e morrem nessa terra, dos habitantes humanos e não-humanos tão antigos que se mesclaram ao todo unitário da localidade em si.

Esses seres não apenas vivem aqui; eles trabalham para que a harmonia de toda a egrégora da região seja mantida, mantendo o equilíbrio da natureza física e energética, tentando o seu melhor para proteger os seus e todos os que buscam refúgio na área, sejam estes outros espíritos, sejam plantas, fungos ou animais – incluindo a nós, os humanos, mesmo que sejamos quase sempre ingratos e desrespeitosos para com o chão onde vivemos.

Da mesma forma que você não quer que ninguém entre em sua casa sem lhe avisar antes, sem bater no portão e pedir permissão, ou que a pessoa desrespeite a organização e higienização pela qual você trabalhou tanto, esses espíritos não querem que nós façamos as mesmas coisas. Pelo contrário, nós e eles queremos respeito, humildade, harmonia e reconhecimento por tudo o que trazemos para nosso lar – renda, proteção, organização, saúde, alimento, conforto, assim por diante.

Muitas culturas pagãs honravam esses seres, e cada uma apresentava nomes e descrições diferentes para eles, alguns até mesmo demonstrando ser espíritos de natureza muito distinta entre si.

Para os helenos, há o Agathos Daimon (“Bom Espírito”, guardião do lar – honrado nas tradições reconstrucionistas todo segundo dia do mês lunar) e os daimones da natureza, incluindo as ninfas, as dríades, as náiades, e assim por diante. Para os romanos, os espíritos de uma casa e família eram chamados de Lares. Para os gaélicos, os espíritos da natureza são o Bom Povo (em irlandês moderno: Aos Sí; em gaélico escocês: Daoine Sìth) enquanto outros cuidam do lar, como o escocês brownie. Na cultura local, frequentemente ouvimos falar dos caiporas, Curupira, Boitatá, e das almas daqueles que viveram na nossa casa ou na região antes de nós e a elas se mesclaram, os encantados, como os nativos os chamam.

Seja qual for a origem ou a tradição, os espíritos locais são aqueles que sempre estiveram aqui, ou então, que vivem aqui muito antes de nós. Assim como nós gostamos de ser bem tratados pelos outros dentro de nossa própria casa, eles também esperam e podem ser ótimos aliados para seguirmos nossas vidas em harmonia.

[israaverse]

[OC/FAE] "Pray, sweet girl, wouldst thou cometh closer?"

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Would fae from myths be manifestations of the stranger? they're too perfect looking that they look uncanny and inhuman and are often said to steal names and identities

[timperi-fan]

"Are you alright?"

A calm voice broke through Timmy's panic, and he blinked. He always thought that if he ever found himself being mugged or attacked, he would stay calm and handle himself with dignity.

Instead, when his walk home from his shitty fast food job had been interrupted by a knife pointed at his face, Timmy had froze.

He still felt frozen now, sitting on the asphalt (when had he gotten on the ground?) with the night chill biting into his palms and leaking through his jeans. His heart was still slamming in his chest, even though the threat was gone.

The threat was gone?

The figure standing over him moved, and Timmy flinched. His wide eyes darted up, absorbing the stranger's concerned gaze and his mask and God, that was so much purple—

"Hey, hey, it's okay... You're in shock," the masked man said gently, like he was trying to settle a spooked animal.

Timmy worked his jaw a couple of times. He swallowed; squinted up at the man. "...Sídhe?"

It was. Sídhe — Dimmsdale's resident superhero — stood over Timmy, bending over to be closer to his height. The wings on his back cast scattered light over Timmy's prone form. The sound of his name made the hero grin in relief.

"You're okay. I'm so glad." He offered Timmy his hand. "Can you stand?"

Timmy nodded. He still felt shaky, but he was calming down some, now. He took Sídhe's hand on autopilot, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

He always thought that Sídhe would be taller in person, but the TV had a way of making things seem bigger than reality. He never thought he would be meeting Sídhe in person at all.

"It's a good thing that I was doing a late patrol today — I saw that man try to mug you," Sídhe explained, his voice tight with fury. Despite that, his grip on Timmy's hand remained gentle. "Are you injured at all?"

Somehow, Timmy found it within himself to shake his head. "No, I'm— I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

Sídhe leaned in. His other hand settled on Timmy's cheek, and he had the ludicrous thought that he was about to be kissed. Instead, Sídhe swiped his thumb over Timmy's cheek. His hand came away with blood on it.

It almost seemed like Sídhe's golden pupils flaired brighter still. "You're hurt."

Timmy reached out and caught Sídhe's hand. "It's just a cut. I..." He struggled to speak evenly. "I just want to go home. Really."

They stood still like that for a moment more. Sídhe's inhuman eyes scanned his face, like he was peeling away Timmy's skin to gaze at his soul. Could he do that? Maybe. He was magic, right?

Timmy was a little surprised to find that he wasn't bothered. He felt at ease around Sídhe.

Their hands were still entwined. He didn't feel any desire to change that.

Finally, Sídhe nodded. "I'll walk you home," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.

Timmy wouldn't have refuted even if it was.

He turned and started walking.

In his mind, Timmy always thought that if he did get to meet Sídhe, for whatever reason, he would ask a bunch of questions that he wanted to know the answer to. Like, where did he get his powers from? Why did he choose to be a hero? Were his wings as delicate as they looked? Was he born with them?

Was being a superhero lonely?

Instead, they walked in silence. Timmy stole glances at Sídhe as they walked, just to ensure that he wasn't dreaming. His wings were iridescent and looked as thin as air, like the details were spun from spider's silk and would fall apart at a touch. His clothing choice didn't seem to include any armor — Sídhe was dressed in flowing, loose fabric. The effect was that he looked ephemeral. Timmy kept thinking that he was going to blink and Sídhe would be gone.

For some reason, he stayed. He stayed all the way down the street, to Timmy's shitty little apartment just two blocks from his college campus.

"This is my stop," Timmy said.

Sídhe glanced appraisingly at the run-down brick building. "Are you safe here?" He asked.

"Uh." Timmy wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't sure why Sídhe cared. He shrugged one shoulder. "More or less."

Sídhe hummed. He set a hand on Timmy's shoulder, leaning in — so close that their breaths mingled and Timmy could count the flecks of gold burning in his irises.

This time, the last thing that Timmy expected was to be kissed. And that was exactly what Sídhe did.

His lips brushed the cut on Timmy's cheek, and it felt like time stopped. Timmy's fingers curled, clenching around nothing. He wanted time to freeze again; wanted this moment to last just a little bit longer.

Instead, Sídhe pulled back. The corner of his mouth was quirked up in a smile. "I have healing magic," he said by way of an explanation. Timmy could feel the place where he'd kissed tingling but, honestly, it would have felt that way even without magic.

"T-Thanks," Timmy managed. He cleared his throat. "I really, um, appreciate you, helping me out and walking me home... You didn't have to do all of that," he said awkwardly.

It was easier to make conversation when he'd been frozen. Now that he was thawed, all Timmy could focus on was the way that Sídhe's purple curls were hanging in front of his eyes, just begging to be brushed away from his face.

"Of course I didn't 'have to.' I wanted to," Sídhe said warmly. And he smiled, like there was no where in the world he'd rather be than on Timmy Turner's doorstep, with blood on his glove and fondness in his eyes. "Get some sleep, Timmy."

His wings fluttered as Sídhe became airborne. Timmy watched, amazed that something so pretty was actually functional. He wanted to memorize those swooping swirls and careful curves. He wanted to duck his head along Sídhe's bare back, lips brushing down his spine, while his fingers traced the patterns on his wings from memory.

Instead, Timmy stood there like an idiot, staring at the night sky until long after Sídhe was out of sight.

His cut had been healed, but his cheek still burned.

All Timmy could think was that he wanted Sídhe to stare at him like that again — like he was the most important thing in the universe.

(It didn't occur to him until the next morning that he had never told Sídhe his name.)

[animenekos]

Ao no Exorcist: Yuki no Hate-hen; Blue Exorcist: Beyond the Snow Saga - Episode 7

[jadeseadragon]

Annie Stegg Gerard

[jamiefmiller]

[negreabsolut]

L'host dels Sídhe, per Aelin Laer. [font]

[fandomsoda]

Hey anybody remember Faeverse? Because I do, here’s some more art of Fae!Ink //very, very minor blood warning

Faeverse is a project being done by me and @dinosaurzzz , a retelling of Underverse with a twist of xvials and fae folklore from many different myths. It’s still been brewing but we’ve had it around for a while and it’s about time I did some more stuff for it, this time a doodle sheet for the variation of Ink in this story. If you would like to learn more, please go to my personal project masterpost which is linked in my pinned and you will find more information in the links provided for this project. If you plan to make fan content, those posts are essential!

Either way, enjoy :3

[creaturesncryptids]

Cú-Sídhe

[israaverse]

First pass at Aedlyn and his armor.

The first pose is a map of his scars. 1-2 are from attempted assassinations on the battlefield, 3 is from being gored on a hunt (never again), 4 is from nearly degloving his knee on a stony riverbed, and 5 is from being caught in a human snare trap in his younger years.

In the third outfit he wears a brat, a type of robe with a usually woolen fringe worn by the nobility of Ireland, but as he is a prince of the Aes Sídhe he can much afford a pristine fur fringe to contrast the rich red of the cloak. He sports the colors of the royal Ua'Cruachan house: white, red, and black, and has the insignia of a snake impaled on a sword on his right pauldron. The construction of his white steel armor is reminiscent of the leaves of the holly bush. His greatsword, pictured above him, is of a meteoric alloy and is much lighter and more maneuverable as a result.