#The Bell Witch

[lilystargazerwhite]

i have two touhou style myth ideas!

bell witch

bumpass cove

they are from america in tennesee

EDIT: my drawing program deleted a whole layer so I had to reupload the drawing! It’s at the bottom now sorry :(

Bell witch is a tale that many might recognize but not know by name, as it’s the main inspiration for the movie “The Blair Witch Project.” The Bell witch is from early 1800s Tennessee, said to haunt the Bells, a farming family that lived next to red river. The witch responded favorably to the name of Kate, and primarily targeted the youngest child and the father. Her powers were listed as Shape shifting, invisibility, teleportation/super speed, create illusions and even inflict conditions like paralysis upon people. She was quite the gossip, very nosy and could recite things from across miles and miles seemingly instantly. Even though the witch seemingly hated the youngest child, constantly pinching,scratching and pulling her hair and saying her main goal was to Kill the father over time— she adored the Mother, even referring to her as “the most perfect woman to walk the earth” and had a pretty good relation with her. Of course, she eventually fulfilled killing the father and leaving the family for 7 years, returning to the youngest and her new family, but left soon after, disinterested.

Debate later speculates what the Witch actually was, if even a witch. Speculation includes a Native American spirit of vengeance (Like a Chindi), a hobgoblin, a biblical demon and even a genie. There was nothing clear, forever remains a mystery and a subject of fascination.

[rastronomicals]

7:41 AM EDT October 31, 2024:

Mercyful Fate - "The Bell Witch" From the album The Bell Witch (June 27, 1994)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

--

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Mercyful Fate - The Bell Witch

[mg549]

MAMMATUS CLOUD CITYYYYYYY

[doks-aux]

Fic Repost: In the Wee Small Hours

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Characters: Izzy Hands, Sam Bellamy, original cat character

Relationships: Sam Bellamy/Izzy Hands

Rating: PG-13/Teen

Contents/Warnings: Domestic fluff (with a brief and vague allusion to the Toe Incident and other Acts of Ed)

Summary: Izzy woke up alone.

Notes: Originally intended for No Angst November 2022 (prompt: warm drink) but not completed in time. Set in a post-canon, everyone-went-to-pirate-school-together-style AU; all you really need to know is Sam is Izzy's childhood friend, now-lover and Izzy has a cat. Post-Season 2 I've made edits to the original text to incorporate some elements of the updated canon.

Word Count: 1235

Read on AO3

--

Izzy woke up alone.

This wasn’t exactly unusual. He’d slept and woken alone most nights and their subsequent mornings since being appointed Blackbeard’s first mate and gaining the associated perks--namely, his own cabin and a berth he didn’t have to share with two other crewmates at minimum. Even accounting for the night’s when he’d opted for company, squeezing in next to Fang and Ivan belowdecks on the Queen Anne or more recently above deck on the Revenge, and for the bed-hogging mouser that had claimed a portion of his space for herself the past year, that was still the majority of the last decade or two that he’d spent waking alone. So, no, it wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.

It just wasn’t expected. He’d woken the past three mornings to Sam wrapped around him like a boa constrictor and drooling in his hair, and he’d had every presumption of doing so again today and each following day for the foreseeable future. The Revenge was currently sailing with the Whydah Gally en route to another of Edward and Bonnet’s harebrained “adventures,” giving Sam the excuse to hop over to the formers’ ship and stitch himself to Izzy’s side twenty-four hours a day (probably half the reason he’d been so encouraging of this little detour in the first place). It had become routine already: Izzy rising early and sliding himself out from under Sam’s comforting weight, leaving his lover to sleep another hour or so while he began the day, brewing himself coffee in the galley, and then stepping out on deck to relieve the night watch and enjoy the quiet break of dawn with only the cat at his heels for company.

It was downright domestic, and he’d quite gotten to like it. But today he was alone. No Sam at his side, no cat across his ankle, and only the blue-gray twilight outside his tiny window to let him know he hadn’t overslept.

He didn’t have time to be more than curious about it before the door to his cabin creaked open, years of conditioning (and more recent happenings) having him fully alert and clutching the knife under his pillow within the instant. A figure loomed tall in the doorway, staggering to a stop and clutching something close to its chest. It lifted its head to peer at Izzy through a tangle of long, black hair.

“...Sam.” Izzy sagged in relief, relaxing his grip on his knife and dropping his cheek against his pillow. “Fuck are you doing up?”

Sam, swaying listlessly, gave a full-body grunt at being addressed and shuffled stiff-legged into the room, escorted by Izzy’s errant feline. The Bell Witch chirruped merrily as she darted between Sam’s unsteady feet a few times just for the sport of it before leaping onto the bed and bumping her face insistently against Izzy’s.

“Right, alright, you little monster. Good morning.” Gently shoving the cat back, Izzy squirmed upright, kicking free of the blanket and swinging his thighs over the edge of the mattress to meet Sam as he reached the bedside, absently rubbing the stiffness from his residual leg. “And you. Did the Witch get you up? Never seen you conscious at this hour.” His gaze fell to the thing Sam held, unable to make it out by the still dim light. “What you got there?”

A softer grunt answered him this time, and Sam pressed forward, passing his prize into Izzy’s hands.

“C’rf’l,” he slurred, patting Izzy’s fingers as he wrapped them around the tin cup. “S’hot.”

The smell of fresh, strong coffee wafted up from their hands, and Izzy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Getting a better look at Sam’s face, it seemed “conscious” had been a generous assumption. His lover’s eyes were bleary and barely open, and he still wavered dangerously on his feet, half-awake at best. How he’d managed to make his way to the galley and back in this state, much less successfully make coffee, Izzy hadn’t the foggiest. Sam had never been an early bird. He’d acclimated to a sailor’s schedule by necessity and with no shortage of mulishness. Izzy recalled at least three separate mornings in their shared youth when the bosun had stormed in to personally flip Sam out of his hammock. Briefly reprieved of captainly duties while aboard the Revenge, he’d been reveling in sleeping in just that little bit more than he’d been able to in years.

But not today. Today he had woken up before even Izzy and dragged himself barely coherent down to the galley to make coffee. For Izzy. So that he wouldn’t have to.

Izzy looked down at the cup wrapped in his hands, at Sam’s hands wrapped around those, and swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat.

“...Thanks.”

It was all he could think to say in the moment, but it seemed enough for Sam.

“Mmm...” He bumped his face against Izzy’s much like the cat had and gave him a pleased smile. “...G’night.”

And then he turned and collapsed face-first into bed, asleep before he hit the pillow. The Bell Witch leapt out of the way with a yowl, turning in an indignant circle before hopping onto his bare back to begin pointedly kneading.

Izzy remained sitting at the edge of the bed, the heat from the coffee seeping steadily into his hands and up his arms, warming him to his chest. Or maybe it was staring at Sam that was doing it: dead to the world, hair caught in his half-open mouth, and the most beautiful man Izzy had ever seen.

The Izzy of a year ago would have been embarrassed (and the Izzy of later today might be as well) by how badly he was tempted to crawl back into bed with Sam, to tuck himself securely into the cradle of his body and sleep just a little more, indulge in his presence as long as he could. There was only so often they could be together, only so many excuses they could reasonably find for their ships to meet, so many detours they could make. And Izzy would need every moment he could steal with Sam to tide him over until the next one.

But work was work, and Buttons was expecting to be relieved. He’d be needing some sleep himself after a full night of whatever the fuck it was he and the moon got up to. Izzy was needed.

Maybe next time.

Taking a gulp of the still quite hot coffee, Izzy let it scald his mouth just enough to rouse him from his woolgathering and to his feet--one in the traditional place and the other set with care in easy reach. He dressed in the dark so as not to disturb Sam and lingered once more by the bed before leaving. The cat had made herself comfortable on Sam’s back, curled up and purring loudly as she blinked her one green eye at Izzy.

“Keep him warm for me, Bell,” Izzy said, smiling as she stretched up to meet the knuckles he gently ground against her scalp. He used the same hand to tug the hair from Sam’s mouth and bent to brush a kiss to his temple.

“See you after sunrise, Sammy.”

Closing the cabin door quietly behind him, Izzy took a slow, savoring drink of his coffee and headed above deck to watch the morning come in.

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

The Bells of Tennessee

Chapter 11: The Atchley’s Wake

[therosegoldbourdoir]

"In the realm of spooky legends and eerie tales, the Bell Witch stands tall as one of America’s most chilling specters. With its roots entangled in history, this paranormal entity has captured the imaginations of countless individuals over the years. As we venture into the twentieth entry of our top 31 series, let’s unravel the enigmatic lore behind The Bell Witch and explore its portrayal in the 2005 film, “An American Haunting.” Grab your flashlight; we’re in for a spine-tingling journey."

[demi-sev]

Day 27/31: "The Bell Witch"

In the southern part of Tennessee, there is a family legend that’s been around since the 18th/19th Century. A legend that is quite bizarre in a way that makes one question how this came to be. It had became a popular telling, so much so that the president during that time (Andrew Jackson) has heard of it.

According to this particular legend, it tells of the Bell family that has been terrorized by a supernatural presence believing to be the spirit of Kate Batts; A possible neighbor (and a alleged witch) that seems to take displeasure of the family due to feeling cheated from the land that was purchase. The spirit particularly has a great dislike towards John Bell and his Daughter Betsy. Therefore, tend to attack them more…

Another thing that this legend tells is that this particular witch spirit resides in a cave now called "The Bell Witch Cave". So if you do go to Tennessee and end up visiting the cave; beware of the presence of the Bell Witch.

Source:

- https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bell_Witch

[amythystraine]

The Bell Witch

Urban legend, or unsolved mystery -- What really happened to John  Bell? Who doesn't love a good ghost story, and when the ghost in question is also a witch, it just keeps getting better.  I was first introduced to this urban legend/unsolved mystery with the iconic movie starring Donald Sutherland and Sissy Spacek as John Bell and his wife Lucy.  Enjoy the video and come to your own conclusions; I know I have a couple conspiracy theories about The Bell Witch rolling around in my magickal mind.

[spiritsnstuff]

The Bell Witch

Urban legend, or unsolved mystery -- What really happened to John  Bell? Who doesn't love a good ghost story, and when the ghost in question is also a witch, it just keeps getting better.  I was first introduced to this urban legend/unsolved mystery with the iconic movie starring Donald Sutherland and Sissy Spacek as John Bell and his wife Lucy.  Enjoy the video and come to your own conclusions; I know I have a couple conspiracy theories about The Bell Witch rolling around in my magickal mind.

[colombian-necktie]

[lilystargazerwhite]

Bwahahahaha.

(Kate the bell witch as Beatrice from Umineko

[rastronomicals]

8:48 AM EDT October 29, 2024:

Mercyful Fate - "The Bell Witch" From the album In the Shadows (April 11, 1993)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

[strangerskies-wfiles]

June Journal: writing along Turnbull Creek and the Bell Witches

[doks-aux]

Fic: In the Wee Small Hours

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Characters: Izzy Hands, Sam Bellamy, original cat character

Relationships: Sam Bellamy/Izzy Hands

Rating: PG-13/Teen

Contents/Warnings: Domestic fluff (with a brief and vague allusion to the Toe Incident)

Summary: Izzy woke up alone.

Notes: Originally intended for No Angst November (prompt: warm drink), this ended up as the January entry for my self-imposed Flotilla Challenge. Set in a post-canon, everyone-went-to-pirate-school-together-style AU; all you really need to know is Sam is Izzy's childhood friend, now-lover and Izzy has a cat.

Word Count: 1210

Read on AO3

Read on Pillowfort

--

Izzy woke up alone.

This wasn’t exactly unusual. He’d slept and woken alone most nights and their subsequent mornings since being appointed Blackbeard’s first mate and gaining the associated perks--namely, his own cabin and a berth he didn’t have to share with two other crewmates at minimum. Even accounting for the night’s when he’d opted for company, squeezing in next to Fang and Ivan belowdecks on the Queen Anne or more recently above deck on the Revenge, and for the bed-hogging mouser that had claimed a portion of his space for herself the past year, that was still the majority of the last decade at least that he’d spent waking alone. So, no, it wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.

It just wasn’t expected. He’d woken the past three mornings to Sam wrapped around him like a boa constrictor and drooling in his hair, and he’d had every presumption of doing so again today and each following day for the foreseeable future. The Revenge was currently sailing with the Whydah Gally en route to another of Edward and Bonnet’s harebrained “adventures,” giving Sam the excuse to hop over to the formers’ ship and stitch himself to Izzy’s side twenty-four hours a day (probably half the reason he’d been so encouraging of this little detour in the first place). It had become routine already: Izzy rising early and sliding himself out from under Sam’s comforting weight, leaving his lover to sleep another hour or so while he began the day, brewing himself coffee in the galley, and then stepping out on deck to relieve the night watch and enjoy the quiet break of dawn with only the cat at his heels for company.

It was downright domestic, and he’d quite gotten to like it. But today he was alone. No Sam at his side, no cat across his ankles, and only the blue-grey twilight outside his tiny window to let him know he hadn’t overslept.

He didn’t have time to be more than curious about it before the door to his cabin creaked open, years of conditioning (and more recent happenings) having him fully alert and clutching the knife under his pillow within the instant. A figure loomed tall in the doorway, staggering to a stop and clutching something close to its chest. It lifted its head to peer at Izzy through a tangle of long, black hair.

“...Sam.” Izzy sagged in relief, relaxing his grip on his knife and dropping his cheek against his pillow. “Fuck are you doing up?”

Sam, swaying listlessly, gave a full-body grunt at being addressed and shuffled stiff-legged into the room, escorted by Izzy’s errant feline. The Bell Witch chirruped merrily as she darted between Sam’s unsteady feet a few times just for the sport of it before leaping onto the bed and bumping her face insistently against Izzy’s.

“Right, alright, you little monster. Good morning.” Gently shoving the cat back, Izzy squirmed upright, kicking his legs free of the blanket and swinging them to the floor to meet Sam as he reached the bedside. “And you. Did the Witch get you up? Never seen you conscious at this hour.” His gaze fell to the thing Sam held, unable to make it out by the still dim light. “What you got there?”

A softer grunt answered him this time, and Sam pressed forward, passing his prize into Izzy’s hands.

“C’rf’l,” he slurred, patting Izzy’s fingers as he wrapped them around the tin cup. “S’hot.”

The smell of fresh, strong coffee wafted up from their hands, and Izzy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Getting a better look at Sam’s face, it seemed “conscious” had been a generous assumption. His lover’s eyes were bleary and barely open, and he still wavered dangerously on his feet, half-awake at best. How he’d managed to make his way to the galley and back in this state, much less successfully make coffee, Izzy hadn’t the foggiest. Sam had never been an early bird. He’d acclimated to a sailor’s schedule by necessity and with no shortage of mulishness. Izzy recalled at least three separate mornings in their shared youth when the bosun had stormed in to personally flip Sam out of his hammock. Briefly reprieved of captainly duties while aboard the Revenge, he’d been reveling in sleeping in just that little bit more than he’d been able to in years.

But not today. Today he had woken up before even Izzy and dragged himself barely coherent down to the galley to make coffee. For Izzy. So that he wouldn’t have to.

Izzy looked down at the cup wrapped in his hands, at Sam’s hands wrapped around those, and swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat.

“...Thanks.”

It was all he could think to say in the moment, but it seemed enough for Sam.

“Mmm...” He bumped his face against Izzy’s much like the cat had and gave him a pleased smile. “...G’night.”

And then he turned and collapsed face-first into bed, asleep before he hit the pillow. The Bell Witch leapt out of the way with a yowl, turning in an indignant circle before hopping onto his bare back to begin pointedly kneading.

Izzy remained sitting at the edge of the bed, the heat from the coffee seeping steadily into his hands and up his arms, warming him to his chest. Or maybe it was staring at Sam that was doing it: dead to the world, hair caught in his half-open mouth, and the most beautiful man Izzy had ever seen.

The Izzy of a year ago would have been embarrassed (and the Izzy of later today might be as well) by how badly he was tempted to crawl back into bed with Sam, to tuck himself securely into the cradle of his body and sleep just a little more, indulge in his presence as long as he could. There was only so often they could be together, only so many excuses they could reasonably find for their ships to meet, so many detours they could make. And Izzy would need every moment he could steal with Sam to tide him over until the next one.

But work was work, and Buttons was expecting to be relieved. He’d be needing some sleep himself after a full night of whatever the fuck it was he and the moon got up to. Izzy was needed.

Maybe next time.

Taking a gulp of the still quite hot coffee, Izzy let it scald his mouth just enough to rouse him from his woolgathering and to his feet. He dressed in the dark so as not to disturb Sam and lingered once more by the bed before leaving. The cat had made herself comfortable on Sam’s back, curled up and purring loudly as she blinked her one green eye at Izzy.

“Keep him warm for me, Bell,” Izzy said, smiling as she stretched up to meet the knuckles he gently ground against her scalp. He used the same hand to tug the hair from Sam’s mouth and bent to brush a kiss to his temple.

“See you after sunrise, Sammy.”

Closing the cabin door quietly behind him, Izzy took a slow, savoring drink of his coffee and headed above deck to watch the morning come in.