#bonus: this all happens on my phone because I am unhinged
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I’m at the part in my fic writing where I now have to put in my placeholders as a checklist for the sections (parts) that I need to write to connect the parts that I wrote immediately because I could see how they should go down. is it the most weird way to write??? maybe so but it does get done.
#first: start a file to dump all the exciting parts that you want to write#second: once you’ve got an idea of a story write an outline#third: once you hit 20k words separate the big file into ‘chapter’ files#four: keep writing#five: at some point scope the connective tissue#six: write the connective tissue#seven: once you have the first big sections done finalize actual chapters and start posting#eight: finish the fic#nine: finish posting#bonus: this all happens on my phone because I am unhinged#thoughts? thoughts
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Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 4)
Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 4) Summary: Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,139 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence
Author’s Note: I have reset my tag list. If you want to be added back, please DM or send me an ask!
Chap 3 || Chap 5 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost
“What the actual fuck?” Dean demanded, gripping the steering wheel furiously.
The three of you had been quiet after getting the people safely home. You were all trying to process what had happened. As soon as you had gotten back to the car and sat inside without the car on, no one moving, the floodgate opened.
In a fluid motion, he turned, throwing his arm over the back of the seat in order to see Sam in the passenger side and you in the back. Mostly to see you. Sam looked at you as well.
Defensively, you threw your hands up in defeat at their piercing stares. “I don’t know!”
“He sure as hell seems to have taken a liking to you,” Dean retorted.
“What are you accusing me of?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Y/N.”
Sam cut in, “I think the question is, what is his deal? What does he want?”
“Apparently a fan of Y/N,” Dean responded. “And killing innocent people for entertainment!”
“How did he even know we would come? This is far from Vermont,” Sam asked.
Closing your eyes in frustration, you leaned your head back on the seat with a sigh. Of course it was too good to be true that a normal, well spoken man would have interest in you. Why had you not been more concerned when you met him at the café? There were red lights all over the place, the biggest one being that he happened to be in Lawrence of all the cities he could choose in the country and happened to be at that café at that exact moment.
“What?” Dean asked after a pause. “What are you thinking about?”
Seems you would need to divulge that you had had contact.
Opening your eyes again, you leveled them with a stare. “We are pretty close to home. Only a few hours away.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look, Sam venturing, “And? And how would he know that?”
Adjusting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gaze, you cleared your throat. “He, uh…” you paused, the words getting stuck in your throat as the guilt crept in. How could you have been so relaxed about that meeting? “I ran into him at the coffee shop on the corner of Crescent and Fifth.”
“What? When?” Sam asked, genuine concern lacing his tone.
You shrugged, “A couple weeks ago at most. It was when I brought home lunch from Sopranos. We just bumped into each other – almost collided, really. He recognized me, apologized for almost running me over, and bought me something to eat.
The words were rolling out of you now.
“We ate, had some small talk, where he told me he was a journey salesman which is why he was in Lawrence –”
“And you believed that?” Dean interjected. “Y/N… Jesus. He followed you from freaking Vermont back to Kansas!”
“I’m quite aware. It is painfully obvious now. But he admitted to me that he procures and sells supernatural artifacts. Which is why he hadn’t been as surprised about the banshee as a normal person should or would be. And he is not looking for something in Lawrence. My first thought when he mentioned artifacts was the bunker; if he was trying to use us to find it. But he didn’t seem to know. He was talking about Topeka, Ottawa… and somewhere else.”
“Anyway, Lawrence is central to all three of the places. And when eh explained it like that, it made enough sense. Then, Sam called shortly after. I excused myself, we exchanged numbers –”
“He has your phone number?” Sam interrupted.
You admitted, blushing, “Yes.”
“Jesus,” Dean swore again.
“Well, at that moment, I didn’t know he was off his rocker!”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Dean quipped.
“Alright,” Sam cut in or tried to because Dean pressed on.
“No, not alright. You know what?” He reached his arm toward you. “Give me your phone if you have his number.” You shook your head immediately and he rose his brows. “You don’t have his number?”
“I do.”
“Then why can’t I call it?”
“Do we really want to be antagonizing this guy, Dean?” Sam asked, staring Dean down. Dean tried to argue but Sam held his ground. “It’s not smart. Now, if he doesn’t seem to know about the bunker – and even if he did, he can’t get in – that seems to be all the more reason to not reach out to him. If you do, that could give him the wrong idea.”
“The asshole already has the wrong idea!”
“How do we not now he won’t follow us home?” you asked. “I mean, it’s dark. We won’t be able to identify what a car looks like behind us if one starts trailing us.”
Dean exhaled annoyed at the thought of that.
Sam suggested, “Let’s get a hotel then. Not towards Lawrence, let’s go further out. And we can take turns keeping watch. If Dean drives, I’ll sleep until we get there and then he can rest while I stay up. And then Y/N can get up to relieve me.”
Shaking his head, Dean muttered, “I don’t like this.”
“We don’t really have a choice given our situation.”
Silence filled the space, Sam’s words sinking in. What he suggested was smart and would ensure the group of you would feel more safe than potentially leading Castiel back to the bunker.
Suddenly Dean turned back around to face the steering wheel and threw the key in the ignition. “Fine. But anymore contact and I’m calling the bastard. Antagonistic or not.”
<> <> <>
Groggy, it was almost impossible to open your eyes. The room was a blur; bright but blurry. You did not believe you were at home, it did not feel like home. Your eyelids were so heavy, your body felt like cement. Why were you so tired?
There were voices, hovering around you. You could not make out the majority of what was being said, only catching words like ‘blood’, ‘damage’.
Darkness crept in again, flooding from the outside in. You did not hear anything anymore.
<> <> <>
When you came to next, your vision was still unfocused. Your body felt heavy still, weighted down by…
You focused on the IV drip as it came into focus, hooked up into your right arm. Weighted down by medicine.
A voice drew your attention to your left. Mustering much more effort than it should require, you turned your head to the source.
Through your haze of sleep and medication, you still startled at seeing Castiel sitting there by your bed. He was staring at you with concern, leaning forward towards you, his large hand resting on yours.
You tried to jerk away from him but your moment was sluggish, although you were becoming alert much more quickly at this turn of events. Where were you? Why was he here? Where were Sam and Dean?
This had to be a dream. Why else would he be here? Next to your bed? But this was not your bed. Where were you? You thought again frantically. It looked like a hospital room. You racked your brain, trying to remember.
“Y/N,” Castiel tried again, drawing you from your frightened thoughts. “How are you feeling? It looks like the doctors got you stitched up alright and have your pain controlled.”
Stitched?
It came back.
You were in West Virginia or at least you had been. The Wendigo. It had gotten you cornered and slashed your thigh. You did not remember much after that besides Sam and Dean carrying you to the Impala.
“Y/N?”
“What… what are you doing here?”
“I do not know if that –”
“What,” you repeated with more force, trying to scoot away. “Are you doing here?”
You quickly took note that the door was closed. You had to have a call button to ring for help.
Castiel tsked you, ‘Now, now. Do not go getting yourself worked up. You have been through enough and you need to rest with minimal – preferably no – stress. I am not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t know that!”
“You are just going to have to trust me.”
“How can I? You killed innocent people to lure me in for a ‘game’.”
Holding up a finger, Castiel corrected, “To be fair, I did not kill the people that lured you in. That was my friend.” He paused and added, “I did kill two people as a safety net, yes. I new you were not going to fail and I did not want my friend losing his temper if he was not given the two more hearts as promised. I killed those two people for your safety. I will kill for you. But, then again, I do like killing.”
“You are not helping your case,” you told him coolly.
You had found the call button remote underneath the blanket. Your fingers closed in around it.
Lips tight, Castiel leaned away from you in order to reach your bed side table. He picked up a cup and held it out to you. You saw it was ice chips but refrained from accepting the offer.
Shoulders slumping ever so, Castiel sighed. Lowering his arm, he placed the cup back on the beside table, ‘I suppose I am just going to have to earn your trust.” The call button was not responding, your anxiety beginning to rise. “Y/N, as I have expressed, I am enamored with you. The light in your eyes, your quick wit. You also have a very lovely smile which is an extra bonus in the package for me.”
“I would love for you to join me. I think my experience and yours as well, we would make a formidable team. Now, I understand we do not want to be making any rash decisions. I am open to giving you time to consider, I really would like it to be a sound decision. It is always so much more practical when we come to the table together, both willing.”
“I would be disappointed if you turned me down. But I think if you take the time to really consider it, you will see how magnificent this agreement would be for both of us. Freedom to travel and discover riches and have adventure. Together.”
Leaning forward again, he told you, “So, really, kitten, hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind.”
He went quiet, gauging your reaction.
You had to say something.
“Thank you for considering that time is needed.”
He smiled, pleased at your appreciation. “Of course, of course. I do not want to rush a good thing. You deserve time.”
Looking to the door, he sighed, “Now, I suspect those two brutes you have around will be coming back. That blonde one, Dean, can put food away but even his stomach must have its limits. I should make myself scarce.” Standing from the chair, his hand brushed yours. “I am glad I stopped by to check in on you, kitten. I am relieved you are doing alright.”
He made it halfway to the door before turning back to you. His gaze fell to your concealed hand holding the call remote. “by the way, I would ask them to plug that back in for you. I do apologize but I needed some uninterrupted time with you to share my admiration. Please forgive me. I will be in touch.”
With that, he swung the door open and strolled out.
Your eyes were glued to the doorway, afraid he would return. He swore he did not want to hurt you but… unease still crept. If anything, it sounded like he was developing an unhealthy attraction.
Sam and Dean’s voices reached you before you saw them. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position in anticipation.
As soon as they walked in, they saw the fear in your expression.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked alarmed.
“Castiel,” you said hoarsely.
“What?” Sam demanded. “Here?”
You nodded and Dean’s face set in stone before he made a beeline for the hall, searching.
“Dean, he’s gone. It’s been a few since he left,” you called after him, leaning forward in the bed. You winced at the tug on your stitches.
He came back into the room and you recalled the last ten minutes, stumbling through what he had said. When you got done, Sam meant to sit in the chairs next to your bed but stopped suddenly. He picked up a small box that was adorned with a lace bow. His jaw set when he read the tab.
“It’s for you.”
You opened it warily. Inside was a diamond bracelet. Balking at it, you held it up and whispered, “Is… is this real? This must be worth a fortune.”
Dean snapped, “Are we all still against calling this asshole and setting things straight?”
~~~
CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass
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Repercussions
Fandom: My Hero Academia
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou
Word Count: 1902
Trigger warnings: Blood, torture, emotional manipulation, graphic depictions of violence
Set after they become pro heroes.
AO3 Link
Midoriya never became a hero, never inherited One for All. After All Might left him on the roof, he was found by a group calling themselves the League of Villains. And now Bakugou has to pay the price.
Or
A Bakugou-centric villain Deku au.
Bakugou had been pissed off for about a week straight. Kirishima had laughed at the way he puttered around their shared apartment, explosions sputtering from his palms. He was calling it Hurricane Bakugou, which got a mug chucked at his head. “Can’t say I’ve seen you this pissed, love,” he chuckled against Bakugou’s scalp, torso already hardened against his explosions, “I think it might be a record.” Bakugou growled at him to shut up, but he wasn’t wrong. He’d been like this ever since the new villain had surfaced. Deku.
It had been a normal patrol. A perfect one, even. There had been no activity, not even a stolen bicycle. It should have made him suspicious, really. It wasn’t a night of low activity. It was the silence of a forest before a top predator enters. It was the silence of knowing just how dangerous it would be to get in their way.
The explosion happened fifteen minutes before his shift had ended. A hero agency on the south side of town, completely obliterated. It had been mostly empty at that point. Bakugou managed to get the only two people still there out with ease. He had been handing the unconscious secretary to the emergency personnel when he saw him. A flash of green hair, ducking into an alley. He stopped, as though he’d felt Bakugou’s stare. He turned, smiled, and waved. Then he disappeared, and Bakugou felt a shift in reality. He’d recognized him, but he hadn’t been sure, until the body of Mt. Lady was found behind a dumpster. The words “I am Deku” were written above her corpse in her blood.
They’d been playing cat and mouse ever since.
Hence the mood.
Kirishima only joked because he didn’t know. He thought Bakugou was mad because the villain toyed with him, or because he didn’t immediately best him. He didn’t know who Deku was to him. He didn’t have to suddenly replace memories of missing child posters with a foreign smirk. He didn’t understand the relief Bakugou felt upon seeing him, knowing their parting words hadn’t killed him: Go take a swan dive off the roof. And, most importantly, he didn’t know what Deku meant. Useless. Most people thought it was irony, a reference to his apparently lack of a quirk, yet high body count. But Bakugou knew. Midoriya had chosen Bakugou’s name for him. Bakugou hadn’t thought of Midoriya as Deku in years but clearly, he hadn’t forgotten. The very thought sent chills down his spine.
The world became stifling. These thoughts… The universe was holding its breath, and Bakugou hadn’t gotten the memo. It was oppressive, the silence. No car outside, no birds calling, nothing. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Just the smirk, the genuine pleasure in his eyes when he spotted him. It filled his vision. The vegetables were burning, he could smell it. But still, he couldn’t move. Ringing filled his ears. A smile soaked in blood.
His phone rang. A photo of Kirishima laughing popped up on his phone. Fucking finally, Bakugou thought. He switched the burner off (the meal had to be scrapped anyways) and answered. “Hey idiot, where the fuck–”
“Hello Kacchan.” The greeting was nearly a giggle. For first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugou froze. Because he knew that voice, would have recognized it even if the nickname hadn’t been a dead giveaway. It was deeper and more confident than he had ever heard it, but he recognized it. And it belonged to someone who absolutely should not have this phone. “Aw, Kaachan, are you going to ignore me?” He could hear the pout in his voice. He remembered it well. It was a tone he associated with watery eyes and backpedaling. “And we haven’t talked in so long! It’s a shame too, I have something important to show you.” The enthusiasm was both familiar and foreign. It was the same inflection he had used to talk about heroes, what felt like so many years ago. It was that excitement, but there was a coldness to it. A once-friendly dog snapping at you after being thrown into a fighting ring. Bakugou wasn’t sure which part of it was more unsettling.
“Why do you have Kirishima’s phone?” Bakugou snapped. He wasn’t about to exchange pleasantries with villain.
“You really haven’t heard? How wonderful… I was hoping to witness when you found out.” Once again, Bakugou was thrown for a loop. The conversation flipped a dial, redirecting in a way he didn’t understand. He used to be able to tell was Midoriya was thinking from just an expression, a snippet of a phrase. But this deeper, darkened lust meant nothing to him. Trying to read him was like trying to fit into his first year school uniform; an act once familiar as breathing now entirely impossible.
“What are you chattering about?”
“Turn on your TV. Any channel will do.” Bakugou’s heart rate picked up. The scent of nitroglycerin was strong on his nose as his hands began to sweat. Still, he went to the living room and turned on the monitor. It was set to a movie channel, something he and Kirishima had fallen asleep to the night before. Yet, even on this obscure channel, Midoriya’s smiling face greeted him. He was gripping a knife, holding it up to the arm of–
Kirishima.
Bakugou wishes he could take it back, wishes more than anything he’d stayed silent. But the sight of Kirishima, tied to a chair, blood running down to his neck from a slash across his cheek, left shoulder shredded to near viscera, it had been too much.
Bakugou let out a small gasp.
The sound echoed back at him through the TV.
Midoriya’s wide grin nearly unhinged his jaw.
“So you really do care…” He breathed, like the mere thought as ecstasy. “I’d nearly thought it was impossible.” He’d trailed the knife along Kirishima’s good arm, blood immediately flooded from the wound. Kirishima grunted, but otherwise didn’t react. You idiot, Bakugou wanted to scream, Why the fuck aren’t you protecting yourself?
“I remember when you started your agency together… The two of you were so close, I thought it had to be a lie for the press. But even when you snapped at him, even when he teased you, you were smiling Kaachan. Not smirking or sneering, but actually smiling at him. So I looked closer… I was always watching. I saw every late night paperwork session, every pining gaze, even your first kiss… How sweet.”
“So you’re a stalker now too?” he snapped, but his stomach twisted.
“More like a spy,” Midoryia countered, “I was only meant to get information on you, the budding top ranked hero! But I couldn’t help but be a little jealous. I spent so long trying to befriend you, did everything I could to impress you, would have followed you to the ends of the earth, and then this nobody is a little nice to you, and suddenly you can make friends? Surely, you understand why I was upset!” He jammed the knife down, making to stab Kirishima in the thigh. Instinctively, Kirishima hardened, and the knife shattered. Midoriya’s face turned deadly, and he glared at Kirishima. For the first time, he looked panicked.
“No, I didn’t mean–”
“Now, Kirishima! That’s against the rules! And you know the penalty.” Midoriya’s eyes locked with a person offscreen. “Shigaraki, if you please. A pinky should do.”
Bakugou’s breath left his lungs. Shigaraki. Leader of the league of Villains. Quirk: Decay. He’d seen the effects of what it could do before. The injuries looked remarkably similar to the mess of blood around Kirishima’s bicep.
“No, no–” Kirishima was squirming when the pale fingers wrapped around his pinky. The skin, tissue, bone began to disintegrate. Kirishima didn’t scream. The sound he made wasn’t human enough for that title. It was like nothing Bakugou had ever heard before. It didn’t let up until Shigaraki let go. Nothing was left, not even a stump showing where the finger once was. Bakugou didn’t realize he’d been shouting until it echoed through the TV.
“Bastards! Absolute cowards! I’ll kill you!” Midoriya rolled his eyes.
“See, this is what I mean. Losing your stoic facade?” He walked over to where Kirishima had slumped in his chair. He threaded his fingers through Kirishima’s hair and forced his head up. Kirishima was panting, face bright red, and Bakugou was suddenly certain the pain in his scalp was the only thing keeping him conscious. “You’ve gone soft, Kaachan,” Midoriya continued. “He’s right here.” He tapped over his heart with the hilt of the shattered knife. “But, I suppose I should thank you. Letting him in? That gave me something to work with.” He rested Kirishima’s head against his chest, a mockery of comfort Kirishima was too weak to refuse. Bakugou could read the shame on his face. He growled.
“I’m going to kill you for this!” He shouted and Midoriya laughed.
“What, for hurting him?” He cackled, “That never stopped you.” He glared at the camera, and Bakugou shuddered. He looked absolutely unhinged.
“You always hurt me Kaachan. The burn scars attest to that, sure, but emotionally, that was where you really thrived. Useless, quirkless, deku…” He chuckled. “I fantasized torturing you over and over, but it never felt right. Cutting you up would be fun, sure, but that’s hardly revenge. I need you to hurt the same way I did, all the trauma and nightmares and shredded sense of worth. But I couldn’t figure out how to do it.” He looked down to Kirishima, and beamed.
“Then, what do I find? You just let your heart walk around unattended. How short-sighted.” He clicked his tongue. “So this is for you Kaachan. Torturing Red Riot publicly? That certainly aligns with our goals. But honestly, he’s not that important to me. Taking him out is just an added bonus. Every bit of pain he feels? That’s all for you.” He patted Kirishima’s cheek and cooed, “And currently, he still has too many fingers.” Midoriya nodded, Shigaraki’s hand came back into frame, and–
“Don’t.” The word was quiet, demure. Bakugou couldn’t believe it came from him. Midoriya stops.
“What was that?”
“Don’t. Don’t, I–”
Midoriya lit up, a shark smelling blood in the water.
“Beg me.”
“Please, stop, don’t hurt him. Please, I’ll do anything.” The words were unconscious, coming from him like a busted floodgate.
“Once more.”
“Please, I…” He swallowed his sudden flare of pride. “I’m begging you. Let him go. Please, Midoriya.”
“How many times did I beg you to stop Kaachan?”
Bakugou could see it, every time Midoriya asked him to stop, to leave him alone, to give back whatever item he’d stolen. He runs through them, on nights he can’t sleep, moonlight reflecting every desperate plea.
His wet exhale was an answer.
“And how many times did you listen?”
Something in Bakugou snapped. “No, no, please.” His words were frantic now. “Stop, please, Izuku, I’m sorry!” He thinks he might be crying.
“Not. Once!” Deku hisses, “And I only ever wanted to be like you.” He nodded to Shigaraki again, who grabs Kirishima’s ring finger. “And besides,” he continued through Kirishima’s shrieks, “Don’t bother calling me anything different now! You know it better than anyone.”
He stared straight through the camera and Bakugou felt it through his stomach like a butterfly pin.
“I’m Deku.”
#this is just sad tbh#my bnha fanfic#villain!deku#my hero academia#boko no hero academia#kiribaku#villain au#bakushima#bakugou katsuki#kirishima eijirou#midoriya izuku#villain!midoriya#angst#dark#tw torture#tw blood#tw violence#tw emotional manipulation#hurt no comfort#mha#bnha#my writing#my fanfic
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After the plane touched down in Boston I was completely elated. I kept looking at the itinerary that I made for myself on the plane and was ready to embark on my new adventure. After gathering my luggage and walking for what seemed like fourteen miles to the rideshare pick up lot, I met with a lovely man who just so happened to be my Lyft driver. On the way to Salem from Boston, he showed me awesome looking buildings with such enthusiasm, and it gave me reassurance that I made the right choice with choosing Salem for my first solo trip.
I was staying in downtown Salem, and boy was it different than what I had been expecting. It was small. Like incredibly small. There was one section of the town where my hotel was that had older cobblestone, so the only vehicles that were allowed to drive on it were delivery vehicles. As a first impression, Salem left me in awe. The town seemed quaint and adorable, which was shocking to me due to the morbid history that took place on its very land. There was a cemetery that was a two-minute walk from my hotel, museums galore, and homes that were centuries old. There were shops and small restaurants everywhere, and they were incredibly enticing. I was so excited to start exploring and to learn as much as I could possibly learn about the place that I had always wanted to visit.
My hotel, Hotel Salem, was hands down the best hotel that I have ever stayed at. I saw the same people basically every day and had pleasant conversations with one person in particular. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, and the hotel was GORGEOUS. I checked in early, and my room had just been cleaned and set up for my arrival, so the door was sitting open waiting for me to occupy what was inside. When I saw my room my jaw literally unhinged itself and involuntarily opened. I stood there, in shock and in amazement at how perfect the room was. I actually left my room just to make sure that I was in the correct spot, and to my excitement, I was. When I travel, which is rare might I add, I usually stay in Holiday Inns or places like that. So I was expecting the same old same old with my hotel, but what I got was so much better than anywhere I have ever stayed. The ceilings were tall. I am not great with measuring heights and whatnot, but I would estimate probably like twenty-five-foot ceilings. I had a king-sized bed with multiple pillows, (which I got extra excited about because I was going to have that all to myself) and I immediately wanted to curl up in it and take a happiness nap. My bathroom was probably the most beautiful bathroom that I have ever seen. There was this stunning dark blue tile on the walls and in the shower, which I immediately told my husband I wanted for our bathroom. The tub was huge and it looked like I could easily unwind in it, and the shower was pure magic. The shower was huge, and every day after exploring I would just hibernate in the shower for a bit to unwind. That hotel made me comfortable and relaxed, and I will stay there every time I go back to Salem. Oh! And I simply can’t forget to mention that my room had an interesting little bonus feature to it. I am pretty convinced that a spirit lingers there. One of my dresser drawers kept opening as if my little friend kept trying to prank me. One night it kept opening and every time I would turn my back after closing it would open right back up. I was (am) still so convinced that it was a spirit that I set up my phone on video to try to catch it in action, but I think my spirit was too smart to be caught. Sneaky little bastard.
Anyways, after seeing my room I was exhausted from not sleeping the night before and from traveling, so I simply ordered some lunch and took a much needed two-hour nap in my ginormous comfy bed that I could actually sleep on diagonally. It was a spiritual experience having that kind of restful slumber. When I awoke from my nap I was so out of it that I had to remind myself where I was. I got up, splashed my face with some water to help wake me up more, and then I grabbed my jacket to go explore my temporary home.
I feel like I started exploring at the perfect time. It was chilly, but not too chilly. And the sun was starting to go down. As I mentioned before, there was a cemetery that was about a two-minute walk from my hotel room. So I decided to make my way towards that spot. When I arrived at the cemetery I was shocked that it was actually one of the places that I wanted to explore. I was at Old Burying Point Cemetery, which is the oldest cemetery in Salem. It was beautiful. It was a lot smaller than I was expecting, but man it still took my breath away. The gravestones were incredibly old, and just seeing them was very humbling. You know I am not oblivious to the fact that one day I will die just like everyone else, but even with that knowledge there still is that sense of invincibility. I know that I will die, but it is still hard to process that. But seeing all of these graves, all of these people whose ages ranged from a year old to people well in their eighties, it reminds you of the fragility of life. The cemetery was the most peaceful spot in Salem in my opinion, and I could easily spend hours there. But the sun was almost completely set and everything was starting to shut down, so I headed back to my hotel for some rest.
I actually went back to Old Burying Point multiple times during my time in Salem because of the peace that I felt almost became addictive. I loved looking at each gravestone and paying my respects to the people who are there. I felt such a magnetic energy pulling me to Old Burying Point, almost as if the spirits of the people that were residing there were trying to keep me there to tell me something. Call me crazy, but I do believe that spirits are a real thing. And I think that when we die, we learn everything that there is to learn about the universe and about life. Every single secret becomes common knowledge, and I think the people on the other side are screaming at us to listen to them. They want us to know these secrets, and maybe we just aren’t listening. Anyways, now that you guys know that I am crazy, (hi, I’m Brookana) Old Burying Point is as breathtaking and beautiful as they come. It is hands down my most favorite part of Salem.
Luckily, adjacent to Old Burying Point was the Salem Witch Trials Memorial. This particular memorial was for the victims of the witch trials, and it was truly moving. The memorial had large stones with each of the victim’s names engraved onto them, and it seemed as if that was Salem’s way of trying to apologize to each of the people that they executed. Some of the stones even had flowers on them, which I found beautiful. It is important to remember that despite how fascinating the history of the trials is, there were still innocent lives that were taken and we should always remember who they were. I visited the memorial three times while I was in Salem, and each time I felt a tremendous amount of sorrow for the souls whose lives were stolen from them.
Another great memorial that I visited was Proctor’s Ledge, which was where the victims of the witch trials were hung. I found this memorial even more moving than the Salem Witch Trials Memorial. I felt as if I could feel this heaviness to me. I was grieving the loss of these innocent people, people who lived many centuries before me. I can’t imagine the fear and the agony that they felt, and the pain that their families felt when they were taken away from them. When I learned about the witch trials back in middle school they never really talked about the humanity behind the victims that were executed. They never talked about the repercussions that the families had to face or the torment that the victims had experienced. But seeing the place where the majority of the victims took their final breath is an indescribable feeling. It is a chilling feeling. A feeling of pure terror and disgust. And it makes you respect the trials even more because of the people who had their lives wrongfully stolen from them.
I also paid a visit to the Salem Witch Museum. This was a cute little museum that consisted of two exhibits, and I feel like I definitely learned a lot about how the trials had begun and the hysteria behind it all. The first exhibit was basically the story of the trials told over a loudspeaker and the second exhibit talked about the history of witchcraft. It was a very interesting experience, and I am happy that I went.
Past six o’clock at night there isn’t really much to do in Salem since all of the shops pretty much close down, so I decided to embark on a walking tour through Salem Night Tour. The tour meeting spot was a shock to me. We met at a store that sold Harry Potter merchandise, and I knew that I was about to have a wonderful evening. I even purchased my very first wand. The tour was a lot of fun. I was in a smaller group, which I loved because it gave me an opportunity to ask the tour guide questions when one would arise. They were very knowledgeable about Salem’s past, and I found myself to be intrigued throughout the entire tour. We walked by where the prison used to be during the trials, we walked by Salems Town Hall where the movie “Hocus Pocus” had filmed a scene, we walked past Old Burying Point, and we walked by the house that the board game “Clue” was based on. The stories that the guide told us were equal parts scary, horrifying, and enthralling, and despite the chilly weather, I had such a great time gaining more knowledge on Salem’s past.
The Witch House. There is not enough time to discuss how much I loved Witch House. The Witch House is a home that was owned by Jonathan Corwin, who just so happened to be a judge during the trials. I was told that eighty percent of that house is original, and I could feel that that was true. I did a self-guided tour throughout the home, where I was fortunate enough to see many pieces of furniture that are dated back centuries. Throughout the home were various papers that had intriguing facts about how people lived back in the 1600-1700s, and it was totally captivating. There was something about the house that had a similar magnetic energy to the energy that I felt at Old Burying Point. I felt oddly comfortable in that house. Like I never wanted to leave. It felt peaceful and welcoming, and like a place where I could learn so much. It was one of those places where you could feel the history, and it just made me feel like I went back in time and experienced what it was like living in that house back then. But it wasn’t just the history that made me feel like I never wanted to leave. There was the sweetest woman who worked there that was incredibly knowledgeable about not just Witch House, but Salem as a whole. I definitely monopolized her time for upwards of forty minutes, just asking her questions about the home and about Salem. She answered every question that I had and was eager to share the history of Salem with me. She even showed me markings around the house that left me in awe. There were builders marks and marks of protection etched into the walls and ceilings of the house, and it made me feel as if I found a time machine and when back to the 1600s when the house was built. I was fascinated, and the house still has me fascinated to this very day. I would say that Witch House is my second favorite place to visit in Salem. There is so much to learn about the trials and about that time period, and the house helps you understand the history so much more.
A fun little activity that I decided to do was get another tattoo. There was a tattoo shop that was about a minute walk from my hotel called Witch City Ink, so to commemorate my first solo trip, which happens to be my most favorite trip that I have ever been on, I got a witch hat with a couple of sprigs. The shop was incredible, and my artist was so talented, and I constantly catch myself staring in awe at my newest addition.
There are a ton of really adorable shops in downtown Salem, but my favorite shop hands down has got to be Emporium 32. They have a fantastic collection of oddities and just cool items that range from books, art, alcohol cups, absinthe spoons, jewelry, and hats. Everything was so unique and breathtaking, and I spent more money than I would like to admit at that store. My wallet is going to be in trouble for when we buy our house because I found out that they ship artwork and I plan on utilizing that convenience
There is so much to see, do and learn in Salem. Everything about Salem is so special to me. I loved the feeling that I felt in Old Burying Point and Witch House where I felt like I could feel the history. I loved learning about everything that happened there and why everything happened. Even though downtown Salem was adorable and beautiful, the history of the land is unscathed, and that morbid feeling that you get from that pain and suffering also turns into appreciation and gratitude for the generations that have lived before you. It truly is a magical town filled with magical curiosities.
Salem: Part Two After the plane touched down in Boston I was completely elated. I kept looking at the itinerary that I made for myself on the plane and was ready to embark on my new adventure.
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