#the first ‘witch’ hung during the Salem witch trials | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoward89 · 1 month

Text

Based on this ask

Academy! Coryo x Academy!Reader,

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus is a warning in and of itself. Smut, p in v, tittie sucking, tittie fucking, cum licking, groping, cussing, first time, just the tip is NEVER just the tip, Obsessed!Coryo, Big Breasted!Reader, Pervy!Coryo, Virgin!Coriolanus, Virgin!Reader, Shy!Reader

When you hit puberty you begin developing breasts faster than your peers. When the other girls are in training bras you're wearing an underwire. And then when everyone hit high school at the Academy, well they're in cute little demi-bras and Lacey bralettes while you're in full coverage/support bras. You have a drawer full of underwires, front closures, etc. Yes, your bras are cute too, but unlike the other girls at the Academy you have to go to a special bra/lingerie shop that specializes in products for large breasted women.

Your mother was shocked that you're so busty since she's on the smaller side. Your older brother, Rein, was so afraid that you'd be taken advantage of or find yourself in trouble with boys because of having big boobs at such a young age. He more of less big boob shamed you (which you learned after dating your boyfriend wasn't cool) and convinced you to wear larger/baggy shirts to hide the size of your boobs.

So for years you listened to your brother and wore larger shirts. Underneath your shirts you always had a strappy tank or a cami on over your bra, to work as an undershirt/barrier between your skin and the larger, baggy shirts you always wore.

One day, when you're in your senior year literature class, you feel like you're being watched. As if somebody's breathing down your neck. You look over your shoulder, trying to catch whoever’s staring you down in the act, only to see your classmate with his head buried in his book.

Coriolanus Snow.

You've known him since kindergarten. He's best friends with Sejanus Plinth. You're friends with both of them, but it's not like you hang out with them alot. Or actually it's not like you hang out with Coriolanus a lot. You hang out with Sej. In fact your mother encourages it. But you think that's cause his family's filthy rich.

You just brush off your feelings as silly, as being paranoid. The boy with a halo of light golden curls wasn't leering at you, he had his prominent nose in his copy of The Crucible. He was the top of your class; very serious and studious.

Of course he's engrossed in his book. The same book you and the rest of the class are reading.

It's about the Salem Witch Trials thousands of years ago in a New England colony of North America during the Pre-Panem times. The book's actually a screen play by a famous writer- Arthur Miller. Your teacher says that there's a film too; that once the class has finished reading the book, testing on it, and writing the thesis on it, then the class will watch the movie.

Oh, you can't wait for that.

You go back to reading your book, causing Coriolanus to let out a tiny breath he didn't even know he was holding. The top student was, in fact, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. Truth be told, he stares at you in the few classes you share.

Coriolanus always sits behind you, looking at you longingly. He's known you for at least 12 years now, but it wasn't until this year that he realized he needs you.

Biblically!

Coriolanus is enthralled by you. There's just something about you, he can't quite put his finger on it, that makes his cock twitch and his balls tingle. His palms go sweaty and his mouth waters. He can't look at you without getting hard.

Hell, he's thankful for the godforsaken kilt that's apart of the Academy uniform otherwise he'd have visible wet spots (cum stains) on the crotch of his pants. Yes, he cums just by staring at you and fantasizing about all the things he wants to do with you.

God, how he wants to fuck your pussy for bad. You're such a smart, sweet girl and he's got a dark desire to fuck you dumb. He also wants to fuck your throat until your vocal chords are shit to hell. Damn, he wouldn't mind tearing up your ass either.

And of course, he wants to eat your cunt. He also wants to suck on your titties. Coriolanus will never admit it, but he's a boob guy. Bigger the boobiea the better.

But that's the only thing about you that puzzles him. Your boobs. He can't get a good estimate on their size by looking at you because you always wear baggy and loose shirts.

Coriolanus often imagined what your tits look like underneath your light blue uniform shirt. He hopes that one day he gets the chance to find out.

Almost being caught staring at you was what Coriolanus needed to give him the courage to approach you. He's been staring at you like a creep since Fall and it's now late Spring, so it's time to make his intentions known.

Coriolanus’ icy blue eyes look at you from over his book as he hatches a plan to get you to go out with him. He knows that you're friends with Sejanus and that the big bear of a boy has a crush on you, so he needs to make his move fast.

Maybe after class?

Yes, Coriolanus decides he'll approach you after class.

You're packing your stuff up in your Academy issued leather satchel whenever a shadow falls over you. You look at, curious to see who's casting a shadow over you, only to see Coriolanus’ tall form towering over you.

“Hi, Coriolanus.” You smile, closing your satchel.

“Please, Y/N, call me Coryo.” The handsome blonde boy insists with a smile.

“Okay, Coryo.” You agree to use the nickname while slinging the satchel over your shoulder. “So?...”

“I was wondering, my darling, if you, perhaps, would like to eat lunch with me?”

“Are you asking me out on a date to the mess hall for lunch?”

“Yes?” Coryo smiled, sounding nervous.

You thought it was so cute how Coriolanus Snow, who's usually so composed and confident, was a bundle of nerves asking you on a lunch date. His cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears were pink.

“Okay, let's go.” You tell him, smiling happily.

And that's the moment that Coryo snagged you up as his girl.

You've been with Coryo for a couple of months now and the boy's eager to get into your panties. So eager that if he doesn't fuck you soon then he's going to explode and die. Well, not really just metaphorically, but still…If he doesn't get to stick his desperate over horny, pervy big cock into your tight virgin cunt he's going to lose his mind.

And it's not like his sanity's that stable to begin with. He's already a bit obsessive with you.

The 10th Hunger Games is fastly approaching and nobody really gives a shit. There's commercials for it on CapitolTV, but people’s grown bored of it. It'll be airing in about 3 weeks, starting with the reaping on July 4th.

And of course in your social studies class you're learning about the reason for the games- again. The Academy teaches it every year. It's overkill really. Of course, your teacher assigned a group project about the good of the games, blah blah blah. You could care less, but of course your boyfriend volunteers to be your partner for the project.

And he cares.

Not about the games, but the grade that the project on the good of the games can grant the two of you.

So, that's how you find yourself in your bedroom on your bed books scattered around and a poster board on the floor one afternoon after school. Your mother's staying the week with her boyfriend, trying to fuck and marry her way out of living paycheck to paycheck, so you're home alone with Coryo.

Which is why your project supplies are scattered all over and Coryo's got you in his lap, tongue shoved down your throat as he kisses you like a starving man that's just been given his first meal in years.

You've kissed Coryo before a few times since you've been dating, but nothing like this. Nothing were you're all alone with no one to interrupt you, where you have the freedom to maul each other's faces off while breathlessly melding your lips together and rocking your lower bodies together.

Coryo hasn't been able to cop a feel of your boobs yet, since you've never been alone for too long or always had the fear of somebody walking into the room on you. But now, since you've got your apartment all to yourselves for a few days, your boyfriend with the light golden blonde curls is finally able to fondle your tits. Unknown to him, you're very busty.

And unknown to you, Coryo's a simple man with simple tastes when it comes to a woman's body. He's a classic T&A man.

He loves himself some good old tits and ass. And the bigger the titties the better.

Coryo's mouth pulls away from yours, leaving a messy trail of spit hanging between your kiss swollen lips. As you pant, trying to catch your breath, your boyfriend's leaving sloppy open mouth kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You feel warmth pooling between your legs and let out a little mewl, but then your eyes go wide as you feel Coriolanus' large hands each grab at one of your large breasts.

Coryo smiled into the crook of your neck as he realizes that you're hiding some big ole boobies underneath your loose fitting uniform shirt. Fuck, he squeezes your big boobs again while lifting his head up. A wide, manic grin spreads over Coryo's face. “You're hiding some big titties under this baggy shirt, huh, baby?”

“Coryo…” You sigh, feeling a bit embarrassed, while trying to squirm away from him.

“What's wrong, Y/N?” Coryo asks, feeling a bit rejected as you try to push him away. “I thought we were having a good time fucking around?”

“We were but then…” You trail off, only to wave a hand in front of your big boobs.

Coriolanus’ brow knitted and his nose twitched slightly in disbelief. “What? You mean you're embarrassed that I grabbed your perfect, squeezable tits?”

“It's embarrassing to be 18 and have boobs bigger then some grown women, Coryo. It's-” You began to explain why you're self conscious about your big breath only for him to, oh so eloquently (not) interrupt you with, “That's bullshit, Y/N.”

You blinked at him, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst.

“I like titties; ass too, and believe me the bigger the better.” Your boyfriend, who’s usually so prim and proper, bluntly tells you.

“Yea?” You ask a bit thickly, feeling all of your nerves fluttering in your stomach like butterflies.

“Yea.” Coryo nods, a lopsided grin on his lush lips. “How ‘bout you show me what's underneath your shirt? Hmm?” He suggests, waggling his brows.

“Okay.” You nod, causing your boyfriend to quickly unbutton your shirt.

But as soon as he pushes your open shirt over your shoulders he's signing in frustration. Tilting his head and giving you a sideways look, he dryly asks, “Why're you wearing another shirt for?”

“I always wear a cami over my bra. It's a barrier between my skin and the loose fitting shirt; it also slims down the bulk of my boobs.” Was the explanation You gave your stumped boyfriend.

“Well, I don't think that you need to do that anymore, Y/N. And, darling, I also think that you need to wear shirts that actually fit you.” Coryo tells you his honest opinion while grabbing the hem of your strappy camisole, he pulls it up. You raised your arms, letting him pull it up over your head. Tossing it over his shoulder, he licked his lips as he saw your big boobs threatening to spill out of your bra. “Let's free these puppies, shall we, baby?” He rhetorically asked, icy eyes gleaming with joy.

You nod and unhook your bra for him. As soon as you finish taking off your simple, but supportive bra, your boyfriend's on you like a magnet. His hands are grabbing and jiggling your large breasts while he burries his face in your cleavage.

Coryo feels like he died and went to Elysium as he sucks and nips the the sides of your boobs, where your cleavage is. Oh gods, how he loves your big ol’ boobies. Being face first in them turns him on, makes him harder than he's ever been in his entire life.

Coryo pays your big breasts lots and lots of attention. He sucks, kisses, and nips them all over before alternating sucking and pinching your nipples. He massages, gropes, jiggles, and fondles your big tits. He even takes his shirt off and makes you ride his thigh while your chests are pressed together.

Fuck, he just loves the feel of your perfectly big titties.

You're laying on your bed, legs spread wide open as Coryo fucks you with just the tip of his cock. Because just the tip doesn't count. It's not real sex if it doesn't go all the way in.

At first the two of you agreed to mutual.masterbation sitting across from each other on your bed. But then with how horny and pervy your boyfriend is, that turned into you two practically inches away from each other with him saying that the tip of his cock would feel so good in your cunt. That you could rub your clit and get off while he could jack off and get off.

At first you were iffy about it, saying that you've never done anything like that before. But he assured you that if you didn't like it then he'd stop.

Well, as it turns out you really liked it and he didn't stop.

“Coryo, your tip feels so good.” You mewl, rubbing your clit as you were trying to satisfy that itch you needed to scratch, that tingling feeling twitching deep inside of your wet cunt.

“Fuck, baby.” Coryo half groaned, pumping his shaft while lightly thrusting the tip of his cock in and out of your juicy wet cunt. His large cock’s red and angry with arousal. If he doesn't fuck you, really fuck you balls deep, then he's going to go completely insane.

Not like he isn't already halfway to looney tunes town already, but still…

“Baby, please, just let me slide my cock all the way in. Let me fuck you; make us both feel so good.”

“But I don't have the birth control implant; were too young for an accident.”

“How bout after you cum I pull out and tittie fuck you; cum all over ‘em big ol’ titties I love.” Coryo suggested while bucking his hips a tiny bit harder; making his tip slide a little bit deeper into your slippery wet cunt. A cunt that wants to greedily suck his cock inside of her warm, wet depths.

“Okay.” You nod. “But you have to promise to pull out and cum my tits, Coryo.”

“I will, baby. I promise, I will “ Coryo quickly swears before slamming his hips into yours and sliding his cock past your barrier and into the tight, hot, wet canal of your virgin cunt.

Or should he say no longer virginal cunt. Just like his 8 inch cock's no longer a virgin cock. Oh, how he loves the fact that he's finally fucking you after so long.

Coryo, having never fucked anyone before (just his fist and he's desperately humped his pillow a few times while fantasizing about you too, but he'll never admit) was a bit jumpy and all over the place with his movements. His thrusts were uneven and all too buckled. You were feeling desperate for some kind of relief so you start canting your hips up, chasing your high. A high that you desperately need.

Your hips rising up to meet his grounded your boyfriend's thrusts, gave him a guide on how to pace himself. Well, how to pace himself as best as he could cause he still wasn't really slowing down or something out of his motions.

It's only his first time (yours too) so it's going to take a couple more times of exploring each other to get more comfortable with fucking. He's a horny teenager after all.

Seeing your big tits bouncing around as he fucking you desperately into the mattress had Coryo in a trance. Goddamn, how he loves watching your big boobies jiggling around. The sounds of them smacking against your skin was like music to his ears.

The platinum blonde with a halo of curls dipped his head down and began sucking on one of your nipples while squeezing and smacking your other boob with his large hand. His free forearm was bracing the mattress, keeping him balanced and upright as he frantically fucked you like a bitch in heat.

Oh god how your tight pussy felt so good around his cock. And playing with your big titties as he rutted against you was.the icing on the cake.

The feeling of his large cock sliding in and out of your cunt, slamming into your special spongy spot, paired with the feeling your his mouth and his hands on your boobs had you nearing your peek. One on your hands was on his shoulder, nails digging into the skin; sure to leave marke, while the other was between your legs rubbing your clit.

“I'm so close, Coryo.” You whine, causing him to pull his mouth off of your boob with a loud pop.

‘Let me play with your pussy, baby.” He tells you, batting your hand away from your pussy only to replace it with his own. As his thumb quickly rubs fast circles against your clit, he fucks you fast while ordering, “Fondle your titties for me, baby.”

So, as he continues to pound you fast and desperately, you play with your nipples and grab at your big boobs- just like Coryo told you too.

Suddenly, the feeling of everything’s too much and the dam breaks. White hot pleasure shoots thru you as you let out a mix of curses and Coryo's name.

Coriolanus groans as he feels you soak his dick. The feeling is heaven. It feels so good. He continues to fuck into you until your panting and coming down from your high, then he's quickly pulling out of you and scrambling to straddle your chest.

“Y/N, hold your tits together so I can fuck the space between them.” Your boyfriend instructs you, causing you to quickly do as you're told. He quickly positions his dick in your cleavage only to start bucking his hips back and forth.

A throaty moan fell from his throat as he held onto your headboard, looking down at the sight of his cock slipping between your big breasts. “Oh, fuck…that's so hot…” Coryo chokes out in a deep moan. He watched his cock slip in and out, in and out of the tight space you made for him between your perfect breasts by holding them together.

And suddenly, with a final thrust,.his balls are twitching and he's emptying out rope after rope of hot, thick, cum on your boobs.

You stop holding your boobs as Coryo carefully stops straddling your chest and takes his place next to you on the bed. You thought that he was going to reach over to grab some tissues from your bedside table, but he didn't. Instead, Coryo used his tongue to clean the thick, pearly cum off of your boobs.

Yes!

Your boyfriend's so obsessed with your big titties that he licked them clean.

That shocked you.

And then after your big boobies are clean, Coryo kisses you passionately. You can taste the slight saltiness of his cum on his tongue as he slips it into your mouth. It's a very erotic kiss, to say the least.

When you break apart for air, Coryo gives you a satisfied smirk. Pulling you into his chest as he lays back in your bed, he tells you, “That was perfect, baby.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tells you, “We need to get you some shirts that show off my beloved big boobies better. How can I go back to not seeing them on display after what we've just done?”

“I’ll talk to the Academy’s uniform department, get a couple of new shirts in my right size.” You tell Coryo, causing him to smile like a kid in a candy store.

Your project for your social studies class was half-assed and you had to skip your lunch period to work on it in the library since you spent the entire week meant to work on it fucking Coryo. But it all worked out. You and Coryo ended up getting an A+ on the project. You and Coryo also had lots of fun fucking each other and learning each other's bodies.

But one thing that never changed is how obsessed Coryo is about your large breasts. He's so obsessed with them that he'll just cuddle with you and rest his head on them. Something that freaks out your mutual friend, Sejanus Plinth, when he witnesses it at school during lunch and break periods.

But what can you can say? Coryo’s obsessed with your big boobs, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially when the mentoring project comes around…

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419 notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 9 months

Note

Can I request platonic Carlisle x child fem witch reader (like 14-15, she ages really slowly), Carlisle saved her from being killed during the Salem Witch Trials? He cares for her so much and since she’s the only one who sleeps in the Cullen clan, he sometimes watches her sleep as if protecting her or something. And he acts somewhat protective of her after finding out she’s Seth’s imprint?

❝the witch hybrid and her companion❞

✭ pairing : father Carlisle Cullen x reader x imprint Seth Clearwater

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a young witch who Carlisle had saved from the Salem witch trials, she had been been on the verge of being fully brunt to death when he had grabbed and rescued her, she was fifteen when he had turnt her thus making her the first hybrid of both witch and vampire species.

✭ authors note : this shit so long I gotta make a part 2 because I wasn’t done writing

✭ twilight masterlist

The year was 1692, and the small town of Salem was ablaze with fear and suspicion. The Salem Witch Trials had gripped the community, turning neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend. Whispers of witchcraft echoed through the narrow, winding streets like a curse.

In the midst of this hysteria, a young witch named (Y/N) found herself ensnared in the web of accusations. She was a mere fifteen years old, with (dark/light) (h/c) hair and hypnotizing (e/c) eyes that held the secrets of centuries past. Her magical abilities had manifested early, and she had done her best to hide them, but the fervor of the witch hunt had spared no one.

One fateful evening, as the moon hung low in the darkened sky, the town's fervor reached its peak. (Y/N) was dragged from her humble cottage by an angry mob, her hands bound, and the scent of burning wood filled the air. The townsfolk were determined to put an end to the supposed evil that had plagued their lives.

The makeshift gallows stood tall in the center of town, a grim reminder of the collective madness that had taken hold. A wooden stake awaited (Y/N), and the flames that danced around it cast eerie shadows on her pale, terrified face.

As the crowd jeered and cursed, the flames were lit, and the stake began to smolder. (Y/N) let out a piercing scream as the searing pain coursed through her body. She was on the brink of death, her skin blistering and her vision fading.

But then, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with preternatural grace and speed. Carlisle Cullen, a vampire with a heart that still beat for compassion, could not bear to witness this gruesome spectacle. He had heard rumors of witches in Salem and had come to investigate, hoping to prevent further tragedy.

In an instant, Carlisle reached (Y/N)'s side. With a strength that belied his gentle appearance, he tore the wooden stake from her chest. The townsfolk gasped in shock as they beheld a young man of ethereal beauty and otherworldly strength.

Carlisle cradled the near-lifeless (Y/N) in his arms and vanished into the night, leaving behind the chaos and confusion of the mob. He knew that there was only one way to save her now—to grant her the immortality of a vampire.

As they fled into the wilderness, (Y/N) clung to consciousness, her body burned and broken. She whispered a faint thank you to the stranger who had appeared like a guardian angel in her darkest hour. Little did she know that this mysterious savior would change the course of her life forever.

In the moonlit forest, Carlisle Cullen made a solemn vow. He would teach (Y/N) to control her newfound powers, guide her through the complexities of immortal life, and protect her from the world that had once condemned her. Together, they would find redemption and forge a bond that would withstand the ages.

Carlisle had taken a great risk when he saved (Y/N) from the clutches of death during the Salem Witch Trials. He had severed ties with the Volturi long ago, seeking a life that adhered to his moral compass. His choice to create a vampire out of (Y/N), who still possessed her magical abilities, was a secret he needed to protect at all costs.

The struggles were immediate. (Y/N)'s powers, now amplified by her vampiric nature, were dangerously unpredictable. At times, her emotions would trigger bursts of magic that could send objects flying or set the forest ablaze. Keeping her abilities hidden from both the human world and the vampire authorities became an arduous task.

Carlisle spent countless nights helping (Y/N) gain control over her newfound powers. He was patient, guiding her through the nuances of her magic, teaching her to harness it without drawing attention. Together, they honed her skills in secrecy, for they knew that revealing her true nature could lead to disastrous consequences.

As the years passed, Carlisle and (Y/N) developed a bond that ran deeper than blood. They became a family of two, sharing their eternal existence and the burden of concealing her abilities. It was a lonely existence, but they clung to the hope that they could find others like them, vampires who shared their values and accepted (Y/N) despite her magical nature.

Their quest for companionship led them on a journey across the continent. They followed whispers and rumors, searching for those who might understand their unique situation. It was during this quest that they stumbled upon a coven unlike any other.

In a remote, wooded area, they encountered people on the verge of dying such as Edward, Esme, Rosalie, Jasper, Emmett, and Alice.

Together, they navigated the challenges of their unique existence, supporting each other through the trials of immortality and the constant threat of the Volturi's scrutiny. As they honed their abilities and shared their stories, they discovered the true meaning of family – a bond forged not by blood but by choice and shared values.

Their coven became a sanctuary, a place where each member could be their authentic selves without fear of judgment or persecution. And as they faced the world together, they knew that their unity was their greatest strength, a testament to the power of love, acceptance, and the enduring spirit of those who dared to defy the darkness that sought to consume them.

The year was 2005, and the town of Forks had remained a quiet, secluded haven for the Cullen family. (Y/N), now a hybrid of a witch and vampire, appeared eternally fifteen but was wise beyond her years. Her days were spent in the cozy Cullen home, where Esme provided her with a homeschooling education tailored to her unique needs.

Yet, there was a part of (Y/N) that longed for more than the confines of their home. She yearned for the normalcy of teenage life, for the bustling hallways of a high school, and for the companionship of her siblings. Carlisle remained as protective as ever, reluctant to expose her to the unpredictable world outside, but he couldn't deny her the occasional visits to Forks High School.

One crisp afternoon, (Y/N) stood by the school's parking lot, waiting for her siblings to emerge from their classes. She watched as the students filed out, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Her heart ached for the chance to experience such simple joys.

Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind of energy appeared before her, and she smiled as Alice materialized in front of her. Alice's golden eyes sparkled with excitement, and she greeted her sister with a grin.

"(Y/N), you won't believe it," Alice chirped, her voice filled with anticipation.

Arching an eyebrow, (Y/N) replied, "Believe what, Alice?"

With a playful twirl, Alice continued, "Life just got even more interesting in Forks High School."

(Y/N) couldn't help but be intrigued. "How so?"

Alice leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's a new girl at the school."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Alice's enthusiasm. "A new girl? Why is that so exciting?"

Alice's eyes widened as she explained, "Because, dear sister, this new girl is different. I've seen flashes of her future, and it's...uncertain. There's something extraordinary about her, something that might just shake up our tranquil little town."

(Y/N) considered Alice's words, her curiosity piqued. She had always trusted Alice's visions, and this revelation promised an unexpected twist in their otherwise peaceful existence.

As the rest of their siblings joined them in the parking lot, (Y/N) shared Alice's revelation. They exchanged glances filled with curiosity and anticipation. Life in Forks was about to become more intriguing, and the Cullen family was ready to face whatever challenges the new girl's arrival might bring.

Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind of energy appeared before her, and she smiled as Alice materialized in front of her. Alice's golden eyes sparkled with excitement, and she greeted her sister with a grin.

"(Y/N), you won't believe it," Alice chirped, her voice filled with anticipation.

Arching an eyebrow, (Y/N) replied, "Believe what, Alice?"

With a playful twirl, Alice continued, "Life just got even more interesting in Forks High School."

(Y/N) couldn't help but be intrigued. "How so?"

Alice leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's a new girl at the school."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Alice's enthusiasm. "A new girl? Why is that so exciting?"

(Y/N) considered Alice's words, her curiosity piqued. She had always trusted Alice's visions, and this revelation promised an unexpected twist in their otherwise peaceful existence.

Edward had long been intrigued by Bella Swan, the human girl who had captured his heart. He knew the time had come to introduce her to his family, the Cullens. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, he arrived at the Cullen residence with Bella by his side.

The Cullen home exuded an air of elegance and tranquility as Edward and Bella entered. Carlisle and Esme, the matriarch and patriarch of the family, stood together, their welcoming smiles putting Bella at ease. Alice, as ever, bounced with enthusiasm, eager to greet the newcomer.

Rosalie, the beautiful but distant blonde, maintained her standoffish demeanor. Emmett, her jovial and easygoing husband, offered a warm and friendly greeting. Jasper, with his polite distance, appeared cordial yet reserved.

As Bella took in the room full of unique and ethereal beings, her nerves were palpable. Edward gently squeezed her hand, offering silent reassurance.

Edward turned to Bella, his arm draped around her, and gestured toward the youngest member of the family. "(Y/N)," he began, "I'd like you to meet Bella Swan."

(Y/N) stepped forward, her emerald eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. "Hello, Bella," she greeted with a genuine smile.

Bella returned the smile, though her gaze flickered with surprise as she took in (Y/N)'s youthful appearance. "Hi, (Y/N). Nice to meet you."

Edward, ever the attentive brother, chimed in, "Bella, (Y/N) is homeschooled. She's rather sensitive emotionally, and we want to ensure she's comfortable."

Bella nodded, not questioning the explanation, and (Y/N) added, "It's lovely to meet someone new. I don't often get the chance to make friends outside the family."

As the conversation flowed, Bella and (Y/N) discovered shared interests. They both had a deep love for nature and a passion for ballet. They exchanged stories about their experiences, and (Y/N) found herself drawn to Bella's genuine and kind-hearted nature.

Alice, always eager to foster connections, joined in their conversation with her trademark enthusiasm. Jasper remained observant but distant, his empathic nature making him cautious around newcomers. Rosalie, on the other hand, kept her distance but couldn't help but sneak occasional glances at Bella, her curiosity getting the better of her.

As the evening unfolded, the Cullens' initial uncertainties about Bella began to fade. It was clear that she brought a light into their home, and her connection with (Y/N) was a pleasant surprise.

Though the Cullens were a family of immortal vampires, they had managed to create a sense of belonging and unity. With Bella's arrival, the dynamics shifted once more, adding a new layer of complexity to their existence. Little did they know that this human girl would play a significant role in their future, bringing challenges and joys they could never have anticipated.

The bond between (Y/N) and Bella had grown stronger since their first meeting at the Cullen household. They shared countless hours talking about everything from books to ballet, and their friendship had become an unbreakable connection.

One sunny afternoon, Bella decided to introduce (Y/N) to a friend from her other life in Forks, someone who was quite different from the Cullen family. She took (Y/N) to the nearby La Push reservation, where she introduced her to Jacob Black.

Jacob, a tall and lanky young man with a warm smile, greeted Bella and her new friend with enthusiasm. (Y/N) was immediately struck by his friendly and down-to-earth nature. She found herself drawn to his easygoing demeanor, which contrasted with the graceful elegance of her vampire family.

As they sat in the shade of a towering tree, (Y/N) and Jacob began to chat. She learned that Jacob had a passion for fixing cars and motorcycles, an interest he'd picked up from his father. It was an unusual hobby for a young man on the brink of shifting into a werewolf, but Jacob loved the mechanical world as much as (Y/N) loved ballet and nature.

"(Y/N), you ever work on cars or bikes?" Jacob asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

She shook her head, intrigued by the idea. "No, I've never had the chance, but I'd love to learn."

Jacob grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. "Well, I can teach you if you're interested. We've got an old truck in the garage that's in need of some TLC."

Bella watched as her friend and her new friend connected over a shared interest. It was a heartwarming sight, seeing her worlds collide in such a positive way.

In the days that followed, (Y/N) visited La Push regularly to spend time with Jacob. She learned how to wield wrenches and navigate the inner workings of an engine. She watched with fascination as he effortlessly fixed motorcycles and patiently explained the mechanics behind each repair.

As (Y/N) delved into this new hobby, she couldn't help but notice the parallel between her time with Jacob and the moments she had observed between Rosalie and Emmett as they worked on cars together. She marveled at the beauty of human experiences and how they transcended the boundaries of her immortal life.

Her friendship with Jacob deepened, and she treasured the moments spent working on engines and sharing stories under the open sky. In those moments, (Y/N) realized that bonds could be formed beyond the supernatural world of vampires and werewolves, and that the connections she forged with humans were just as significant and meaningful.

The year had turned to 2006, and the bonds between (Y/N), Bella, and Jacob had grown stronger since (Y/N) started learning about cars and motorcycles with him. However, a shadow had fallen over their friendship.

Jacob had become distant, and Bella couldn't understand why. She was tired of being ignored, and one day, she decided to confront him with (Y/N) by her side.

They arrived at Jacob's house, and the atmosphere was tense. Bella knew something was amiss, and she was determined to get answers. As they approached the house, they heard roughhousing and laughter coming from the backyard.

Bella's frustration was evident as she muttered, "Enough is enough. I need to know what's going on."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, her concern mirrored in her eyes. They made their way to the backyard, where they were met with an unexpected sight. Paul, Jared, and Sam, all shirtless, were playfully wrestling in the grass.

Bella's patience had run thin, and she spoke up, "Jacob, we need to talk."

The laughter ceased as the three boys turned to look at the girls. Sam, with his wisdom and responsibility as the pack's alpha, stepped forward. "What's this about, Bella?"

Jacob stood nearby, his expression guarded. Bella's frustration boiled over, and she finally confronted him, "You've been avoiding me, Jacob. I want to know why."

Jacob hesitated, his gaze shifting between Bella and his pack members. But it was Paul who decided to speak, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well, maybe it's because we've got more important things to do than hang out with vampires."

Bella's eyes widened in shock. She had heard the legends, but this was the first time someone from the Quileute tribe had openly referred to the Cullens as vampires.

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by Jared's uneasy cough. Jacob's features hardened as he faced Bella, the truth finally out in the open. "Yes, Bella, we know what your family is. We know they're the cold ones."

(Y/N), who had remained quiet until now, felt the tension rise to a breaking point. Her magical abilities had always been a closely guarded secret, but she couldn't stand by as the situation escalated.

Before anyone could react, Bella, driven by anger and hurt, slapped Paul across the face. It was an instinctive reaction, but the consequences were immediate. Paul's body began to tremble, and within moments, he transformed into a massive, russet-colored wolf.

Chaos erupted as the other wolves reacted, growling and snapping at the sudden threat. Jacob, acting on instinct to protect Bella, shifted into his wolf form and leaped between Paul and the girls.

(Y/N), her magical powers flaring to life, sensed the impending danger. She stepped forward, raising her hands, and a shimmering magical shield sprang into existence, surrounding Bella and Jacob, protecting them from the agitated wolves.

The standoff continued for a tense moment until Sam, as the pack's leader, barked a command, and the wolves reluctantly backed down. (Y/N) slowly lowered the shield, and the tension in the air dissipated.

Bella and Jacob were left staring at each other, the truth now laid bare.

The tension in the forest eased as Sam, the alpha of the Quileute wolf pack, intervened and calmed the agitated wolves. He beckoned everyone to follow him back to his cabin, where they could talk more openly.

Jacob turned to Bella, his expression pained. "Bella, try not to stare at Emily too much."

(Y/N) caught Jacob's words and glanced at Bella with curiosity. She followed Jacob's gaze to a woman named Emily who was standing nearby. Bella's reaction was immediate; she was taken aback by the scars on Emily's face.

As they entered Sam's cabin, Bella couldn't help but ask, "What happened to her?"

Sam, understanding the girls' confusion, began to explain. "Emily's scars are a result of a shifter's transformation gone wrong. It's a risk we face when we shift. Sometimes, accidents happen."

(Y/N) listened intently, and as she looked at Emily, her mind flashed back to her own past. She remembered the pain of the flames, the burns on her body, and the scars she had carried before Carlisle had turned her into a vampire. It was a painful memory she rarely revisited.

Sam continued, "We're not just ordinary humans, Bella. We're shape-shifters. We transform into wolves. We've known about the cold ones, the vampires, for a long time, and there's a history of conflict between our kind."

Bella's eyes widened, realizing that the tension between Jacob's pack and her family was deeply rooted. It was a revelation that left her with more questions than answers.

Then, Sam turned to (Y/N), his gaze intense. "And what about you? You smell human, but not quite."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before she decided to share her truth. "I'm not just a vampire. I'm also a witch. Carlisle turned me during the Salem Witch Trials to save my life, but I retained my magic."

The room fell silent as Sam processed this revelation. The other members of the pack, including Paul, who had calmed down, overheard the conversation and entered the cabin.

Paul, still uneasy about (Y/N), voiced his concerns. "Sam, she's dangerous. A vampire-witch hybrid? Who knows what she's capable of?"

Sam raised a hand, silencing Paul. He turned back to (Y/N), his eyes steady. "Explain. How do you use your magic?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath and began to recount the story of the Salem Witch Trials, how she had been condemned, and how Carlisle had turned her to save her life. She spoke of the magic she had retained and how she had learned to harness it, to control it.

As her story unfolded, the tension in the room began to ease. Sam and the rest of the pack listened with rapt attention, realizing that (Y/N) was not a threat but someone who had suffered and survived against all odds.

As the conversation in Sam's cabin continued, the atmosphere began to relax, and the tension that had filled the room started to dissipate. The Cullen and the Quileute pack shared stories and experiences, forging a fragile understanding. However, a new presence entered the room, and the dynamics shifted once more.

The door swung open, and Seth Clearwater entered, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Got caught up in patrol duty."

He started to explain further but stopped abruptly as his eyes locked onto (Y/N)'s. Time seemed to stand still for Seth as he made eye contact with her, and a series of vivid flashes inundated his mind.

He saw himself dating (Y/N), their laughter echoing through the forest as they went on hikes, their hands intertwined. He saw tender moments of them kissing under the moonlight, their love stronger than anything he had ever imagined. He even saw himself undergoing a transformation, becoming immortal through (Y/N)'s magic, so they could live out their lives together.

The sudden influx of images left Seth bewildered, his heart racing. He stumbled over his words, his apology fading into silence. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a future he had never known he wanted.

The room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to Seth. It didn't take long for Sam to realize what had occurred. He approached Seth, his expression knowing. "Seth, you've imprinted."

Seth nodded, still dazed by the overwhelming experience. He couldn't tear his gaze away from (Y/N), who had a bewildered yet sympathetic expression on her face.

Bella, having experienced imprinting with Jacob, understood the gravity of the situation. She leaned over to whisper to (Y/N), "It's a Quileute thing. He can't help it. It's like he's bound to you now."

(Y/N) nodded in understanding, feeling a mix of surprise and sympathy for Seth. She had witnessed how powerful imprinting could be and how it could affect someone's life.

Seth, still recovering from the shock, couldn't help but act like a lovesick puppy around (Y/N). He smiled at her, his gaze lingering, and his actions becoming increasingly attentive. It was clear that his world had shifted, and his focus had become solely centered on her.

The room settled back into conversation, but Seth's newfound devotion to (Y/N) remained evident. He was drawn to her like a magnet, his presence a constant reminder of the complexities of the supernatural world they inhabited.

As the evening wore on, the Cullen and the Quileute pack continued to exchange stories and experiences, but now there was an added layer of understanding and acceptance. The bonds forged between them grew stronger, and they realized that in a world filled with secrets and supernatural forces, connections could form in the most unexpected and profound ways.

Bella and (Y/N) headed back to the Cullens' house, the forest surrounding them bathed in the gentle light of the moon. Bella pulled up to the driveway, and (Y/N) stepped out of the car, her thoughts lingering on the revelations of the evening.

As she watched Bella drive off, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. She had made new friends, but she was aware of the complications that could arise from her interactions with the outside world. Her hybrid nature, a blend of vampire and witch, held secrets that she needed to protect.

Entering the Cullens' home, (Y/N) was immediately surrounded by her family. Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all gathered around her, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Where have you been, (Y/N)?" Carlisle's voice held a hint of anger, but also a deep concern. He had always been protective of her, knowing the dangers of the human world and the risks associated with her true nature being exposed.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Carlisle's. "I've been hanging out with Bella and Jacob and some new friends I made."

Carlisle's concern deepened. "New friends? (Y/N), you know the risks. Your true nature, both as a vampire and a witch, could be exposed to humans."

(Y/N) nodded, understanding his worries but also eager to share her experiences. "I know, Carlisle, but I've been careful. And I've learned a lot about the Quileute culture and the challenges they face."

Carlisle couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. He was angry that Bella had taken (Y/N) without informing anyone, concerned about the risks, but also happy that his daughter had made friends outside their family.

However, his world was about to be shaken once more. (Y/N) noticed the change in her father's demeanor and decided it was time to reveal the most significant development of the evening.

"I have something to tell you," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of infatuation. "I've been imprinted on."

Carlisle's eyes widened in shock. "Imprinted? By whom?"

(Y/N) smiled, a lovesick expression in her eyes. "Seth Clearwater."

The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Carlisle realized that his younger daughter had formed a bond that was far deeper and more profound than any ordinary friendship. He knew that an imprint was a powerful connection, one that couldn't be broken.

As (Y/N) continued to share the story of her evening and the imprint, Carlisle's world came crashing down. He had always known that his family's supernatural existence came with complexities, but the idea of his daughter being infatuated with a young shifter left him with a mix of emotions—concern, worry, and a touch of sadness for the challenges that lay ahead.

The Cullens, a family bound by love and acceptance, now faced a new chapter in their extraordinary lives, one that would test their bonds and their ability to navigate the intricate web of supernatural connections.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight imagines #twilight masterlist #twilight #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #seth clearwater x you #seth clearwater x y/n

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skiplo-wave · 9 months

Note

Bridget Bishop, if I am correct about the other anon, was a innocent woman accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Trials. I think she might had been the first one to be hung. She was like a medicine woman and helped many people. Bridget was probably the best doctor they had but of course in their times, women doctors was a big NO. She told them over and over again she was not a witch.

If the 2003 doc movie was correct, Bridget was the one that helped Ann Putnam have a baby after suffering many stillbirths. What the movie got incorrect was Ann Putnam had a baby during those trials, a healthy girl that lived.

Ah okay

#asks

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the-stargone-sideblog · 2 years

Text

Miscellaneous info about Jeremy, this one is also gonna be pretty long…but first some lore because I’m evil lmao.

Jeremy was born as a Demoran, a parasite that was created by a lonely girl called Demora (how original) before she was hung during the Salem witch trials. She conquered death thanks to what she did to herself and slowly grew a hive mind, spreading her curse to those who had nothing left to lose. This is the group that Aleron ended up joining after Luxelle’s death. When she was making this curse, she made a backup plan just in case she herself would perish. Five people would be born with it, she didn’t care who, she just wanted to make sure her way of life continued even without her being there. Jeremy would become the fifth.

He’s part Italian on his mother’s side and he can speak it fluently

He’s pretty good at making things, so good in fact that he even made his own weapon, Mendacium, a futuristic looking gun thing that can use the four elements of life (earth, air, fire and water)

Jeremy has a lot of exes, with one of being Karma, you can only imagine how awkward that reunion was

Him and Percy were actually really good friends at one point, they even made a band, The Vantas. However, due to Jeremy being kind of a dick the two went their separate ways. They both wanted to die when they reunited and they still argue to this day

Out of everyone in the group, Tamara and Emerald are the ones he’s closest with, he even plays songs for them when they have trouble sleeping

Jeremy has dealt with substance abuse, it’s something he still struggles with right now, this is the main reason why his and Percy’s friendship fell apart

His favourite bands are Radiohead, American Football, My Chemical Romance, The Microphones, Green Day, The Mountain Goats and Grandaddy

Jeremy was sheltered a lot by his dad as a child, he didn’t know how to handle the fact that his son was born as a being that’s supposedly evil by nature, so he made sure that Jeremy had a less of a chance of becoming one with the Demorans by making sure that he didn’t get into anything that could make him turn, which to Jeremy basically meant “anything remotely dangerous is a no no”. This lead to Jeremy discovering a lot of…unsavoury things at a young age

Jeremy is very close with his sister, mother and uncle. His sister’s the reason he loves music so much, his mom has never seen him as cursed and treats him like he’s a normal human being and his uncle helps him out with his inventing endeavours

Him and Synther actually knew each other in high school, they never spoke though

He hates Hawaiian pizza, he’s never killed anyone, but if he sees anyone unironically eating it…hold him back

When Jeremy entered his late years of high school, he forced himself to like certain things so he wouldn’t become an outcast for being sheltered

That includes…well, you know. Let’s just say he really gets around, he knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t know how to stop himself

He really respects Melodie and he enjoys talking to her because she reminds him of his mom

He’s a somewhat popular solo musician, he makes a lot of folk punk

He still cares about Percy, but he’s too stubborn to apologise to him

He wears plaid shirts to reflect his mood (if he’s sad it’s blue if he’s miffed it’s red etc)

#stargone #my ocs #oc lore

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nat-without-a-g · 2 years

Note

I FUCKING FORGOT BILL HAD A CANON LAST NAME I am a clown. Thx for ur input tho :3 I like some of urs :D

Of course! I threw in my input for your L4D2 names too! It’s clear you put a lot of effort into these and I commend you for it!!! A+!!!

#Fun fact!#Each surname i have for the l4d characters #directly corresponds to a special infected #here’s an easy one: Nick’s last name is Bishop #This is after Bridget Bishop #the first ‘witch’ hung during the Salem witch trials

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 2 years

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Jason Todd x Magic!Reader Imagine

Just a short sweet scenario I thought of. Both of my other WIPs are turning out way longer than I thought (as in about 9,000 words longer) so enjoy this while I work on those

Jason Todd x GN!Reader... It's exactly what it sounds like so enjoy!

You and Jason met when he was with the outlaws. You were investigating a series of magical murders and he was there taking out some mob boss. He told you but you didn’t listen much

You met a few times after that and hit it off. Both of you had a very grey moral code. Neither was above killing those who deserve it but while Jason used guns you kept teasing him about using a “coward's weapon”

You were a magic user, a jack of all trades of sorts. Instead of focusing and mastering one type of magic you knew enough about each kind to deal with almost anything. You worked a lot with John Constantine, he was your mentor as a kid learning to use magic and now your base of operations in the house of mysteries

The first time you took Jason to the house of mysteries to discuss a case you were working on you were surprised how calm he was. Turns out he’s had his fair share of crazy.

You began working together once you realized that both of you just kind of set up camp wherever your job takes you so you might as well team up right?

Occasionally someone from the batfamily or John would join you for a case and you and Jason loved annoying them by being overly flirtatious. You weren’t an item (yet) but you loved seeing John roll his eyes or Tim pretend to gag. It was the hilarious

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you see it) Joke flirting became real. After all, what's that seeing about fake it till you make it? And eventually you and Jason grew feelings for each other

You both kept it on the down low, continuing to flirt “Jokingly” while you worked.

Eventually this would come back to bite you in the ass when you came back to the safehouse and Jason had been staying in while you were in Salem, Massachusetts. You were the murders of some witches and came back to find the apartment empty and a note saying if you wanted your “boyfriend” back to be at Gallows hill at midnight

You walked through the park in which the witches of Salem were hung during the famous trials. Salem was known for being a hub for magic even now and you knew that whoever took Jason had something to do with the murders you were there to investigate

When you got to the middle of the park you saw Jason, smiling with a rope around his neck on a gallow. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that his life was at stake but then again when was it not

You took down the man who was trying to once again purge Salem of it’s “demonic witches” and when you freed Jason from the gallow he smirked.

“That guy thought we were dating, can you believe it?” Jason joked and you rolled your eyes, pulling Jason by his shirt into a kiss.

After that the two of you stayed basically the same, you already cuddled, you slept in the same bed because it's cheaper and you jokingly flirt all the time so the only thing that changed is that you were officially together. Both of your families and friends teased you a lot for that

You didn’t think it was that big of a difference, you could now kiss Jason without worrying about his reaction and he could call you whatever sappy nickname came to mind

“Y/N, love, magic babe, I really need you to not keep 20,000 sigils everywhere. Seriously, you gotta take some time to go through all of these!”

Because there almost no changes in behavior whenever one of Jason’s brothers came around they were more than a bit confused.

“Jason, love, You need to get your bloody suit out of the washer! It’s been beeping for five minutes and I can’t focus!”

“Hey! Don’t go all British on me! Just because John’s allowed in here doesn’t mean you can start talking like him” He said from the kitchen of your shared apartment and Tim (who awkwardly sat next to you on a couch) looked between the two of you in confusion

“Jason, when in my hell of an existence I call a life , have I used bloody the British way?!” You yelled at him and within seconds he ran past you and to the washer

“My fucking suit! thanks love” He said and you went back to your book. Tim looked at your floating figure with a seemingly blank book hovering in front of you and asked “How the hell did that get that response?” He asked and you smirked. “Magic” You teased

“I swear you two are a match made in heaven” Tim grumbled

“Hell actually!” Both you and Jason corrected at the same time

#dc x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #dc reader insert #gn!reader #batfamily x reader #jason todd x gn reader #dc imagines #jason todd imagine #magic user reader #gn reader

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safarigirlsp · 4 years

Text

Spectral Evidence

Based on multiple Charlie requests, including one for an actual trial during the Salem Witch Trials. Hope this is what you were looking for!

Spectral Evidence

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Mentions of Murder, Violence, and Hangings.

AO3 Link

Salem, Massachusetts Bay Colony, 1692

Early morning sunlight gently peeked over the rooftops, shining down onto the streets of Salem. It seemed as though everyone in town was headed in the same direction this Sunday morning. Church.

Clenching your plain wool coat tightly around yourself, you walked hurriedly through the cold air of a frosty October morning. You hoped the inside of the church offered some warmth as you rushed toward its thick doors.

Upon reaching the entrance, however, you found yourself warming from the inside out due to the blush that flooded through your entire body. There, holding the door for you, his smile warm enough to fight the autumn chill all on its own, was Charlie Barber, the most handsome, and newly eligible, man in town.

You paused in his shadow. Charlie smiled down at you, his shaggy head just below the top of the door frame, and his wide, powerful body blocking the entrance. Looking down at you with his amber eyes, and in his deep honeyed voice, he politely tendered, “Good morning, Miss Y/N. It pleases me to see you this morning.” There was a twinkle in his eyes that made you blush harder. You smiled shyly, words escaping you, as you entered beside him.

His display caught the attention of Mary Ann, as she exhaled with an audible sigh from behind you. Mary Ann had thought herself the prettiest woman in the colony, although a misplaced concept, and she strutted about with her nose in the air to assert it. Sometimes, she even winked at married men just to cause trouble. She had centered Charlie firmly in her sights since the untimely passing of his wife.

Gleaming with something you couldn’t place, Charlie’s eyes followed you, sparing her not so much as a glance. Even worse, Charlie made of a point of following you inside the church. Perhaps he followed you a bit too closely for propriety on his way to the front of the church, and he even offered you his arm as you took your seat in the pew. The whole congregation took note, while Mary Ann seethed.

It would surely incite gossip, how Salem’s own Minister appeared taken with a lovely young woman so soon after the unfortunate events that led to the death of his wife.

Charlie’s story was tragic for both the widower himself and his eight year old son. His wife had been executed as a witch, condemned and hung earlier in the year. She had been the first woman in town accused and then convicted of witchcraft, the tinderbox who ignited the fire. Since her tragic example, many other women had been similarly accused and executed. Her message was immensely bleak on another point, if the Minster’s wife herself was not safe from such a fate, what woman was?

It was a testament to Charlie’s character and good nature that he somehow maintained his friendly and affable demeanor. Everyone knew that he had to hold his head up for his son, and he was respected all the more for his courage.

Soon after his wife’s death, the vultures began to circle around Charlie. Every eligible woman in Salem sought to be the next Mrs. Barber. Although, you had not joined in the hunt yourself, finding such displays beneath you, you could not deny that just the sight of Mr. Barber, the thought of his huge hands on your body, were enough to elicit very sinful and decadent feelings running rampant through your mind.

Many women offered to help him with his son as a tactic to get his favor. After all, men were not structured to care for their children without the help of a woman. Charlie, however, had only ever enlisted the help of elderly women; grandmothers who could not be taken for romantic interests.

As Charlie stood at the front of the church administering his sermon, while he was expected to survey all members of his congregation, it seemed as though his captivating eyes were always on you. When he said “Amen” leading the group, instead of bowing his head and closing his eyes in contrition, he would sneak a glance at you, sometimes even with a slight sideways smile.

He seemed especially passionate about today’s service, the topic of which was ‘Lust and the Devil.’

After the Service, just outside the front doors of the church, people chatted in clustered groups. This was one of the few opportunities during the week for people to socialize without the activity being considered an idle waste of one’s time.

Exiting the church, Charlie pushed his son, Henry, to go play with some other children nearby. A few single women smiled toward Charlie. He paid them no more attention than he would a flock of chattering hens.

Instead, he approached you in long strides, even jogging a few steps, hurrying to catch you as you walked away down the street. Many heads, both of men and women, turned to see what or whom could have possibly captured their Minister’s attention.

Charlie raced a few steps ahead of you, before turning to playfully block your path with a wide smile, his lined dimples framing his handsome grin.

“Miss Y/N,” Charlie beamed down at you as he ran a huge hand through his unruly ebony hair. “Were you moved by the topic of today’s sermon?”

You were unsure how to politely respond, especially in the current witch-hunting climate, even the words ‘Lust’ and ‘Devil’ should never be uttered from your lips in public. Not to mention that Charlie himself was the cause of more lust than you had heretofore thought it possible to feel.

“Oh, I should hardly think myself well versed enough on either topic to hold an opinion, Mr. Barber,” you replied coyly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Charlie’s grin took on a practically wicked edge at your witty remark.

Then, right there. Right outside the church. Right in front of most of the congregation. Charlie leaned down, bringing his plush lips down close to your ear in a display that was practically lewd and indecent. A collective intake of breath seemed to pass through the congregation at his boldness.

When Charlie whispered discreetly in your ear, his lips were so close that you could feel the heat of his breath warming your neck, and you swore you felt that faintest brush of his lips against your ear. “We know God is good. Our lust for one another, as designed by God himself, can only be good. It is only sinful to say otherwise and deny God’s beautiful design. That’s my true sermon, for your lovely ears only.”

Goosebumps raised aggressively along your neck and shoulders at his words, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from shuddering right there.

Rising back to his full impressive height, he asked you boldly, his deep baritone resonating loudly enough for others to hear, “Miss Y/N, would you do me the honor of assisting me with my son tomorrow? On a day trip to Boston?” He smiled warmly at you, “A woman’s touch, such as yours, would be much appreciated.”

The way he was grinning down at you, the practically lustful gleam in his amber-toned eyes, and the black hair falling around his handsome face gave you the most impure thoughts. Thoughts of running your hands through that unruly hair, in another context, when his hair was tangled from your fingers and matted with sweat. Thoughts that should never cross your mind, especially on a Sunday morning. Unless, as Charlie proposed, such impulses were within us by grand design. You had to admit, you greatly preferred that idea to any other you had heard on the subject.

You nodded your ascent to Charlie’s offer, making his smile widen further.

Everyone had their eyes on you. Mary Ann’s in particular were squinted in a jealous, disapproving sneer. Rarely, had anyone seen a man so consumed by lust to make such a public display. Especially, a distinguished and upstanding man such as Mr. Barber, so bewitched by a woman. Worse still, that you accepted his offer without the supervision of a chaperon was overtly indecent.

As Charlie walked you to your carriage, the congregation buzzed with gossip of your illicit conduct.

******************************************************************************

It was well known by all that Charlie was moving to Boston, that he was having a large home constructed there. He travelled back and forth with some frequency. Rarely taking his son, and never before taking a woman.

Charlie arrived in his open, two-horse carriage to pick you up at dawn’s first light. It was cold. Frost decorated everything in sight and your breath came in puffs of steam. You hugged your heavy wool overcoat tightly around you as you walked to the carriage.

When you took Charlie’s proffered hand to help you step up into the carriage, you marveled at his warmth. You wanted to hold his hand for the duration of the ride.

Charlie climbed into the bench seat of the carriage beside you, sitting much closer to you than he needed to, and pulled a thick blanket over both of your laps.

As Charlie snapped the reins on his horses’ rumps to pull away from your home, you looked behind you to greet Henry in the back of the carriage. Only to find the carriage empty, but for the two of you and some supplies.

Jerking your head back to look at Charlie with a shocked expression, you didn’t know if you should be insulted or flattered by his ruse.

“I hope I have not angered you, Miss Y/N,” Charlie said with his handsome smile.

“Lying is a sin, Charlie,” You chided him.

“My desire for your company was no lie,” his eyes held your yours.

Your expression softened into a shy smile.

“And may God send me to hell,” he announced, mocking his own Minister tone, the amber in his eyes shining even brighter in his good humor, “if it is a sin to arrange a day spent with the woman I have long admired from afar. If it is a sin to find some way to be alone with her, in the face of a colony that mandates that I am unable to make such a request, then I am sinful indeed.”

“You went to such lengths simply to spend the day with me?” Your animated tone belied your implicit criticism.

“Yes, beautiful girl. Of that I am very guilty.” His lips pouted in false penitence, but his eyes were still shining playfully “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

You nodded in thought for a moment, distracted by the way his ebony hair bounced with the motion of the carriage. “This once. But, I shall send you to hell myself if you lie to me again, Mr. Barber,” you advised, a teasing lilt in your own voice.

He smiled as he nodded his understanding, “Then, I never shall. For, the prospect of being parted from your company is an even greater threat than the fires of Hell.”

Once or twice on the way to Boston a bump in the road bounced you against his shoulder, as your hand instinctive steadied yourself by gripping his strong thigh. And you couldn’t help but lean against him, too close, to absorb the warmth that wafted off of his huge body. Charlie seemed a bottomless well of amusing stories and good humor, and you found yourself jostled more by your own laugher than by the stiff carriage ambling along the bumpy road.

It was late morning when you arrived at his new home in Boston, Charlie offered you his hand to descend from the carriage. He placed your hand in the crook of his elbow as he gave you a tour of the home. It was large and sprawling. You could tell it would be beautiful, although it was still heavily under construction. You were daunted by the size and elegance of the house so far and you could imagine how impressive it would be when completed. Charlie seemed to delight at your approval.

Charlie’s business at his home was simply to oversee the ongoing construction, to make sure it was progressing according to his plans and schedule. It took less time seeing to his affairs than it had taken to show you the premises.

“I packed a lunch for us, Miss Y/N,” Charlie informed you, taking your hand in his as he led you back to the carriage.

Helping you into the seat, he added, “I know a beautiful spot on a hill that overlooks the ocean.”

“No ruse this time?” You teased.

“Do I still need one?” Charlie asked confidently.

The hill was small with a manicured green that oversaw the bay, an overview of the ships and local traffic of the harbor. Charlie informed you that he often he eats here when he travels to Boston.

You sat facing each other on a banket that Charlie laid on the grass. A large basket lay discarded and a delicious assortment of breads, meats, and cheeses was spread out between you. He had also brought not only one but two bottles of wine, a beverage prohibited by the Colony.

Charlie’s long legs were stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles, while you sat primly with your knees curled under you. He had loosened the collar of his shirt, which was now unbuttoned to the top of his sternum, revealing the valley that bifurcated his muscular chest. Perhaps, you thought, he is in fact the devil because no mortal man could be so handsome.

“Let me take down your cornet,” Charlie’s voice was huskier than you had previously heard. “Let me see your beautiful hair. It is a terrible sin to hide it.”

He tentatively reached for your cornet, awaiting your tacit consent, which you gave when you leaned your head into his hand. Carefully, almost reverently, he removed your cornet, allowing your hair to cascade freely around your shoulders and back.

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” he spoke softly as he twisted a lock of your hair around one of his thick fingers.

The combination of his compliment combined with his term of endearment brought the widest smile that your face had ever known to your lips, and made your heart try its best to beat through the cage of your ribs.

You sipped your wine, hoping it would calm your nerves. You couldn’t be sure if it was the wine or Charlie’s pleasant demeanor that warmed you through and put you at ease.

You found that you could happily listen to Charlie for hours. Exchanging stories and humor, you laughed until it hurt. You were relieved to find that he encouraged your wit and sarcasm, rather than try to quiet you as others did. He also asked for and seemed to value your opinion on matters ranging from the design of his new home to the politics of Salem, to the current witch hysteria.

You reveled in the way his eyes glittered when he gazed at you. That he didn’t blink or look away when he looked at you. You admired the way his hair fell around his handsome face, the way his plush lips formed every word, the way the muscles in his jaw flexed when he talked with you.

Hours passed by unnoticed until it was late in the afternoon. Far past time to return to Salem by a reasonable hour.

The journey back was even more pleasant than the journey fourth. Although Charlie offered that you could rest during the long ride back to Salem, you did not dare close your eyes and risk missing a moment of your time with the dashing Mr. Barber.

Your family was worried when you returned late after dark. “He had a lot of work to do,” you lied, the first time since you were little.

******************************************************************************

Even though it was terribly late when you finally fell asleep, you were walking on air the next day. You sang a hymn during the morning chores. You could hardly focus on your tasks throughout the day, your thoughts consumed with easy laughter and handsome smiles.

As the afternoon sun bled into orange on the horizon, you were in the stable grooming the horses, when you heard Charlie’s deep booming voice.

“Miss Y/N?” he called. You stopped what you were doing and walked toward his voice.

Charlie smiled wide when he saw you, his eyes reflecting the setting sun in their bourbon-tinged depths. Closing the distance between you quickly in his long stride, he extended his large hand to you, holding a lovely bouquet of freshly picked bellflowers and daisies.

“I believe you dropped these on our bumpy ride yesterday. I was honor bound to return them.” He winked at you mischievously.

“Another ruse to see me?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I am powerless against my desire for your company,” he said good-naturedly.

“Have I bewitched you so quickly?” You teased.

“You bewitched me so effortlessly you never even knew it yourself,” Charlie smiled down at you.

“I sense more ruses up your sleeve, Mr. Barber,” You laughed at him.

“No more ruses,” he looked firmly into your eyes, “The truth is this, Miss Y/N. At church this past year you spoke to me five times and at the market twice. However small each incident may have seemed to you, I can tell you every word, even now.”

He stepped closer to you, “I could not imagine that you could possibly think of me in the same way that I regarded you.”

Charlie reached to take your hand in his, “And yesterday? It was magical indeed. I had hoped the day would never end.”

“I have never enjoyed anyone’s company more,” You told him sincerely.

“Have my flowers purchased another audience with you, Miss Y/N?” Charlie smirked at you.

“For as long as you can tolerate my company, Mr. Barber,” you joked back.

“Be careful, darling, that may be a longer time than you intend to offer me,” He brought your hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as his lips lingered on your skin.

Again, you and Charlie talked and laughed until long after the sun had set, time passing by like water through a sieve.

When he finally took his leave, he walked hand in hand with you, his thick fingers laced through yours, as you both walked back to his horse.

“No ruse, darling,” Charlie turned to face you, “Would you accompany me again to Boston the day after tomorrow? I have more business before the week ends and your company would make the travel a pleasant reprieve as opposed to a chore.” His eyes dropped in an unusual display of shyness

“Oh, Charlie I would love to. I truly would,” Regret dripped from your words, “But, that is the day of the women’s’ prayer group.” Your voce drew a bitter edge, “You know what would be said of me if I were to miss it.”

Charlie nodded. He knew all too well the delicate status of a woman’s reputation in Salem.

“Perhaps I shall arrange for more business in Boston that shall require my attention next week as well,” He smiled at you.

“Please do,” You returned his sentiment.

Without warning, Charlie leaned down quickly, pressing his plush lips against yours in a stolen kiss.

Your surprised yelp turned into a moan against his lips as your heart fluttered with excitement.

Pressing your body forward against him, his strong warm arms embraced you. Charlie held you tightly to him as he kissed you softly.

When he pulled away slowly, you were both smiling.

You dreamed about his perfect lips and beaming smile all through the night.

******************************************************************************

The Prayer Group assembled at the Church. It was all women. Although it was supposed to be a spiritual study, it was more than anything else, an opportunity to gossip. You often preferred to stay quiet, to learn rather than volunteer information. While you were outside the Church vestibule, you overheard several young women mention your name. Pausing, you listened discreetly.

“Y/N is throwing herself at the Minister. It’s shameful,” complained one young woman.

Another squeaked, “It’s a disgrace the way she looked at him in public.”

Mary Ann’s shrill voice chimed in, “There is something wicked about her. Otherwise, Mr. Barber would never be so taken with such a shameful woman. It’s simply unnatural.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mary Ann was implying something dangerous in these times. Charlie, too, might be in danger from such allegations.

You hardly believed in witches. But the real threat to be feared was not witches and devils, but the human monsters that walked among us, condemning others with their lies. This this is how it started with all the others. Rumors and speculations that lead to persecutions and hangings. You wished a noose would find its way around Mary Ann’s own throat from her vile words.

You needed to find Charlie. Now. It was late, the sun already set. Riding at a gallop to his house, you found it empty. He was still in Boston.

If Mary Ann and the others continued gossiping in such a manner, it could spread like wildfire. You had seen so many examples of ridiculous gossip becoming a death sentence. Including Charlie’s deceased wife. He was a good man. He did not deserve this. Charlie could halt this in its tracks with his influence, especially because of the sympathy Salem felt for Charlie as a widower.

You knew he sometimes stayed with a fellow Minister in Boston if he ran late. You turned your horse toward Boston and kicked him into a run.

The night air chilled you to the bone as your rode hard through the darkness. By the time you could see the lights of the city approaching, you couldn’t be sure if your shaking was from the motion of your horse or from the shivers uncontrollably racking your body. Your hands, feet, and nose had long ago grown numb. You were thankful that you could still hold the reins in your tremoring grip.

It was unconscionably late when you arrived at the minister’s home.

You knocked lightly on the front door with numb knuckles. No answer. You knocked again, a little louder. Pausing to blow hot breath on your hands, you considered how inappropriate this looked, a young woman late at night alone pounding on a stranger’s door, looking for a man.

Just as you began to think that you had ridden through the night for nothing, the door opened.

A sleepy and disheveled Charlie stood before you. His irritation turned immediately to shocked concern. He pulled you almost roughly into his arms when he saw you shivering at the door, rubbing his large hands over your back, trying to rub his warmth into you.

Trying to speak through a chattering jaw proved unsuccessful. Charlie shushed you and led you into a living room with a fire. He pulled a chair close to the fireplace and grabbed a blanket. Draping the blanket over your shoulders, he sat in the chair and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and surrounding you with his warmth.

Between Charlie’s own heat and the fireplace, soon you stopped shivering enough to relay your urgent message to him. As he listened, you felt him tense beneath you and saw his jaw clenching violently.

When you finished, he brought a large hand to your chin, turning you to look at him. His eyes were harder than you had ever seen them when you told you firmly, “I swear that I will let nothing happen to you, my darling. Whatever I must do.”

He brought his lips to yours in a kiss that sealed his promise to you.

Tonight, you and he would ride back to Salem. This matter was too urgent to postpone until tomorrow. Charlie would be careful that you and he were not seen together. First thing in the morning, he would confront Mary Ann and the other prattling gossips and set things straight.

You felt relieved, you moved closer to him, and leaned your head on his large shoulder. His strong arms pulled you tightly against him as he bent his head down and lightly kissed your hair.

******************************************************************************

The moon was nearly full as you made your final approach to Salem with Charlie. Unfortunately, the same moonlight that made the travel easy would make you and Charlie that much more visible to any onlookers.

Charlie decided that you would go ahead of him and return home while he waited until sunrise, so that if either of you were seen, the difference would literally be night and day.

You protested that he was the one with a child, you should stay behind. Charlie assured you that Henry would be fine and that it no one would think it odd of Charlie to be entering Salem in the morning. He kissed you in the moonlight, leaning toward you as you both sat on your horses, before you rode away towards your home.

You passed a few farms just outside Salem before you saw the oil lights of the town. When you neared your home, your heart sank, and you began to shake from something other than cold.

There, in the moonlight was a torch-bearing crowd with several mounted constables. Yanking your reins, you tried to turn your horse to run when someone cried, “There’s the witch!”

Dozens of people began screaming “Witch! Witch!” and the constables charged at you. Your horse had no chance of outrunning them now as he shook with exhaustion beneath you. It only made matters worse that you were riding your horse alone and under the full moon.

Locking your wrists in cold chains, the constables dragged you roughly to jail.

You repeated over and over that you were not a witch. They only responded with that was exactly what a witch would say.

You explained pointlessly that a witch would cast a spell and free herself.

They all refused to listen for fear of becoming bewitched.

One constable reasoned that if you stated anything that even made any sense at all, it was because of a spell contorting their minds.

The jail was a plain wooden structure with a dirt floor. The stench slapped you in the face as you were dragged in. The iron bars sank into the dirt with each cell having two buckets. The stink of the jail was overwhelming. It was cold, damp, and the epitome of bleak.

You were given a loaf of bread, water, and a bible.

Your trial was tomorrow, the gears having been already set in motion. If you confessed to having been seduced by the Devil, God may spare your soul. Your earthly body, however, was condemned regardless.

There was nothing left for you to do but pull your knees to your chest, wish the cruelest deaths upon your accusers, and wait.

******************************************************************************

You awoke to Charlie standing just outside your cell. The pained expression on his handsome features as he looked at you wrenched your heart.

Your rushed to the bars, to be close to him. He reached through the bars to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing you.

“Is this another ruse to see me, Charlie?” You smiled weakly.

His jaw clenched, his eyes shining with emotion briefly before he smiled at you sadly.

“Today is your trial,” he said softly. “You know what they will do if you are convicted.” His hand moved down to grip the side of your neck firmly.

You nodded your understanding.

“I will not let that happen, Y/N,” he tried to reassure you.

You choked back a sob in response.

“I am going to defend you myself,” He told you firmly, tipping your face up to look at him. “And then, I am going to marry you.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of false confidence or bluster, but found only sincerity and adoration shining back at you.

“Trust me, darling,” He told you before the guards came to escort you out of your cell.

Charlie was strangely confident. No one had ever been acquitted of such nefarious allegations. Even so, you had faith in him.

You learned that your accuser was indeed Mary Ann, who will testify that she has ‘spectral evidence’ against you. That is, evidence based on a vision or a dream. In a dream that she thought was perhaps also real, Mary Ann saw you dancing naked around a fire in the woods, that you were invoking the devil to enable you to seduce the men of Salem.

The courtroom was overflowing with people. A witch trial was a popular spectacle. It was noisy when they brought you into the courtroom in chains. The jurors’ eyes strained to watch you. The collective expression of the audience showed terror and shock. They saw a creature, a monster that walked among them. To them, you were not you. You had been a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along in their innocent town. A witch lurking among them, preying on the weak and seducing the poor helpless men.

Charlie had arranged so that you sat next to him at the defense table instead of in a separate box. He also insisted that your chains be removed. The guards refused.

“Your honor,” Charlie boomed, as he stood tall. “Your honor, if you label my client a monster and write a scarlet W on her with these chains, then the Court itself has told the jury she is guilty before she is even tried. Please, your honor, remove this label and allow Miss Y/N to stand here as someone who the Court has not pre-judged as guilty.”

The Judge, who was not from Salem, was concerned that if unchained, you might invoke your powers of witchcraft. A copy of Cotton Mather’s treatise on witchcraft sat before him on his bench.

“And what pray tell is that, your honor.” Charlie inquired sarcastically, “With all due respect, we know of the evidence that shall be presented today. And yet even her accusers say nothing of her hands. A witch’s power does not lie in her fingertips.”

The jury listened to this exchange. It had an effect. Several nodded silently at the reasonableness of Charlie’ s objection. The Court and the jury both accepted Charlie’s point and your chains were removed.

The Judge silenced the packed courtroom with three strikes of his gravel. He turned to the Prosecutor, his voice clear as a bell across the courtroom, “Counsel, are you ready to proceed?”

The Prosecutor stood, his shoulders proud, his bread gray, his eyes sharp and hard. The Governor of the Colony had specially recruited the attorney general for New York, to prosecute those accused of witchcraft. He was renowned as the best lawyer in the Colonies and had never lost a case.

“Thank you, your honor,” he said, nodding respectfully to the court, and then calling a plain woman, whose waistcoat was clean but worn, to the witness stand next to the Judge’s bench. Her name was Prudence Abbott, a mother of four.

The Prosecutor politely addressed both Prudence and the jury and asked Prudence what she saw last night. She shyly reported that she saw Y/N exit the woods around Salem late last night, on horseback, alone, and appeared excited.

Before Prudence stepped down from the witness stand, the Prosecutor turned to the jury and asked, “Does this not show that Miss Y/N was out alone, in the woods, during the full moon, and thus consorting with devil? Why else would Y/N sneak out into the woods at the witching hour?” He did not wait for Prudence’s answer, who nodded in affirmance.

It was Charlie’s turn to ask questions. As he slowly walked up to her on the witness stand, her eyes were glued to Charlie, dilating as he approached.

“Now Prudence,” Charlie said in an affable tone, his deep voice smooth as honey, “We both know you did not see a fire. Please be so kind as to share this important piece of information with the jury.”

“It is true I did not see a fire, sir,” she offered honestly.

“Thank you Prudence for your honesty,” Charlie answered, now standing only a few feet from the witness stand, but speaking to her and the jury at the same time, “We also both know you did not see her dancing either. In fact, she was dressed appropriately when you saw her. This contradicts any claim she was dancing naked. You are under oath before God, Mrs. Abbott. Before God himself you agree that what you saw contradicts the Colony’s case?”

His amber eyes and tilt of his head toward her instructed her to answer, “I agree, sir.”

“Could you repeat that,” Charlie directed.

“I agree, Mr. Barber,” she replied, a little louder.

“Finally, Mrs. Abbott, you know Y/N well, you share secrets. You agree that today that you can state under oath to this jury and to this honorable Court that she is not a witch?” Charlie’s eyes bore into hers as if commanding her to respond.

Odd, you thought, how very odd. You knew who Prudence was, but you were not close, you did not share secrets. You had hardly ever spoken to the woman outside of your church group.

“I agree,” she replied, nevertheless.

The Prosecution’s next witness was Mary Ann. Her black gown was austere, her coif tight. From the witness stand she looked at you with a contempt born of envy.

“As God as my witness, Y/N invoked a spell to enter my dreams,” she explained to the jury with a tremor in her voice, arms waving frantically with feigned emotion. “Y/N put images in my head, thoughts of sin in my head, all to join her, become a witch, and seduce the men of Salem and recruit them for the devil.”

“This is a dream, a fantasy, not evidence,” Charlie rose from his seat, voice booming.

As Charlie was formulating a more detailed explanation, The Prosecutor interjected, “Spectral Evidence has long been accepted by the Courts in these cases. It is stronger evidence of the images a witch can put into the minds of the innocent. Courts have ruled on this.”

The Judge concurred.

The Prosecutor announced, that having submitted sufficient spectral evidence to the jury, the prosecution rested.

On cross-examination, Charlie again walked toward the witness stand, except now he was close enough to lean over her, should he so choose. He paused before asking a question, he caught her eyes in his, as if he were seducing her.

He then immediately broke eye contact and addressed the jury, “You, Miss Mary Ann Bradstreet, are the most beautiful woman in Salem, that is something on which all agree,” he said, then turning back to her with a knowing smile.

“Well, who am I…” she said, stumbled over her words and blushing.

“It is a fact,” Charlie continued with conviction, “that others are jealous of you. And in this case, it is Miss Y/N who is jealous of you?”

She sat straight up; her shoulders protruded. “It is true. God gives us each our own challenges. Mine is beauty.”

He leaned into her, his handsome face close to hers, his right hand rising toward her cheek but not touching, his left hand, hidden from her, was twisted into a fist, as he whispered loud enough for the jury to hear, “In fact, and it’s embarrassing to admit it here in public, but you and I had a special connection, you might say. You knew how your beauty had smitten me. Before Miss Y/N stole my affection. Under oath, do you affirm this?

“I do,” she responded, squinting at you in anger. “Yes, this is true. She was jealous.”

Still leaning over her, he asked louder this time, his voice mesmerizing, “Only something more powerful than love, something like witchcraft, could tear asunder the bond you felt you had with me?”

“Yes. You speak the truth,” she agreed

“And here I am now,” he said to the jury and audience, stepping back from the witness stand, extending his arms, and stretching to his full impressive height. “Here I am now defending her. What better proof that I am utterly bewitched by her. So, bewitched that I stand before you all defending her. Absolute proof of her sorcery, what else could explain this?”

“Indeed!” She exclaimed, glaring at you.

Charlie was a snake, coiling himself around her, as walked back toward the witness stand, “It is not that you yourself could be jealous? How could you, the most beautiful woman in Salem, be jealous of another?” He shrugged before placing his hands on his hips.

Her eyes widened and she spoke directly to Charlie, “Yes. Yes, it’s Y/N,” she added, now pointing at you, “Y/N has always been jealous.”

“And I am only in your dreams because of Miss Y/N, right?” His grip around her was tightening.

“Yes.” She nodded in affirmation.

“And in those dreams, I am sinfully unclothed, seducing you. Such shameful imaginings, right?” Charlie asked, leading her on. Mary Ann could not see the trap fast approaching.

“Right.” She admitted plainly without affectation.

The jury reacted to this.

“My chest and shoulders and arms and all of me are temptations because of her?” He leaned toward her, his voice low and deep.

“Yes.” Mary Ann’s voice was steady, almost monotone, following wherever Charlie led her.

“The lust you feel for me is solely because of her, right?” He looked into her eyes.

“Right.” Her admissions coming easy, as if he had her under a spell.

“The jealousy you feel is because of her?” Charlie asked her softly.

“Right.” She only looked at Charlie, never veering.

“The need to lie in court today is all because of this innocent young woman, right?” Charlie asked, directing the jury’s attention to you.

“Right,” she replied immediately. Whatever guile had been present when questioned by the Prosecutor, it was now gone for reasons unknown to you.

“It is thus your own lust that makes you dream of me, right?” Charlie’s amber eyes bore into her.

“Right.” She admitted, perhaps not even realizing what was happening.

“And you and I know it is wrong that I am next to her and not you, yes?” Charlie put to her.

“Yes,” she answered angrily.

“That’s why you lied to everyone today?” Charlie put his hands on either side of the witness stand.

Mary Ann’s face answered for her before “Yes” came out of her mouth, as if she had regurgitated it. She looked at everybody as if she had just woken up from a dream. The Judge and Prosecutor exchanged a glance, and the constables snatched her from the witness stand. Lying under oath before God was as much a death sentence as sorcery in Salem.

The Judge loudly dismissed the charges against you as having been brought by a jealous lusting woman, set upon destroying you and the upstanding Mr. Barber.

When the Judge formally dismissed the jury, the jury and audience again looked at you as Miss Y/N, not a creature or a monster to be loathed and feared.

Charlie straightened, towering tall in the courtroom, and addressed everyone.

“Allow me to ratify my behavior towards Miss Y/N. Here. Before all of you, so that no gossip may be further spread. I have not been bewitched by some foul temptress, but rather consumed by the purest love for the woman I intend to marry.” His voice was firm and commanding.

Charlie pulled you from your seat, bent at his knees to wrap his arms around your waist, then stood, lifting you high in his embrace as he kissed you deeply while he held you in his powerful arms. You heard sighs of disapproval mixed with cheers of excitement.

******************************************************************************

The wedding would not be for weeks. But you now frequented his home, relishing your time together, basking in the feeling of his lips and arms, bonding more with Henry, and preparing for your move. It would take some time for you to learn the house anyway. Charlie’s home was usually large for a Puritan home. As a respected Minister, Charlie had the finances to build an expansive house for himself.

Growing bolder in the home of your fiancé, of the powerful and upstanding Minster of Salem, you deigned to linger later in the evenings at Charlie’s home. The home that you would soon share with him.

Tonight, Charlie had beckoned you to join him for dinner. He had even prepared it himself, an almost unheard-of gesture, but one that he knew you could not refuse. Henry was staying over with the family of one of his friends, so it was just the two of you.

Charlie held your chair for you and poured you a glass of the delicious wine you had enjoyed with him during your picnic that now seemed ages ago.

Before he took his own seat, he reached to untie your bonnet, stroking your cheek as your hair fell free.

Dinner was wonderful. Perfect. The way he looked at you, the way he smiled at you, it was all though all the love in the world shone through his eyes into you. You could scarcely wait for your life with him to begin.

When you stood to clear the table, Charlie rose with you. Moving to stand behind you, he wrapped his warm strong arms around your waist, pulling you gently back against his broad chest. A sharp intake of breath found its way into your lungs, followed by a soft shudder as you relaxed into his embrace.

Dropping his head close to you, he brought his mouth to your neck. You couldn’t stop the moan that passed your lips when he began kissing the soft skin below your ear.

“Charlie, we can’t,” you moaned as your body betrayed you, your hand reaching behind you to twist into his thick hair.

“We can,” he growled against your neck. “You will be my wife, my love. There is no need for petty conventions that keep us from enjoying each other fully.”

“It’s a sin,” you whispered low.

“I will never do anything to you that you do not wish, my love,” Charlie’s mouth moved to your ear. “But, I promise you that there is no sin in this.”

“How do you know?” Your fist tightened in his hair, pulling his face harder against you.

“I know sin,” he nipped at your jaw. “I am sinful, my love. You are not.”

Pulling away from you, he moved to stand in front of you, extending his large hand.

“Allow me to show you to your bedroom, Mrs. Barber,” he smiled wickedly down at you.

Your expression felt equally wicked when you took his hand. Perfectly happy to allow your handsome soon-to-be husband to lead you into temptation.

Once inside the bedroom, your eyes settled on the large bed with both excitement and trepidation. Moonlight streamed in through a large window, casting a soft silver glow throughout the room.

Large hands on your shoulders spun you gently around. Sliding down your arms in a warm caress, Charlie took your hands in his. He raised both to his lips, kissing each one sweetly before placing your hands on his muscular chest.

Your fingers moved to undo his buttons as he leaned down to kiss you. His lips pressed gently against yours as he brought his hands to begin undoing the buttons on your dress. His kisses became more ardent and his mouth more eager as both of your clothing came undone. The feeling of his tongue as it slipped past your lips spread warmth through your body faster than wine on your palette.

Your fingers had barely reached the waistband of his pants as they lowered following the buttons on his shirt when Charlie roughly shrugged himself free of garment.

This time, your hands moved to stroke his chest of their own accord, smoothing greedily over his thick muscle. Your eyes raked over his impossibly broad shoulders, powerfully muscles arms, and spectacular chest. Following his impressive physique down, to where Charlie’s hands were working to undo his pants, you admired the trail of hair leading from his navel down to disappear below his trousers. Your breath caught at the sight of the bugle straining to be set free beneath his pants.

Charlie’s eyes shone with desire as he watched your reaction to his body.

Your thighs were already rubbing together, just from the sight of his bare chest and the feel of him under your hands.

Gently, Charlie pushed your dress off your shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. He brought his lips to your neck, reassuring you with his kisses. He wasted no time in removing the rest of your undergarments until everything lay in a haphazard pile at your feet.

Pulling back from you, Charlie’s eyes hungrily admired your figure. You should have felt shy, ashamed, to stand naked so immodestly, but the way he looked you at rendered you incapable of feeling anything other than excitement and lust. Especially, the lust pooling in your stomach and threatening to drip down your thighs.

Charlie’s hands lifted to skim across your body, following your curves, relishing in the feeling of your bare skin.

Slowly, you reached to Charlie’s trousers, teasing the waistband tentatively before shoving them down his thick thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat when his massive cock swung free. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but your expectations were nothing like the huge, beautifully veined length that curved excitedly up towards you.

You might have been nervous at the sight of him if you were not already thinking solely of how you wanted nothing more than to be completely full of his giant cock.

Grabbing his cock with a hand that could not fully encircle its girth, you stroked him firmly. The groan that fell from Charlie’s lips at your touch went straight to your pussy.

“So, this is all mine now?” You teased as you stroked his cock, feeling it throb in your hand.

“I’m all yours, Y/N,” he replied as he pushed you toward the bed. “Only ever yours.”

Charlie crawled over you as you fell back onto the plush mattress. His arms caging you beneath him. You expected him to resume kissing you, but instead his mouth found your breast. He kissed along your soft skin, until he reached your nipple. A gasp escaped your lips when he sucked it into his mouth and began circling it with his tongue. One large hand moved to your other breast, his calloused palm rubbing against that nipple as he squeezed you.

The dampness between your legs spread, threatening to leak out of your pussy.

As if Charlie knew, he raised his head to smile at you, “I bet your pussy’s fucking dripping for me. Let me take a look.”

Somehow, his tone and his words, combined with the look of stark hunger in his eyes, made you even wetter.

Trailing his hot kisses and prominent nose down your body, Charlie continued until his mouth veered to kiss and lick in the junction of your hip. He pushed your thighs apart and settled his large body between them.

A current of excitement shuddered through you when you realized his purpose.

“That is a sin, Charlie,” you feebly protested.

He tilted his head to look at you squarely, winked, and flashed a mischievous grin, “The most egregious sins are the most pleasurable.”

Before you could reply, he dropped his head to lick a fat stripe up the center of your pussy. Any protests you may have uttered died in your throat, coming out only as a pleasured sigh.

Reaching under your thighs, he lifted them onto his shoulders, clamping his hands down firmly on your hips to hold you in place.

Leading with his large nose, he parted your lips for his tongue.

“Oh, God, Charlie,” you couldn’t keep from moaning when his tongue drew through your folds. You could feel his lips smile against you in response.

Swirling his tongue around your entrance, Charlie hummed in pleasure, vibrating straight into your pussy.

He raised himself just enough to tell you huskily, “My wife is just the sweetest.” Before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking on it softly.

You had never felt pleasure like this, you never knew what lust truly was until now. His mouth could even be described as painful with how much it made you ache for more. The pleasure he gave you built and built, flooding your body with heat that pooled in your core, until it overflowed you.

Charlie clamped your hips more firmly as your thighs began to quiver and seize around his head. Sucking your clit harder into his mouth, he pushed you into a blinding orgasm, wave after shivering wave washing over you. He sucked and licked at your pussy until your body relaxed, limp below him.

But, you still wanted more. Your pussy ached for his huge cock, to be stretched and filled with him.

Raising himself enough to move back over your body, he moved to hover above you, his massive chest brushing against your nipples. Planting one elbow by your shoulder to lean his weight on, he stroked your cheek with the same hand. His other hand gripped his cock, smearing his precum over his thick tip before rubbing it through your slick folds.

You bucked your hips at the feel of his velvety cock finally touching you, earning a satisfied smile from Charlie above you. His features donned an almost pained expression as he nudged the head of his enormous cock into you, his brows knitted together, and his teeth gritted in pleasure.

Charlie thrust into you fully in one smooth, firm motion. He was not rough, but he didn’t give you time to recoil at his size as he stretched you more than you would have thought possible.

Your mouth dropped open at the feel of being filled by him. Your nails digging harshly into his back where your hands had flown.

Still once inside of you, he returned his mouth to your lips. Kissing you sweetly as you adjusted to his size. As he kissed you, he began rocking his hips into you gently. Soon, the shock and mild pain transformed into ecstasy. Your pussy fluttered around his cock, wanting to suck him in even deeper.

Feeling you respond, Charlie started thrusting into you slowly, lovingly, as he kissed you over and over. When your hips began to match his rhythm, meeting his thrusts in kind, his amber eyes glazed with lust and he began pounding into you harder, rocking your body with each thrust.

Pulling back from your lips, he groaned as he stared down at you. “I’ve never felt anything as good as your tight little pussy. You’re just perfect. Perfect for me.”

Hair wildly tousled, chest flushed pink under a light sheen of glistening sweat, eyes gazing down at you adoringly, he had never looked more handsome.

Each drag of his cock in and out of your pussy made you even wetter. You could feel it running down into the sheets. He hit the best spots inside of you with each thrust, each movement pushing you closer to the edge again.

“Keep doing that, Charlie,” you almost shouted in your pleasure. “Just like that. But harder. Fuck me harder.”

“Fuck, yes, beautiful.” Charlie’s Brow’s knitted and his lips looked almost like a snarl as he fucked you harder, trying to keep from cumming himself.

Clenching and fluttering around his thick cock, you came again in a rush of pleasure that was more intense than anything you had ever felt before. Waves washed over and over you, your pussy pulsing in time with your pleasure.

Charlie growled above you as your pussy seized around his cock. He fucked you through each wave, carrying you through your ecstasy, until he burst himself. Shoving his cock as deep into you as he could, you felt hot ropes of cum pump into you in thick pulses as his arms quivered where they caged you between them.

He kissed you again for several long moments as both of your breathing steadied, and his cock softened inside of you. It was magical how his lips had both the power to arouse and to soothe you.

When he withdrew from you, he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you against his chest as he wrapped one of his strong arms around you.

“I love you Y/N,” he whispered along your hairline, “I love you, my darling.”

“I love you, Charlie,” you purred, feeling his powerful chest rise and fall beneath your cheek, his heartbeat pounding steadily beneath your ear. Tonight, he had given both pleasure and now happiness like you had never known.

“Are you pleased with me, my love?” Charlie asked softly as he held you.

“I never knew I could feel such happiness,” you stroked his chest. “But, Charlie,” your tone grew serious. “What do I tell people tomorrow if I am unable to walk properly?” You teased, earning a huffed laugh from him.

“Tell them that you are indeed the luckiest woman in Salem,” he replied as he squeezed you tighter.

******************************************************************************

Hours later, in the darkest hours of the night when witches and demons would run their nefarious errands, you felt Charlie shift beneath you, rousing you from sleep.

Raising yourself off his chest, you looked down at him blearily. He was as fully alert as you had ever seen him.

“Have you not slept,” you asked groggily.

“No, I have been thinking,” he rubbed his warm hand along your back. “I wish to show you something, my love. Tonight.”

Charlie gently rolled you off of him before rising from the bed. He only pulled on his trousers before offering you his hand and pulling you up from the warmth of the sheets. You shivered briefly in the cold before Charlie draped his heavy wool coat over your shoulders, the garment hanging nearly to your knees.

Taking your hand in his, he led you from the bedroom.

Holding a flickering candle, he led you down the stairs and through darkened hallways until you reached the room you had learned was his study. He walked with you to the end of the room behind his large desk. Extending his arm high and raising up on his toes, he pushed at a spot on the wall in the upper corner, too high for most people to reach without a ladder. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the wall. At his touch, the wall sprung open like an ominous gate.

He walked ahead of you, immediately descending a steep flight of stairs, holding the candle behind him to light your way as you followed.

You stood in darkness at the base of the stairs as Charlie moved throughout the room, lighting a litany of candles in sconces.

As the room illuminated, you realized you were standing in something akin to a plush dungeon.

Dark wood paneling lined the walls, framing ancient looking documents, scrawled on yellowing parchment. Candles were interspersed throughout the room, sitting on shelves build into the wall and upon the one large table that lined the back wall. Littering the table were bottles, knives, things that looked like dehydrated roots and bundles of plants wound together, exotic skulls, and quills and ink. Centered in the table was an immense book which lay open, scrawling lines of beautiful script decorated its pages in addition to sketches and notes.

Charlie stood before you calmly, his hands clasped in front of him, appraising your response closely.

Your eyes darted back and forth in a mixture of shock, confusion, and horror between Charlie and the room, particularly the large open book.

“Of course, my darling, you are confused. But you must the know the truth,” his voice soft and reassuring.

Your eyes widened and your pulse thundered. You did not want to believe what he was revealing to you.

“My former wife was no witch,” Charlie’s eyes held you unblinking. “In fact, no person who has been accused thus far has been a witch,” he explained.

“Because,” you stammered, “witches are not real.”

He reached one hand to gently caress your cheek. “They are very real, sweetheart. But very rare.”

“If you knew your ex-wife was not a witch, why did you not speak up for her as you have for me?” You were surprised to find that the initial wave of fear that washed over you had faded to nothing but curiosity.

“Do you remember that unfortunate lawyer who was trampled to death by a runaway coach earlier this year?” Charlie raised his eyebrows at you.

“Of course,” You nodded as you remembered. The freak accident was the talk of the town for months. Stranger still was how the man seemed to cling to life for days, in excruciating and unbearable pain, before succumbing to his wounds.

“He was having an affair with my wife,” Charlie said nonchalantly.

For a moment you felt his pain. “Oh, Charlie, I’m sorry,” you could not help but comfort him.

“Do not apologize, my darling,” Charlie cupped your cheek more firmly, “I grieved for her long before she died. And now, I am much happier than I have ever known.”

You then remembered it was that very lawyer who accused Charlie’s wife of being a witch, the accusation carrying more weight because of his standing in the community.

Charlie saw that you were remembering, “It was not an accident that he accused her of being a witch. I corrupted his mind with that thought. Not knowing how it would spiral and spread to other women of Salem.”

He smiled evilly as he continued, “I made him think that she had betrayed him as she betrayed me- I truly loved the irony – with his brother. There was no truth to it, of course.”

“So, it’s true, then?” You asked softly, “There have been no actual witches executed?”

“Do you believe that a real witch would be caught by such small-minded imbeciles?” Charlie laughed.

He leveled his intense gaze upon you, “You know the truth, my darling.”

“You, Charlie,” It was a statement of realization.

“Yes. I am the only witch in Salem, my love.” He paused as he took in your reaction.

“Does this mean you are in league with the Devil?” You held his gaze steadily.

“The Devil does not seek my counsel, nor do I seek his.” Charlie smirked, “Talents such as mine are beyond the understanding of the masses, however, they are not infernal.”

You found you were not afraid, nor were you hesitant, as you stepped into Charlie’s warm embrace. He released a breath that you had not realized he had been holding, his huge chest heaving against you.

“So, you have charmed me with your magic, then?” You joked as you looked up at his handsome face from inside his arms.

Looping his arms around your waist, he drew back to look at you squarely, fixing you with his broad, shining smile that you loved so much. “On the contrary, Y/N, I have been powerless against you. It was your beauty and spirit that charmed me long ago.”

His expression grew serious, sincere and warm, “It was the first time that I looked into your luminous eyes. How they burn with the brightest fire, the passion. You have set me ablaze more than any witch who has ever burned on a stake.”

You reached your hands to wrap around his neck, trying to pull him down to kiss you, but he resisted.

“Will you still marry me, my love?” Charlie looked at you imploringly. “Now that you know everything.”

This time when you pulled him down, he lowered his head willingly. You kissed him all over his handsome face, declaring “Yes” with every kiss.

******************************************************************************

#halloween #my writing #my stuff!#charlie #charlie barber x you #charlie barber x reader #fic #best #hallowen

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dearamericaroyaldiaries · 3 years

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Get In Losers. We’re Going Witch Hunting

I Walk in Dread- 1691(-1692), Deliverance Trembly

By Lisa Rowe Fraustino

Don’t judge the picture. Google had no images that I felt comfortable using license wise so I took a (bad) picture of my copy.

Age of Protagonist: 12

#ReadingThoughts

-Before I even start I am digging the Puritan names. First Remember Patience and now Deliverance (and I would come to find ANOTHER MEM!!).

-My edition looses points or not having a ribbon even though it’s hardcover. This negatively impacts my reading experience for Reasons.

-Hold it. Is her uncles’ name really Razor Strap? I know Puritans were big on using random phrases from the Bible for their naming, but is that really a phrase in the Bible? Also, Sister Mem had me confused it was Mem from the last book for a hot second.

-SO do Mem and Deliverance just live with their uncle? Just the three of them? (The answer I quickly found was yes.)

-I appreciate the lesson on town politics. That's important for the Salem area in 1692ish.

-I am confused by what’s happening with the year. Why is it Dec 31, 1691, then Jan. 1, 1691, and then Jan. 2, 1691/2. There is a bullshit explanation in the about the author section. If you’re worried about Accuracy when it comes to the Julian vs Gregorian calendar, put something in the text. You’re average grade schooler isn’t going to jump to that . If I remember correctly, there’s something about the Gregorian calendar differing from the Julian calendar in the Anastasia book that is handled better. Liv explains other things to the reader, why not this?

-Why is a 12 year old more responsible than a 17 year old? Especially in 1692. Mem should at least have a higher opinion of herself in the family hierarchy and be preparing to keep her own house as a wife.

-Again, I feel Mem should be more mature than Liv.

-Liv can use her sister’s boy-craziness to her advantage. Mem is willing to shovel shit if there are attractive members of the opposite sex in the vicinity.

-Allergies=Witchcraft. That explains so much about me and my life. Though I suppose it makes sense from a 17th century Puritan POV.

-Mem wants to be a stepmom to 9 kids all of whom are most likely closer to her age than she would be to the potential husband? The last part might not be a big concern in the time period but good gracious that’s too many kids for my liking.

-Age update- some of the kids would be older than her or her age.

-I feel the average target reader would need an explanation of what “God’s Elect” means. Most 12 year olds don’t have a strong grasp on post-Reformation Protestant Theology.

-Poor Liv. She wants to fit un but is failing spectacularly.

-Is Liv going to be among the accused? She’s not on the best of terms with the accusers and has been or will be associated with at least three people who were accused and killed.

- They used the strong trick for loose teeth in the 17th century? I have no evidence or data to argue one side or the other but I am suspicious. Somewhat amused, but suspicious.

-I find the tithing man hilarious. I want a stick with a fuzzy rabbit foot on one end and a knob for whacking people on the other. Also, he deserved getting thumped back by the one guy,

-I am calling bullshit on Goody Corey sniffing out only girl scent. Either it’s a bit or she’s a witch, not her husband. (Spoilers: He’s accused and refuses to confess so the town can’t take his land and is pressed to death while trying to get a confession. Post reading note: I totally forgot/didn’t know that Goody Corey was also accused and killed.)

-I don’t know really anything about the real Goody Corey, but she seems like a stand-in for an enlightened modern person, above the provincial notions of witchcraft and the commonplace racism toward Amer Indians. I’m not saying everyone thought they were the devil, but a majority thought that they were superior to the indigenous peoples of the American colonies.

-Mr. Cooper’s letter is too vague! We need deets!

-Because this is told through Livs’ eyes everyone asking about their uncle and checking in on them comes off as invasive and nosy but as an adult, a twelve year old and a seventeen year old have been left on a farm by themselves for almost two months at this point is an issue. Is he ever coming back?

-WHAT!? Goody Corey has a bi-racial son born when she was estranged from her first husband? Prepare for a wikipedia tangent because I had to a a google to corroborate this. Wikepedia backs this up but what it doesn’t back up is the timeline. I read her as in her 40s or 50s in the book. According to wikepedia (don’t judge me, it’s good for basic facts and a starting point) she was 72ish in 1692 and this biracial son was her first child who would have been 50ish at this point and was born before Martha Corey was ever married. *End Tangent* Good for her though if she did indeed five her husband an earful after Liv left.

-Hold on. Mr. Cooper wants to talk to Uncle Razor Strap about Mem marrying Darcy, not him. Mem is gonna be devastated.

-Would electricity have been a concept a) known in 1692 and b) be well enough known that a random 12 year old in the colonies with little formal schooling would be comfortable enough using the phrase “electrical lightning.” No, I will not be googling this. Googling historical facts is one thing, googling sciencey things is another thing entirely,

-Did the girls hear the stories and then claim to have witnessed ZYX or did they independently corroborate the stories? One is much less suspect than the other.

-At this point I wonder will we ever meet Uncle Razor Strap? Is he dead? Is he trying to get back to Salem? Is he abandoning them?

-I feel the leap to “Am I a witch?” after having a weird dream about nursing a baby Sarah Goode is sensible as someone who has been about to call the Vatican several times when their period was late. In those cases clearly the only explanation was pregnancy, even when physically impossible just as being a witch is Livs’ conclusion here.

-Hopefully the girls can just get out of the Salem area soon and the landlord giving them to the end of the month is a neat enough excuse.

-So Mem thinks that Goody Corey is a witch but is okay with Liv going over there?

-How scary it would be to worry that the one family member you have in the area, who should be protecting you because you’re 12, might accuse you of witchcraft.

-I am delighted the the horse can act as a chaperone. Really? Okay.

-How does the horse give permission to whisk a fainted person into the house? It’s a horse.

-So now Mem is forcing Liv to read her diary to her. Rude.

Thoughts on the Afterward

Meh. Mem marries Darcy but dies young so Liv gets her man. They return to Salem. They don’t go West like they talked about. Liv has a gagillion great grands. No one ever fount her journal. Meh. I’m happy she was happy and all but meh.

Overall Thoughts After Reading

It took almost 200 pages to get through four months. I think I just don’t care for the author. I should have liked this book. It ticks multiple boxes that should be my jam but something about it just... is a no for me. Maybe it’s because I have zero nostalgia for this book. It took me about 4.5 months to get through this book and finding it boring is one of them. No one seems like a well rounded character who has any growth. Last book Mem had a whole arc where she came to terms with losing her mother but this time Liv didn’t really seem to change or grow.

I had high hopes. This book came out right as I was aging out of Dear America but I remember the hype around it on the Scholastic website. (Yes I was a wee nerd who hung out on the Scholastic website.) Sadly I was disappointed.

Also, we nope out of the actual trials. The first trial wasn’t held until JUNE. The book ends on April 30. Yes, we get to see the initial hysteria and flurry of accusations and arrests, but this was just the beginning. This seems like a cop-out.

Rating: 3/10 Sisterly Cat-Fights

Other contenders included False Accusations (this one seemed unfair because while I believe no one who was accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Hysteria was actually practicing witchcraft, I can’t say with confidence that the accusers were all lying. They may have believed honestly that they were afflicted by witches so calling them false accusations seem disingenuous.) and Bible Verses because Puritans. In the end, I had to honor the brutal way Mem and Live went after each other. Apparently in addition to being sickly, Mem was also small because how else could a 12 year old take her 17 year old sister like that.

#Dear America #Read with me #Puritans #History #Historical #Deliverance Trembly #Salem Witch Hysteria #Salem Witch Trials #I get minorly sweary again. At this point just accept it.

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

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Danvers State Hospital

Danvers State Hospital, a substantial sized building reflecting a gothic design that sits on the top of the ever-popular “Hawthorne Hill” has been called several things throughout history, but one title remains consistent with the structure, and that title is “haunted”. Individuals who are interested in the paranormal are often attracted to this immense structure, its history, as well as the haunting tales that are circulating regarding the spirits that reside in and around the immense structure.

One of the first haunting tales that is told about the hospital has to do with a structure that stood on the grounds before the actual hospital was ever built. It is believed that the judge who oversaw the executions of nearly twenty individuals who were claimed to have been witches in the early history of the town by the name of Jonathan Hawthorne lived in a home on the grounds. Many individuals believe that they have seen shadows and apparitions that strike a resemblance to the judge.

A number of cruel and unusual treatments for psychiatric patients took place at the haunted Danvers State Hospital. In many cases, these experiments were performed in an honest effort to control the symptoms that the patients experienced, and in an effort to “cure” them. However, as time progressed, many patients were issued treatments so that the hospital could control the population that was building in masses at the hospital. It is believed that several of the individuals who died on the grounds still walk the corridors, and are trapped in spirit inside the structure. Many spirits are said to have now found the outside of the building, and walk around here, seeming to search for something, but no one knows what

The original name for Danvers was Salem Village. This is where the Salem Witch Trials were held not in the current town of Salem. People were actually hung on Hawthorne Hill where the hospital was built.

Jonathan Hawthrone, perhaps the most fanatical judge in the infamous Salem Witch Trials, is said to have lived in a house on the same hill long before the hospital was built. He over saw the deaths of 23 innocents.

The mold infested crops that have been said to have caused the hallucinations that lead to the Salem Witch Trials are said to have been grown on the same hill as the hospital was built.

By the 1940s faced with intense overcrowding the hospital resorted to brutal techniques including early-style shock treatments, lobotomies and hydrotherapy (total immersion in freezing cold water).

Dozens of requests were made to perform seances on the property to the Massachusetts Department of capital Assets who owned the property during the period of abandonment. All were denied.

Jeralyn Levasseur lived on the property as a child in a house lent to her father by the Hospital administrator. She remembers hearing footsteps in the second story hallways when no one else was home as well as doors that would open and close as well as lights flickering. She also remembers her brother and sister seeing the apparition of an older woman scowling at them. When she was in high school all of the covers were ripped off her bed when no one else was in the room.

There are 2 schools of thought about the site. One says it is purely haunted by the incredible amount of negative energy from both the witch trials and the horrific treatment of the overcrowded patients at the hospital. The other school says the actual ghosts of former innocents killed in the witch trials and the former patients still walk the grounds.

Countless apparitions of both former patients and staff, shadow figures, phantom sounds of voices, laughter, crying, screaming and every other imaginable sound, feelings of being touched, pushed and tugged at, feelings of being watched, not being wanted, general unease, intense and uncontrollable fear and intense overwhelming sadness, reports from people of having their names spoken, doors opening and closing on their own, electrical disturbances, light anomalies, mysterious mists and glows and pretty much any other paranormal activity ever experienced. A feeling of intense evil is said to hang over this area (perhaps pre-dating the hospital) that seems to exist to this day.

#Danvers State Hospital #haunted locations #haunted hospitals #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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metanoiyed-archive · 4 years

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The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History

*cracking knuckles* If you saw this post about this post, you know what this is about. If not, read them and come back. Without further ado: The Ahistorical “Burning Times��, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History.

“The important backdrop for this group is the time period that modern witches and pagans refer to as The Burning Times.”

So the first thing you’ll notice about posts or books that mentioned the ‘burning times’ is that they use very purposeful wording and diction. Notice how the OP says ‘that modern witches and pagans refer to as’ and not, “what historians refer to as”? That’s because historian’s don’t refer to it as the burning times, they refer to it as the ‘Witch Craze’ or ‘Witch Hysteria’, where many people in medieval Europe and America [14th-17th century, but 16th and 17th were the most popular years] were often falsely accused of witchcraft and hung - not burned - for the crime. During the Salem Witch Trials, especially, people like to say ‘we are the granddaughters of witches you couldn’t burn’ -- but no witches were even burned at the stake in Salem (1). Accusing someone of witchcraft was very, very often a political tool used by the Roman Catholic Church or others who operated under it to execute whomever they wished, but we’ll get to that in a second.

“Europe and America were thrust into a moral panic and hysteria over alleged satanic witches. Most of those accused were midwives, healers, poor women, women suffering from mental health issues, and women who were practicing preChristian traditions.” So... Yes to: hysteria, healers and women suffering from mental health issues and practicing pre-Christian traditions. No to pretty much everything else. Men who were healers or suffering mental health issues were also accused, but that’s because anyone could call witchcraft like a boy crying wolf and it was believed. In my ‘A Deed Without A Name’ notes, I go over how in some cases it appears that a certain aspect of people who are in some way different can indicate they’re touched, but often in the past I’m inclined to think in most cases it was simply used to execute people. Also, they killed people practicing pre-Christian traditions because they were racist Europeans and colonialists, and most of the time those pre-Christian traditions were by POC. 14th Century-17th Century is by no means pre-Christian, by that point a lot of folk belief in Europe had been touched by Christian belief, not so much that it entirely changed it, but enough. ‘Alleged’ Satanic witches? Are we just purposefully looking away from Isobel Gowdie’s confession before she was executed? Confessions of people [of those who confessed and were actually witches] who made deals with the Devil/Man in Black/Witchfather in some form are overwhelmingly common. (2).

“Many witches fear a return to the Burning Times, when any old woman was burned at the stake for merely existing below the poverty level.” I really have nothing groundbreaking to say about this one, just that I hate the OP for making me look at it and I hope they stub their toe. ‘fear a return to the burning times’ my ass.

“The total number of those murdered under the guise of witch accusations varies widely by source. Many historians have argued that the number is anywhere between 40,000 and 60,000. Other sources, however, have claimed the number is closer to 100,000 with potentially hundreds of thousands more unaccounted for. It has even been suggested that there were 392,000 in Great Britain alone. The highest number, and number that has become part of popular legend, is approximately 9 million (with the fullness of the Crusades and Spanish Inquisition included). It will never be certain how many women, men, and children were killed, and truthfully the numbers game is irrelevant in the face of trauma. Any genocide, no matter how big or small, is a moral stain on our history.”

Other sources? What sources. You don’t name any of yours, I noticed. ‘Any genocide ... a moral stain on our history’ yet I am sure you turn a blind eye to the plight of those right in front of you, while my people suffer a real continued genocide, you make a fantasy crime. Statista did a chart on how many people were tried and executed between 1300 and 1850, and the number is even lower than you think. (3).

“The Burning Times were a systematic rooting out of female power and autonomy, and non-christian practices. The midwives and healers posed a threat to the structures and systems of politics and medicine... both groups challenging the patriarchy.” This sounds... so fishy. Doesn’t this sound like a weird radical-feminist argument? I’m not implying anything about OP, but the way this whole paragraph reads while trying to include ‘men, women and children’ and then focusing on how this was a whole attack on the women against the patriarchy just... grosses me out, a lot. Because it was never about that, has never been about that, and will never be about that. I also just don’t trust people who refer to women as ‘females’ but that’s just me.

“Most of the following women were (wrongfully) believed to have had sexual intercourse with Satan, signing their names into his black book with their blood.” Again, are we just ignoring Isobel Gowdie’s straight up confession? Or any of the other confessions from Scotland, England, and surrounding areas? This stupid purity culture of wanting to be seen as better to outsiders is so annoying. “I’m not like that trope of witches you’ve seen, we don’t actually have sex with the Devil or sign his black book with blood!” Just because some of us aren’t worried to get our hands dirty and you are doesn’t mean that other witches don’t do that. “wrongfully” where the fuck are you getting your information? Many confessions that they did get included detailed accounts of joining the Man in Black for sabbats, having sex with him, and signing his black book. Not everyone continues the practice today, but some definitely do, they definitely did, and it definitely wasn’t “wrongfully believed”. They were powerful women in their own right. If anything OP, by trying to separate themselves from the legacy of these women, has disgraced them in that way. It takes courage and strength to work with infernal forces from the otherside like that, and here this asshole is just shittin’ on their name pretending they never risked their lives doing it. A source on this from Isobel Gowdie, “As I was going betuix the townes of Drumdewin and the Headis, I met with the Devil, and ther covenanted, in a maner, with him.” and from ‘A Deed Without A Name’ by Lee Morgan, “As we can see when we look over the testimonies of witches from earlier times not everyone is initially approached by an animal spirit. Isobel Gowdie seems to have initially been approached by ‘the Devil’, Bessie Dunlop by a faerie man who claims to have once lived as a human man, others were taken by faeries or by the spirit of another living human practitioner.” (4)

And obviously there are various other sources, these are not the only ones. I’m just too tired to go through my library, cite them all, attach them all - y’all gotta do your own work for once. Read actual history, please. Learn discernment. I don’t even have the energy to go through the list of people the OP put as ‘in memoriam’ because I have no idea if those are historical reasons, either, but honestly I don’t even wanna know. Anyway, it’s bullshit and ahistorical, thanks for coming to my tedtalk. If you push this narrative you owe Black, Native, Jewish people and anyone else otherwise affected by the witch-craze repatriations immediately, I don’t make the rules except I do and those are the rules.

Citations:

Andrews, Evan. “Were Witches Burned at the Stake during the Salem Witch Trials?” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 13 Aug. 2014, www.history.com/news/were-witches-burned-at-the-stake-during-the-salem-witch-trials.

Wilby, E. (2013). The visions of Isobel Gowdie: Magic, witchcraft and dark shamanism in seventeenth-century Scotland. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press.

McCarthy, Niall, and Felix Richter. “Infographic: The Death Toll Of Europe's Witch Trials.” Statista Infographics, 29 Oct. 2019, www.statista.com/chart/19801/people-tried-and-executed-in-witch-trials-in-europe/

Morgan, Lee. A Deed without a Name: Unearthing the Legacy of Traditional Witchcraft. Moon Books, 2013.

#witchcraft #witchblr #isobel gowdie #bessie dunlop #a deed without a name #lee morgan #emma wilby #burning times #ahistorical narrative #ahistorical #history lesson #history #witch craze #witch hysteria #long post #history of witchcraft

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tellmewhatyouheardpodcast · 3 years

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The Headless Horseman: part 2

If you haven’t yet read Irving’s short story, I would really recommend it. The prose is super fun, mostly understandable for our post-modern brains, and contains several great characters, including the man himself, Ichabod Crane. Physically, Ichabod is described as

tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together…To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was published as part of an ongoing series written by Irving, eventually compiled and titled The Chap Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. Geoffrey Crayon was one of the many personae that Irving wrote under -- Crayon wasn’t just a pseudonym, he was an entire personality. One of Irving’s other alter egos was Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old, crusty historian said to be descended from the New York Dutch aristocracy, as imagined by Irving. By 1831 the word “knickerbocker” was used to describe the distinctive breeches worn by the American Dutchmen, and eventually the word became a synecdoche for Manhattanites, which is why New York’s first basketball team took it as its name. And yes, I believe that is a correct use of the word “synecdoche.”

I brought that up to bring this up: “The Legend of Sleep Hollow” is told in first person by someone who is neither Washington Irving, nor Geoffrey Crayon. It’s some other third guy, a narrator who goes unnamed, but who possesses specific and deep knowledge of the area of Sleepy Hollow, and of this event involving Crane. Details about Crane and the other Sleepy Hollow denizens are filtered through this narrator.

So it’s this narrator who, in addition to the humorous details about Crane’s physicality, tells us that Ichabod is the local schoolmaster and choir leader. He’s described as being a pretty good teacher, and fair, if a bit generous with punishment, which at that time was a quick rap with a switch made of birch. Ichabod is a visitor in Sleepy Hollow, a learned man from Connecticut, and Ichabod boards with the families of the school children, rotating to a new house every week.

The narrator hastens to tell us that above all else, and in spite of his high degree of education, Ichabod loves ghost stories. His favorite book is “History of New England Witch Craft” by Cotton Mather, a book which, I’m not actually sure if it’s a real work by Mather or if it was invented for this story. Cotton Mather, of course, was a very real person who helped persecute many women during the Salem Witch Trials. Luckily for Ichabod, he finds himself in good company, because Sleepy Hollow itself is said to have a “drowsy, dreamy” influence, with the whole area abounding superstitions and haunted spots. One of Ichabod’s favorite things to do is spend long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives of Sleepy Hollow’s population of Dutch housewives, who plie him with roasted apples and tales of

ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or Galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!

Romantically, Ichabod is after the hand of 18-year-old Katrina Van Tassell, the daughter of a wealthy farmer whose estate is outside of the village.

Like all protagonists, Ichabod has an arch nemesis: Abraham Van Brunt, or as he’s known to the town, Brom Bones. Where Ichabod can impress Katrina with his erudition, Brom is 100% pure himbo -- handsome, athletic, an expert horseman, and good-natured if a bit arrogant (or so thinks Ichabod) with a propensity for practical jokes, especially on the aforementioned schoolteacher, who has no sense of humor whatsoever. Brom is Ichabod’s single biggest obstacle to attaining Katrina’s hand, and is Ichabod’s perfect antagonist -- outside of the headless horseman, that is.

I don’t want to jump too far ahead in the story, but it’s not exactly a spoiler to tell you that on the way home from a harvest party at the Van Tassells, Icahbod encounters the Horseman. The unintended hero of the entire story, as far as I’m concerned, is the horse that Ichabod takes to that party and tries to escapes the horseman on. It’s an old stallion borrowed from Hans Van Ripper, the farmer who’s currently boarding Ichabod. The horse is

a broken-down plow-horse, that had outlived almost everything but its viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck, and a head like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder.

Ichabod taking an ancient, disagreeable horse to the Van Tassells hoping to make a splashy entrance and impress Katrina highlights Ichabod’s intrinsic & inescapable outsiderness-slash-unintended goofiness. It also provides several hilarious narrative moments later on when Gunpowder won’t heed Ichabod’s commands while they’re both in a panicked escape from the Horseman.

After reading about Ichabod’s unintended ride out of terror, I was reminded of Robert Burns’s poem Tam O’Shanter and its titular character. Tam and Crane have a lot of things in common, including a certain arrogance, brought into relief by their authors as dramatic irony -- and, of course, their heroic steeds.

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

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Night at the Museum | Adam Milligan x Reader

Prompt: Family

Fandom: Supernatural

Words: 2230

A/N: Wasn’t feeling well for a few days (still don’t but oh well), so here’s yesterday’s story prompt. This is a continuation of [True Winchester Fashion]. I’ll have today’s prompt up later.

The cases were getting more confusing with each passing day. One incident looked clearly to be the work of a vampire, the next is a witch, and another a werewolf. All in one town in the span of two weeks. Sam and Dean gathered in Adam’s apartment, their things scattered on the medium sized Ikea dining table.

Adam had been checking up on you every now and again, and you appreciated it, which was why he was the first person you thought of when something bad happened again. You had been working in the museum after hours when you heard noises coming from one of the exhibits under construction.

“Larry?” you called out to one of the security guards in the walkie talkie.

“Everything alright, (Y/n/n)?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, just thought I heard something from the west wing.”

“I’ll check with surveillance and have someone stick with you until you go home if you want.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You went back to finish sorting through the bookstacks, a small hand radio softly playing nineties music on one of the desks.Twenty minutes later, you were finished with one large stack and deciding to call it a night. You checked your phone and realized how late it got. Looking sound, you had assumed that one of the security guards were guarding the library entrance, but no one was there.

“Larry?” you said through the walkie talkie. You waited, hearing nothing but static. “Larry? Bill?”

You grabbed your things, stuffing a thick and old leather bound book in your bag, and clutched the walkie talkie close to you as you closed up. With every sound or movement you thought you saw in the corner of your eye, you would try to contact the security guards again.

Whenever you had seen these types of situations on screen, you always thought of how foolish that person was for being in a building after hours, alone at night. But, you had always felt safe in the museum. The staff was friendly and the security guards were caring and protective. The fact that none of them were answering was worrying. You thought back to the night that your friend died, your heart racing in your chest as you try to make one last call out before leaving.

“Larry?” you tried again as you made your way towards the exits.

You waited. Static. Then tried again. There was an echo of your voice from a walkie talkie nearby. You turned, but saw no one. You squeezed the walkie talkie, pressing the button one more time without saying anything. You heard the noise again, looking around the dimly lit room and spotted the walkie talkie lying on the ground next to a pool of dark liquid.

You forgot to breathe as you rushed out of the building, your back feeling vulnerable as you jogged to your car. Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the doors and climbed in, locking them again as soon as you sat down, then started the engines.

This was a small town, so you had always tried to stay out of trouble or else the entire town would know about it. Meaning, not once had you gone above the speed limit, in fear that your parents’ friend and classmate gave you a ticket and then they would never stop bringing up the one ticket you ever had and how you disappointed them. This time, however, a ticket and frustrations was not as scary as the possibility of getting murdered.

Once you were locked away in your apartment, you sat in your bathtub and called Adam.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asked.

You let out a long breath, wanting to steady your heartbeat. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why this is happening,” you whimpered, “I didn’t know what to do, I just… i needed to talk to someone to calm down.”

“Okay, we can do that. Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek as you tried to make sense of the past events. “I think… I think something happened to the security guards at the museum. I panicked. I didn’t get a good look, but I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. Am I being silly?”

“No, of course not,” Adam assured you, “Listen, I’m in contact with those feds that came by that night at the bar. I’ll go speak to them and see that they can look into it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Adam. I’m sorry for bothering you-”

“You’re not bothering me. I want you to be safe.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “I, uh, I’m gonna call a coworker and see if she can notify the police of what happened. Can you… can you come over?”

“Yeah, sure. Just text me your address.”

Adam hung up, clenching his jaw as he pictured you at home, too afraid to even go outside after what’s been going on around town. You didn’t deserve to deal with all of this. Whoever or whatever is killing people will have to face the Winchesters for what they’ve done.

He walked out to the living room and slumped down in a chair next to his brothers. Sam noticed his tired expression, wordlessly passing a can of beer to him. Adam nodded in thanks, popping it open and taking a swig.

“What’s up?” Dean said, looking up from his laptop screen.

“Something’s going on at the museum and I want to go and check it out,” Adam said.

“What, like a Night at the Museum thing or like a new contemporary modern art exhibit with canvases that just have random splashes of paint worth thousands of dollars kind of thing?”

Adam frowned, thinking back to cases in the past few weeks and how they were connected. You were always nearby when they happened. He stood up and grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“I don’t know. The police are heading over there right now. I’m gonna go and check on (Y/n).”

“Right. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dean teased.

“So do everything except eating healthy?”

Adam shut the door behind him before Dean could retort. The oldest brother shook his head.

“What an asshole. Where the hell does he get it from?”

Sam gave him a pointed look, then turned his attention back to his research as he cleared his throat.

Sam and Dean had arrived at the museum, flashing their badges and speaking with the sheriff. They had found one surviving security guard who was knocked unconscious while the rest who were on duty had been killed.

“Anyone else was here during that time?” Dean asked the museum’s director.

She shrugged. “Usually some curators, conservators, and one or two archivists. Everyone’s been working hard to get the new exhibit up and running, which is why we usually have more than one security guard on duty.”

“Exhibit?”

The director’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. We’re doing something fun this year and diving into myths, legends, and magic. These stories have contributed to our history and we’ve wanted to do something different. We even had a few donors who’ve had records and items from the Salem witch trials-”

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look. “When did these donors come in?” Sam asked.

She tapped her chin and hummed. “About two weeks ago? Oh, dear. You don’t think someone would kill for these items, do you?”

Sam offered her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure out who did this. In the meantime, I suggest postponing the exhibit.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Mind if we check the exhibit? You know, just to make sure nothing was stolen.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Follow me.”

The director led them to the back where they stored the items and displays, leaving them for a moment to retrieve the inventory list. Her heels echoed through the spacious warehouse until she reached the back. She frowned at the list, going back and forth between the opened crates.

“Oh, dear, there’s something missing,” she muttered, “Oh, I see. It must have been one of the historians or the archivists. Usually they’d make a note of it, though. They know not to leave the building with any of the items here.”

Dean asked for the list, which she readily handed over. She pointed at the missing item, a thick leather bound book with a metal lock on it. He flipped through the pages, looking for a picture of the book before handing it back.

“Are there cameras in the warehouse?”

Adam pulled up in front of your building, double checking the address and apartment number. He climbed out and immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Be careful,” Michael said to him, “There’s something here. Get to your friend quickly.”

“Why do you think they’re all after (Y/n)?” Adam asked, speed walking towards the steps.

Michael paused for a moment. “There must be something they’re not telling us.”

Adam knocked on your door and waited a beat. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door followed by two locks clicking open. You poked your head through the door, opening it wider when you saw that it was Adam. He walked in, watching as you relocked the door and made your way towards the couch.

You slumped against the arm rest, burying your face in your hands. “This is all my fault,” you mumbled.

“What do you mean?” He slowly sat next to you, eyes scanning the room before looking back at you.

“I knew better than to take the book, but… I don’t know what I was thinking. It was almost like it was telling me to take it. Because of me, Rachel is dead. And so is Larry and Billy.” You rubbed your face hard, tears falling out before you could do anything about it.

“(Y/n)), start from the beginning. What book?”

You got up on shaky legs to retrieve your bag from your room. Reaching over to your desk, a bang from the window startled you. A shriek escaped your lips, heart threatening to follow after. Adam rushed over, wrapping a protective arm around you. He narrowed his eyes at the window but saw nothing. He led you back to the couch where you handed him your bag.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a heavy leather bound book with a padlock holding it closed. In closer inspection, the leather material may not be leather at all, just that it was dyed and weathered to look like it. With one quick look, Adam could easily identify it as some kind of grimoire.

“Where did you get this?” Adam asked.

“The museum,” you said, wrapping your arms around your knees as you curled up again, “The director needed someone who spoke Latin to help translate some of the pages. The historian that usually does it is away, so that left me, though I can’t translate quite as well as the historian, the director insisted that I translate it as soon as possible… Now that I think about it, it seems all ridiculous. I don’t know why I listened.” You shook your head. “I guess I was too scared of losing my job, but I didn’t really realize until I translated the first few pages how dangerous it was.”

“What does it do?”

“I didn’t think that it was real! I just thought… I didn’t know…”

“(Y/n),” Adam said more gently.

You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “It… apparently it has a spell that draws in all creatures within the vicinity, as if it was a beacon. It sounds crazy-”

“(Y/n), trust me. This is not crazy.” Adam inspected the book before putting it down on the coffee table. “Those feds that you met at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

You nodded.

“Well, they’re my brothers…. And they’re not feds. They…. My family comes from a line of hunters,” Adam began to explain.

“Hunters are quite different from brewery owners,” you muttered, trying to lift your mood up.

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, they hunt everything that goes bump in the night and then some. They’re the best at what they do and they’re looking into what’s been happening around town. They can help you with the book, (Y/n).”

You huffed out a laugh and shook your head at the situation you brought yourself into. “That’s great, but is there anything else that you failed to tell me?”

Adam looked down and smiled. “The, uh, the notes from micro lab? I didn’t need them. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Adam, if you’re lying to make me feel better about endangering the entire town-”

“I’m serious!”

There was another thud at the window closest to the living room. You jumped, your eyes immediately landing on that cursed book lying among your stained coasters, ripped envelopes and spare rubber bands. The cursed book that started all of this. It shook with each thud that hit the window, a tall dark shadowy figure standing on the other side of the curtained window. You covered your ears as Adam stood, quickly texting Sam and Dean to hurry over.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I won’t let anything happen to you.”

#WritersMonth2020 #adam milligan x reader #adam milligan #supernatural #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn imagines #adam winchester

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samfukutakiwitchclassblog · 3 years

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Salem (2014) Pilot

Watching the Salem Pilot episode compared with what we have learned in class was an entertaining experience to say the least. The show portrays Salem from a horror perspective, utilizing gore and jump scares. In this essence, I actually believe the show unintentionally mocks the experiences of those who lived through the events. While the witch hunts and craze are justified in the show due to the existence of witches who summon the power of demons to inflict evil, in reality, there were no witches and the hanging of those accused were tragic events.

The show features some familiar names, although the characters are warped from their historical counterparts. Mary Sibley was the wife of Samuel Parris, not George, and was mainly known for having Tituba bake the witch cakes. She played a relatively minor role in events that took place. Based on the first episode, the character Mary may easily be the villain, using spectral attacks and familiars alongside other dark magic. Tituba is in fact the witch who teaches Mary witchcraft, and her accent is very English compared to what I expected from the literature.

John Alden plays Mary Sibley’s love interest, when during this time he should have been an old man. When he comes back from the war, three people have been hung already. He is friends with Giles Corey who, true to popular lore (though maybe not historical accuracy), calls for more stones as he is pressed to death. The event is quick instead of lasting over a day.

Cotton Mather appears to be a hero as he attempts to help Mercy and solve the witch problem. He is quick to believe spectral evidence when in reality Mather was skeptical. He preaches Puritan ideology, but does not follow it himself. In this world, a brothel exists in Salem (somehow), and Cotton Mather is not even slightly discreet as he leaves it and bumps into Alden.

Overall, having learned about these events and people in class, I had a good laugh watching the episode. It does not do the witch trials justice, but the purpose of the show caters more to thriller fans than historians. Watching it gave me a similar feel to Game of Thrones with the sexuality, brothels, magic, pining love, and darkness of it. The show does seem to undermine female empowerment since the only females with power are witches and they use this power for evil.

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allicekitty13 · 3 years

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Daughter Of The Moon: Chapter 3

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Jasper led Alice down a long hall lit only by candelabras that hung from the walls. She spotted various paintings of men and women, including one of Esme and a large group portrait featuring all of the faces she'd seen in the house and then some. All the figures donned black clothing with their head covered in either a hat or hoods. It had taken her a moment to register what and who she was looking at because of this. A woman in the back row of the portrait seemed eerily familiar. However, Jasper didn't give her much time to examine the decor, gently explaining there would be time for a tour later as he placed a hand on her back, guiding her further down the hall. The pair descended a staircase and ventured outdoors.

The garden they entered was merely a small portion of a large expansive outdoor space. Gorgeous arrangements of flowers decorated every corner, and at the center, a small pond with an ornate fountain decorated in crystals sat in the center. Twinkling lights with no discernable source floating around the fountain illuminated the area, effectively creating a majestic atmosphere and filling Alice with a sense of wonder.

"It's a simple light spell," Jasper spoke up, causing Alice to look away from the orbs to see him standing sheepishly off to the side, still with that nervous expression. "I could teach you if you'd like."

"You'd do that?" She turned fully to face the man, an elated smile bursting across her face. She hadn't expected him to be so immediately open, she'd hoped for guidance, of course, but his offering to teach her something when they'd hardly spoken yet had her so excited Alice felt as though she could float.

"Yeah, of course." He responded, smiling at her warmly, seeming to relax slightly as he took a few steps closer to her position near the lights. However, he suddenly stopped in his tracks turning around to face the house with an annoyed glare. Following his gaze to a window on the second floor, Alice was able to spot Emmett, the blonde woman from earlier, and a red-headed girl squeezed together intently, watching the pair in the garden below.

Jasper, who was now shaking his head at the group, raised a hand, flicking his wrist to the side, causing the curtains to slam shut in the faces of their onlookers.

"So, what was that all about?" Alice asked, amused by the display.

"Some of the members of this coven can be a bit nosey."

"Oh," She laughed a bit uncomfortably, "What exactly were they expecting to see?"

Jasper stiffened at the question reverting to the rigid nervous position he'd held before their short interaction over the lights. A light pink tinge began to spread across his cheeks as he stared intently at the fountain, spraying water over the pond. "So," He finally spoke after a moment, clearly looking to change the subject. "Emmett said you had some questions for me?"

"Oh!" Alice was quickly reminded of the entire reason she was there in the first place. It had been so easy to forget once out in the garden, surrounded by such wonder and beauty. It had felt natural, as though this was where she was meant to be. Standing there, watching the lights with Jasper, should have been overwhelming; it should have been a complete culture shock. She should have felt starstruck around the man, she had at first back in the lounge with Esme. But those feelings had melted away quickly, leaving Alice feeling at ease. Of course, at some point, though, they had to get down to business.

"Emmett thought maybe you would have some ideas on how I could safely practice and develop my magic safely... considering my situation." Alice trailed off at the end of the sentence in confusion. Jasper looked at her with pity, a sympathetic sadness clouding his green eyes.

"He didn't tell you, did he." It came as a resigned statement rather than a question. Alice shook her head slowly, indicating that whatever it was Emmett was meant to tell her had been a subject he'd avoided.

"Of course he didn't," Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Leave it to the class clown to avoid the big blows."

A sinking feeling began to develop in the pit of Alice's stomach as she took in Jasper's stance, as well as his tone, both conveying the message that whatever he had to tell her wasn't good news. "What, um... What do you mean?" Her voice came out shaky, fearful of whatever information the man was about to drop.

Taking in a deep breath, Jasper closed his eyes as he thought over how to break the news delicately; he seemed to arrive at a conclusion as he nodded at a marble bench facing the fountain indicating that Alice should take a seat. Feeling woozy, she quickly obliged. "What do they say about me?" He opened, looking down at her tentatively from his still standing position, his posture straight hands clasped behind his back. "I'm assuming my escape caused enough of a commotion to reach the top of the chain."

"Yeah, you're um... kind of a big deal. Like I legitimately had an entire lecture in class about you yesterday. You're on the most wanted witches list, do not approach status. And I..." She hesitated, wondering if bringing up Maria was a bad decision, not wanting to reopen old wounds. Yet, she wanted to be honest, to lay all her cards on the table. "I know Maria personally."

Jasper looked away from her, fear in his eyes at the mention of the name. "Hey no, see, here's the thing." She moved her hair so that it covered only her right shoulder, exposing her witch's mark. She pointed to it as she continued. "This thing gives me a unique perspective. I've always wondered what your side of the story is... I mean..." A blush swept over her cheeks, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. "If you're willing to share, of course."

"I hale from the south," He began, leaving no question as to his willingness to share. "I'm sure you've been taught about the state of things in that region."

Jasper looked to Alice as though questioning if more explanation on that statement would be necessary. Alice nodded to indicate that she knew very well what life for a witch hunter was like in the southern portion of the country. At the academy, geography was less of a class on the layout of the world and more and instruction on the practices of the various hunter's associations. Living in Salam, where their headquarters were located, as well as being the leader's daughter, allowed Alice even more insight.

Alice had no questions about the intensity of the situation. She was fully aware that during the Salem witch trials, while most accusations were false, vast amounts of actual witches fled south for safety. Of course, it hadn't taken long for hunters to catch on, taking the battle with them and leaving what history knew of the situation in Massachusetts.

In the present day, it was still a bloodbath, daily casualties occurring on both sides. Hunters in the region were highly skilled, applied vigorous training in their academies, and only accepting the highest-scoring applicants to their ranks. Leader's in those states going so far as to keep an eye on grades nationwide. Even at her young age, Alice's own sister was being scouted for a position in Lousiana at the heart of the conflict.

The nod seemed to be sufficient information for Jasper as he continued recounting his tale. "My mark appeared in my pre-teen years, on my shoulder. I thought I was lucky; it's an easy enough place to keep it hidden. I decided to play my cards carefully, continuing to train to the best of my ability until I could make an escape. I focused all my energy on being at the top of my class, partly to prevent suspicion as well as to have an edge in defending myself were I ever found out."

Jasper paused a moment, staring intently into Alice's eyes as though he wanted to drive the next points of the story home. "I'm glad I did because one day, during a particularly intense sparring match, my shirt ripped, revealing my mark. The very second everyone in the room realized what they were seeing, I was immediately, viciously attacked. My own friends, my family... The hunter's creed runs thicker than blood; it doesn't matter to them who you are, what kind of person you are. If you have the mark, they will kill you."

Alice felt her throat tighten as realization took hold. Jasper didn't need to continue, Alice was a quick learner, and his point was clear. Sooner or later, she would slip up, be it carelessness or an event outside her control, whether it be carelessness or an event outside her control. It wasn't of a question of if she would be found out. It was a question of when. Considering her grades and resulting lack of combat skills, she would be a goner.

"I have to leave," She looked up at him. "I have to leave as soon as possible, don't I."

"For what it's worth," His words came with sincere sympathy, "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to leave your entire world behind."

Alice leaned back against the bench, suddenly feeling woozy; she'd known what Jasper had meant with his story. Yet to hear it confirmed had caused her to feel like the world was spinning out from under her. Leaving had been her dream for so long, but now it was all happening so fast. There were so many questions floating through her mind flittering through so fast she struggled to focus on just one. How could she do this safely? What was she supposed to do? Would Esme allow Alice into her coven, or would she have to strike it out on her own. Being associated with Edgar made Alice a relatively prominent figure; people would come looking for her.

Alice hadn't realized she was crying until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder in a sort of half-hug. "Hey," She looked up to see Jasper had taken a seat next to her on the bench. "It's going to be okay. I know it's terrifying; I've done it before. But we're going to make a plan we'll get you out safely without a fight. I promise."

"We?"

"Alice," He chuckled lightly, a comforting sound that Alice couldn't help but smile at despite everything. "You're one of us. Esme would never leave a witch behind, and I would never want to see you go through what I did. I was lucky; most of us born into the society don't make it out. But I swear to you I'm not going to let that be you."

"Thank you," Alice choked out between shaking breaths as she wiped at her tears with the long sleeves of her sweater. She was still terrified, but Jasper's tone and presence made her feel safer, more calm. She may have only just met the man, but she believed every word he uttered. "How do we move forward? Where do we go from here?"

"Well, let's start by introducing you to your new brothers and sisters?" Jasper removed his arm from where it rested around Alice's shoulder, and she found herself immediately missing his warmth and held out a hand that she gladly took.

Jasper led her back inside, never releasing her hand as he guided her through the main rooms of the enormous house. Inside a room on the ground floor, they found Emmett sitting on a couch with the blonde woman who was disinterestedly watching him play video games. Upon their entrance, Emmett paused his game and stood to offer Alice a hug. She released Jasper's hand for the first time since taking it in the garden to accept the sign of affection from the man who had quickly become her friend.

The blonde woman was quick to introduce herself as Rosalie, Esme's apprentice who would take over the duties as coven leader one day. Emmett went on to make sure Alice was okay after her conversation with Jasper in the garden knowing full well the subject matter discussed. Their conversation was cut short by Jasper, who had been having a silent discussion with Rosalie held only via facial expressions and eye-contact.

"We should move on with the tour Alice." The tall man spoke in a tone of mild annoyance, reaching once again for Alice's hand. The small action causing Rosalie to let out an exasperated huff as she turned back to Emmett and his playthrough of Skyrim.

Jasper lead her back into the hallway, remaining quiet and tense as indicated by the slight scowl he now wore. Alice wanted to ask about his interaction with Rosalie, wondering why it had left him in such a sour mood. She felt, though, that it was none of her business as she had only just met the man. It wasn't her place to go prying into his personal matters, especially when he'd already been so forthcoming about his past. So she bit her tongue as she thought about the nervous glances the man had kept sending her way throughout the duration of that silent conversation.

"You alright?" Jasper asked, pulling Alice from her curious thoughts. He'd halted their tour in front of yet another of the numerous doors of the enormous house. "You've been quiet, and you're holding my hand like a vice."

"Just overwhelmed." She responded, trying to keep her voice light. Jasper didn't need to know she had been mentally analyzing his prior interaction with Rosalie. Besides, her response was partially truthful. The night had been quite a lot to take in.

"We can do this another time... if you want to go back home and process all of this."

"No, I'll be fine. The sooner we get through everything the better right? Emergency evacuation plans and all that."

Jasper nodded in silent agreement and proceeded to guide her through the door he'd stopped in front of. On the other side was a large well-stocked kitchen lit brightly by the shining in through large floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the well cared for garden Alice and Jasper had been sitting in earlier in the evening. Standing at a granite counter, chopping vegetables, stood a smiling blonde man.

"Carlisle," Jasper nodded to the man, something Alice was beginning to notice was a common habit of his. "Meet Alice."

The man, Carlisle apparently, wiped his hands on a nearby towel before crossing the room to shake her hand. "I'm happy to finally make your acquaintance Miss Brandon.

"Carlisle is Esme's husband," Jasper informed. "He's also an expert in healing magic."

"I would love to learn more about that subject someday, sir."

"Please, Alice, call me Carlisle; we're all family here. As much as I'd like to sit down and get to know you, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Once you're more settled, I would be glad to speak to you about my practice." With that, Carlisle returned to his cooking.

The final room Jasper directed Alice to was an expansive library easily rivaling the size of any she'd seen on the hunter's base. Shelves filled with countless books lined the walls. Alice, knowing those volumes would hold the information she'd been looking for, found herself excited at the prospect of one day having the opportunity to devour every text.

In the far left corner of the woman with fiery red hair, Alice had caught a glimpse of from the window back in the garden sat studiously in front of a piano tapping away at a classical piece. Jasper pointed over to her as he spoke in a hushed tone. "That girl over there is Edythe; it's best not to disturb her while she's practicing.

It was the other inhabitant of the room, however, who caught Alice's attention. She instantly recognized the woman sitting at a table, paging through a book as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her fingers. It was a sight Alice was all too familiar with as this exact woman had been the one to help guide her through the academy library in her search for information.

Although new questions sprang through her mind, old inquiries suddenly made complete sense. Of course, Bella had bought her flimsy excuses and hadn't alerted any superiors in their organization. Her loyalties didn't lie with hunters; she was one of the witches.

"You!" Alice exclaimed, dropping Jasper's hand to make her way over to the table. "You're the librarian, from the academy!"

"Yes, I'm a scout for the coven," Bella responded as she closed her book, carefully placing a scrap of paper between the pages to make her spot. "I keep an eye on things from the inside and relay the information I dig up on your people back to Esme. It's one of the ways we stay one step ahead. I'm glad to finally speak with you without a cover. You have no idea how many times I just wanted to spill."

"That's amazing," Alice found herself in awe of the woman. "You've got such a dangerous job."

"It is, but it's an important one, so I'm glad to do it."

It was at that moment the large grandfather clock in the back of the room chimed three times, signaling that it was now three in the morning. As much as Alice wanted to stay and continue talking to Bella if she wanted to get any sleep before school tomorrow, it was time to go home.

#Jalice #Twilight #alice cullen #Jasper Hale

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caoscompanion · 4 years

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Episode Summary: Sabrina must deal with the aftermath of her decision to leave her dark baptism. She is summoned by the coven and Blackwood, who are suing her for breaking her promise. Zelda and Hilda are also affected and lose their powers during the trial. Sabrina hires a mortal lawyer who specializes in witch law to help her win the trial. Madam Satan does everything in her power to manipulate Sabrina. As the trial continues, Blackwood is adamant that Sabrina must sign her name in the Book of the Beast as her father promised she would days after she was born. However, Hilda provides evidence that Sabrina had received a Catholic baptism prior to her father’s agreement, which shocks Blackwood and the council. In the end, they offer Sabrina a deal —to remain in the mortal world while also attending The Academy of the Unseen Arts. Hilda is excommunicated for her role as a witness in Sabrina’s Christian baptism. Meanwhile, Ambrose seeks to learn more about the warlock he thinks was killed by witch hunters.

First Appearances: Mr Garland is mentioned as the Literature teacher. Ms Curtis is seen in her role as librarian. Daniel Webster, a lawyer with a specialism in Witch Law, rumoured to have once beaten the devil himself. Tommy Kinkle. Mr Kinkle. Luke Chalfant

Music: Dead End - Kaviar Special , Wild woman- Sleep Machine, Blood in the Cut- K.Flay

Pop Culture: The book Ros wishes to do her report on , and is ‘unofficially’ banned by the schoo, is The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Daniel Webster is also the name of the titular character of the film ‘The Devil and Daniel Webster’ which is about a man who sells his soul to the devil and Daniel, a fictional version of the real lawyer, defends him.

Deaths: Connor Kemplar’s lizard. We also have Connor’s funeral.

Baxter High Antics:

They discover a list of books that are unofficially banned, and that in recent past there was a ‘soft purge’ of ‘bad books’. W.I.C.C.A starts campaigning agains this, ‘making their voices heard’, and begin handing out the list of books Baxter High doesn’t permit.

We also learn Ros is going blind.

Lilith starts a secret banned-titles-only book club for W.I.C.C.A

New locations: The Desecrated Church,

Random Facts: Hawthorne, Wardwell and Putnam are all surnames from the Salem Witch Trials

Spellman History:

Daniel Webster knew Edward Spellman and Zelda claims Daniel was a ‘hanger on’. He was the reason Daniel came to Greendale in the first place, he comforted him after the loss of his daughter and was the one to teach him Witch Law. This implies Edward hung out with mortals frequently and revealed his identity to them, not just to Diana.

Hilda and Zelda are certified midwives and they delivered Sabrina.

Edward and Diana:

Edward signed Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast when she was a baby, while Diana secretly baptised her at a Catholic Church the day before. Diana took Hilda as witness, Edward took Zelda.

Edward gained the Dark Lord’s permission to marry Diana by promising him the soul of their first born child.

Relationships: Luke and Ambrose have sex. Sabrina and Harvey strip down together in the woods in the search for a witch’s mark (it is later confirmed they did not sleep together).

Reading Materials: Lilith hand-makes a scrap book of newspaper articles related to Daniel Webster

Mortals meet magic: We learn that 8 years ago when Harvey was in the mines, he saw the Dark Lord at the gates of Hell.

DIALOGUE:

“I accompanied Edward into the Greendale Wood, in his arms he carried his newborn daughter, Sabrina. When we reached a clearing he placed the babe on an altar and signed her name in the Book of the Beast, promising her soul to the Dark Lord” Zelda Spellman

‘There’s always a trick. And a price” Daniel Webster

“Don’t follow me, don’t wait for me; just get her to the court. You’re not the only one with secrets, Zelda Spellman” - Hilda Spellman

“No, I’ll tell you what’s outrageous; the Dark Lord’s behaviour’ Sabrina Spellman

“It’s always brute force with you men, isn’t it? But real corruption is a thin subtle blade” - Lilith

#p1e3 #p1e3 fact sheet #fact sheets #summary #p1e3 summary #appearances #music #pop culture #deaths #baxter high #random facts #spellman history #edward and diana #familiars #relationships #dialogue #p1e3 dialogue

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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The TRUE Story Behind The Witch (2015) And The 7 Most Haunted Places In Salem That You Gotta Know About

Elizabeth was only 9 years old when she started having seizures.

The daughter of Reverend Samuel Parris - a prominent figure in the Purian community in 1692 - also experienced a series of other illnesses doctors determined was not down to the typical diseases that haunted Salem Village, Massachusetts.

This was witchcraft.

One month later and 3 women were charged with witchcraft. Tituba, one of the accused, would go on to aid the authorities in their hunt for these devious and dangerous women. A group of women, some men, and even a child that had barely reached the age of four were also put on trial for their alleged crimes.

By the time the Salem witch trials had ceased in May 1693, over 200 had been accused of selling their souls to Satan. 30 were executed.

264 years later, and the first five victims of the witch trials were absolved. During the following 50 years, those that were hung or crushed to death were exonerated, confirming that this was a case of historic mass religious hysteria and had no basis in reality.

This was not witchcraft.

But that’s not to say Salem isn’t the victim of supernatural forces. In fact, legend has it the accused women, men, and children never left their home.

It’s the history haunting America - and the spirits that followed in its wake - that would go on to inspire one of the most celebrated horror films of the 2010s: The VVitch (2015).

So - wouldst thou like to live deliciously?

First, Let’s Recap The Plot Of The VVitch

Also known as The Witch or The VVitch: A New England Folktale, this is a supernatural horror film set in 1630s New England. It follows a Puritan family excluded from the community due to a religious dispute who encounter mysterious evil forces supposedly caused by a local witch.

We see the family build a secluded farmhouse next to a suspicious, ominous dark wood. The matriarch of the family gives birth, and the child goes missing. The family believe that a witch has taken it for witchcraft purposes and begin to grow suspicious of their eldest daughter, Thomasin.

Her brother, Caleb, then goes missing in the woods, too. He encounters the witch firsthand but returns - although he starts exhibiting strange behaviour. More weird things happen, like the young twins of the family forget how to pray and start chatting to the family’s goat, Black Phillip.

It all culminates in the dying scenes of the film when Black Phillip - yep, the goat - asks Thomasin if she would like to ‘live deliciously’ and transforms into a mysterious figure clad in black. He asks her to sign a book, and she wanders off to the local coven with no clothes on.

*End scene*

Although the film is renowned for its twisting and turning plot, for its psychological depth, and for its unique cinematographic take on a period put behind the camera so many times, the authenticity goes much further than the Shakespeare-esque dialogue.

Robert Eggers, the writer, personally based the first off his frequent visits to Plimouth plantation as a child. His team exclusively worked with British and American museums - as well as carpenters and thatchers with experience of 17th century construction - to create a scene and a storyline directly taken from real historical sources.

There was no artificial lighting on set. The casting took place in England. The official movie posters adopted the Jacobean spelling ‘VVitch’ often emblazoned on pamphlets from the 17th century.

What we see when we finally peek from behind our hands looks and sounds real. And scarier still, the plotline fits neatly within the history of the era.

So, How Accurate Is The Film To The Actual Salem Witch Trials?

You don’t need to have studied history to know the basics of the witch trials: the witch hunts - especially the one that took place in Salem - have always been under the camera lens, from Hocus Pocus to Sabrina The Teenage Witch.

But as opposed to other light-hearted comedies and must darker, historical narratives, The VVitch blends the historical reality and the folk stories native to the era. This is what the communities believed. And this is what Eggers made sure was conveyed until the closing credits.

The suspicion of Thomasin is the first flag of the film’s historical authenticity. Okay, fine, Eggers didn’t need to do too much research to showcase that the witch hunts were mainly against women, but what he does demonstrate is that it was mainly middle aged women who often accused other women of the crime. Thomasin’s mother, Katharine, fits the bill.

Thomasin was associated with such anxiety from her parents because women were deemed weaker physically and thus spiritually. Cases of possession were higher with women because Puritans believed the Devil could access their bodies easier and thus manipulate them into becoming their servants.

We also witness the ominous threat of the nearby wilderness. Even today we are convinced the woods, the forests, and all other dark and shadowy places contain mysterious beasts. Slender Man is just one example of the many legendary creatures we trace back to our instinctive fear of such places.

This conveniently ties in to the entire premise of the movie - a premise which is hidden to the viewers but open to their subconscious: it is the fear of the Other.

The film is set up when the family have a religious disagreement with the community and are effectively sent away (this was pretty common in the 17th century). As they begin to rebuild their lives elsewhere, we see their faith pitted against everything that lies outside of their religion. From the get-go, the family enter Satan’s world.

Each member is picked off one-by-one.

Another feature of the film that is uncomfortably realistic is that of the familiars.

“A Toad. A Cat. A Crow. A Raven. A Great Black Dog. A Wolf […] She Desires My Blood. She Sends Em Upon Me.”

- Caleb, Thomasin’s brother

Familiars are animals used by witches to do their bidding and were believed to suckle on a teat on the women’s body. This is referenced to by Caleb, and we also see it when a raven pecks at Katharine’s breast. Accused women were often shaved and searched for the teat and even though we don’t see this process, the references regarding the witch in the woods flush with the history.

The film ends with Thomasin signing a book laid out to her by Black Phillip. This does symbolise the literal signing of a ‘deal with the devil’ associated with witches, but what’s really interesting is that a book like this is actually referenced in history.

Tituba, the enslaved woman who was accused of being a witch, incited mass paranoia when she claimed she actually saw ‘the book’ used by the devil to agree deals with women during her inquisition. When they realised there was a book filled with names of local women, the accusations increased to ensure they could capture all the witches they believed existed.

The last thing we need to discuss is the first thing to raise suspicion in the film: when Samuel, the baby, goes missing.

According to 17th century lore, witches used to kill or use babies to help worship Satan or for their spells and rituals. We see examples of this in both The Conjuring and we see this in the Paranormal Activity universe, too

So we know that The VVitch provides us with direct insight into another era, and we know that it capitalises on real supernatural fears of the time. But according to some, the turbulence of the era and the victims of it never really left.

7 Most Haunted Places In Salem

#1 - Jonathan Corwin House

Also known as The Witch House, this is the last standing structure that is directly tied to the witch trials. It belonged to Judge Jonathon Corwin, a magistrate that had a powerful hand in the trials, and took over when the former judge resigned in protest over the sentencing to death of Bridget Bishop.

Effectively, he recharged the paranoia of the witch trials.

He first bought the house in 1675 and it followed his blood relatives until the 1800s. ‘Couple decades later and the Corwin house was restored to its former 17th century glory to host tours of the paranormal activity in Salem.

And the house itself is home to a wide range of supernatural phenomena.

Visitors often report cold spots and disembodied voices around the house. The Ghost Adventures crew also felt hands touch their arms, heard the voice of a child, and reported electrical equipment malfunctioning.

#2 - Joshua Ward House

This house might have been built in 1784 - that’s just shy of 100 years after the Salem witch trials - but it’s the land beneath the house that has given way to its spooky reputation. And one of Jonathon Corwin’s relatives had a hand in the paranormal activity here, too.

First constructed with brick by a sea captain, Joshua Ward, it includes some of the state’s oldest woodwork and it’s even seen famous residents during its former occupation as a hotel (including one George Washington). But most importantly, the foundation for George Corwin’s homestead (Jonathon’s nephew) once laid here.

This high sheriff used a variety of torture methods to get information out of the accused witches, from hot pokers to pressing stones. Unfortunately, Giles Corey didn’t survive the latter method, and was killed for refusing to plead guilty or not guilty. After Corwin himself died suddenly, his body was stored underneath his home to avoid desecration.

And so, legend has it both Corwin and Corey still haunt the location. A heavy feeling in the air is often reported, as is sightings of a ‘raven-haired’ woman. In fact, in 1981 a realtor took a photo of the house and captured this woman on camera.

Visitors also report hands choking them, weighty books being across the room, and candle wax dripping onto the floor - even though there are no lit candles in sight.

#3 - Giles Corey’s Grave

We already know Corey’s brutal death gave way to his haunting of Joshua Ward’s ex-crib. But according to legend, he also appears at his grave in Howard Cemetery when something terrible is about to happen.

In 1914, several eyewitnesses saw Corey’s ghost wandering around the cemetery (I mean, he could’ve given a bit more warning than that) shortly before the Great Salem Fire. It is believed his haunting lines up with his last words as he cursed the city and the sheriff.

The fire even started near Gallows Hill where his wife, Martha, was hung. The fire destroyed most of Salem.

#4 - Hawthorne Hotel

Sharing the same name as the author of The Scarlet Letter (a book that has personally haunted me since Sixth Form), Hawthorne was haunted by the acts of his uncle who never recanted his role in the trials. But the personal haunting by the actions of his uncle fails to compare to the actual haunting of the hotel.

And that’s because it sits upon the former orchard of Bridget Bishop, the first victim of the witch trials.

Guests of the hotel still smell the apples that once grew on the orchard. Other occurrences are reported, including mists, sounds, and poltergeists, but the activity is experienced most in rooms 325 and 612. Guests who have the misfortune of staying in these rooms feel ghostly hands and the cry of a phantom child, whereas those in the latter also awaken to a woman staring at them.

Nope, not creepy at all.

#5 - House of Seven Gables

First built in 1667, this house is best known for featuring in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The House of Seven Gables. It was passed through the Turner family until the family fortune was lost, and then it was passed to the Ingersolls, one of whom was a cousin of the famous author.

It soon became a local landmark for its literary affiliations but it then picked up acclaim for its paranormal activity: many visitors still spot Susanna Ingersoll, Hawthorne’s cousin, walking through the house and looking out the windows, and the friendly spirit of a child in the attic is also reported.

A man is also seen on the secret staircase in the house. Although the attic contains a cheerful spirit, many report feeling ill or dizzy there, and have a great sensitivity to this room.

Many also believe - including the families that owned it - that the evils associated with the witch trials caused the first owners to go bust. Heck, it was Susanna that actually inspired Hawthorne to add the ‘w’ to his name to separate himself from his uncle.

#6 - Old Salem Jail

The penultimate paranormal hotspot on this list is the local jail. While it might not necessarily be related to the witch trials, nor is it home to the spirits of the victims of the event, it has witnessed a similar amount of tragedies.

The correctional facility was the site of 50 hangings and was actually neighbouring on the land where Giles Corey was crushed to death. Built in 1813, it enjoyed 171 years as a facility before being closed in 1984 due to poor conditions.

Despite being abandoned for so many years and left to ruin, many see lights flicker inside even though there is no power there. Screams are also heard in the location. The most famous spirits attributed to this activity includes the ghosts of civil war soldiers.

During the civil war, soldiers were imprisoned here, and this explains why men wearing period soldier uniforms looking out of the windows are reported.

“several prisoners who spent time at the Essex County Correctional Institute said they shared a cell with long-gone inmates, or ‘residents’ as they were called in the ‘80s, from the Civil War era.”

- Sam Baltrusis, author of book of the paranormal activity in Salem

#7 - Gallows Hill

It’s the foreboding title of a location assumed to be the centre of Salem’s paranormal activity. But here's the thing: people don’t agree where the victims of the trials were hung.

In 2016, it was announced many of the victims of the witch trials died at Proctor’s Lodge. Nevertheless, local legends of the locations have abounded and claim the spirits of the accused still roam Gallow’s Hill.

Apparitions are often seen in the woods, and voices have been heard screaming into the night.

Rumours of the supernatural activity here grew so strong, nearly 200 people gathered from an array of churches in 1992 in an attempt to contain the dark energy they believed haunted the hill.

“The curse over Salem with witchcraft is broken.”

- they chanted this with their hands in the sky

What do you think?

Is Salem haunted by the evil witches slaughtered for their sins? Or by the innocent spirits searching for peace in the afterlife?

You tell me.

If you liked this post let me know by liking, reblogging, and hitting follow! And while you’re at it, make sure you check out the ultimate real ghost story collection at the peoplesparanormal.com

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