Banned because YAS its so cute

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Banned because you ring is so coooool I love rosettes!

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Banned because thank uuuuu!

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Banned because your pfp is too cool.

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Banned because your pfp is too cool.

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Banned because your pfp is too cool.

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Banned because your pfp is too cool.

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Banned bc u said that 4 times! (thx btw)

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banned because
Most people have heard of witches, they have been part of folklore and superstition for centuries, and some people still believe in them, but in this essay I’ll be writing about a time when the peoples’ belief in witches reached a peak, the Salem Witch Trials.

In 1692, two young girls, Elizabeth Parris and her cousin, Abigail Williams, became ill, and started experiencing unfamiliar and unresearched symptoms. At the time, due to limited medical knowledge, no medical diagnosis could be made. Even though historians now believe that the girls may have been suffering from food poisoning and hallucinations, back then there was only one explanation for the girls’ behavior, the devil. The girls were interrogated about who was possessing them until the girls blamed Tituba, a native american slave. It is unclear as to why the girls specifically chose to accuse Tituba, but it may have had to do with social pressure or hallucinations.

Today, we are always assumed innocent until proven guilty, but in the Salem witch trials it was quite the opposite. If you were accused of being a witch, you were assumed to be guilty and had to prove yourself innocent. Nobody was able to prove themselves innocent of witchcraft and those who tried were executed by hanging. In order to avoid prison, or worse, execution, for being a witch, you had to promise to stop practicing witchcraft and point out another witch, who would then also be tried for witchcraft. This caused some women to accuse their own mothers of witchcraft in order to escape punishment. Another right that resulted from these trials is the right to a quick and speedy trial. The accused were held in prison for unreasonable amounts of time before standing trial, some not even getting a trial at all.

In June 1692, the Court of Oyer and Terminer (a court authorized to hear certain criminal cases) went to Salem to hear the witchcraft cases. In charge of this case was the chief of justice, William Stoughton. Following the trials, William Phips chose Stoughton as chief justice of the Court of Oyer and Terminer. Perhaps due to his lack of legal training, Stougton strayed from traditional procedures and allowed many irregular deviations from normal courtroom procedure, including permitting private conversations between accusers and judges, allowing spectators to interrupt with their own remarks, allowing spectral evidence, and refusing to allow defense counsel for the accused.

When somebody was accused of witchcraft, three actions could prove the witch guilty: the confession of the witch, the testimony of two eyewitnesses to the acts of witchcraft, or spectral evidence. And of course, these made it difficult to prove innocence. A confession, often caused by peer pressure or fear of execution, was considered strong evidence, but most, if not all, confessions were given to avoid the death penalty, regardless of their truth. Eyewitness testimony was another form of evidence, it was highly unreliable and could easily be influenced by fear, personal grudges, or hysteria, but was accepted as hard evidence in the trials. Spectral evidence means accusers claimed to see the spirit or specter of the accused committing witchcraft or seeing the accused’s name in the devil’s book.

Though we may never truly know what was wrong with the girls, in modern times we have more advanced and extensive medical knowledge, which allows us to study and research the girls’ symptoms and come up with more plausible reasons for the girls’ behavior. Many modern theories suggest that the girls were affected by epilepsy, boredom, child abuse, mental illness, or a disease caused by eating rye bread that had been infected with fungus. We also know that, contrary from legends you may hear, no witches were burned at the stake.

The Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example of injustice in American history. Once accused of witchcraft, it was nearly impossible to prove yourself innocent. If you refused to stand trial, as octogenarian Giles Corey did, you would face peine forte et dure (a French term meaning 'strong and harsh punishment'). This involved having heavy stones piled on your body until you either agreed to stand trial or were pressed to death. Nobody was safe from being accused of witchcraft, the youngest accused being four-year-old Dorothy Wood.

The disorderly and haphazard way that the Salem Witch Trials were conducted contributed to many rights that we today have as Americans. For example, the presumption that one is innocent until proven guilty, the rights to legal representation, and the cross-examination of accusers.

These trials resulted in the deaths of about 25 men, women, and children, with somewhere from 150 to 200 people imprisoned. 14 women and 5 men were hanged, 1 man was pressed to death, and at least 5 people died in prison.

This series of trials, prosecutions and executions of innocent people accused of practicing witchcraft took place in Colonial Massachusetts. Salem's witch trials are a defining example of intolerance and injustice in American history.

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banned for writing a lot of text..

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banned because i feel like it

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banned because

Item #: SCP-729-J

Object Class: Keter Thaumiel123

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-729-J currently resides in Dr. Niles Hessen's office on her desk. Where, pray to god, it will stay. Request testing at your own risk. It breaches containment at an alarming frequency, but even MTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") refuses to go near the fucking thing, so it does whatever the hell it wants. We are all at its mercy. Dr. Hessen has been commanded to turn in SCP-729-J for it to be properly contained…as soon as someone can get up the courage to write her an email.

Description: SCP-729-J is SUPPOSED to be a toy, but I want to know who the sick fuck was that wanted to give this thing to children. The label SAYS it's made of polyester fiber, but we all know it's made of the devil's couch stuffing. Or something.

Its reign of terror began during a containment breach of SCP-106. SCP-106 had managed to trap Dr. Hessen in her office and had successfully corroded a hole in the door when it caught sight of that goddamn thing SCP-729-J. SCP-106 stopped moving completely and began staring at SCP-729-J, showing no interest in Dr. Hessen. SCP-106 then began moving backwards out of Dr. Hessen's office, never breaking visual contact with that eldritch horror SCP-729-J, until it reached the end of the hall and promptly rematerialized back in its containment cell. It should be noted that SCP-106's middle fingers were raised for the entirety of the encounter with SCP-729-J. SCP-106's reaction is, frankly, perfectly understandable, and several researchers who witnessed the event were found huddling with SCP-106 in its containment cell.

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Banned for being eight hours ahead of lioden time

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banned because I'm about to give u a 1000 word story
The Mysterious Old Library

It was a rainy evening when Eleanor first discovered the library. She had never meant to visit the old part of town, where the cobblestone streets wound like forgotten veins through the heart of the city. But the rain, which had begun in a light drizzle and then worsened to a torrential downpour, left her little choice. The bookstore she was hoping to find had long been closed, and with the storm trapping her, she had stumbled into the narrow alley that led to the library.

It was an ancient building, tucked between two modern cafés, inconspicuous if not for the flickering light that seemed to pulse from behind its tall, arched windows. The door, carved with intricate designs of mythical creatures, was surprisingly welcoming. The brass handle gleamed despite the wetness in the air, and she felt an unexpected pull toward it, as though something—someone—was beckoning her inside.

She hesitated for a moment. There were rumors about the library—some said it was haunted, others whispered about its vast collection of forbidden books. But Eleanor, a passionate reader, was a skeptic when it came to superstitions. The storm was growing worse, and the warmth and comfort inside were too inviting. With a decisive motion, she pushed open the door.

Inside, the air smelled of old wood and parchment, a scent that wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched up to a vaulted ceiling, where chandeliers sparkled dimly, their light soft but welcoming. The library was much grander than any she had ever seen, its walls adorned with tapestries of forgotten scenes and historical events, all too faded to be clearly understood. The floors were polished marble, and despite the obvious age of the building, everything was impeccably maintained.

"Can I help you, miss?" a voice called from the back of the room.

Eleanor turned and saw a tall man in a dark suit, his thin glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He had an air of timelessness about him, as though he had been standing there for centuries. His name tag read “Mr. Alden.”

“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said, “I was just looking for shelter from the rain. I didn’t realize there was a library here.”

“Few do,” Mr. Alden said with a faint smile, “but the library has a way of finding those who need it.”

Eleanor felt a shiver run down her spine at the peculiar way he said that, but she dismissed it as a trick of the mind. After all, it was late, the storm was intense, and her mind was probably playing tricks on her.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Eleanor said, gazing around, “how long has this place been here? It seems… well, so old.”

"Centuries, miss," Mr. Alden replied, his smile becoming more enigmatic. "Time here doesn’t quite behave the way you might expect. The library holds knowledge that goes far beyond your usual texts. Many come here seeking information… though not all are ready for what they find."

There was something about his tone that made Eleanor uneasy. But she shook off her doubts, instead marveling at the rows upon rows of ancient tomes. She had always been a lover of books, and the idea of an entire library dedicated to knowledge, no matter how unusual, was irresistible.

“I’d like to look around,” she said, trying to focus on the excitement rather than her discomfort.

Mr. Alden nodded. “Feel free. But remember, not all books are meant to be opened.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at his cryptic remark. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer, merely stepped away and vanished down a narrow hallway. Eleanor was left standing in the vast, echoing space, surrounded by the thick smell of aged paper. She wandered deeper into the library, her fingers grazing the spines of the books. The titles, written in gold-leafed script, were in languages she didn’t recognize—ancient tongues, languages that had long since disappeared.

One book in particular caught her eye. It was bound in dark leather, and though its title was in a language she could not read, there was something hauntingly familiar about the cover. Her heart began to beat faster as she reached for it. The moment her fingers touched the spine, a cold gust of wind blew through the library, and the lights flickered. She pulled her hand away, startled.

“Are you alright, miss?” Mr. Alden’s voice echoed from behind her.

Eleanor turned to see him standing there, his expression unreadable. He must have returned unnoticed, a fact that unsettled her further.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just… I felt something when I touched it.”

“The books here are more than just paper and ink,” Mr. Alden said softly. “Some are alive. Some… remember.”

Eleanor’s curiosity flared. “Remember what?”

Mr. Alden took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “The stories within these books are not always what they seem. They are living histories. They hold memories—memories of their readers, their writers, and even their worlds. You are not the first to be drawn here, miss. But you must decide what you are willing to learn.”

Eleanor swallowed hard. “What kind of knowledge are we talking about?”

Mr. Alden’s gaze was piercing. “There are answers here, yes. But they come with a price. The more you know, the more you understand about the world… and yourself.”

She hesitated, caught between the allure of the library’s mysteries and the unsettling aura that had begun to fill the air. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“Few are,” he replied quietly. “But when you are, the books will choose you.”

Before she could ask another question, a sound echoed from the far end of the library—a low, rhythmic tapping, as though something was moving through the aisles. The flickering lights grew dimmer, and the temperature seemed to drop. Eleanor turned to Mr. Alden, but he was gone again, leaving her alone.

The tapping continued, growing louder. In the silence, Eleanor could hear her own heart pounding in her chest. The air felt thick, heavy with something—something ancient and alive. She took a step forward, compelled to follow the sound, and as she did, the books around her began to tremble.

She followed the tapping sound deeper into the library until she reached a secluded alcove. And there, on a pedestal, was a book unlike any other. It was not ancient, nor was it bound in leather. It was new, fresh, with a simple white cover. On the cover, in black letters, was a single word: "Eleanor."

She stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. How was it possible? She hadn’t seen that book before, and yet… it felt as though it had been waiting for her.

She reached for it, her fingers trembling. As soon as her hand touched the cover, the room went completely still.

Then, a voice whispered, clear as day, though no one was there: “You are ready.”

Eleanor opened the book. And the library, once so silent, came to life.

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banned becaus ethats prolly rlly cool but icba to read that

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