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impactedfates · 1 year ago

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Can you do imbibitor lunar! Dan heng x troublemaker! GN! Child reader? (Platonic)

Dan heng was supposed to babysit the reader but the reader is a little bit a trouble maker.. The reader has a soft spot for Dan heng lololo

A/N: Hihi :D I’ve returned!! Sorry for leaving for so long, but I should be able to get back to writing!! Requests are still closed for now, once all my current requests are finished and maybe some short fics and/or scenarios are written I'll open them up again. Thank you anon for the request!! And thank you for being patient with me to write this, I hope you'll enjoy this :>>

W.C: 1692

Warnings: None (I hope - Not fully proofread but I’ll fix anything once I’m back from school Ü)

Extra: Dan Heng is in his Vidyadhara form // Child reader so ofc is younger and shorter then most characters // Trailblazer is whoever you want it to be lol // Reader has been babysat for awhile by the Express (specifically Dan Heng) but now lives with the express in the fic

“[Name]!! Get down from that…NO DON’T J U M P”

March let out a small groan as she ran and stopped you from trying to jump off the fridge. She sighed and shook her head at you.

“Just what would Dan Heng think about this”

You stook out your tongue at the tired girl as she carefully put you down. Shaking her head. You were a new member of the Express family, Dan Heng had found you hiding when he was walking around Scalegorge Waterscape. And you seemed to cling to him, always hugging his tail. He doesn’t say no to it but he is surprised you seem to like him so much.

The Express like you as well!...Expect you seem to only like Dan Heng…especially when he’s in his Imbibitor Lunae form, not to say you don’t like him when he’s in his regular form, but you seem a LOT more attached when he lets you cling onto his tail.

It’s obvious to all the express (except Dan Heng it would seem) that you won’t listen to anyone but him, and on one hand it can be cute, on the other hand…it can be painful.

“[Name] All I said was that you couldn’t eat ice-cream for breakfast…it is not healthy whatsoever!”

March explained, puffing her cheeks, though maybe she shouldn’t say anything as she herself tried eating ice-cream for breakfast.

“Who’s trying to eat ice-cream for breakfast?”

A tired voice came, as Dan Heng came walking in, rubbing his eyes as he had just woken from sleep, his long hair tied back. After you joined he seemed to be in this form more often, for different reasons, one of them being you refused to sleep unless his tail was your blanket.

“[Name] is! Dan Heng tell them they cannot have it, and we’re saving it for tonight!!”

“[Name], Himeko bought them so we can have them to eat for movie night later tonight…plus having ice-cream for breakfast isn’t healthy y’know”

Dan Heng spoke gently, crouching down to your level, March stood behind him with a victorious grin. She knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him…and she was right, you pouted a bit and looked away, crossing your arms, mumbling out an annoyed and reluctant.

“Fine.”

“[Name] sweetheart, please give that ba-”

*C R A S H*

Yet another mug belonging to Himeko broke right in front of her eyes. She silently mourned the mug, taking a small deep breath and looked at you.

“Y’know…your auntie Himeko liked that mug a lot sweetie…”

She spoke, gesturing to herself, but you simply stook out your tongue at her, about to reach over and knock over ANOTHER mug, this time belonging to Welt. Himeko was quick to swoop you away from it and caught the mug from making another loud noise. She placed it on a higher shelf, away from your reach even if you climbed and despite your thrashing, moved you on the Express couch.

“I heard a loud crash, is everything alright?”

Dan Heng called out, walking in, spotting the broken mug on the floor, his eyes softened and looked at Himeko apologetically.

“That was your favourite mug…wasn’t it?”

“Yep…”

She sighed, shaking her head disappointedly. Dan Heng was quick to grab a broom and start cleaning the broken shards, Himeko smiled at his gesture and began ruffling his head as if he was a child.

“Himeko…”

*C R A S H*

Himeko froze and her head snapped towards the source of the sound, the direction of your very own bedroom. You had seemingly left quickly when Dan Heng and Himeko were chatting and now you seemed to have broken yet another thing, you came waltzing in with a bunch of credits in your hand, lifting them up to Himeko, and with puppy eyes said.

“I’m sorry auntie, here. You can buy another one!”

Himeko smiled softly at you and shook her head, carefully taking the credits from your hand. Although you probably only ran to your piggy bank (assuming that’s what you broke for the credits) because Dan Heng entered, she could tell you did feel sorry upon hearing it was her favourite mug.

“It’s okay sweetie…just…try not to do it again”

You smiled and nodded. Promising her you won’t do it again…if you couldn’t actually keep that promise, she wasn’t sure. And she was sure you weren’t sure either but. She’d forgive you again in a heartbeat if she’s being honest.

Welt stared blankly at your wall, the wall that had now been decorated with some of his artwork…his artwork that had been torn up and collaged up without his permission.

“[Name]...what…is this?”

He spoke, pushing up his glasses as he closed as his eyes narrowed, darting at each page, clearly with a rip. Though he will admit that the collage…was pretty nice. Just…he wished it wasn’t from one of his sketchbooks, old or not.

“Art”

You said proudly, and sure…you weren’t technically wrong. Welt simply sighed and shook his head, crouching down to your level and carefully explained to you that you shouldn’t take things without people's permission. It isn’t nice.

You tilted your head and grinned, before grabbing his sketch book from your bed, looking him straight in the eye…you did ask but you did it while…ripping the page in the process. Welt could only pinch his nose in slight irritation…until the door to your door opened and his sketchbook was thrown behind your bed as you looked at whoever entered innocently.

“Big Brother! Look what I made”

“Huh? Oh…looks nice [Name]”

Dan Heng spoke, his eyes looking at the wall before it noticed Welt, he turned to face you with a concerned expression.

“Did you…ask Mr Welt if you could use his things?”

“Well no…”

“[Name], next time ask, Mr Welt really treasures his drawings”

You simply nodded with a small pout, honestly you thought it was an old sketchbook Welt didn’t care about…but hey. You still got a compliment from Dan Heng right? Welt could only hope you’d listen now that Dan Heng told you.

“Did you both really just go hunting in trash?”

Dan Hen asked with a deadpan, looking at you and the trailblazer, now filthy. You giggled a bit, scratching the back of your head. As the trailblazer was quick to defend themselves.

“THIS TIME…this time it wasn’t me, believe me. This one right here jumped into the dumpster first, so I jumped in to get them. Then I tried to catch them but they kept…SWIMMING?? Around in the piles of trash…wait can you swim in trash?”

The Vidyadhara put up his hand to silence the grey haired trailblazer, before his eyes glanced at you. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asked if this was true to which you…slowly nodded again, embarrassed. He sighed a bit and rubbed his temples, he was still calm. He simply pointed in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You two, bathe. Now.”

“But-”

“N o w.”

Movie Night! Finally, nothing bad happens. Perhaps that was due to Dan Heng managing to keep you calm and quiet with just his presence. But no one complains, everyones happy enough.

Everyone goes to their own room after they finish up so they could go to bed and get ready for the next mission, but they seem to find something in their room, a gift it would seem?

March's eyes widened a bit as she looked at the new camera that was decorated too! With her family, and a small note near it, reading

‘Thank you big sister!! I know you like photos right? Dan Heng helped me buy this for you, I hope you like it’

March squealed a bit and hugged the camera, thanking you a million times in her head.

Himeko’s eyes landed on an (albeit badly) made mug, decorated with various shades of her favourite colours and writing that she knew instantly was yours.

‘Best Auntie Ever!’

Perhaps she found her new favourite mug already…now for some coffee to pour into it.

Welt flicked through the pages of the new sketch book, only one drawing was made, at the front cover. He recognized your art style and smiled softly as he saw the mini doodles of the Express family and a very angry Pompom.

He grabbed a pencil and began sketching on the first page.

The Trailblazer lifted up the small trash bin pin, they could till it was custom made…I mean who would sell bins of them peaking out a bin?...

But they didn’t care, it was cute. They knew exactly who got it for them too. Carefully they pinned it on their jacket.

Yes you could be a pain for them sometimes, especially if Dan Heng wasn’t there to settle you. But they all cared for you, and just these gifts alone told them that you indeed also cared for them.

“But you helped me with buying them all and writing the words”

You grumbled, crossing your arms as the raven hair tucked you into bed.

“And you were the one who decided AND knew what to get them, additionally it was also your idea”

He speaks, a soft smile painting his lips. He always knew how troublesome you were, from the day he began babysitting you to the day you were allowed to actually live on the express. He knew you only really behaved around him and with the others well, your ‘true colours’ would appear.

It was the others who thought he didn’t know you had a soft spot for him due to him calmly telling you to stop things then going on about his day, but he just knew that all it would take is a few words and you’d do it.

But he also knew you still cared for the rest of your family. Although sure, you had your favourites, you had the one you were most soft for…that won’t change the love and care you have for your other family members. But uh perhaps you should show it a bit better…still though

They were your family.

And you were their family.

Neither of you would change that.

It didn't occur to me until after writing this that the anon could've meant Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng like Dan Feng, also I didn't exactly write babysitting (I mentioned it) but I wrote it more so as the reader living with the Express family. To the anon who requested this I'm so sorry if I messed it up ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)‧º·

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cherubispunk · 1 year ago

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part ii // blood.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

a note from lucy: this was meant to be posted earlier and it was also meant to be longer but ive been through so much these past few weeks i couldnt bring myself to write much more. for those waiting on dealer!Joel, its coming. it might just take me a little while. thank you all for your patience. i love you all, look after yourselves.

playlist

wc: 1692 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to , cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eatin, oral sex - m receiving, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

series m.list | m.list

You can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite. — Madeline Miller ‘Circe’

‘Strangle me with Aphrodite’s very pearls. What a beautiful creation. Funny how we will all die but seek love for a pitiful salvation.’ Words engraved, etched into the gravestone of…this. This creation of torture. Of serpents’ forked tongues and gnashing lions teeth. Silence so large and gaping it made your heart dare to beat only in the ricochet of the shiver down your spine. He was the sharp blade of a knife, you were the wetstone he used to perfect its slide of slice. Bleed ichor from your veins while he grazes blunt teeth over the shallow skin upon your collarbone.

You didn't care. ‘Give me that pointed, glimmering blade’, you thought, its vermillion stain now smeared too with gold. ‘Give me that blade. Some things are worth bloodshed.’

He was a killer. And his bounty was set on your spirit. Your calm. Your superiority over him. In his field, he was a master of his art. His armour gleamed as a trophy for his succession of rank. His clan– Here…he was a novice once again. Knew not a drop of knowledge of your craft, nor the whispering properties of each flower bud, fruit pit and herb stem in your garden. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme were nothing but cooking materials to him. And even that was a stretch to his mind.

You wished to be Anothny’s Cleopatra to him. Not a wicked witch of the western tides. Toughened beauty, once black coals under pressure, now gleaming in diamond and its own giant covalent structure. Him swooning over your flesh for months and his tongue speaking within your mouth. There was no turquoise over your eyes, nor the stain of the madder root over your lips to paint him with. His face was still an image that belonged to your mind. Not the reality you lived now with him tangled in your sheets. Rippled muscled under a tapestry of scars and skin.

He did some things. Mainly doted care to the child whom you sense properties in. A magic akin to your own, yet not all the same. His was one of energy, a flowing combination of entities, living a breathing through you, him, the mandalorian and each living being on this island. Mauve further. It was a balance that even you did not know the tipping point of nor the origin of its birth. It was shaking. It crumbled under the erosion of water to salt pillars until its foundations skimmed to their very bare bones.

It took with it the light of your sanctuary and morphed into Tartarus, so your soul may burn in forged cast iron chains. They were white hot in the black soot tinders. Glowing violently in your corneas while they singed sight. Scorched touch. Seared taste. The battle of yours and the child's power.

You watched in awe one night, the lights out, but a single sliver of silver from Artemis’s glow caught the sharpened tip of a knife you know strapped to your thigh under the skirts of your dress. Would his blood sizzle when it touched the blade, as you only imagined it ran hot and thick with the brazen burn of his anger. Ichor? No. He was no god. But his touch was of divinity. And left a tingle of power in its bone cramping wake. Wailing for more.

Only just the night before you had dropped to your knees in the doorframe of your chambers. Took off his armour beforehand in wordless undoing. Your tragic hero ending. And then gave him your mouth. Not words. Nor cunt. Just the mouth. Tip of the tongue, the lips and teeth. The stretch of his cock still wrung out your throat. Slick and wanting while it mimicked the way your cunt hugged the tip so well. Tased of salt and something more. Something forbidden or taboo. And he took his time with slow shallow thrusts at first, a large gloved hand cradling the curve of the jaw that went slack to let him buck deeper.

This morning was one of the first times you lamented over the now restricted motion in your jaw. The ache still nagged into the later hours, when The Mandalorian returned from your gardens, the bloody and mangled caracas of a rabbit thumping down on the table. He sat at the head of the table opposite you, cleaning the blood from his knife on his cape. You thought if you saw his eyes — be it hickory, azure, or pine — you would have crystallised in that very moment and that very form. Cured oak table under your fingertips, feet planted into the terracotta floor. His irises setting your thrumming heart dead still.

This was the man you let into your bed.

He remained there, sat still in his chair while the child babbled in the kitchen with you. You took that rabbit. Skinned it. Dressed it. And roasted the meat in a marinade of white wine and spices from the edge of your fenced garden. Later you would hang the pelt and let it air — make something for the child. Mittens maybe.

For now, you took your time circling the table to place each plate down: cheese, seasoned greens, a cup for the vessel of wine to his side. The silverware gleamed menacing in dim candlelight while he awaited each plate, unmoving in his armour while each delicacy was gifted to him upon his high table. And when you retired to your seat, the child had taken his too and started his feast, sticky plum jam smeared over his lips as he dribbled innocently and unaware over his rabbit leg.

But upon your silver plate was a single strip of black cloth, folded over twice on itself.

Your eyes lifted to meet him, wide in wondering question. Only to hit a barrier of beskar when you see his visor still covers his face. Not a scrap of food had been helped onto his plate by his still gloved hands. His boots that traipsed dirt through your door were still on his feet, caked in mud on the soles.

“What’s this?” Nothing. Not a word past his lips. “Am I to figure it out for myself?” He cleared his throat, raising his head so his chin jutted out towards you. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“You must wear it if you are to eat with us.”

You pouted, pressing your tongue to the flesh on the inside of your cheek, then kissed your teeth.

“You mean to dictate my freedom in my own home.” You scoffed and slung your arms across your chest, crossing them. “At my own table? You are sick in your own head, Mandalorian, if you think I am one to bend my will to the whims of others. Especially in my own house.” And he repeated,

while his shoulders drew taught under his pauldrons with the armour gleaming in the silver glare of Selene’s chariot. And he planted a seed in your stomach, turned in it, and made you feel sick. You preferred him between your legs, his name between your teeth and tongue.

“You must wear it if you are to eat with us.”

Eyes fell to the plate, that cloth once more. Would it be poisoned? The fabric snared with nettle to sting your eyes. Here you had two choices. Stay, blind yourself, yield to him somewhere other than your chambers. Or stand and leave. Either way, it was an act of submission.

You did neither. Instead, you stood, kicking your chair back behind you before swanning over to the seat next to him, taking the other leg of rabbit and sinking your teeth into its cooked flesh, all the while your eyes on him. To tartarus with xenia, he outstayed his welcome long after he passed the threshold of your home. Helios could come and smite you for all you cared, the fates could snip your golden immortal line of yarn. No horror could compare to the satisfaction you had as you stuffed your face with food you'd slaved over for him. His refusal was your gain and soon you moved onto the plumbs, sticky sweet juice dribbling down your demented smile.

You wafted the half chewn and mangled fleshy bone in his face, smirking with your mouth full.

“Go on, Madalorian.” You crooned, “have a bite. Give in a little.”

His hand snatched your wrist the moment the words left your stained lips, gloved fingertips making something click in your bones. You bit down the pain with a swallow, smirk remaining triumphant across your features.

“Put it down.” He grimaced, curling his helmet covered lip at the state of you. Unkempt and wild, shrewish in your dignity.

“Or what?”

He let go. Sat back, pushed out a huff through his nostrils.

Then he stood. You watched unphased and delighted with yourself as he took the child who cooed up at him. And listened out for his heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs to his and the child’s room. Then silence. All the while you tossed the stripped bone to his plate and licked your fingers.

You didn’t know what you would rather prefer. Him to come back down. Or stay and retire to bed. Regardless, he’d take you eventually. Here or up in your bed chambers. Unlace your corset or nightgown. Use you as his nightcap before slipping off. Without getting a look upon him. Not a sliver of his visage to hold to in sleep.

He did come down. And with a heavy hand bent you over the head of the table, a gloved palm pressing your face into the wood.

Physically you were here. Mentally, you were back against the silver birch. His cock splitting you in two once again while you smiled sadistically in candlelight. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you.

Between your thighs where he belonged.

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cherub-notifs · 1 year ago

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (series masterlist) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here!

Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im wiring Ince based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic.

So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people, my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

playlist

PART I // ICHOR.

w/c: 2255 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART II // BLOOD.

w/c: 1692 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), oral sex - m receiving, choking, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART III // WATER.

w/c: ? | smut, angst, fluff

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arbitrarygreay · 7 months ago

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Biddy Math

When a Biddy nears death and eventually dies, Alder takes those years back. (There is no sign in 1x3, 1x10, 2x1, or 2x8 that this strain is redistributed to the other Biddies when one of their own is injured or dies. They only take on stress that is directly inflicted upon Alder.)

Therefore, the bare minimum requirement for the Biddy program is that if one Biddy dies, Alder will not die just by taking on those years. Assuming an equal sharing of Alder's life force (not necessarily a safe one to make, given that the Marshal's setup is so different), then this means that Alder doubles her physical years when a Biddy dies. Therefore, the number of biddies is defined by what is half of life expectancy, plus some number of buffer years so that Alder isn't on death's door just from losing one Biddy.

Delicious numbers, analysis, and graphs under the cut. Click through to see exactly which years Alder probably increased the number of Biddies over time! Now with bonus "how much is Alder drinking" potshots!

To decide some things, we can bypass life expectancy at younger ages, because those numbers are the product of mortality rates, which include causes of death other than old age. Because in the Biddy process, people proceed directly to old age, we can look at life expectancy for people who already survived to that old age.

x = Alder's total age n = Total number of people sharing life force (number of biddies plus 1 for Alder herself) Alder's physical age = A = x/n L = life expectancy (most probable age of death) s = safety buffer L-s = Age at which a person is expected to still live for another s years L-s = The age Alder will become if a Biddy dies = 2A = 2x/n

For Life Expectancy numbers, I looked at the Human Mortality Database. Here is the full citation:

HMD. Human Mortality Database. Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research (Germany), University of California, Berkeley (USA), and French Institute for Demographic Studies (France). Available at www.mortality.org. See also the methods protocol: Wilmoth, J. R., Andreev, K., Jdanov, D., Glei, D. A., Riffe, T., Boe, C., Bubenheim, M., Philipov, D., Shkolnikov, V., Vachon, P., Winant, C., & Barbieri, M. (2021). Methods protocol for the human mortality database (v6). Available online (needs log in to mortality.org).

For most all of the datasets I looked at, "Expected to live 5 more years" correlated to a ~10% mortality rate (that 1 in 10 people of that age died that year). So a 5 year safety buffer seems reasonable.

So, for example, I look at the US females dataset. I go to 2019 (the year the show started, and also to avoid the influence of the pandemic). In the dataset, the age at which they are expected to live 5 more years is 89. This is our (L-s) term. So, the physical age that Alder is safe to be at in 2019 is at most 89/2 = 44.5. (Lyne was 40 in 2019.)

If we assume that Alder was 18 years old when she signed the Salem Accords in 1692 (in order to codify conscription age to match hers), then in 2019 she is 345 years old. When we divide 345 by 44.5, to see how many total parties need to share those years equally, we get 7.625, which rounds up to 8. And well well well, that makes for Alder and 7 Biddies. Eliot did his math!

Something Eliot didn't quite do his math on, though, is his claim in After the Storm 1x3 that Biddies only tend to last 5-6 years. In 2019, Tally (somewhere between 18 and 19 years old) picking up 44.5 years upon getting Biddy'd means that she was physically…somewhere around 63 years old! In the US, 63 year ladies could expect to live another 23 years, to age 86! In order to get back down to the "less than 6 years to live as a Biddy" range, we would have to assume that the stress of military combat and also Alder's alcoholic liver would lop off another 17 years from their natural life expectancy. No I am not going to research how muchFine, let's find out how much Alder is drinking in order to destroy 20 year old candidates in 5-6 years.

Found an online calculator that cites this study:

Westman J, Wahlbeck K, Laursen TM, Gissler M, Nordentoft M, Hällgren J, Arffman M, Ösby U. Mortality and life expectancy of people with alcohol use disorder in Denmark, Finland and Sweden.; Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica; April 2015

For a person to start drinking at age 63 and shorten their lifespan from 86 to 69 years, Alder is pounding at least 9 doses a day (but that would also only be enough to kill one Biddy! do we need to multiply that by seven...). Per NIAAA, a dose is 0.6 ounces of pure alcohol, which averages 5 ounces of wine and um only 1.5 ounces (a shot glass) or less of liquors like whiskey.

Alder famously ends up downing both of these glasses in this scene.

Sarah. Sarah. How many fucking doses is that, Sarah!? ("the height of two fingers against a regular sized glass is about 2 fl oz", so these glasses are probably "neat" pours, and she took 4 ounces in the Petra scene, and 2 ounces above. But we also know from Tally that "she loves her wine" and probably has it daily during at least breakfast with Anacostia, if not also at all other scheduled meals.)

...Okay, crack tangent over. Biddy candidate age speculation! Well, we started this whole thing with the assumption that when Alder takes back her years from a Biddy, she basically becomes Biddy age, with 5 years ahead of her (matching the expected years of service that Eliot quoted, eh). Which means that, really, Biddy candidates following that pattern should just be Alder's physical age? Whomst 44 year old Biddy candidates lmao. And even if we include that extra 10 year buffer for Alder's alcoholic liver combat stress, the standard Biddy candidate (looking forward to only 5-6 years of service) would just be whatever is 10 years younger than Alder's physical age. In 2019 that would be at most 34 years old, not anything near conscript age.

Here's another analysis angle, because why not: If we assume that Alder is actually frozen in time and only the Biddies are ageing for her, then 7 biddies are ageing 1.143 years for every year. So they need to actually have 6 years left in them to live 5 years of real time. With that conservative 5 year estimate, the Biddy that died in 1x3 (in 2019) became a Biddy around 2014.

Going back to our mortality tables, in 2014, the age at which a US woman would have 6 years left is 87. If we just lop those 10 years of stress, 77. The age at which they would have 16 years left is 71, which demonstrates how causes of death not of old age like alcoholism come into play a lot more the younger we look. Or there's also a survival bias at play. But it would be real awkward if someone had a genetic/health issue where they would naturally die in their late 60s/early 70s, so they keeled over right after getting Biddy'd. I'm sure the candidate screening process is mostly about avoiding that. Still, in 2014 less than 2% of 71 year olds died, so.

Working backwards to lop off the 44.5 years of Alder's life they're carrying, then the recruitment candidates for that Biddy could have been anywhere from 26-31 years old (with the 10 extra stress years). If we don't, then back to the 40-47 year old range. So yes, Anacostia could have maybe been a viable Biddy candidate, at least on age alone?

The way these are all probabilities means that the stars might align to maximize the longer lifespan of an individual against the age at which they were recruited. If they were playing it real safe and going younger, then a Biddy could serve for 10 years before succumbing to old age. See again how Tally could have had multiple decades ahead of her as a Biddy. That doesn't seem to be the norm, if Eliot is saying that 5-6 is the expectation, but maybe Biddy lifespan increased over the years as life expectancy for the elderly rose.

Here's where it gets…tricky. The Human Mortality Database is very fastidious with their data, and it turns out that most nations didn't keep/take very good records before 1950. The US data set doesn't begin until 1933, which means that I need to look elsewhere for the 200 years before that. The UK and Scotland are obvious choices, given the surname Alder. UK data begins in 1922 when they began merging the various realms of the Isles, which is why the Scotland data actually ends in 1930, when it got folded in. After that, it was mostly finding any European data at all that exists before the 1920s. I picked England+Wales and France, as both made it into the mid-1800s. And finally, the earliest dataset HMD has is Sweden, which somehow went back to 1751. As with the US dataset, I grabbed the oldest age for every year at which the remaining life expectancy was at least 5 years.

This is where I ran into some issues. You can see in the graph above that the Scotland, England, and Sweden data all show a rise in the life expectancy 60 years before the US, France, and the UK do. This is likely due to sampling bias in the older data, but I still have to decide what to do for this analysis. From the graph, you can see that I just averaged the England and France data to split the difference, and it looks like a plausible trend to the US data. Besides, the amplitude of the difference is only a 5-10 year spread, which gets divided out to a couple of years difference per Biddy, which is then well within natural spreads of lifespan. When I perform the calculations to get Alder's physical age from these estimations, it remains quite stable between the 40-45 range.

At any rate, I strongly suspect that Eliot may have looked at the same datasets as I did, because the earliest data point is, as said before, Sweden in 1751. In 1751, Alder would be 77 years old. And what is the life expectancy with a 5 year buffer for 1751? 77.

It's hard to imagine that Alder would have let herself become 77 years old as an active combatant, particularly as we know she looked like her 40-something self crossing the Delaware and when she created the Mycelium after pushing the British back, which according to 1x8, took place around 1735, when she would have been 61. If she had just one Biddy that year, with an even life force split she would have been physically 30.5.

If we go back to that Sweden dataset, the calculated death age for people between 18 and 40 is fairly stable between 60-65 until the 1800s, is that way in France until the late 1800s, and those numbers are likely a lot lower in a much less established region like the Americas. Alder herself would have seen that in the people around her, so it would make sense for her to take on the Biddy program fairly in advance of that. I wouldn't be surprised if she set up contingencies in her 40s, in her 50s at the latest.

(An alternative theory, given the wonkiness of some lore claiming that the Biddy working was shared in exchanged for the Cession in the 1830s when Alder was already over 130 years old, is that Alder used other means to prolong her life before getting Biddies, such as whatever made her be linked to Fort Salem's fauna and flora, not to mention the fact that when she lost all of her Biddies she turned to wood, not dust. Those seem to be separate workings from the Biddy program, and given that alder trees typically live between 60 to 80 years, some reaching 100 years, then the need to switch over to Biddies around then makes sense.)

But finally, what you're all actually here for: a graph of Alder's physical age and when she would have to increase the number of Biddies over time, as influenced by changing elderly life expectancy over time. (Note that if she indeed did not get Biddies until the 1830s, then she went from zero to 4 Biddies at once.)

#motherland fort salem #sarah alder #ag is a neeeeeeeerd #category: tv

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bast38 · 2 years ago

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Koren Picture-Bible (1692–1696), Creation of Adam, p.6

#orthodoxy #orthodox church

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annebrontesrequiem · 1 year ago

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history mental break request: what's the weirdest thing you can tell us about the Salem witch trials?

(I currently don’t have all my books with me so sorry if the citations aren’t v specific for this post)

Tw: Animal death

Unfortunately the Salem Witch Trials have been so so talked about the shock factor of a lot of stuff has prolly gone out of popular culture. To me the weirdest thing is probably that they killed some dogs over it.

The exact amount is hard to pin down - which is also kind of funny. I first read about this in Rosalyn Schanzer’s Witches: The Absolutely True Tale of Disaster in Salem, which said three dogs were killed:

(p. 6) Alas the index on this book is terrible (it’s really a middle grade book), and I cannot remember if she said anything else on the matter.

I wish I had Stacy Schiff’s book (The Witches: Salem, 1692) on me rn, but unfortunately I don’t so instead I went to the internet. And I was semi-successful.

In Erin Blakemoor’s article for History, “Women Weren’t the Only Victim of Salem’s Witch Trials,” Blakemoor claims the number is only two saying:

Men weren’t the only unexpected victims of the Salem Witch Trials: So were dogs, two of which were killed during the scare. One was shot to death when a girl who suffered from convulsions accused it of bewitching her. Another, supposedly a victim of accused men who fled from Salem before they could be tried and arrested, was put to death.

Blakemoor cites Schiff for the second case, but the link pulls up a Google Books search which doesn’t seem to work. However, if Schiff does indeed mention only two, I’d believe her.

Blakemoor also cites Marilynne K. Roach’s The Salem Witch Trials: A Day-by-day Chronicle of a Community Under Siege, which claims:

After a Salem Village dog began acting strangely, the bewitched girls said that Mr. John Bradstreet’s spirit rose and tormented the beast. The dog, though considered a victim, was killed. (p. 307)

Though this link is in the wrong spot on Blakemoor’s article, it’s a valid source and explains at least one of the incidents. Poor dog.

The other sources I saw from a quick skim through said two, so that seems to be the general consensus. Though I’m sure if I went back and looked through the books I’ve read I’d have more to say about it.

Whatever the number, I think this is really interesting. Though the Devil was associated with a black dog, the dog itself was usually considered ‘spectral evidence.’ That being, only the afflicted could see it. The Devil didn’t posses a dog, he became a dog. And the Devil was not a part of the mere physical world, but the world beyond that. The same applies with other animal ‘familiars,’ (again associated with being the Devil) such as yellow birds. Shifting the blame to real dogs is a deviation from the usual lore that at this point was widely accepted throughout Europe (though there were of course regional differences always). If I had time I’d also go to James VI’s Daemonologie, but I’m sorry I’m not reading that rn (maybe later). Suffice to say, weird. But the Salem Witch Trials deviated a good amount from European Witch Trials - even as the colonies were still, just that a colony.

So, I think that’s the weirdest fact. Though, I gotta say what is really weird is actually reading the court records. You can read it online and it’s both heartbreaking and bizarre. I think now it’s impossible to truly understand the mindset of the villagers - partly because the amount of belief varied and vacillated wildly - but if the accusers did not believe, they did at least do a very good job pretending.

So… yeah. Hope this was weird enough.

(And to my fellow history nerds, if I fucked smthing up feel free to tell me I love to learn. Same if you have a weirder fact. Chime in!)

#salem witch trials #history #17th century #history mental break #(for finding purposes)#asks #anon #animal death

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tempus-fugit-memento · 8 days ago

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John Proctor (60)

August 19th, 1692

“The Magistrates, Ministers, Jewries and all the People in general, being so much inraged and incensed against us by the Delusion of the Devil, which we can term no other by reason we know in our own Consciences, we are all innocent persons..”

Many may know him for being the tragic hero in Arthur Miller’s 1953 play “The Crucible”, however what many do not realize is that the real John Proctor is very different from his stage counterpart. The real John Proctor was not a young Daniel Day Lewis, but rather a 60 year old farmer and tavern owner who got caught up in young girls allowed to go mad.

John Proctor was born on October 9th, 1631 in Suffolk, England to John and Martha (Harper) Proctor. John was their first born, between his birth and 1651 the couple would go on to have 8 more children . In 1635, when John was just 3 years old him and his family immigrated to New England aboard the ship(s) Susan and Ellen. The family settled in Ipswich MA, where John spent his childhood and some of his young adulthood. In 1652, John married a woman named Martha (last name unknown) and the two would go on to have 4 children, however out of those 4 only one would survive to adulthood, his son Benjamin. Martha sadly died in childbirth in 1659. In 1662, John then went on to marry Elizabeth Thorndike and have 7 more children. The family moved from Ipswich to the Western part of Salem Town (today Peabody) in 1666. He owned an impressive amount of land there that included a house on Ipswich Rd. The Proctors obtained a tavern license in 1668 and they opened up a Tavern out of the home. Elizabeth sadly passed away in 1672 and not long after John would remarry to Elizabeth Bassett in 1674. They would go on to have 7 children, one of whom dying young. Elizabeth was from Lynn, MA with a less than ideal past. Her Grandmother, a Quaker Midwife named Goody Burt, was suspected of witchcraft previously, something that may have played a role in what was to come in 1692.

John and his sons would spend hours tending to their large and extensive property while the women tended to the house and tavern with the help of their 20 year old servant, Mary Warren. John was known for being a good businessman who could comfortably work with anyone, regardless of who they were, earning the respect of many who knew him. That does not mean that there were not some problems. One of those problems came from neighbor Giles Corey, who lived to the West of the Proctors. The relationship was litigious, even suing each other on more than one occasion. One time John accused Giles of setting fire to his house, later turning out that one of John’s sons was careless with a lantern. Giles also accused John of seeking liquor to Natives from the tavern, which was illegal at the time. Despite the feud, the two were known to have shared a drink together from time to time. Some speculate the source of the tension between the two was the land which John owned being so close to Giles property. Giles was not the first person, however, to bring up issues with the Proctor’s Tavern. In 1678 the family was charged for allegedly accepting items in pawn for drink, however it is unclear how much truth this holds. Another problem goes closer to home. According to son, Benjamin, John would come home at an “unreasonable time with a wooden bottle of rum and drank to drunkenness”. Mary Warren would speak of arguments between John and Elizabeth that happened with some frequency.

When the trials of 1692 began, John was skeptical and did not shy away from letting people know about his skepticisms. It should come as no surprise that he was furious when Mary Warren’s fits began. It was said that he “kept her busy at the spinning wheel and threatened to thresh her if she tried that again..” all under his watchful eye, which seemingly did the trick until John was called away from home, and the fits began again.

On March 25th, 1692, John encountered Samuel Sibley at Walter Philip’s Tavern while on his way to Salem Village. The two had a conversation about how things in the town were and Samuel informed John of how bad the night before was, including his maid’s afflictions. Mary had stayed overnight after court, and that was where John was going. Samuel was not expecting John’s response, which was that he was going to “fetch his jade home and thresh the Devil out of her” and that he would have rather “given up fourth pence than to let her go in the first place..” John warned that if the girls were allowed to continue, “we should all be devils and witches quickly. They should rather be had to the whipping post.” “Hang them!” He said in exasperation, “Hang them!”. His words would later come back to haunt him.

While whatever he did to Mary once home “Cured” her of her afflictions, leading her to tack a note on the meetinghouse door giving thanks, it led to her also being suspected of witchcraft. On April 11th, 1692, while his wife Elizabeth was on trial having been accused and arrested, John found himself amongst the accused. While in attendance, the accused began to list all of the things his wife had afflicted them with, obviously angering him. He was heard muttering that if “John Indian were in his custody, he would soon beat the Devil out of him”. Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam Jr, writhing and twitching, blamed John and called him a wizard, soon all except for Elizabeth Hubbard were in fits. By that time, John was taken into custody. Several afflicted claimed that John’s specter tormented them, and claimed so up until his death.

While in jail, John witnessed and brought to light one of the more disturbing things officials did to the innocent. Martha Carrier’s two sons, 18 year old Richard and 16 year old Andrew, were accused and brought to Salem Village. After adamantly denying the accusations, both brothers were taken from the meetinghouse and brought to a different chamber where they were tied “neck and heels till the blood was ready to come out of their noses”, this happened until they would confess. This is the same torture John’s son, William, who also found himself accused would experience. He recounted this all in a letter which was sent to the Boston Magistrates, begging them for their help.

On August 2nd, 1692, John would sign a new will while in Salem Jail, omitting his wife. It is speculated that their trials occurred that day and due to the fact that they were both convicted, he believed that neither would survive or maybe their marriage was as unhappy as the rumors said. The only real surviving testimony against John is from the afflicted, including Mary Warren. It was at this tie that two petitions surfaced, one with nineteen signatures from Salem and another with thirty-two signatures from Ipswich, all vouching for John and Elizabeth. Sadly, this would be no use. John and Elizabeth were both found guilty and sentenced to hang, however, Elizabeth was found out she was pregnant, something which saved her life. Expectant Women could not be executed, so she was granted a delay until she gave birth, should she survive the ordeal of childbirth, but by that point the trials had ended. John would not be so lucky.

The night of August 18th, 1692, John made one final plea, saying he was “not fit to die”, but this would also prove unsuccessful. The next day on August 19th, John Proctor, George Burroughs, George Jacobs, Martha Carrier and John Willard were taken out of the jail and carted up to Gallows Hill, where one by one they maintained their innocence and forgave their accusers and begged that no more innocent blood be shed. One by one, they each hung. Thomas Brattle wrote that “In the opinion of many unprejudiced, considerate and considerable spectators, some of the condemned went out of this world not only with as great protestations, but also with as good shews of innocence, as men could do.” He then signals out John Proctor and John Willard with special praise for “their whole management of themselves” before their deaths. The bodies were cut down from the tree and put in a shallow grave, where family members would allegedly retrieve the bodies under the cover of night and bury them privately. Nobody knows where John’s body is, however it is likely that he is buried in “Proctor’s Tomb”, located opposite 310 Lowell Street at the Lowell Street on-ramp to 128.

Elizabeth survived the trials, giving birth to a son whom she named after his father and the two were released from prison. The family was given £150 in restitution for not only John’s imprisonment but for Elizabeth’s as well in 1711 by the General Court of Massachusetts.

John’s legacy lived on through his children, his son Thorndike rebuilt the family home in the exact spot, in the exact way as the original which is still standing today, though closed to the public as of December 2024. Gallows Hill was later renamed Proctor’s Ledge and a simple memorial was built at the site.

#salem witch trials #john proctor

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normally0 · 6 months ago

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The Architectural News

Following some design work I was taken by the similarity’s between The Wimbledon House and the BEWAG Haus, specifically with regard to the staircases.

The Architectural Drawings at All Souls College, Oxford:�Wren and Hawksmoor

333 - AS IV.122. Survey plan, drawn by Hawksmoor to a scale of 10 ft to an inch (drawn scale). The draughtsmanship is datable to the early 1690s. Dark brown ink over pencil. 448 x 764 mm. Strasbourg lily WR; P. The central axis is dotted in ink. Pencil additions:

* (i) The screens passage is crossed out and a new wall drawn 9–6 ft from the central axis.

* (ii) A canopy is loosely sketched in one of the seventeenth-century rooms.

The cross vault over the chapel may also be an addition.

Note to 333:Wimbledon House was built for Sir Thomas Cecil, afterwards Earl of Exeter, c. 1588. It was subsequently purchased by Charles I and presented to Henrietta Maria, who employed Inigo Jones to undertake alterations in 1638–42. Jones was responsible for the T-shaped arrangement of rooms and corridors situated on the W side of the house. In 1673 (or thereabouts) the house was bought by Thomas Osborne, later 1st Duke of Leeds. The origins of 333 are not recorded. It should be noted, however, that in 1692 Sophia Osborne, a widowed daughter of the Duke of Leeds, married Lord Lempster, Hawksmoor’s patron at Easton Neston.

MAX DUDLER

BEWAG-HAUS

Location Markgrafenstraße 35, D-10117 Berlin

Client Berliner Kraft und Licht BEWAG

Building period 1994–1997

Volume GFA 9.000 m²

The residential and commercial building for Bewag—in a prominent location on Berlin’s Gendarmenmarkt—was built on the site where the city’s oldest power station once stood. The building’s design references the historic town house typology of the Friedrichstadt district. The defining feature is the relief-style stone facade with recessed steel-framed windows. The clearly visible facade screws add a technological touch, alluding to the industrial architecture that used to occupy this site. The building’s axial emphasis and the entrance situation it creates reference the Deutscher Dom (German Church) that faces it on the square.

#WimbledonHouse #BEWAGHaus #ArchitecturalDesign #HistoricInfluence #WrenAndHawksmoor #AllSoulsCollege #ArchitecturalDrawings #InigoJones #ThomasCecil #CharlesI #MaxDudler #Gendarmenmarkt #BerlinArchitecture #IndustrialHeritage #ArchitecturalLegacy #StrasbourgLily #ArchitecturalResearch

#architecture #berlin #area #london #acme #chicago #puzzle #edwin lutyens #oma #massimoscolari

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brookstonalmanac · 7 months ago

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Events 6.2 (before 1960)

455 – Sack of Rome: Vandals enter Rome, and plunder the city for two weeks. 1098 – First Crusade: The first Siege of Antioch ends as Crusader forces take the city; the second siege began five days later. 1608 – The Colony of Virginia gets a charter, extending borders from "sea to sea". 1615 – The first Récollet missionaries arrive at Quebec City, from Rouen, France. 1676 – Franco-Dutch War: France ensured the supremacy of its naval fleet for the remainder of the war with its victory in the Battle of Palermo. 1692 – Bridget Bishop is the first person to be tried for witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts; she was found guilty and later hanged. 1763 – Pontiac's Rebellion: At what is now Mackinaw City, Michigan, Chippewas capture Fort Michilimackinac by diverting the garrison's attention with a game of lacrosse, then chasing a ball into the fort. 1774 – Intolerable Acts: The Quartering Act is enacted, allowing a governor in colonial America to house British soldiers in uninhabited houses, outhouses, barns, or other buildings if suitable quarters are not provided. 1780 – The anti-Catholic Gordon Riots in London leave an estimated 300 to 700 people dead. 1793 – French Revolution: François Hanriot, leader of the Parisian National Guard, arrests 22 Girondists selected by Jean-Paul Marat, setting the stage for the Reign of Terror. 1805 – Napoleonic Wars: A Franco-Spanish fleet recaptures Diamond Rock, an uninhabited island at the entrance to the bay leading to Fort-de-France, from the British. 1835 – P. T. Barnum and his circus start their first tour of the United States. 1848 – The Slavic congress in Prague begins. 1866 – The Fenians defeat Canadian forces at Ridgeway and Fort Erie, but the raids end soon after. 1896 – Guglielmo Marconi applies for a patent for his wireless telegraph. 1909 – Alfred Deakin becomes Prime Minister of Australia for the third time. 1910 – Charles Rolls, a co-founder of Rolls-Royce Limited, becomes the first man to make a non-stop double crossing of the English Channel by plane. 1919 – Anarchists simultaneously set off bombs in eight separate U.S. cities. 1924 – U.S. President Calvin Coolidge signs the Indian Citizenship Act into law, granting citizenship to all Native Americans born within the territorial limits of the United States. 1941 – World War II: German paratroopers murder Greek civilians in the villages of Kondomari and Alikianos. 1946 – Birth of the Italian Republic: In a referendum, Italians vote to turn Italy from a monarchy into a Republic. After the referendum, King Umberto II of Italy is exiled. 1953 – The coronation of Queen Elizabeth II at Westminster Abbey becomes the first British coronation and one of the first major international events to be televised. 1955 – The USSR and Yugoslavia sign the Belgrade declaration and thus normalize relations between the two countries, discontinued since 1948.

#Events

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swapcat · 7 months ago

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【初心者OK】メルカリのプロフィールのポイント11選＋α！画像や例文をテンプレートで紹介

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heartofstones2 · 8 months ago

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50+ Printable Valentines Day Cards- Tons of Creative Ideas You'll Love

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fearsmagazine · 9 months ago

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WITCHES!? IN SALEM?! - Review

DATES: March 16th to 30th, 2024 THEATER: HERE 145 Sixth Ave, New York, NY 10013 ACTORS: Jessie Cannizarro, Nick Carrillo, AJ Ditty, Carolina Đỗ, Aaron Parker Fouhey, James Fouhey, Jake Keefe, Andy Miller, Jessica Mosher, and Jordan Sison CREW: Director - Rachel Dart; Writer - Matt Cox; Producers - Jonathan Cottle and Matt Cox; Scenic, Costume & Puppet Design - K.C. McGeorge and Noah Ruff; Original Music - Brian Metolius; Stage Manager - Vanessa Rebeil.

SYNOPSIS: Salem Village, 1692, where wealthy landowners covet their neighbor’s land, local magistrates extract confessions, unpopular reverends want respect but more importantly firewood, and everyone is looking for someone to be punished for something. Meanwhile, several local children, led by the 12 year-old Abigail Williams try to make sense of the hysteria they find themselves at the center of. Meanwhile, the newest villagers, the Bloodkravens, are confused about it all.

REVIEW: In his play "Witches!? In Salem!?" playwright Matt Cox presents Satan's perspective on the 1962 events in Salem, Massachusetts, and the subsequent trials, arguing that this was one historical event in which he had no involvement or even presence. Cox, the writer behind the long-running Off-Broadway comedy "Puffs, or Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic," brings his irreverent and sharp wit to the Salem Witch Trials for an evening of theater that is both hilarious and thought-provoking.

Cox's play features eleven main characters, with the cast serving in supplementary roles for specific scenes. He constructs the satire from a cacophony of selfish motivations and desires exhibited by the characters. Among them is a contemporary character introduced by Satan- an eighth-grade student named Jenny Ann Bishop. A straight-A student, Jenny Ann boldly declares to the audience, "I'd sell my soul if I could lecture a captive audience on my favorite school subject: U.S. HISTORY." Throughout the play, she appears, providing commentary on the unfolding events.

The satire and irony are perfectly paced, while the character motivations and arcs are reminiscent of a less vulgar "South Park" story. The characters stand out as caricatures, offering a refreshing and engaging experience that avoids clichés.

In the play, there's a compelling scene where Bridgert Bishop travels through time, reflecting on past and present events. As she enters a Walgreens, she remarks on the irony of being murdered for something that is now celebrated everywhere she goes. She expresses a sense that her words are part of a comedy about her tragedy and expresses hope that the real world has progressed since the events of 1692. This scene highlights the enduring relevance of historical events and raises questions about how far society has truly come.

As the story reaches its climax, a chilling twist unfolds. Satan emerges, presenting his alternate version of events, creating a hauntingly captivating conclusion. The play leaves a resonant impact, adding a lingering crescendo, leaving the audience in awe of the unexpected turn of events.

The production values of the play were impressive, especially considering its modest budget and off-off-Broadway status. The puritan costumes were simple, enhanced by well-designed cardboard pilgrim hats. The Bloodkraven costumes were ironically fashionable, off-the-rack iconic pieces that added a touch of color to the otherwise puritan garb.

Most of the set and props were cleverly designed using cardboard, except for a few key elements such as the history book, gavel, church benches, and cauldron. Even the stage design, except for the quilt-like curtain, had a DIY feel that was both fun and effective, allowing for quick scene changes.

The lighting design, music, and sound effects were also impressive and added to the overall atmosphere of the play.

"Witches!? In Salem?!" features a truly brilliant cast, including playwright Matt Cox himself. The production boasts a talented ensemble of actors, many of whom are alumni of Cox's off-Broadway hit "Puffs." It would be unfair to single out individual performances, as the entire cast is outstanding. However, Aaron Parker Fouhey, Jessica Mosher, Andy Miller, Jessie Cannizzaro, and A.J. Ditty deserves special mention for their hilarious portrayals and their ability to navigate the show's demanding physical comedy and set changes. The ten-minute intermission is well-deserved, as the cast puts in a lot of effort during the show's two acts. Having seen "Puffs," I believe that Cox has assembled his dream cast for "Witches!? In Salem?!" These actors were undoubtedly aware of the show's demands and were up to the challenge.

In Matt Cox's uproarious comedy titled "Witches!? In Salem?!", the infamous events of the Salem Witch trials are hilariously reimagined. The talented cast, like a well-oiled Swiss watch, delivers a marvelously synchronized and dynamic performance, creating a madcap comedy brimming with laughter and satire, and a couple of introspective moments. A memorable theatrical experience not to be missed.

Witches!? In Salem?! will be presented at 8:30pm on Sat 3/16, Tues 3/19, Fri 3/22, Sat 3/23, Tues 3/26, Thurs 3/28, Fri 3/29 and Sat 3/30 with 4:00 pm matinees on Sun 3/17 and Sat 3/23 at HERE, 145 Sixth Ave, New York, NY 10013. Tickets are available at www.witchesinsalem.com.

Review By: Joseph B Mauceri

#theater news #off off broadway #Matt Cox #Witches!? In Salem?!#HERE theater #salem witch trials #satan #dark comedy #satire #puffs

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