#Helen The Witch

[coolchevistianofficialsite]

Kiff (2023) - Disney Television Animation Created By Nic Smal And Lucy Heavens

[flowerytale]

Helen Oyeyemi, from White is for Witching

[classicfilmsource]

I MARRIED A WITCH 1942 | René Clair

[helenmask]

witch hat atelier is magical, here's a little fan art

[the-jules-world]

thoughts on the Pevensies returning home

Peter Pevensie was a strange boy. His mind is too old for his body, too quick, too sharp for a boy. He walks with a presence expected of a king or a royal, with blue eyes that darken like storms. He holds anger and a distance seen in veterans, his hand moving to his hip for a scabbard that isn't there - knuckles white. He moves like a warless soldier, an unexplained limp throwing his balance. He writes in an intricate scrawl unseen before the war, his letters curving in a foreign way untaught in his education. Peter returned a stranger from the war, silent, removed, an island onto himself with a burden too heavy for a child to bear.

Only in the aftermath of a fight do his eyes shine; nose burst, blood dripping, smudged across his cheek, knuckles bruised, and hands shaking; he's alive. He rises from the floor, knighted, his eyes searching for his sisters in the crowd. His brother doesn't leave his side. They move as one, the Pevensies, in a way their peers can't comprehend as they watch all four fall naturally in line.

But Peter is quiet, studious, and knowledgeable, seen only by his teachers as they read pages and pages of analytical political study and wonderful fictional tales. "The Pevensie boy will go far," they say, not knowing he already has.

His mother doesn't recognize him after the war. She watches distrustfully from a corner. She sobs at night, listening to her son's screams, knowing nothing she can do will ease their pain. Helen ran on the first night, throwing Peter's door open to find her children by his bedside - her eldest thrashing uncontrollably off the mattress with a sheen of sweat across his skin. Susan sings a mellow tune in a language Helen doesn't know, a hymn, that brings Peter back to them. He looks to Edmund for something and finds comfort in his eyes, a shared knowing. Her sons, who couldn't agree on the simplest of discussions, fall in line. But Peter sleeps with a knife under his cushion. She found out the hard way, reaching for him during one of his nightmares only to find herself pinned against the wall - a wild look in Peter's eye before he staggered back and dropped the knife.

Edmund throws himself into books, taking Lucy with him. They sit for hours in the library in harmony, not saying a word. His balance is thrown too, his mind searching for a limp that he doesn't have, missing the weight of his scabbard at his side. He joins the fencing club and takes Peter with him. They fence like no one else; without a worthy adversary, the boys take to each other with a wildness in their grins and a skillset unforeseen in beginner fencers. Their rapiers are an exertion of their bodies, as natural as shaking hands, and for the briefest time, they seem at peace. He shrinks away from the snow when it comes, thrust into the darkest places of his mind, unwilling to leave the house. He sits by the chessboard for hours, enveloped in his studies until stirred.

Susan turns silent, her mind somewhere far as she holds her book. Her hands twitch too, a wince when the door slams, her hand flying to her back where her quiver isn't. She hums a sad melody that no one can place, mourning something no one can find. She takes up archery again when she can bear a bow in her hands without crying, her callous-less palms unfamiliar to her, her mind trapped behind the wall of adolescence. She loses her friends to girlishness and youth, unable to go back to what she was. Eventually, she loses Narnia too. It's easier, she tells herself, to grow up and move on and return to what is. But her mourning doesn't leave her; she just forgets.

Lucy remains bright, carrying a happier song than her sister. She dances endlessly, her bare feet in the grass, and sings the most beautiful songs that make the flowers grow and the sun glisten. Though she has grown too, shed her childhood with the end of the war. She stands around the table with her sister, watching, brow furrowed as her brothers play chess. She comments and predicts, and makes suggestions that they take. She reads, curled into Edmund's side as his high voice lulls her to sleep with tales of Arthurian legends. She swims, her form wild and graceful as she vanishes into the water. They can't figure out how she does it - a girl so small holding her breath for so long. She cries into her sister, weeping at the loss of her friends, her too-small hands too clumsy for her will.

"I don't know our children anymore," Helen writes to her husband, overcome by grief as she realizes her children haven't grown up but away into a place she cannot follow.

[devildomwriter]

Do you have any info posts about witches in game?

I do now

1. Witches are mentioned the most in season one of the OG game because Mammon is still under the thumb of three of them. He got into trouble with a particularly nasty group of witches, Mammon says it was three, other believe it was up to ten. They tried forcing him to make a pact but Lucifer told them to cut Mammon into pieces instead and somehow in the end he just ended up as a chauffeur/errand boy for them.

2. It’s mentioned Asmodeus once brought a witch home and she turned into a spider to hide from Lucifer but he still found her.

3. In a Devilgram, the Great Witch Maddi is introduced. She is apparently still youthful in appearance despite being thousands of years old and this is due to her power. She stayed in the Devildom and attempted to make Diavolo marry her. She also made Mammon cry once and whenever she visits, Diavolo avoids her and has Satan and Lucifer handle her because she likes attractive men.

4. Another witch mentioned only in season one is Helene. She was a strong witch who was trapped in a painting and villainized after having a relationship with Asmodeus which started a war.

5. Another witch mentioned in season one with some dialogue is Grisella. She created a book that switches bodies and predicted it would help Satan and Lucifer’s relationship and she is described as being their fan. She was later murdered by her helper when she refused to mentor him because she knew her time was coming soon. Her spirit helps solve her own murder before she moves on.

6. In a game event, Lucifer claims there are witches powerful enough to cover the Devildom in snow.

7. Mammon implies that witches are supposed to be able to see the future.

8. Witches are often mentioned as living in the Devildom which is something humans don’t do as Solomon and MC are mentioned as being the first, so witches are considered a separate species/Demi-human. Although in season one they are also mentioned to live in the human world as Mammon got into trouble with those witches too.

9. A witch mentioned only once is Artemisia. Diavolo says he hasn’t visited her in a while and Lucifer declined visiting as he owes her favors after what happened with Mammon.

10. Mammon believes novice witches are easy targets for scams and that he can pay Levi pack this way.

11. In season two Diavolo mentions a witch’s sabbath. He instructs how others should handle a witch who requests a summoning without an application in advance. This implies that demons and witches have contractual agreements and that witches have to request to summon a demon before doing so.

12. Solomon says he associates with witches on occasion.

13. Witches are the ones who let Solomon know when the strange phenomenon in the human world inadvertently caused by MC finally ended.

14. In season three Mammon mentions that once when Asmodeus fell sick a bunch of demons and witches showed up and turned it into a party.

15. In season three Mammon mentions he has to be used to the human world because of always serving the witches. It’s also implied Lucifer doesn’t know the extent of it and if he did he’d probably interfere.

16. In season three, Diavolo mentions doing business in the human world due to demand for magical products by the witches and sorcerers who live there.

17. Cats are a common familiar of witches. We know this because in season three Satan kidnapped a bunch of cats for a cat cafe and Barbatos returned them all to the witches who owned them.

18. Mammon is mentioned as often receiving shady items from witches. I’m season four it’s mentioned one gift was given to him by a witch as congratulations for repaying her.

[tamaruaart]

the women of troy? nah nah, the women of depression is more like it

[candlelit-cemetary]

Just wanted to let you know, if you don’t have certain pendants or jewelry for your deity, that’s ok! You could always wear a crystal in their honor and it doesn’t even have to be one accociated with them if you don’t have one. They always appreciate you.

Currently I am wearing rose quartz for Aphrodite and citrine for Apollo, gifts for them. It makes me feel whole to have a peice of them with me.

Even if you can’t get jewelry, do something else, make a poem, color a picture, do something and that still counts as an offering.

They will always be greatful. I hate when people say that gods and goddesses don’t care about us because they do. We are their prized creation. They love us in a way a mother and a father would, but that’s for another time. They appreciate all you do. Even just showering or doing your hair in their honor would please them.

Keep all of this in mind.

[weirdlookindog]

Helen Moller - Three Witches Dancing, 1918

[derangedrhythms]

We looked at the moon and the moon looked at us.

Helen Oyeyemi, from ‘White Is for Witching’

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Helen Eastwood - Love's Darker Side - Robert Hale - 1972

[flowerytale]

Helen Oyeyemi, from “White Is for Witching”

[pixelxgore]

i was feeling a little silly (*ˊᗜˋ*)

This was inspired by one of @hermes-the-god 's posts ୧((〃•̀ꇴ•〃))૭⁺✧ (I like your stuff btw :3)

This makes me kinda sad

Like imagine a lover garden

siting on a bench talking to your favorite plants honoring them in this garden full of beautiful flowers

(this stems from the fact that Apollo also kinda turned one of his lovers into a plant)

Just a thought a sad one (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

[sycamorelibrary754]

Guardian Angel

Chapter 5: Just One Kiss

Summary: Even in your worst moment, your compassion and kindness make it easy for Wanda to open up to you in a way she never has with anyone. 

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, hospital.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This chapter just about did me in lmao. Hope you enjoy!

Guardian Angel Masterlist

You found yourself gazing intently at Wanda, her question lingering in the air between you. The combination of the heavy dose of pain medication coursing through your veins and her palpable unease made it challenging for you to muster a coherent response. Your mind felt hazy and disconnected as if you were floating in a foggy dream. Meanwhile, Wanda's eyes bored into yours, awaiting a reply that didn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

“You know what? This isn’t necessary. We shouldn’t be talking about this right now.  You need to rest. I should—"

"Please, Wanda, stop," you uttered with a raspy voice as you tried to sit up, ignoring the pain. "Look at me," you said, trying to catch her gaze. The redhead closed her eyes momentarily before finally meeting your eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Fury’s words echoed in her mind.

“Do you know what I went through to keep Westview classified?”

This was a side of Wanda that you hadn't seen before in the short time that you had known her. The usually confident and bubbly woman was unable to speak, and it pained you to see her like that. Her anxiety was evident, so you took the initiative to speak first.

“You were blipped.”

"Yes," she replied softly.

“The Battle for Earth,” you started cautiously. “You fought, I remember.”

"I did," she said while wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You see, I was right! You’re a hero. The world owes you everything.” 

“No, I’m not y/n. You don’t know everything, no one outside of this building does. I’m not who you think I am,” lip trembling.

It was at that moment you finally saw the suffering flowing through her. The pain that stood as witness to all she had kept hidden and everything she was struggling to tell you.

Vision and I were connected by the Mind Stone, but it was more than just a mere connection," she hesitated with a shaky breath, "Vision was everything to me. He sacrificed himself for a chance to stop Thanos, and the burden of his sacrifice rested upon me," her voice somber. "That sacrifice meant I had to...," she bit her shaky lip, "I'm sorry.

"It's okay, I'm right here," you said in a soft whisper.

“I had to destroy the Mind Stone. I was forced to take the life of the only one I ever loved,” she felt her throat start to close as tears welled up in her eyes. “I killed him, I didn’t have a choice.”

"Oh, Wanda," your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears.

Nothing worked. Thanos was just too powerful," she said, her voice trembling. "After the dust settled, I returned to retrieve his remains, only to find out that SWORD had taken his body into custody. By the time I saw him, he had already been... dismantled.

That wasn't your fault," you said, trying to reason with her. "You did everything you could.

As she spoke, her voice trembled with emotion. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, as if lost in thought. "Vision and I had everything planned out. We were going to start a new life together in Westview. I remember finding the deed to the property after the battle was over. But when I saw what they had done to him, I was overwhelmed with shock and confusion. I didn't know what to do or where to go. It was like my whole world had been turned upside down. So I just got in the car and drove. For hours and hours, I drove without any destination in mind. When I finally stopped, I realized that I had somehow ended up in Westview. It was as if fate had brought me there, to this quiet little town where I could try to start over and forget the pain of the past."

You reached for her, tilting her chin so that her eyes met yours again. "The grief was overwhelming," her voice cracked. "I didn't know what was happening, I lost control." The dam finally broke, and a stream of tears gushed down her ashen cheeks. "It brought him back to me in some form. It blessed me with the boys." She wiped her eyes, but the tears came anyway. "But I hurt so many people, y/n," the shame tearing her apart. "I trapped them in my grief.

“No, you’re here now,” you reminded her gently. 

“I was able to put an end to it when I realized the pain I had caused, but nothing can take away what I did, y/n,” shaking her head. “I don’t deserve to be here.”

As you gazed at the woman before you, a deep sense of disbelief filled your heart. Here was someone who had shown you immense compassion and kindness, yet her pain was as profound as the raging storm outside your window. The darkness of her sorrow seemed to envelop everything in its path, leaving you feeling helpless and lost.

“Don’t you dare say that, Wanda,” your breathing a bit labored. “I see so much good and love in you. I knew it from the moment you looked me in the eyes in that cafe, and I saw it the day you walked into my shop. The way you talk about Billy and Tommy. You are a good person. 

You placed your hand against her cheek. The small movement pulled at the IV buried in your skin, but you didn't care. You softly caressed her face with the pad of your thumb and said, "I may not understand all that you've been through, but what I do know is that a world without Wanda Maximoff is not a world I want to live in."

“Y/N…” 

Wanda’s walls had come crashing down, but what you found behind them was beautiful. The collection of unshed tears made her green eyes dazzle like emeralds. You leaned in and before you realized what you were doing she met you halfway. Your lips met ever so softly, like a bird’s wings riding the wind. You kissed her slowly, deeply, purposefully, intent on cherishing every last bit of her. She could feel the warmth of your soft cheeks radiate over hers. The pace of your heart rate monitor quickened as adrenaline coursed through you. 

Wanda stumbled over her words, "I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean to. I shouldn't have..."

"No, Wanda. It's okay," you say, trying your best to reassure her.

“No, it isn’t, you’re so vulnerable. For God’s sake, y/n, you almost died today! I don’t know what got into me,” rising from her chair. “I should go, they’ll be expecting me in the debrief. I’ll—I’ll come back later,” she said unconvincingly.

"Oh, um. Okay," you say, trying to conceal your disappointment.

Without another word, Wanda hurriedly left the room, leaving you with the faint sensation of her lips on yours and your own thoughts.

*^~^*

Wanda had changed into the clothes that Sam had brought her and walked into the conference room to find the debriefing already in progress. She took her seat next to Natasha at the table, while Cap was discussing various aspects of their response to the accident. Suddenly, Nat nudged Wanda under the table to get her attention.

“How’s y/n?” 

"Her condition is stable. She woke up while I was with her," Wanda whispered.

“Good.” 

Hey Wanda," Steve's voice interrupted, breaking the silence. "I had a chance to speak with Helen earlier, and she mentioned your friend. We're all really glad to hear that everything turned out okay.

"Oh, thank you. I am too," she said while biting her lower lip.

Yelena observed the entire exchange from the other end of the table, reading the witch's body language. "I hope we get to meet her," she said with a smile.

“Maybe. Once she’s out of the woods.” 

Wanda sent Darcy a text after the meeting, letting her know she would be home in an hour. As she reached the door, an arm suddenly appeared and blocked her exit.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

“What do you mean?”

“With y/n. I saw you out there today and I see it in your eyes right now.” 

“Are you ever not watching me?” Turning around and walking back toward her chair. 

“Would it surprise you if I said no,” Nat smirked, hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

“Not really,” lifting herself up to sit on the conference table with a sigh, “ Y/N and I kissed.” 

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Are you my therapist now?” Wanda asked, tying her hair up in a messy bun with the hair tie on her wrist. 

“To be honest, we could both use one,” she said, meeting the witch's gaze.

“We were both so vulnerable. She almost died, I was sobbing over Vision and Westview, I don’t know what came over me. She was so compassionate and understanding, I…” Wanda trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“It's okay to have feelings for her. You should talk to her,” Nat said

“I’m not sure if I can go back up there,” her eyes avoiding the widow.

“You can, and you will. I’ll go with you if you want me too,” hands on Wanda’s shoulders.

*^~^*

As you lay in your Med Bay room, you gradually begin to feel the effects of the pain medication administered by Helen and Banner start to subside. A sharp twinge of pain shoots through your body, causing you to let out a groan. You reach out for the call button, knowing that you need to alert the medical staff of your discomfort. The room around you is quiet, save for the beeping of the machines monitoring your vital signs. You take a deep breath and press the button, hoping that help will arrive soon.

"Ms. Y/L/N, what can I assist you with?" asked the nurse while offering a reassuring smile.

“I’m really starting to hurt. Could I get some more pain meds?” 

“Sure, you’re due for your next oral dose in about 15 minutes,” adjusting your morphine drip. 

“So, Claire,” he said after reading her name badge, “I assume this isn’t a place where you see a lot of civilians?”

“No, you’re actually the first one,” she helped you sit up and adjusted your pillows.

As you lay back down, grimacing, trying to adjust your sling and broken leg, "Well, I feel very special then."

“You should! It’s not every day that group gets to see what happens after they save someone. I think it’s good for them,” she winked.

A soft knock catches your attention. You turn to see Wanda peeking into your room. You try to play it cool, but you couldn't help how your face lit up at the sight of her.

"Hey, I told you I'd be back. How are you feeling?" Walking in with another redhead in tow.

I've been better," you said smirking as you fidgeted with your oxygen cannula. "Listen, about what happened earlier...

"We don't need to talk about that right now, Y/N. You need to rest," Wanda said as she took the seat next to you. The second red-headed woman stood beside her. "This is Natasha Romanoff," she introduced, doing her best to change the subject.

After shaking your hand gently, Nat said, "It's nice to formally meet you this time."

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you the other day. I was busy being tackled," you said, smirking at Wanda.

Wanda blushed. Even on your worst day, you were charming.

“Don’t worry about it. Truthfully, it’s great when we aren’t recognized,” Nat said. “I just wanted to come up and see how you were doing, the team was really worried about you.”

“I’m"I'm doing okay, all things considered," you said, sighing deeply. "I honestly feel lucky to be alive... Dr. Cho told me how bad off I was when you brought me in, Wanda. I didn't get a chance to say it before, but thank you," your voice shook, "Thank you for saving me," you said while wiping away a tear that was threatening to fall from your eye with your good hand.

The witch held your hand tightly, "We weren't going to let you die out there."

Nataha’s heart melted at the interaction. If she wasn’t sure before, she was now. Maximoff had it bad.

With her tablet in hand, Helen softly entered the room and said, "Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

“Not at all,” still holding on to Wanda’s hand. 

“I just wanted to check your stitches before Claire changes your bandages in a few minutes.”

“Oh, we can step out,” Nat said 

“No, it’s okay. You’ve already seen me at my worst. Besides, I like the company.

Helen checked your stitches while Wanda held your hand. 

“Everything looks good. I also wanted to talk to you about your recovery. We weren’t able to get a hold of your parents with the numbers from your phone. Is there anyone else we can contact for you?”

"Figures," you muttered quietly.

The unexpected response from you caught Wanda off guard. As a curious person, the redhead had been wondering about your background and was eager to learn more about your past. However, she decided to wait until your condition had improved before approaching the topic and made a mental note to ask you about your family at a later time.

 “Umm, my friend Harper. She’s my assistant manager at the Candy Bar. Shit,” reality starting to hit you. “She’s probably worried sick that I never showed up for work,” hand over your face. 

“We will call her. You will be here for a couple more weeks, and after that, you will require full-time care and physical therapy,” Helen explained.

“How are you going to manage on your own?” Wanda asked. 

“I’ll figure something out,” doing your best to reassure her.

She spoke softly, "Y/N, I visited your apartment. You live alone on the third floor."

“You can stay here,” Natasha interrupted.

“What?” Turning to the Black Widow.

“She’s right,” Wanda said. “My old bedroom in the compound living quarters is empty. You can’t be by yourself right now. Plus, Helen will be able to monitor your recovery more closely if you’re in the building.”

You were surprised by the suggestion. No, you couldn't stay here. You weren't excited about managing your recovery alone, but you never accepted help easily.

Wanda could see the gears turning in your head and didn’t wait for a response, “It’s settled then, she’ll stay here. We’ll send the guys to pick up your stuff.”

“Okay, um, I guess I’m staying here then.”

“Yeah, like you had a choice,” Nat joked.

[yeehawesome]

Helen did not know her children.

They were in the same bodies and they still called her mother, yet they had age in their eyes and walked with the assurance of adults.

Peter had taken up drawing, when they got home. She found one of his sketches, wrinkled up and tossed to the ground. It was him, or a version of him anyway. This Peter was wearing the same schoolboy clothes. But he had a long scar that cut across his eyebrow. There was a burn mark on his hands. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, healed, then broken again. This Peter carried a sword. This Peter wore a crown. There was something sad in his eyes, a look that she only saw in the old soldiers that frequented their neighborhood cafe. Sometimes Helen found Peter there, talking with them. They showed him their battle wounds and he looked upon them not with the jealously or awe of boys his age, but with grief. He drew them, too. In their civilian clothes, worn down by time, but with guns in their hands and determination in their eyes. He recognized them, and they him.

Helen put the drawing away and didn’t speak of it to anyone, unsure of the life her son had lived within it.

Susan had taken up shooting, when they got home. Helen felt some reservations at allowing her young daughter to go to the range alone, but she could see the hunger in Susan’s eyes. Her daughter was no longer the blushing schoolgirl trying to be older than she was. This Susan was assured, capable. Helen could see her daughter suffocating in London under the restrictions placed on a girl her age, and couldn’t bring herself to turn her daughter down. Helen accompanied her, that first day of shooting. It only took Susan a few tries before she was hitting the target with deadly accuracy. The gun seemed an extension of her body. Helen asked her about how it felt. “It feels like cheating.” Her daughter had said, frowning, before she turned back to the target and shot it dead center. When she saw the concerned look in Helen’s eyes she smiled, kissed her mother on the forehead, and murmured a word of thanks.

Helen did not watch her daughter shoot anymore after that, unsure of the sorrow in Susan’s eyes when she held the gun.

Edmund had taken up reading, when they got home. Helen had tried and tried to foster a love of reading in all her children, but he had been the one to resist. Now he voluntarily spent hours on the couch, turning pages with a speed that surprised her. He didn’t speak with his old friends, anymore. Helen was pleased with his new appetite for books, but that soon turned into concern when he delved into worlds like he was trying to escape the one he was in. Once, she picked up a book of his and leafed through it, searching for a clue as to why her son was swallowed whole by it. There was a poem he had underlined. It spoke of regret and grief and the killing of the monsters within. Helen remembered the look on Edmunds face when his friends had come to the door after they first got back, inviting him to join. He politely turned them down, but Helen saw the fear in his eyes. She had loved Edmund before they left and she loved him when they returned, but she could not deny that this boy was different, more than any of them. He had done a lot of growing up in a very short time, it seemed.

Helen did not read through Edmunds books, anymore, unsure and afraid of what exactly he was running from.

Lucy had always sang, her happiest child. She came into the world with a song bursting forth. She still sang, when they got home. But these songs were different. When she sang, the faces of the flowers turned towards her. The grass seemed to grow taller around her bare feet. The world was greener, when Lucy sang. Once, Helen had gone to retrieve her as she stood on their porch during a storm. Lucy was singing a song unlike the others, a sorrowful song for soldiers marching off to war. It was unlike anything Helen had heard, and it seemed the storm felt that way, too. The wind blew harder around Lucy, the rain hit her face as the trees bent towards her, the ancient things trying to bow. Lucy had laughed in delight, throwing her arms wide. That was the first real laugh Helen had heard from any of her children upon their return. When Lucy laughed, it sounded like she was finally taking a breath. The storm kept raging on when she stopped, and Lucy kept smiling until Helen found her voice and asked her to come inside.

Helen did not find her daughter in the storms, anymore, unsure of the way her daughter relished the power of something so dangerous.

When together, Helen felt the most relief. The others seemed to age when Peter spoke, but they didn’t have the sorrow in his eyes and it lessened his. The others seemed more dangerous when Susan touched their shoulders, but she knew they would never be dangerous to each other, and that was all that really mattered. The others were more solemn when Edmund informed them of his readings, but Helen saw how they savored the joy in his eyes when he did so, as if saving it to remember later. The others straightened when Lucy entered the room, as if their youngest daughter was reminding them to keep their heads high. Together, they were more changed than ever.

Helen did not know her children.

[helenmask]

Another challenging coloring project