#witches and warlocks

[weirdlookindog]

Norman Lindsay (1879-1969) - Witches and Warlocks

[nekousagisstuff]

Trying Autodesk sketchbook after like 3 years... I thinks it's so good actually... For now...

[vorpalfae]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𖤐 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𖤐 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[bewitched-bullet]

What I've been working on for To Pull on the Spider's Silk

A Johnlock AU

Snippet:

"You would need to fully consent to it, of course." Sherlock's baritone from above him dropped ever-so-slightly. God, that voice pulled on strings he didn’t know he had.

"It requires complete–"

"Vulnerability; openness, yeah, I know" John interjected as he swallowed hard and looked back up at Sherlock. Sherlock's mercury eyes were locked onto John's. His entire body was tense, examining John's every minute shift. John did his best not to squirm. It was both parts unnerving and flattering to be so closely examined by this extraordinary man.

He cleared his throat. "Um, yeah," he gestured over to Sherlock's book shelf, "I came across some of the old customs in one of your books."

Sherlock seemed to relax a fraction, his sharp eyes softening. "So you know it requires a level of–"

"Intimacy, yeah," John finished quickly, snapping his eyes back over to the darker haired man. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I had to goggle what skyclad and the great rite meant, but, yeah, I get the concept."

A small smile flitted around Sherlock's lips. "We wouldn’t need anything that dramatic. However, playing to what we perceive as sacred would be essential. For someone who values physical touch as you do, a simple kiss would suffice."

He hesitated. "Would you consent, John?"

John bit his lip and looked away as he took his time to think. The idea of being caught, charged with unsanctioned use of magick, and locked away somewhere was not an option. Turning himself in before the madness took him and bonded to a strange Handler was tempting but definitely not appealing. John could feel the sharp sting of panic rising. A glance at Sherlock’s face told him that it didn’t escape his notice. Sherlock stepped closer. They were now toe to toe. John felt firm pressure at his elbows, where Sherlock was gently cupping them.

"If you had a true choice. One that wasn’t done by necessity....what would you choose?"

John racing mind immediately stilled as he stared up into Sherlock's intense silvery gaze, feeling achingly exposed.

"You. Always."

[darkailuros]

Dia 2 - Mago Ogun em Fireforce

[poisonedtealeafs]

"do you play?" xenia, points at the violin in one of the corners of spencers room, "it's a beautiful one."

he starres at the violin for a long time, closing and opening his mouth, chewing on words that won't escape him. "no, not really. it's my moms. one of the few things i have left from her." he sounds, he is sad he can already feel the tears gathering in his eyes.

"is- is she dead?"

"i don't know. dad never told me."

[authormdluna]

I drew Princess Artemis, one of the main characters from my recently released novelette, The Fisherman and the Mermaid, which is available for free on my website.

Don't mind the fact that I don't yet know how to draw hands!

Sincerely,

MD Luna

Order your copy of I: The Misfit Princess today.

[soweirdondisney]

The monologue of So Weird's "Strangeling" (s1e08) features some awesome mood-setting music for the eerie episode that follows.

Unfortunately none of the show's monologue music was ever credited. This song in particular does get used later in the episode. But when Fi casts the Strangeling spell a second time and unintentionally makes the dragon get bigger, it's still difficult to isolate.

For years, most likely due to Fi's voice speaking over it, sound and music identifier apps and sites came up short in tracking down the tune. We've tried!

But thanks to a persistent listener of The So Weird Podcast, we can share the official song.

It's Medwyn Goodall's "Behold the Darkness".

Goodall is an English composer who has been making new age and healing music since the mid-1980s under two aliases. Sometimes releasing 2-3 albums a year, his most recent album was released in 2022.

Comet was released in 1999, just in time for the track "Behold the Darkness" to be used in a So Weird episode.

Thank you so much to 562stitch on YouTube for going through hours and hundreds of videos to find this.

[happy-raven]

Start to understand both the broad concepts and the details that are the bones that make the broad concepts work, SO GOING TO MAGIC UNIVERSITY HAS A PURPOSE. That way, you magic users can start creating new methods or outcomes that need refinement, and their masters can give them guidance and support instead of tHiS oNe iS tHe sPeCiAL ChOsEn OnE bullshit.

Less magic schools. More magic universities. Unlearn the simplified models of your secondary education. Discover how to reference scrolls written by a wizard possessed by a different wizard. Identify bias in the voices that whisper from beyond the veil. Have your institution be accused of promoting a Merlinist agenda. Become addicted to energy potions.

[unfortunately-unorthodox]

Photo Credit: Shayla's Art Sanctuary

🤍 Happy Winter Solstice 🤍

[nekousagisstuff]

This like an answer for @casper-kew drawing! ✨ I love the results! This My perspective of his comic

[mostly-funnytwittertweets]

[raventrigonsdaughter]

Btw a round of applause for the Agatha All Along crew for giving us actual magic lore and explaining how shit works and that witches have rules and culture unlike doctor strange who's movies were all over the place about it, i had given up hope on us getting actual good world building until now

[bewitched-bullet]

Here you go @helloliriels ! This is only the part I finished tweaking

Actually, I always regret everything I do but I do it anyway 😅

(Working title: To Pull a Spider’s Silk)

Chapter 1

The labyrinthine streets of London were currently being slowly devoured by tendrils of thickened mist, offering an ethereal backdrop to the slow moving traffic and passive pedestrians. The eerie false twilight, gave a distinct pull -longing- for a fit of exploring.

‘Wanderlust’ He mused absently, letting the curtain fall back over the window.

Within a comfortably cluttered apartment of haphazard style and sense, a tall and lean figure moved across the room with unnatural grace, grabbed a grubby poker, and jabbed at the inoffensive logs in the fireplace. Small sparks from the fire spat out into the living room in protest. He carelessly flung the metal poker to the side with a clang and spun back around. His sharp, piercing gaze darted across the intricacies of case files spread like cryptic mosaics on his desk. Loose leaflets and some torn pages were taped, pinned, and a couple times -nailed- to the closest wall. Not his fault he ran out of tape. The air around him seemed to vibrate with intensity as he paced in front of his handiwork. A faint smile played unbidden upon his lips as he visually scoured the data.

The fire in the fireplace popped and snapped as it’s fuel shifted, casting wild shadows across the room. He remained unmoved and suddenly stilled, narrowing his ice-blue eyes. Quick as snake, he snatched a paper off the wall and with a final unimpressed once over, tossed it into the flames.

“Aaaargh, I need more information!”

He whipped out his phone from his back pocket, thumbs flying over the digital keyboard.

<< Get me more. SH

His foot tapped as he stared at the screen, waiting. Two minutes later, a ding.

>> Get stuffed.

‘Ugh!’

Annoying, but not unexpected. He tossed his phone to a chair, steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. Can’t go to the crime scenes without being invited (ridiculous), not allowed to step into the station without a case (see point 1) or near dead (unlikely, though appreciated), and not allowed to directly call unless near dead. He snatched the remote from the mantle and switched the small telly on.

The lastest press release of the murders suicides was being hosted by his associate (are they associates? He does associate with him in the verb kind of sense), Lastrade. Sherlock’s mouth twitched upwards as he watched the stress-grayed haired man give his little speech about the case. Sherlock pursed his lips thoughtfully. He may not be allowed to call but nobody couldn't tell him he can’t text whoever he wanted. He quickly retrieved his mobile, tapped a couple times on the glass screen, and confirmed ‘send all’ in a group message. Wouldn’t be able to trace it back to him anyway.

A soft knock at the door disrupted the room's stillness, the arrival of a visitor momentarily drawing his focus. He swiftly crossed the room and opened the door. His landlady, had brought the mail. He greeted her with raised eyebrows.

"Good evening, dear. It's quite chilly out there," she remarked, handing over the letters with a pat on his arm. "Do make sure you get yourself a nice cuppa; it’s going to be cold tonight."

Sherlock’s demeanor softened, and he offered a quick peck on top of her curls. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” he replied as he took the mail, his expression a mix of appreciation and distant contemplation. “Perhaps, you should make sure I do.”

Mrs. Hudson chuckled warmly. "Oh, Sherlock, you do need to take care of yourself,” she said in mock astonishment. “I’m not your housekeeper, you know.”

Sherlock rapidly sorted through the envelopes, tossing them carelessly to the floor. His flurry of movement was soon stilled. He tilted his head, catching something unusual in the pile in his hands. One letter stood out from the rest, its appearance distinct with swirling black ink, sealed with wax, and marked with a unique emblem. He dropped the rest to the floor as he weighed it in his palm, eyes narrowed.

Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock with mild worry. “Ah, perhaps I’ll check on you later anyway. I’ll bring a good meat pie.”

“Mmm…yes, very good,” Sherlock murmured as he turned away from her, sliding his thumb carefully under the seal. He barely registered Mrs. Hudson carefully closing the door behind her as he analyzed the stationary. He gingerly removed the creamy, heavy-weighted paper from the satin-like envelope and unfolded it, scanning it quickly. His frown deepened, and frustration simmered beneath his calm exterior as he re-read the message.

Tiptoeing the lines for the past two years to remain a free agent had been a delicate and frustrating balance. Most of the time, he could believe in the illusion it provided. However, every now and then, reminders of how fragile that "freedom" was came knocking. With a low snarl, he snapped his wrist, and the fancy stationery spun into the fireplace It quickly caught aflame green tinted tongues lapping at it greedily, curling the darkened edges. He remained like stone till every bit of it disintegrated into ash and embers.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

(Next will be John’s part)

I really hope you like this tidbit!

[darkailuros]

Dia 1 - Bruxa Alice no país das Maravilhas ☕🫖

[poisonedtealeafs]

maps, floor plans and the likes have always taken up a huge part of spencer room. more than just one world map was adorning his wall.

and now he was sitting on the floor at an empty bar, the owner and xenia beside him marking a way through the street map the owner, their boss, gave them for the next journey.

between the owners knowledge of busy streets and his talent of spotting the fastes way to a destination, xenia was left wondering how they did it. it wasn't that she wouldn't find her way around, she would only take a bit longer taking the more obvious and open road, instead of some backwards streets. but that's the reason why spencer is their navigation and she drives what ever way he had planned for them.

"and this will save us how much time?", the witch asked, her eyes following the bright pink line on the map.

"'bout half an hour."

"make it an hour in your head", spencer turned to their boss, "she drives like the devil."