#antique pattern database | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aspenmissing · 2 years ago

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𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

The walls of the motel room are covered in maps, hand-written notes, and a missing poster showing Ava's face. Sam is on the phone.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen," Dean and Y/N enter.

"What'd she have to say?" She asks.

"Oh, she's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I can think of- federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just...into thin air, you know?"

"Huh," Dean hands over one of the two cups of coffee he's carrying to Sam, Y/N holding her own.

"What about you two?" Y/N shakes her head.

"No, same as before. Sorry, man," Dean says.

"Ellen did have one thing."

"Hmm?"

"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

"Yeah? What's that have to do with Ava?" Y/N asks, sitting at the small table.

"It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, Guys, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out," Sam says, as Dean takes his jacket off and sits opposite Y/N.

"You did?"

"Yeah. You seem surprised."

"Well yeah, it's just, you know. Not the, uh, patented Sam Winchester way, is it?"

"What way is that?" Sam asks, mildly challenging.

"Yeah Dean, what way is that?" Y/N says sarcastically.

"I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and—" Sam gives him a look "yeah, I'll shut up now."

"Look. I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead and some demon has taken her off to God knows where. You know? But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing. So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can," Y/N and Dean look at each other surprised. They then look to Sam.

"Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you," Sam ducks his head and laughs.

"All right, call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it," Y/N says.

It's not raining, but the roads are wet and the air misty as Y/N parks the Impala in front of the inn. Y/N gets out of the driver's side, followed by Dean from the passenger side and then Sam from the back.

"Dude, this is sweet. We never got to work jobs like this," Dean says.

"Like what?"

"Old schools haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways...sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside," Dean closes his eye briefly "Mmm, Daphne. Love her."

"Trust you to love a cartoon," As they go up the stairs, Sam notices an urn on the side of the porch.

"Hey, wait a sec," Sam inspects it more closely "I'm not so sure haunted’s the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"You see this pattern here?" Sam taps a five-point symbol engraved in the urn "That's a quincunx, that's a five-spot."

"Five-spot," Y/N says.

"Yeah."

"That's used for hoodoo spell work, isn't it?"

"Right, yeah. You fill this thing with blood weed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies."

"Yeah, except I don't see any blood weed. Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white meat for hoodoo?" Sam shrugs.

"Maybe." As they enter, looking around at the quite interior, a woman enters briskly.

"May I help you?" She asks.

"Hi, yeah, I'd like a room for a couple of nights," As Sam moves in, a little girl darts in front of his legs.

"Hey!" The woman turns to Sam "Sorry about that."

"No problems."

"Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests."

"Well. Sounds vaguely ominous," Y/N says.

"No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month," The woman appraises them "Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?" Dean, Sam, and Y/N share a 'why not' look.

"How'd you know?" Dean asks.

"Oh, you just look the type," Dean looks vaguely uncomfortable.

"So, uh, king-sized bed?"

"What? No, uh, no, we're, we're...three singles. We're just siblings."

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry," Y/N gives her a smile.

"It's okay. It happens a lot."

"What'd you mean that we look the type?" Dean asks. The woman has trouble articulating an answer.

"You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?"

"Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever," handing Dean a key "Here you go, Mr. Mahagov."

"Thanks," The woman dings a bell.

"You'll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show these gentlemen and lady to their rooms?" As she says this, Y/N turns to see an old, balding man in a black blazer shuffling up behind her.

"Let me guess. Antiques?" Sherwin drags Dean's clunking duffel bag behind him, up the stairs, as the siblings follow.

"I could give you a hand with that bag," Y/N says.

"I got it."

"Okay."

"So, the hotel's closing up, huh?" Sam says.

"Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame."

"Oh yeah?"

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here; I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it. Here's your room," Sherwin slips the key to Y/N as he brushes past and Sam follows in. Dean turns to shut the door and Sherwin is standing there, hand extended expectantly "You're not gonna...cheap out of me, are you, boy?" Dean shrugs, looks annoyed as he pulls out his wallet. Later Sam is sitting, sifting through papers, Y/N is sitting next to him, and Dean is pacing. He chuckles as he approaches what appears to be an antique wedding dress displayed on a wall like a ghost.

"What the-"

"What?" Y/N asks.

"That's normal," Dean says, gesturing to the dress. Y/N shrugs "Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long."

"All right. Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty-three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel; and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."

"Well, there's a connection, they're both tied up in shutting the place down," Y/N says.

"Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back."

"Who do you think our witch doctor is, that Susan lady?"

"No, doesn't seem likely. I mean, she is the one selling."

"So, what then, Sherwin?"

"I don't know."

"Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we're gay or one of us is with each other or all three of us."

"Now that's a question I want to know," Y/N says.

"Well, you are kinda butch. Probably think you're overcompensating," Dean mocks a laugh.

"Right."

"That still doesn't answer why people think I'm seeing one of you or both of you," Y/N says, and Sam shakes his head.

"That I still don't know."

Sam, Dean, and Y/N poke around the hallways, Y/N sees another urn and picks it up. It too, has a quincunx inscribed.

"Hey. Look at that. More hoodoo." They approach a door marked 'Private,' and Dean knocks. Susan opens the door.

"Hi there."

"Hi. Everything okay with your room?" Dean, Sam, and Y/N talk over each other.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, everything's great. Yeah. Very comfortable."

"Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing."

"Hey!" Dean looks past her "Are those antique dolls? Because this one," Dean looks to Sam "this one here, he's got a major doll collection back home. Don'tcha? Huh?" Sam shoots Dean a look.

"Big time."

"Big time. You think he could come- or we would come in and take a look?"

"I don't know..."

"Please? I mean, he loves them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's, he's always dressing 'em up in these little tiny outfits and, um, you'd make his day. I mean when I was younger, he loved playing with my dolls. You- she would, huh? Huh?" Y/N says, trying to keep her laughter in. Sam looks slightly sick.

"It's true."

"Okay. Come on in."

"All right. All right!" Dean slaps Sam on the back, and he and Y/N share a shoulder nudge as they laugh quietly and they follow Sam in as he shoots them a death glare.

"Wow. This is a lot of dolls. I mean, they're nice, you know. Not super creepy at all," Y/N says.

"Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value."

"What is this? The hotel?" Sam asks, and Y/N walks over.

"Yeah, that's right. Exact replica, custom built." Y/N leans down and picks up a broken doll. She frowns.

"His head got twisted around. What happened to it?"

"Tyler, probably." A little girl runs in, presumably Tyler.

"Mommy! Maggie's being mean."

"Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay?"

"Hey, Tyler. I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?" Y/N asks.

"I didn't break it. I found it like that."

"Oh. Well, uh, maybe Maggie did it," Sam says.

"No, neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em."

"Tyler, she wouldn't get mad."

"Grandma?" Dean asks.

"Grandma Rose. These were all her toys."

"Oh. Really. Where's Grandma Rose now?"

"Up in her room."

"You know, I'd, I'd uh, I'd really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll collection," Sam says.

"No. I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors," Susan says suddenly. Sam, Dean, and Y/N exit the room, talking in hushed voices.

"Well, what do you think? Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?" Y/N asks.

"Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo, like curses, and binding spells, and..."

"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor. All right, Me and Y/N will see what we can go dig up on boomin' Granny. You go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before."

"Right."

"Don't go surfing porn -- that's not the kind of whacking I mean," Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the room as Dean and Y/N leave.

Sam stares through a lace-curtained window as droopy music plays. He watched the coroner cart away a body; Dean and Y/N are outside, and meets Susan as she comes back towards the inn.

"What happened?" Y/N asks.

"Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just...hanging there."

"That's awful. He was a guest?" Dean asks.

"He worked for the company that bought the place."

"Hmm."

"I don't understand."

"What?"

"Had a lot of bad luck around here. Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund."

"No thanks. We don't scare that easy," Y/N says. Sam is sitting alone in the dark, framed by the half-open door with the key askew in the lock. Dean and Y/N enter and shut the door behind them, all business-mode.

"There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room."

"Yeah. I saw," Sam says darkly.

"We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?"

"You're the boss," Dean looks at Y/N surprised then to Sam.

"What?" Dean asks.

"You're bossy. And short," Sam laughs sloppily.

"Are you drunk?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah," Sam laughs "So? Stupid." Y/N and Dean look around and see several empty bottles.

"Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case," Sam is staring at nothing, tearfully.

"That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him."

"What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything," Y/N says. Sam shifts his gaze to her.

"That's an excuse, Y/N. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too," The twins approach Sam.

"Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that," Sam slams the table.

"No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!"

"Change what?" Sam leans forwards, hand to chest.

"My destiny, Guys!"

"All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch," Y/N says and she leans over and hauls Sam up by the shoulders, with the help of Dean. "Come on."

"I need you two to watch out for me."

"Yeah. We always do."

"No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever...turn into something that I'm not..." There is a short pause. "you have to kill me."

"Sam," Dean says, dismissive. Sam shoves Dean to face him.

"Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to."

"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass," Y/N says. Sam frowns in confusion.

"He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"Yeah, well, we're not dying, okay? And neither of you. Come on. Sam," Y/N says and pushes Sam onto the bed, but Sam stays seated, reaching up and clutching Y/N's jacket. Her right-hand curls in the fabric of Sam's shoulder. Dean comes to help but Y/N shakes her head.

"No, please! Y/N, Dean, you two are the only ones who can do it. Promise."

"Don't ask that of us," Dean says.

"Y/N, please. You have to promise me." There is a short pause.

"I promise," Y/N says.

"Thanks," Sam reaches up and grabs Y/N's face with both hands "Thank you. You are..."

"All right. Come on," She bats Sam's hands away and shoves him back on the bed. Sam falls back, then turns over on his stomach to plant his face in the pillow, hugging it with both arms. Y/N strokes Sam's hair then goes over to sit on a chair. Dean rubs a hand over his face and looks to Y/N.

"Go and get a drink, I'll watch over him," Y/N says.

#supernatural #older sister winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #reader insert

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sassypotatoe1 · 9 months ago

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Literally so many super practical accessories were replaced with elastane, and I mean so so many, but also different clothing design elements that are not only gorgeous, but super practical and also comfortable, were replaced by elastane, and now if you see those elements in clothes it's "aesthetic" and no one realizes the function these elements had.

Corsets and stays were the precursor to bras because they support breasts, but they had a different and arguably more important function: keeping up all those layers of skirts and petticoats. The whole corsets cause injury and deformity thing is a total myth by the way, I mean modern mass produced corsets probably cause injuries because they're ill-fitted but back in the day they were fitted to your body, not sewn off of pattern blocks. They were pretty damn comfortable, if you wanted to tight lace it was about as uncomfortable and harmful as really tight shape wear or pants, and any injury caused was similar to wearing a chest binder for too long.

Mostly what corsets did was distribute the weight of your skirts and petticoats from your waist across your pelvis, which if you've gone hiking before you'd know that backpacks have a strap across the hips for the same reason, which is that redistributing weight like that takes it off your core and onto your legs which are typically much stronger. But you don't want your skirts to start on your hips because they'll ride down all the time.

Smocking is another thing, when I discovered it (I was browsing through a huge open source database of traditional skills and trades with antique training materials that I've since lost) that I went HOLY SHIT! because not only can it he incredibly incredibly gorgeous and intricate, seriously go look at smocking patterns on pinterest you'll go insane, they were the elastic trims of clothes before elastane. When I'm rich with a lot of free time one day and get to make all my clothes it'll all be smocked, not shirred, because fuck elastane and also it's so much prettier.

Pleats? Yeah functional. In several different ways too! Pleats serve as a way to shape garments, to give them volume and help them lay in a way that's elegant and comfortable, but they're also sometimes there to make clothes adjustable. You ever see those vintage shirts that have vertical pleats all along the front panels? Yeah those were there so a single item of clothing could be taken in or let out easier as humans naturally fluctuate in size. Was it their main function? Idk probably but it was a function and an incredibly useful one!

Lacing has been making a comeback in fashion these last few years and I think y'all can guess the purpose of it easily enough, it's pretty obvious, making sure your clothes are snug as a bug without having to take it in or let it out every time you lose or gain weight or get bloated or take a huge dump. You also typically don't have to tailor clothes if it has lacing panels, because those are responsible for the fitted look, and if the creases under the laces bother you, you can get or make a little panel that goes between the laces and the fabric. I forget what it's called, but it was used with stays iirc to both provide extra support to the front and make everything seem neater, though it's entirely likely I'm remembering this tidbit wrong so if you have the correct information you're welcome to correct me.

Gloves used to be such a societal norm that there were codes for which types to wear in which settings, what fabric signified the class you were in, and wealthy people used to literally just toss a pair and buy a new one if they got dirty or damaged apparently. Now we mostly wear them as protection when working manual labor or crafts, or from the elements, or in medical settings.

Gloves have more uses than you'd think though, and I personally would love to see a resurgence of gloves in popular fashion. Gloves protect you from the cold sure, but they also protect you from the sun, from disease, from injury. I have a pair of lacy fingerless gloves just for driving because in the summer months my steering wheel gets so hot I can't touch it with my bare hands, and the backs of my hands almost always get sun while driving, so I figured why not get a little protection from both and look elegant as fuck while doing it? It worked! And I look elegant as fuck doing it.

Head scarves are a bit of a doozy, much like masks, because of the cultural associations with both. Masks obviously due to the pushback in the last few years due to enforced covid measures, but head scarves due to racism. Y'all remember those vintage pinups with women wearing head scarves and victory rolls (I think that's what it's called)? Yeah they wore them because they had to take over manual labor during the war and their hair kept getting in the way. Later we developed better headbands and pins and they became more in fashion, and then women were all forced to be housewives where stronger hold and protection wasn't necessary, and then when we entered the workforce again we had gel and mousse and hairspray and elastic hair ties.

Head scarves not only keep your hair out of your face, they also protect intricate styles (whether longer term protective styles or shorter term styles for specific events). Ask any black person why they wear a bonnet (in good faith) and you'll get a delightfully detailed explanation, which includes but isn't limited to the fact that it protects their braids, locks and hair in general. That's because it reduces friction on the scalp and hairstrands which often leads to scalp irritation, breakage and hair loss.

You wanna know how head scarves help on finer, straighter hair textures? When the wind threatens to destroy your million pin and half a can of hairspray updo, you tie your scarf up over it loosely, and boom your updo is safe. I've used it a couple of times before going to fancy events, and gotten a lot of looks because they're all conservative white Christians (I grew up around them didn't have a choice) and they were uncomfortable with it looking a little (but not really at all) like a hijab.

There is so much gorgeous, intricate and beautifully useful history to fashion, and people seem to really take it for granted due to fast fashion and consumerism and planned obsolescence. There's so so much you can do to make your clothes fit better, look better, be more comfortable, have more function, and I truly wish everyone had the opportunity and resources to learn about these things.

You know what, since I'm thinking about it anyways, let's talk formalwear accessories. Most of these are traditionally menswear but a bit of gender fuckery is good for the soul, and frankly most of these are about making your mass-produced clothing fit and lay properly without having to go to the tailor.

Shirt stays: these go around your thighs to hold your shirt down, so that it stays smooth and tucked in. They're usually elastic, with 1-3 clips, and if you wear skirts frequently this is a GREAT way to make sure your top doesn't ride up. The clips will be visible if you're wearing something tight, so loose pants or skirts are where these do best. There's also an insane version that clips to your socks, but that is for lunatics. If you wanted, you could also use one of these clips to hold up thigh-highs.

These do a great job of smoothing and narrowing the waist area by keeping your shirt from bunching there.

Sleeve garters: usually metal, leather, elastic, or silk. These are usually worn with button-down shirts to adjust where your cuff falls on the wrist or hand. They're properly worn on the upper arm, and you pull the fabric of the sleeve above the garter until you cuff is where you want it. Because this creates a puff of sleeve at the bicep, it also broadens the appearance of the shoulders. It's great if you're working with your hands or if your sleeves are often too long for your preference.

Waistband clip or belt adjustment clip/buttons

Three different ways of tightening the waistband of a pair of pants or a skirt. You're not going to get more than an inch or so tighter without weird bunching, and for most of these you'd want them to be hidden under a shirt or jacket, but they do the job if that's something you're having issues with.

Collar pins: There are so many fun ones out there, both with and without chains. They're not terribly practical, though the slight weight may help keep your collar where you want it. Also consider collar tips, which pin (surprise) to the very tips of your collar points.

Sweater clips/guards: meant to hold your sweater or cardigan mostly closed. Great if your cardigan doesn't button, or if you don't like it to be buttoned all the way.

There's tons of other stuff out there like this--etsy is a great place to find this stuff. A lot of these are old solutions to the very modern problem of mass-maufactured clothes not being as one-size-fits-all as advertised, but they're also a fun way to put a bit of personality into businesswear.

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photocut-ai · 3 months ago

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AI Pokemon Generator

Have you ever envisioned designing your very own Pokémon? Now, what if that is possible without having to make you an artist? Now you can create your very own Pokémon characters in just a few minutes thanks to PhotoCut’s AI Pokémon generator and artificial intelligence. Be it 2D, 3D, pixel art, or anime drawings, PhotoCut provides an all-encompassing, wide range of customization options to craft unique Pokémon creatures from your imagination.

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Learn how to draw a dragon easily using AI.

FAQs

Q1. What is an AI Pokémon generator? Ans. An AI Pokémon generator is a tool that is powered by artificial intelligence, where unique Pokémon creatures are created from text descriptions. Users can put in their ideas, and within a few seconds, the AI will generate a custom Pokémon.

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dilum-mga2022mi6021 · 5 months ago

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Research: The Environment part 3

Story References & Inspirations

The Library of Alexandria

Library of Alexandria, the most famous library of Classical antiquity. It formed part of the research institute at Alexandria in Egypt that is known as the Alexandrian Museum (Mouseion, “shrine of the Muses”).

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The Repository | Dark Pictures

The repository is a huge library built of dark wood, in the classical and opulent style of the Victorian era. Most of the repository consists of seemingly endless corridors and crossroads, which causes the Curator to use a compass to find his section. They are made in the same style, having dark blue wallpaper with a white pattern and wood panels, arched doorways, long red carpets, windows and lamps on the ceiling. The walls are hung with eerie paintings in golden frames that are said to serve as portals to other stories[1]. The corridors are mostly empty, though small nightstands, chairs and leather sofas can be found in some hallways.

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The Wanderer's Library (SCP-6000)

The Wanderer's Library, designated Nx-001, is an extradimensional Y-space comprised of a massive library of unclear size & boundaries which contains a potentially infinite amount of books, treatises, essays, and other forms of media and knowledge. Its collection purportedly covers the sum of all knowledge, but with a specific focus on elements of thaumaturgy and magic. The Foundation has been aware of the Library since 1955 when the Group of Interest known as the Serpent's Hand inadvertently exposed the location to Agents. -Unauthorized Access from SCP Foundation Database

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willpaul229 · 1 year ago

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Auction Master’s Guide to Appraising Items for Auction

In the dynamic world of auctions, the art of appraising items holds paramount importance. Whether you're an experienced auctioneer or a budding enthusiast, understanding the nuances of item appraisal can be the difference between success and disappointment. With the rise of online liquidation auctions, mastering the appraisal process becomes even more crucial. Let's delve into the essentials of appraising items for online liquidation auctions and how it can elevate your auctioneering prowess.

Research is Key:

The foundation of effective appraisal lies in thorough research. For online liquidation auctions, this involves understanding market trends, historical prices, and demand patterns. Utilize online resources, auction databases, and industry publications to gather comprehensive data on similar items sold in the past. This research provides valuable insights into pricing dynamics and helps in setting realistic expectations.

Condition Assessment:

The condition of an item significantly influences its value. Before appraising any item, conduct a meticulous examination to assess its condition accurately. Pay attention to factors such as wear and tear, functionality, authenticity, and any signs of damage or restoration. Documenting detailed condition reports ensures transparency and builds trust among bidders in online liquidation auctions.

Specialized Knowledge:

Certain items require specialized expertise for accurate appraisal. Whether it's fine art, jewelry, antique furniture, or collectibles, delving into the specifics of each category enhances appraisal precision. Stay updated with industry developments, attend workshops, and collaborate with experts to deepen your understanding of niche markets. This expertise empowers auction masters to discern the true worth of diverse items in online liquidation auctions.

Stay Objective:

Appraising items demands objectivity and impartiality. Personal biases or emotional attachments can skew valuation judgments, leading to mispricing. Maintain a professional outlook and base appraisals on tangible factors such as market demand, provenance, and intrinsic qualities. Embrace a data-driven approach supported by empirical evidence to ensure fair and accurate appraisals in online liquidation auctions.

Adaptability and Flexibility:

The auction landscape is ever-evolving, with trends and preferences fluctuating over time. As an auction master, cultivating adaptability and flexibility is essential for navigating this dynamic terrain. Be open to reassessing valuation methodologies, embracing new appraisal techniques, and adjusting pricing strategies based on market dynamics. This adaptability fosters resilience and agility in the fast-paced realm of online liquidation auctions.

Effective Communication:

Clear and concise communication is paramount throughout the appraisal process. Provide detailed descriptions, high-quality images, and comprehensive documentation to convey the value proposition of each item accurately. Utilize online platforms, social media channels, and email newsletters to engage with potential bidders and showcase the unique features of items up for auction in online liquidation auctions.

Continuous Evaluation and Improvement:

Appraising items is a continuous learning journey characterized by ongoing evaluation and improvement. Reflect on past appraisals, analyze auction outcomes, and solicit feedback from peers and clients to identify areas for refinement. Embrace a growth mindset and leverage insights gleaned from each appraisal experience to enhance your appraisal expertise for future online liquidation auctions.

In conclusion, the art of appraising items for online liquidation auctions requires a blend of research, expertise, objectivity, adaptability, communication, and continuous improvement. By mastering the appraisal process, auction masters can unlock the full potential of items and create value for both sellers and buyers in the dynamic world of online liquidation auctions. As the auction landscape evolves, embracing innovation and refinement in appraisal practices is key to staying ahead in this competitive arena.

#auction #auctions #online liquidation #online auctions #state auctions

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girlhaggard · 1 year ago

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There is an awesome antique pattern library database that has PDFs of this pattern book, as well as hundreds of others across every type of needlework craft, for free. Not to mention, their charts are much easier to read:

life of joan of arc, le filet ancien ii wolf & dupeyron

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disappointmentpastry · 4 years ago

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Philippine Dark Academia

In this tropical country, the weather kindly turns from a cool humid wet season to a scorching summer. Thus, the Dark Academia trend of tweeds and wool is hardly suitable. So what is Philippine Dark Academia?

To me, PH DA is the terno you wear for Buwan ng Wika, the little steps you make in your treasured bakya when you walk into school to celebrate your culture.

PH DA is hot coffee on hellishly heated afternoons with mango and shrimp paste as we scour the works of Balagtas in the late afternoon sun.

PH DA is the rumble of capiz-inlaid sliding windows in homes of the Spanish-colonial style period, slightly rattling but calming, in perfect harmony to the early morning calls of peddlers selling sticky rice treats like suman or sapin-sapin.

PH DA is writing in our old writing system, the one in place before the colonizers came. So that we don't forget what has already been forgotten.

PH DA is the songs in our native dialects, calling for many things, that once in the past we asked from the spirits, now we ask from religious faith.

PH DA is unlike the western Dark Academia.

Our Dark Academia clothes are not of wool and tweed but of light cotton and linen, not in dark tartan patterns but in bright skirts that look almost like picnic tablecloths. PH DA is not simple pearl studs or tiny diamonds; we wear antiques worn by our grandmothers, carefully preserved crosses, fragile gold, and pearl drop earrings, well carved and bright gold bangles, and even heavy necklaces with weighty pendants.

That is Philippine Dark Academia, and I love it.

Image from: Gonzales, G. (n.d.). Dela Cruz, Juan. possibly “Anding”, ca. 1920s, postcard. [Photograph found in Ramon Villegas Collection, From Fashionable Filipinas: An Evolution of the Philippine National Dress in Photographs 1860-1960, Manila]. Retrieved from https://fashionandrace.org/database/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2020/11/3_supporting-image-1-scaled.jpg

#dark academia #dark aesthetic #philippines #tweed #wool #traditionaljewellery #traditionalwear #heritage #aesthetic #baro't saya #maria clara #terno #colonial history #colonialism

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winchesterbrotherstan · 5 years ago

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SPN- Playthings (2.11)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (sister OC)

Summary: After a month of searching for Ava with no results, the siblings accept a case from Ellen. Sam spirals after a secret is revealed, Olive plays caretaker, and Dean makes a promise he can’t keep.

Warnings: uh, like a ghost, the word gun is in there one time (wow), uh there’s some cursing, DOLLS ARE FUCKING CREEPY OKAY, uhh, olive says the word milf, uh like, idk?? mentions of dead ppl??

Word Count: 6079

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen.” Sam hung up the phone as I unlocked the door, pushing it open with my foot.

“What’d she have to say?” Dean shut the door behind him.

“Oh, she’s got nothing.” Sam sighed. “Me, I’ve been checking every database I can think of. Federal, state, local. No one’s heard anything about Ava. She just… into thin air, you know?”

Dean sighed and handed Sam one of the coffee cups. Sam looked over at us with hopeful puppy eyes.

“What about you?”

Dean and I shared a look. I shook my head and turned back to Sam.

“Nothing yet. I’m sorry, bubs.”

Sam sighed. “Ellen did have one thing.”

“What was it?” Dean sat down at the table.

I dropped onto Sam’s bed and began to work at my shoes.

“A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

Dean looked at me. I shrugged.

“I’m confused, what’s this have to do with Ava?”

Sam shook his head. “No, it’s just a job. A lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs. His head does a complete one-eighty. Not exactly normal, you know. I dunno, guys, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we’d think about checking it out.”

Sam looked at us. I shrugged again.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Wait, you did?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Sam frowned. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Well, it’s just… you know…” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Not the uh, patented Sam Winchester way. Is it?”

Sam raised an eyebrow.. “And what way is that?”

“Oh, you know, I just figured that after Ava, there’d be, uh… ya now, more angst and droopy music and staring out rainy windows and-”

Sam shot Dean a bitchface, and he chuckled.

“Okay. I’ll shut up now.”

“Look.” Sam huffed. “I’m the one who told her to go back home. And now her fiancé’s dead and some demon snatched her and took her God knows where. But we’ve been looking for a month now, and we’ve still got nothing. I’m not giving up on her, but I’m not gonna sit by and let other people die either. We’ve gotta save as many people as we can.”

“Wow.” Dean blinked. “That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I’m officially uncomfortable now. Thanks.”

Sam ducked his head and laughed. I shuffled from the bed to stand behind him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned over him. He patted my arm with a smile.

“Alright.” Dean huffed dramatically. “Call Ellen, tell her we’ll take it.”

***

I yawned as Dean put the Impala in park. We had stayed in the car for the night, and with Jinx and my most recent growth spurt, it proved to be more difficult than we had remembered. I kicked Dean in my sleep, and my leg had twisted up weird.

“Dude, this is sweet.” Dean grinned as we poured out of the car. “I never get to work jobs like this.”

“Like what?”

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, secret passageways… sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we’re inside.” Dean closed his eyes with a smile and a soft sigh. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”

I shook my head as we started up the porch stairs.

“Hey, wait a sec.” Sam held a hand out, stopping us both short.

I turned back down the steps, staring at an urn on the side of the stairs. Dean stopped walking and looked at us over his shoulder.

“I’m not so sure haunted’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“See the pattern?” Sam squatted next to the urn and tapped a five point symbol engraved in a sun. “That’s a quincunx.”

“A five-spot.” I hummed.

“Five-spot.” Dean repeated.

“Yeah.”

“That’s used for hoodoo spellwork, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you’ve got a powerful charm to ward off enemies.”

“Yeah, except I don’t see any bloodweed.” Dean smacked his lips. “Don’t you think this place is a little too, uh… whitemeat for hoodoo?”

Sam huffed as we looked around. “Maybe.”

We filed into the inn one by one. Dean caught the front lady’s attention, and Sam and I took our sweet time closing the door, observing the old timey interior.

“May I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’d like a room for a couple of nights.” Dean smiled.

Sam and I shared a look before he stepped into the lobby. A little girl wearing an old school-uniform bumped into Sam’s legs as she ran across the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight, and Jinx barked. I knelt next to her and shushed her, smoothing her fur out.

“Hey!” The lady shouted before looking at Sam. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Sam shook his head, a dismissive frown on his face. “No problem.”

“Well, um, congratulations. You could be some of our final guests.”

“Well. Sounds vaguely ominous.” Dean huffed.

“No, I’m sorry. I mean we’re closing at the end of the month.” The lady looked over the two. “Let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?”

Dean looked back at Sam with a why not look before turning back. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, you just look the type.”

I could sense Dean’s discomfort. Sam stepped forward.

“Sorry, uh, are you guys pet friendly? She’s well trained, we just didn’t have anywhere to leave her.”

“Normally we’re not, but since we’re so close to shutting down, it’s fine.”

Sam nodded at me and I slowly brought Jinx in.

“So, uh, one king-sized bed?”

“What?” Sam blinked.

“Oh, oh, oh, uh, no. No, no, no.” I shook my head, popping in between the two. “No, two singles.” I circled my finger around the three of us. “We’re just siblings.”

“Oh.” The lady’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Dean tilted his head. “What’d you mean that we look the type?”

She stared down while looking for something to say. Sam cleared his throat.

“You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where’d you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea.” She smiled, grateful for the out. “It’s been there forever.”

She handed Dean a room key. “Here you go, Mr. Mahagov.”

Dean gave her the classic white-people smile and took the key. “Thanks.”

The lady rang the bell on the counter. “You’ll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show these fine folks to their room?”

Dean and I turned to see an old, balding man dressed formally shuffling up behind us. “Let me guess. Antiquers?”

The three of us bit our tongues as Sherwin took Dean’s bag from him and began to lead us up the stairs. Sam and I opted to keep ours on our shoulders. Sam scooped Jinx off her feet and held her to his chest as we followed Sherwin. Dean’s duffel bag wouldn’t stop clunking, and I was horrified a gun would somehow go off. Dean scratched the back of his neck.

“I could give you a hand with that bag.”

“I got it.”

“Okay.” Dean licked his lips and gave me a look.

I patted his arm. Sam cleared his throat.

“So, the hotel’s closing up, huh?”

“Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don’t come like they used to. Still, it’s a damn shame.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam spoke in a tell-us-more tone.

“It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it.” Sherwin sighed as he unlocked our room and pushed the door open. “Here’s your room.”

He handed Sam the key and nodded as we shuffled into the room. Dean turned to shut the door, only to see that Sherwin was standing there, hand out.

“You’re not gonna… cheap out on me. Are you, boy?”

Dean sighed as he pulled out his wallet.

***

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he skimmed over the paper in his hand. I yawned and put down the paper I had just finished reading. Dean was pacing. He let out a dry chuckle, then a mumble of curses.

“What?” Sam and I didn’t look up.

“That’s normal.” Dean huffed.

I looked up as he stood next to me, arms crossed over his chest. There was an old wedding dress pinned up to the wall. I sucked in air through my teeth as Dean moved to sit on one of the beds.

“Why the hell would anyone stay here? I’m amazed they kept in business this long.” He dropped onto the bed, which sunk further under him.

“Alright, victim number one.” I spoke up, waving the paper. “Joan Edison, forty three years old. Realtor handling the sale of the hotel. Victim number two?” I looked over at Sam.

“Larry Williams. Moving some stuff out to Goodwill.”

“Well, there’s a connection. They’re both tied up in shutting the place down.”

“Yeah.” Sam hummed. “Maybe somebody here doesn’t wanna leave, and they’re using hoodoo to fight back.”

“Who do you think our witch doctor is? That Susan lady?”

“Nah.” Sam shook his head. “Doesn’t seem likely. I mean, she is the one selling.”

“Maybe Sherwin?” I offered.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged.

“Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we’re gay?”

“Well…” Sam hummed. “You are kinda butch. Probably think you’re overcompensating.”

I snorted. “It’s cause you’re a bottom and Sam’s not.” I mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I mumbled again.

“Ha fucking ha.” Dean narrowed his eyes at me with a huff.

***

“This place is weird.” I stuck to Dean’s side as we poked around the hallways.

“Hey, look.” Sam pulled another urn off a table. “More hoodoo.”

Dean made a face before looking around. He stalked off toward a door marked PRIVATE and knocked. Sam put the urn down and we crowded Dean in the doorway, eyes wide as we looked around.

The door opened, revealing Susan. “Hi.”

“Hi there.” Dean gave his charming grin.

“Everything okay with your room?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah everything’s great.”

“Well-”

“Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing.” She cut Dean off as the three of us talked over each other.

“Hey!” Dean’s face lit up as he looked past her. “Are those antique dolls? Cause this one,” he turned and picked his victim. “Sammy here’s got a major doll collection back home. Don’t ya?”

He gave Susan a polite smile that, hopefully, screamed murder to Dean. “Big time.”

“Big time. You think he could come, or we could come in and take a look?”

Susan shifted. “I don’t know…”

“Please?” Dean begged. “I mean, he loves them. He’s not gonna tell you this, but he’s uh, he’s always dressing em up in their tiny little outfits, and uh,” he shrugged, “honestly, you’d make his day. You- she would, huh?” He turned to Sam with a grin.

Sam looked sick. “It’s true.”

“Okay.” Susan stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“Alright! Alright.” Dean slapped Sam’s back as we trudged into the room.

Sam gave him another death glare and I pushed myself between the two as we looked around the room.

“Wow.” Dean hummed. “That’s a lot of dolls.” He feigned a smile. “I mean, they’re nice, ya know.” He looked down at me and mumbled. “Not super creepy at all.”

Susan laughed. “Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they’ve been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value.”

“What is this?” Sam was on the other end of the room, walking around a huge dollhouse. “The hotel?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Susan smiled. “Exact replica, custom built.”

Sam frowned and picked something up off the ground. “His head got twisted around.” He held a doll up so Dean and I could see.

Dean and I shared a look before turning to Susan.

“What happened to it?”

“Oh, Tyler, probably.”

We forced understanding smiles, and the second Susan turned her back, we gave each other bug eyes.

What the fuck?

“Mommy!” Tyler ran in. “Maggie’s being mean!”

“Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay.”

“Hey, Tyler.” Sam came over with a soft smile on his face. “I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?”

“I didn’t break it.” Tyler pouted. “I found it like that.”

“Oh.” Sam smiled wider. “Well, maybe Maggie did it.”

I sighed. Sometimes it broke my heart to know he’d never have a family of his own.

“No.” Tyler shook her head. “Neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke them.”

“Oh, Tyler.” Susan hummed. “She wouldn’t get mad.”

“Grandma?” Dean took a step forward.

“Grandma Rose. These were all her toys.”

“Oh, really?” Dean looked around. “Where’s Grandma Rose now?”

“Up in her room.”

“You know, I’d, I’d, uh, I’d really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll-”

“No.” Susan cut Sam off. “I mean, I’m afraid that’s impossible. My mother’s been very sick and she’s not taking any visitors.”

We were promptly ushered out of the room, and the door was shut behind us.

“What do you guys think?” Dean began. “Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?”

“Boys, I hate to say it, I really do. But I think we’re in a horror movie.”

Sam ran a hand over his face and Dean gave me a gentle push. “Every time you say that, something goes terribly wrong. Have you realized that?”

I frowned. “No. I just kinda say things.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, well dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo. Curses, binding spells…”

“Yeah, maybe we’ve found our witch doctor. Alright, I’ll see what I can go dig up on booming granny. You go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing. See if she’s whacked anybody before.”

***

“Jesus Christ.” I hissed as I shut the room door behind me, leaning on it.

Sam looked up, teary eyed. “What happened?”

“Uh… lawyer. He hung himself.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down. His shoulders began to shake, and I felt my heart soften.

“Sammy…”

He looked up, tears falling down in streaks. “Jessica was pregnant.”

I stopped cold. “What?”

He pushed his hair out of his face. “She was pregnant. Becky called me.”

“Becky… Becky from a year ago?”

He nodded. “She knew, and she never said a thing.”

“Hold on, Sammy…” I trailed off as I sat down on the table. “When?”

He looked away. “When…” He licked his lips and let out a strangled sob. “When she died.”

He began to weep, and I scrambled to my feet, pulling him into my chest. He gripped fistfuls of my jacket, and I ran a hand through his hair as the other held his shoulders tightly.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

“I couldn’t save the lawyer. I couldn’t even save Jess.” He whimpered.

“Sams, neither were your fault.”

“I was gonna be a dad.”

“I am so sorry, Sammy.” I pressed a long kiss to the top of his head and bit back my own tears.

“I should’ve done something.”

I rubbed his back. “Sams, there is nothing you could’ve done.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “I dreamt about it! I could’ve done something! I could’ve saved her! What if something happens to you? O-o-or to Dean? I’m useless.”

My heart shattered, and I cupped his face, bending down so that we were nose to nose.

“You are not useless. You’re my brother. Dean and I need you.”

He shook his head, pushing my hands away. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He stumbled to his feet, and I sighed as his breath hit my face. I grabbed his wrists and pulled him back.

“Sams, you’re drunk.”

“So? You think I won’t be able to go on a walk?” He challenged.

“No.” I whispered. “But I’m not gonna let you go out into a haunted hotel while you’re wasted.”

He huffed. “I just-”

“Do you need to be alone?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” I tugged him back toward his chair. “Stay here. I’ll go for a walk.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Okay?”

He nodded again as he dropped into his seat. I cupped his face again.

“I love you. Okay?”

He nodded.

“I’ll be back soon.” I kissed his head again before grabbing Jinx’s leash and calling her over.

She bolted out the door and sat in the hall. I looked over my shoulder to see Sam with his head in his hands. I sighed and shut the door.

***

Jinx yawned as she dropped to her stomach. I had walked her around the neighborhood, which was, like the hotel, creepy. It was picturesque, but the antique feeling was everywhere, and it was one I didn’t like.

Somebody started up the stairs, and I didn’t look up as I scooted over, trying to give them more space to walk.

“Sweetheart?”

I looked up to see Dean. I sighed.

“What happened? Where’s Sam?”

“Um…” I stood and avoided eye contact.

“Ol.” Dean craned his neck to catch my eye. “Why did I see a coroner’s van-”

“A lawyer hung himself.”

“Jesus.” Dean huffed.

“Look… Jess was pregnant.”

“What?”

“Jessica. When she died. She was pregnant. Sam just found out.”

Dean’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Wh…”

“Just cut him some slack. Okay?”

Dean huffed. “Fine. Come on.”

We trudged up the stairs and into the lobby in silence.

“Uh, hey.” Susan caught our attention. “I’m sure you heard about the lawyer… look, if you’d like to check out, I can give you a full refund.”

I shook my head. “No. Thanks.”

“We don’t scare that easily.” Dean pulled me to keep walking.

He led the way up the stairs and pushed the door open.

“There’s been another one. Lawyer hung himself.” He called into the room.

“We know.” Sam grunted.

I shut the door and flicked the lights on.

“We’ve gotta figure this out, and fast.” Dean huffed. “What’d you find out about Granny?”

“You’re bossy.” Sam snorted out.

I cursed to myself as Dean spun around. “What?”

“You’re bossy. And short.” Sam let out a sloppy laugh.

A glare formed on Dean’s face as he looked my way, then back at Sam. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah.” Sam laughed again. “So? Stupid.”

Dean looked around and spotted the empty bottles. His shoulders fell and he shook his head at me. I looked down at the ground.

“Dude. What are you thinking? We’re working a case.” Dean barked out.

Sam stared down at the ground, tearful again. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn’t save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t know. You couldn’t have done anything, Sam.

“That’s an excuse, Dean.” Sam huffed. “I should’ve found a way to save him. I should’ve saved Ava, too.”

Dean made a face, and I grabbed his wrist. “Hey. Slack. Remember? We’re cutting him some slack.”

Dean sighed and took a few steps toward Sam. “Well, you can’t save everyone. Even you said that.”

“No, Dean, you don’t understand!” Sam slammed the table. “The more people I save, the more I can change!”

My heart fell to my stomach.

“Change what, Sam?” Dean shook his head.

“My destiny, Dean!” Sam leaned forward, his hands on his chest

Dean sighed. “Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” He pulled Sam up by the shoulders. “Come on.”

“I need you to watch out for me.” Sam huffed as Dean pushed him toward the bed.

“I always do.”

“No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, alright? And if I ever…” Sam huffed again. “Turn into something that I’m not…”

My skin began to crawl, and Dean tilted his head.

“You have to kill me.” Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder, at me. “Either of you.”

“No!” I spat.

“Sam.” Dean’s tone was dismissive.

“Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

“Yeah, well, Dad was an ass.” Dean snarled.

Sam frowned, confusion washing over his face.

“He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

“No. He was right to say it! Who knows what I might become?” Sam whined. “Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Yeah, well, Olive and I aren’t dying, okay?”

“And neither are you.” I hissed as I helped Dean maneuver Sam onto the bed. “Come on, Sams.”

He sat on the bed, but he wouldn’t lay down. He grabbed Dean’s jacket and pulled him close. “No, Dean, please!” Sam whined again. “You’re the only one who can do it. Promise.”

“Don’t ask that of me.” Dean shook his head.

“Dean, please.” Sam begged. “You have to promise me.”

Dean looked away, and I caught his eye. I shook my head, eyes wide and full of tears. Dean sniffled, tears collecting in his own eyes.

“Don’t.” I hissed.

He looked back at Sam. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” Sam reached up to grab Dean’s face. “Thank you.”

Dean batted Sam’s hand away. I climbed onto the bed and pulled Sam to lay down as Dean lifted his legs onto the bed. Sam turned and planted his face onto my chest, wrapping both of his arms around me. I hugged him back and glared at Dean as he ran a hand over his face.

***

“Oh god.” Sam’s voice was hoarse.

“Sams?” I whispered.

He slowly rolled onto his back with a huff. “Oh fuck.”

“Hey.” I sat up and pushed his hair out of his face.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh. Oh god, oh no.” I hissed as he scrambled off the bed, stumbling his way to the bathroom.

He barely made it as he threw up. I groaned. Taking care of the boys while they were black out drunk was one thing, but hungover and throwing up was another story.

“Oh, bambi.” I whispered, helping him settle on his knees. “Come on, let’s take your jacket off.” I eased the denim fabric from his shoulders.

“Shit.” He groaned.

“Come on. Shoes, too.” I rubbed his shoulders.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” He fussed as he kicked his shoes off.

“You always take care of me.” I knelt by his side and brushed a thumb over his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

He gave me a soft smile, but it fell. His face drained of color, and he turned back to the toilet. I sighed as I rubbed his back. He spat into the toilet again. I shushed him soothingly.

“How are you feeling, Sammy?” Dean all but shouted as he entered the room, out of view.

Sam groaned before dry heaving. I stood up and crouched behind him, pulling his hair into a small ponytail. I tucked what didn’t stay behind his ears.

“I guess mixing whiskey and Jäger wasn’t such a gangbuster idea, huh?”

Sam ignored him.

“I’ll bet you don’t remember a single thing from last night, do you?” Dean asked, hope in his eyes.

I shot him a glare, and he cleared his throat. Sam only huffed before letting out another groan.

“No, I can still taste the fucking tequila.”

A relieved smile grew on Dean’s face, and I sighed as I rubbed Sam’s back again, sitting on the edge of the tub. He leaned down on his feet with a groan. I pulled the hand towel off the ring and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He dropped onto his butt and leaned into me, head hitting my chest. I cooed as I pushed stray hairs from his face.

“You know, there’s a really good hangover remedy.” Dean cracked a devilish grin.

“Dean.” I warned.

“It’s a, uh, it’s a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray.”

“Oh, I hate you.” Sam popped back to his knees to throw up.

“I know you do.” Dean laughed. “Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace.” He leaned in the doorway and huffed, waving the air in front of his nose. “God, it fucking stinks in here.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” I grumbled back.

“Whew.” Dean hummed. “Sometimes I forget you have better senses than we do.”

“Okay, you think the nanny taught Rose hoodoo?”

“Yes I do.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright.” Sam stumbled to his feet. “I think it’s time we’ve talked to Rose, then.”

His breath hit my face and I held back my own gag. “Oh, Sams.” I stepped back. “You’ve gotta brush your teeth first.”

***

“I’ll see you guys later.” I pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek, then to Dean’s.

“See you, baby.” Dean grinned.

“Love you, bug.” Sam gave me a kind smile.

“Love you guys too. Be safe.”

“Always, you too!” Dean called as I shut the car door and started across the parking lot.

I tugged on the straps of my backpack as I walked up the steps and into the school. I fished the crumpled schedule from my back pocket and sighed.

World geography.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see a blond boy my age smiling at me.

“Hi.” I feigned a smile back.

“Need help finding your classes? I moved here a few years ago, I’ve got the building pretty much down.” He chuckled.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Adam.” He held his hand out.

I shook it. “Olive.”

He chuckled. “Nice name.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Thanks. My brothers love food.”

“Brothers?” He repeated as we walked. “Yikes.”

I shook my head. “Nah. They’re good. You got any siblings?”

“I’m an only child.”

I let out a low whistle. “Sucks.”

***

“See ya around, Olive!” Adam waved.

I put a hand up. “See ya.”

“Hey, kid.” Dean grinned as he pulled up, windows down.

“Hey, De. Hi, Sams.” I slid into the backseat.

Jinx was curled up, and our bags were on the floor. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“What happened?”

“Oh, uh…”

“We got kicked out.”

“What?” My eyes widened as I looked up. “How? Why?”

“Susan caught us trying to talk to Rose.”

“Oh god.” I rolled my eyes.

“Look, she had a stroke. There’s no way she was practicing hoodoo.”

I sighed and leaned forward as Dean drove off. “Then what’s happening at the hotel?”

The boys shook their heads. I sighed again.

“Let’s go back.”

“What?”

“We can’t, sweetie.”

“Yes we can.” I scoffed.

“How?” Dean eyed me in the rearview.

I shrugged. “Easy. I’ll just tell her you guys forgot to pack some of my stuff. She seemed to like me. She’ll let me back in.”

The boys shared a brief look, and Dean sighed. “Fine. Ten minutes, in and out.”

I grinned. “Works for me.”

***

“Is that…” Sam squinted and leaned forward.

“Shit, Dean, stop the car!” I squeaked.

He slammed the brakes, and I pushed the door open before taking off in a sprint, tackling Susan out of the way. The car crashed into the tree on the edge of the playground and Susan panted as we sat up.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I think so.”

“Come on, come on.” Dean and Sam came scrambling.

I got to my feet, and my knee slipped out from under me. I crashed onto my ass with a grumble. Dean sighed and plucked me off the ground as Sam helped Susan up.

“Inside, let’s go.”

Sam led the way, guiding Susan by the shoulders. She huffed as we walked into the dining room.

“Whiskey.” She sat down.

“Sure.” Sam scoffed. “I know the feeling.”

Susan looked up as Dean eased me into a seat at the table. I hissed as he knelt down, rubbing my knee.

“What the fuck happened out there?” Susan demanded.

Sam and I blinked, and Dean popped my knee. I let out a curse as I shot up straight, tears in my eyes.

“You want the truth?” Dean asked.

“Of course!”

“Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there?” Dean let out a whistle. “That was definitely a spirit.”

Sam handed her a glass of whiskey before sitting down next to me.

Susan stared. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, it’s been said.” Dean hummed.

I shifted in my seat, trying to straighten my leg out. “Look, I’m sorry, Susan, but we don’t exactly have time to ease you into this. We need to know when your mother had the stroke.”

“What does that have to do-”

“Just answer the question.” Sam cut her off.

“Uh, about a month ago.”

“Right before the killings began.” Sam mumbled before looking at me and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

I sighed. “She was using the five-spots to ward off the spirit.”

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Until she had a stroke and she couldn’t anymore.”

“I don’t believe this.” Susan shook her head.

“Listen, sister, that car didn’t try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can… forget it.”

“Look, you can believe whatever you the fuck you want to. But the fact is that you and your family are in danger. Okay? So you need to clear everyone out of here. Your employees, your mother, your kids, everyone.”

“Uh… I only have one daughter.”

Sam squinted. “One?”

“I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie?” Dean tilted his head.

Susan scoffed. “Maggie’s imaginary.”

Sam’s jaw twitched, Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and I buried my hands in my head.

“Mother fucker.”

“Where’s Tyler?”

Susan’s eyes went wide before she bolted. We scrambled over each other’s feet, following her up the stairs and to her private room. She struggled with the door before pushing it open.

“Tyler!”

The floor was littered with broken dolls. Sam and Dean gave each other a look.

“Oh my god. Tyler!” Susan ran through another door, calling for her daughter.

I ducked, checking under furniture as the boys tore through the closets. Susan came back, running.

“She’s not here!”

“Okay, okay. Susan. Susan.” Sam grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell us what you know about Maggie.”

“Um, not much. Tyler’s been talking about her ever since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?”

“Uh, no!”

“Think, think.” Dean pressured. “I mean, somebody that could’ve lived here?”

“Maybe someone who passed away?” I offered.

“Oh my god.” Susan’s face drained of color. “My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her.”

The three of us shared a look.

“Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?”

“Yeah, she drowned in the pool.”

Dean made a face as he began to move. “Come on.”

***

Dean ran ahead, and Sam and I followed, Susan only a few steps behind. The dead garden seemed more eerie now than it had before. Sam reached the door first, trying to unlock it. It didn’t budge. Tyler was on the edge of the balcony inside, only a slip away from falling into the pool.

“Tyler!” Susan called.

Dean and Sam pounded on the glass, trying to break it.

“Mommy!” Tyler squealed.

She fell in with a scream.

“Tyler!”

“Is there another entrance?” Dean asked.

“Around back.”

“Okay, come on.” Dean pulled Susan away before turning to us. “Keep working.”

Sam and I continued to elbow the door, and I let out a grunt as I slammed my shoulder against the frame. It didn’t budge. Sam groaned, looking around. He stopped before grabbing something. He pushed me aside before slamming a pot into the door. The glass began to crack, and Sam began to work harder. He finally got through, the door shattering. He jammed himself through and, without hesitation, leapt over the railing, into the pool.

“Sam!” I squeaked as I ran in, leaning over the railing.

He wasted no time pushing past the plastic cover. I watched as he swam toward Tyler before scooping her up in his arms. I bolted down the steps, reaching his side. I pulled Tyler from his arms and set her down on her side. Sam clambered out of the pool as Dean and Susan burst in. I patted Tyler’s back, and she coughed. Sam helped me push her up to sit, and Susan pulled her into a bear hug.

“Mommy.” She whined.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.” Susan cried.

“Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?” Sam gave her sympathetic eyes.

“No, she’s gone.” She snuggled back into Susan. “Mommy.”

***

“Don’t worry, honey, we’re leaving in two minutes. We’ve just got to get Grandma.” Susan cooed as she held Tyler against her side, moving up the stairs.

“I don’t get it.” Dean hissed. “Did Maggie just stop?”

“Seems like it.” Sam shrugged, hair dripping.

“Well, where the hell did she go?” I asked.

Susan screamed from upstairs. Sam reacted first, bolting up the steps. Dean and I followed. Sam busted through the door. Susan was holding Tyler against her side, crying. The three of us sighed when we saw Rose slumped in her wheelchair.

She was dead.

***

“Paramedics said it was another stroke. Do you think… Margaret could’ve had something to do with it?” Susan asked.

“We don’t know.” Dean shrugged.

“But, it’s possible.” I followed up, tugging on Jinx’s leash so that she would sit.

Sam sighed. “Susan, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve given me everything.”

Tyler came down the steps, dressed in regular clothing. She had a small smile on her face as she joined her mother. Susan rubbed her back, and Tyler bent down to pet Jinx.

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, Tyler.” Dean bent down to be eye-level with her. “You’re sure Maggie’s not around anymore?”

“I’m sure.” Tyler nodded. “I’d see her.”

“I guess whatever’s going on must be over.” Dean shrugged as we followed Susan down the steps, to her taxi.

Sam held the door open for her, and Susan ushered Tyler into the cab.

“You two take care of yourselves, alright?”

Susan turned and pulled Sam into a hug, resting her head on his chest. Dean snorted, and I wheezed, pulling on a serious face and rubbing my nose when Susan pulled back.

“Thank you.” She looked at Sam, then at Dean and I. “All of you.”

We nodded as she shuffled into the taxi. Sam shut the door behind her and I laughed, covering my mouth.

“Dude, you could’ve just gotten some total MILF action.” I giggled as we began to walk.

“Ew, Ollie-”

“No, seriously, bud, I think she liked you.”

“Yeah.” Sam scoffed. “That’s all she needs.”

“Well, you saved the mom, saved the girl.” I patted Sam’s arm. “Not a bad day, bubs.”

“Course, I could’ve saved them myself, but I didn’t want you to feel useless.” Dean teased.

My heart sank as I remembered what Sam had said last night.

“Appreciate it.” Sam gave Dean a bitch face.

He sensed my shift in attitude and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side.

“Feels good getting back in the saddle. Doesn’t it?” Dean grinned and pulled out the car keys.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Yeah, it does.” He took his arm back and braced his hands against the top of the car. “But it doesn’t change what we talked about last night, Dean.”

My chest clenched and tears immediately welled in my eyes. I looked down and away, taking a shaky breath. I opened the back door and let Jinx settle in.

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean tried to change the subject.

“You know what I mean.” Sam shook his head.

“You were wasted.” Dean scowled.

“But you weren’t. And you promised.” Sam shot back.

They looked at each other for a beat. Sam pulled the passenger door open first, and I slid into the middle seat, wrapping my arms around myself. Sam got in, slamming the door shut as Dean closed his, gently.

He started the car and glanced Sam’s way. Sam kept his eyes straight ahead as we pulled away from the inn.

Previous Ep: Hunted (2.10)

Next Ep: Nightshifter (2.12)

taglist: @i67

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nohumanswereharmed · 6 years ago

Text

At this point, we knew humans were a weird species. Their endurance hunter legacy and omnivorism were the least of it. They were creative in ways that only the rest of the galaxy together could match, they could endure things we could not, they could heal with a genetic profile that was only rivaled by the cancer they were prone to developing... But their ability to pack bond! It was what lead us to take them onto our ship! The well-documented reports of humans’ ability to bond with other species and bring the wealth of their evolutionary and [note: various] personality traits to bear on other species’ benefits was legendary.

So, eventually, the leadership of the Hvralvesgir put in for a human crew mate. As the Crew Relations Adviser, I was involved in the intake of human!Joan. I read everything on the galaxy interface on how to prepare, and luckily it went well enough. [Gender designation: She] didn’t ask abnormal questions and accepted expectations input appropriately.

After [Her] first few shifts, I checked in with [Her] and Her crew mates. All prior crew members reported all was proceeding appropriately. Some time later, I arranged to spend time with Her.

[She] was reading a [antique item, printed on pressed cellulose, called: book], entitled “Night”. I asked her the subject matter [appropriate “small talk” engagement], and she said I wouldn’t be interested. I followed up, and she stated that it had to do with a particularly dark period of Earth history. I asked her why she was perusing it in her free time, and she stated “To remember.”

I confess several weeks went by, but the exchange intrigued me. I was so interested in learning more about our new human allies... After some time, I requested the [memoir] through cultural trade channels to assist in my studies. It took some time before it arrived. And some more time before I had time to read it.

I have now. And researched the human databases on the data it presents, through the history of their dark world. When we talk about their homeworld, we speak of it as a death world, but so often in terms of the weather patterns, the fauna, the virulent strains of infectious pathogens... We speak of the humans in terms of admiration for their endurance, their resilience, their industry, their Pack Bonding...

We do not talk about the dark side of their psyches. We do not talk about the dark side of their Pack Bonding. We share stories of their ability to protect entire ships from space pirate massacres, but neglect to touch on how many they kill to protect us.

My advice for those who would understand the risks we take with our new allies - look into human subjects: Genocide. Torture. War Crimes. Concentration camps. Biological warfare. Child abuse. Domestic abuse. Serial killers. Vivisection. Slavery. Genital mutilation. Sexual abuse. Child soldiers. ... It does not end. It is a dark hole which will consume your consciousness.

The humans can bond with anything, yes. Any living thing from their planet. Inanimate objects from their planet. They bond with us, even, across anything that might be called evolutionary lines. Their bond with their young is legendary.

But also, trigger the right sequence of genetic and environmental controls - make someone Them instead of Us - and they will turn against their own in startling cruelty. Trigger the right pathways, and humans have a startling ability to see anyone, anything, as a non-being. Invaders... enemies... other cultures... other cities... other civilians... other offspring... their own families... their own mates... their own offspring... IT. DOES. NOT. MATTER. They have killed them. They have murdered them in cold blood. They have cut them into pieces while they were alive. They have denied them their person-hood in every way and enjoyed their suffering. They have elevated themselves psychologically through the suffering of The Other and delighted in their denigration. (Not to mention what they do to themselves. Subjects: Substance abuse. Depression. Self-harm. Masochism. Suicide.)

You see if you sleep at night on your ship with a human in it. See if you can trust that Pack Bond. See if you like seeing them with their children. Or if you can trust the look in their eyes.

Humans will denigrate Anything. Do not trust them.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #dark

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aspenmissing · 2 years ago

Text

𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Y/N and Dean are at a computer while Sam is browsing some postings on a bulletin board.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asks.

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me," Y/N replies.

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town."

"I'm telling you there's nothing local; I've checked. So, unless you've got a better idea, "

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern," Sam observes.

"I know, I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run."

"Both had secrets where people died," Dean adds.

"Right. I mean, there's a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," Y/N says.

"So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean, like a nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you for it," Dean suggests.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not."

"Take a look at this," Sam says, showing a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. Dean prints out another picture and hands it to Sam. The picture is of a handprint and the letters ‘Tre’.

"It looks like the same handprint."

"Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Y/N says.

"I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.”

"What exactly happened?"

"You three said you were reporters."

"We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, and dreamt of getting out of Indiana, and being an actress. And we know that the night of March 29th, someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cutting out her eyes with a knife," Y/N says.

"That's right."

"See, sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened," the detective clarifies, pulling out some files.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to have a copy of this," he says, opening a file to the picture Sam, Dean, and Y/N found on the computer. "Now see that there? T-R-E."

"Yeah."

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

"You know who it was?"

"Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon named Trevor Sampson," the detective explains, showing a picture of the man. "And I think he cut her up good.”

"Now, why would he do something like that?" Y/N asks.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, "T". Well, in her last entry, she was going to tell "T"'s wife about their affair.”

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?"

"It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional."

"But you could prove it?" Dean asks.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.”

"Is he still alive?" Dean asks.

"Nope," the detective sighs. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could."

"Where's she buried?" Sam asks.

"She wasn't. She was cremated.”

"What about the mirror?" Dean says, nodding at the one in the picture. "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?"

"Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.”

"You have the names of her family by any chance?" Sam asks.

Dean, Y/N, and Sam are driving down the road. Sam is on his cell phone.

"Oh really? Ah, that's too bad, Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well, maybe next time. All right, thanks." Sam hangs up.

"So?"

"So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo."

"So, wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Y/N says.

"Her spirits are definitely tied up with it somehow."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house, people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped.”

"So, Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit."

"Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" Sam asks.

"I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it."

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe," Sam's phone rings, and he answers it. "Hello?" The look of concern comes across his face again. "Charlie?"

Charlie is sitting on the bed with her head on her knees. Sam, Dean, and Y/N have all of the curtains drawn shut and are throwing sheets over the mirrors or facing them to the wall or floor. Sam then goes to sit next to Charlie.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes, Charlie. It's okay, all right?" Charlie looks up slowly.

"But I can't keep that up forever. I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"No. No. Not anytime soon," Y/N says, sitting on the bed next to Charlie, and then is followed by Dean.

"All right, Charlie. We need to know what happened," Dean says.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said."

"That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life, there is a secret that has caused someone harm. Can you tell us about it?"

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got into this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me, and he loved me, and he said, "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm going to kill myself." And you know what I said? I said, "Go ahead. And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have," Charlie puts her face back on her knees and starts crying again.

"You know her boyfriend killed herself; that's not Charlie's fault," Dean says as they drive in the rain.

"You know, as well as I do, spirits don't exactly see shades of grey, Dean. Charlie had a secret; someone died; that's good enough for Mary.”

"I guess."

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.”

"Why, what do you mean?" Y/N asks.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean, she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say that she's not just going to keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror, and then smash it," Sam replies.

"Well, how do you know that's going to work?"

"I don't, not for sure."

"I will. She'll come after me," Sam says, Y/N tightens her hold on the steering wheel.

"You know what? That's it.” She pulls over before turning around to Sam with a stern look. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? Do you think that's your dirty little secret—that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's going to kill you. Now listen to me—it wasn't your fault. If you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or, hell, why don't you take a swing at me or Dean? I mean We’re the ones that dragged you away from her in the first place," she says.

"I don't blame you," Sam says, looking at Y/N.

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done," Dean says.

"I could've warned her."

"About what? You didn't know what was going to happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret; I mean, I know all about it. It's not going to work with Mary anyway.”

"No, you don't."

"I don't what?" Y/N says.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you two everything.”

"What are you talking about?" Dean says.

"Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam replies.

"No. I don't like it. It's not going to happen; forget it," Dean says, looking surprised.

"Dean, Y/N, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are going to die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.”

Once the three were at the shop, Sam was trying to pick up the lock on the door. It opens, and they see many mirrors in the shop.

"Well, that's just great," Dean says as he pulls out the picture of Mary's dead body to look in the mirror. "All right, let's start looking." They split up and walked around the store, and they saw a flashlight that seemed to be part of an alarm. "Maybe they've already sold it," Sam's flashlight says, stopping on the mirror.

"I don't think so." Dean and Y/N walk over to him, and Dean pulls out the picture again to compare, confirming that it's the correct mirror.

"That's it," Y/N sighs. "Are you sure about this?" Sam hands her a flashlight. Sam sighs.

"Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary," Sam looks at his older siblings, who both give him an unsure look back. Sam picks up the crowbar. "Bloody Mary," Dean turns to see a light coming through the store. He nudges Y/N, who also looks.

"We'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful," Sam readies the crowbar again. "Smash anything that moves." Dean and Y/N crawl away towards the front door, where they see a headlight. "Crap!" Dean puts the crowbar down and begins to walk to the door. Sam hears a breath, so he turns to look at a different mirror. Dean and Y/N are now outside, facing the police.

"Hold it."

"Whoa guys, false alarm, we tripped the system," Dean says.

"Who are you?"

"We're the boss's kids," Y/N says.

"You're Mister Yamashiro's kid?" Back in the shop, Sam sees Mary in a different mirror now; he sees her there out of the corner of his eye and smashes the mirror with the crowbar. She is in a different one now, and he sees her and smashes that mirror too. He is now back, facing her mirror.

"Come on. Come into this one." Sam looks oddly at his reflection, which has now taken a mind of its own. Sam starts having trouble breathing and has a trickle of blood coming out of his eye. He drops the crowbar and grabs his chest.

"It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jess.” Back outside, Dean and Y/N are still talking to the cops, trying to persuade them into leaving them alone.

"As I said, we were adopted," Dean says.

"Yeah," Dean, and Y/N are being covered back and front by two cops.

"You know, I just—we really don't have time for this right now." Y/N punches the cop in front of her, while Dean backhands the other, then punches the same cop. They are now on the ground.

"You never told her the truth—who you were." Sam is now falling towards the ground. "But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, and burning—you had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!" Dean's crowbar goes through the mirror. Y/N bends down to the floor to meet Sam.

"Sam, Sammy!" Dean comes down next to them.

"It's Sam," Y/N smiles, shaking her head. Putting their foreheads together.

"God, are you okay?" Dean says, noticing the blood on Sam's eye.

"Uh, yeah,"

"Come on, come on." He pulls Sam up. He puts Sam's arm over his neck, Y/N doing the same with his other arm, and they begin to walk out until Mary comes out of the frame of the picture. They turn to see her crawling over the broken glass. Mary walks towards them, and the three fall to the ground. They start bleeding from the face, but Y/N reaches up and pulls over a mirror so that Mary is forced to see her reflection.

"You killed them! All those people! You killed them!" Mary starts choking to death and melts into a pile of blood. Y/N throws down the mirror she held, and it shatters.

"Hey, Sam? Dean?"

"Yeah?" they say in unison.

"This had got to be like, what? 600 years of bad luck?" Sam and Dean chuckle weakly.

Y/N, Sam, and Dean are driving the car with Charlie in the back next to Y/N. They pull up in front of a house.

"So, this is really over?" Dean nods.

"Yeah, it's over."

"Thank you." Dean reaches back to shake her hand while she and Y/N hug. She then gets out of the car.

"Charlie?" Charlie turns around. "Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." Charlie smiles faintly, then turns around to go into the house. Dean gently hits Sam in the arm.

"That's good advice." They drive off.

"Hey, Sam?" Y/N says, and he turns to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

"Look, you're my sister and brother, and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself." Sam looks out the window and sees Jessica in a white dress on the street corner, standing next to a light pole. As they turn the corner, she disappears behind the pole and isn't seen again.

#older sister winchester #Supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #reader insert

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koochita · 5 years ago

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Koochita: a comprehensive tourism platform

Koochita is a platform devised for the purpose of supporting tourism enterprises by creating a smart chain to connect them with users and local or foreign tourists. A single and distinct page inside this platform will be allocated to each and every business whether small or huge including ecotourism resorts, restaurant, handicrafts, local dishes, souvenirs, traditions and places of interest for tourists. Also, details about all the aforementioned points with related information and contact will be accessible for users to omit all intermediaries. In addition, complementary information for the easiest access to desired destination is provided including google map and navigation applications. Moreover, with the help of social media almost no business would be out of sight and the quality of services of each business will be directly stated by the users through comments. This platforms will be offered in several languages including English, German and Chinese.

This website is essentially user-based which means users are the main actors and their information, feedbacks and experiences generate most of its database. Through online campaigns, Koochita seeks to benefit from social potentialities to reach better understanding and description of every touristic destination or local businesses. To put it in another way, each tourist is indeed the ambassador of Koochita and this platform seeks ways to encourage them to share direct experiences and to provide content. For further information and details please visit www.koochita.com.

Sisootech accelerator, one in its kind, specialized in tourism, cultural heritage and handicrafts. It has signed a cooperation agreement with Iran’s Vice-President for Science and Technology to pursue this mission. Sisootech is located in the Center for Growth and Innovation in Human Sciences affiliated to Allame Tabatabaee University (Center No.1). With regard to the importance of tourism for the stable development of the country and its role in creating employments and new job positions for under developed rural areas of Iran, Sisootech in partnership with UNDP, offers a program to enhance social justice, to develop the tourism industry, to support local businesses, and to improve the quality of such businesses by the means of supporting them both mentally and physically. Given the current situation, this program focuses in empowering these businesses and mentoring them toward national and international market. In this path, Sisootech will keep its supports and surveillance so that this local business sector reaches to stability and independence.

Iran as a phenomenal touristic destination

With its natural treasures and great historical heritages, Iran's fabulous touristic sceneries made it one of the most desired destinations for tourists. Iranians are well-known for their hospitality, which offers each traveler a mesmerizing experience in one of the world's most remarkable countries. As the land of diversities, Iran is blessed with extraordinary biodiversity, with colorful bazaars, ancient Persian ruins, fascinating nomads, Islamic architecture and shimmering deserts, magnificent mosques, ancient caravansaries, impressive rock tombs, and former royal cities of the ancient Persian Empire. Travelers come from far and wide to catch a glimpse of the ancient cities and beach resorts, as well as Iran's modern capital and skiing destinations.

Artistic Heritage

Iran's rich artistic tradition is as ancient as its history and is one of its featured characteristics that impress any traveler. This wealthy tradition includes a variety of masterpieces from different eras. Ancient Persia was an important destination and corridor in the old Silk Road, which made this country a cradle for dynamic trading in antiquity. The geographical location of Iran, therefore, contributes to the astonishing diversity of arts and crafts. The main Iranian local handicrafts are as follow:

- Sofreh of North Khorasan: traditional carpets, Kilim and Jajim from Kurd people of North Khorasan

- Charogh Duzi of Quchan: traditional footwears from Northeast of Iran.

- Terme: a traditional and luxurious fabric designed with Iranian patterns and textures.

- Toreutics: Traditional metalworking

- Pottery

- Enamel: the art of painting and decorating gold, silver, and copper

- Persian carpets and rugs

- Kelim: Embossed Kelims of Ilam

- Embroidery: traditional needlework of Sistan and Baluchestan, which is locally called "Suchan Duzi".

- Giveh: the local footwear of Kordestan

- Tiling: the prominent and distinguished Iranian ornamental art of bricks

- Gabbeh: a traditional rug made in Bushehr

- Chamush: traditional footwear of Northern provinces of Iran

- Pateh: a traditional rug of Kerman

- Inlay or Khatam: a delicate and detailed work of art on wood

- Crystal Craving

- Ghoflsazi (Locksmithing)

- Jajim: a traditional rug

- Mekhraj Kari: the art of making gemstones to jewelry

- Lacquer work of Isfahan

- Knife making of Zanjan

- Traditional ring making of Qom

- Calligraphy of Qazvin

- Zilu: a traditional rug made in Yazd

- Ghalamkari (Calico Work): a famous traditional print applied to textile in Isfahan

- Firuzehkubi (Turquoise Inlay) of Isfahan

- Hasir Bafi: a traditional mat weaving of Khuzestan

- ….

Historical treasures

Historical Sites

IRAN is one of the world's oldest countries, which has been the home of numerous tribes, clans, dynasties, and emperors. Therefore, one can find various sites in every part of Iran that represent a unique section of this country. Due to this historical importance, 24 heritage sites in Iran have already been registered in the UNESCO's list of World Heritage: Armenian Monastic Ensembles of Iran, Bam and its Cultural Landscape, Bisotun, Cultural Landscape of Maymand, Golestan Palace, Gonbad-e Qabus, Masjed-e Jame of Isfahan, Meidan-e Emam, Pasargadae, Persepolis, Shahr-i Sokhta, Sheikh Safi al-din Khanegah and Shrine Ensemble in Ardabil, Shushtar Historical Hydraulic System, Soltaniyeh Dome, Susa, Tabriz Historic Bazaar Complex, Takht-e Soleyman, Tchogha Zanbil, The Persian Qanat, Lut desert, The Persian Garden, Sassanid Archeological Landscape of Fars Region, Historic City of Yazd as well as Hyrcanian Forests.

Intangible Cultural Heritage

Iran historically has bred multiple cultures with authentic manifestations. This rich cultural heritage has been preserved and passed through generations and became the country's defining elements. In this regard, the following have been assigned as Intangible Cultural Heritage in Iran by UNESCO:

- Chogan (Polo): Iranian ancient royal game

- Traditional skills of building and sailing Iranian Lenj Boats in the Persian Gulf

- Flatbread making and sharing culture: Lavash, Katyrma, Jupka, Yufka

- Traditional skills of carpet weaving in Fars

- Traditional skills of carpet weaving in Kashan

- Radif of Iranian music

- Music of the Bakhshies of Khorasan

- Naqqali: Iranian dramatic story-telling

- Art of crafting and playing with Kamantcheh (traditional musical instrument)

- Skills of crafting and playing Iranian Dotar (traditional musical instrument)

Natural Wealth

Iran's diverse natural attractions, including forests in the north, Alborz and Zagros chain mountains, calm lakes, and Lagoons, historical caves, is appealing to any nature-lover. With over ten national parks and 41 protected regions, Iran has more than 8 million hectares of natural areas to explore. Iran's beautiful sceneries are desirable to anyone who seeks calmness, inspiration, adventure, and joy. Some of these remarkable natural spots for eco-tourism are:

- Damavand Mountain: the highest mountain in Iran and the Middle East and the highest volcanic peak in Asia

- The Persian Gulf

- Zayanderud River: one of the main rivers of Iran

- Alvares Village and Ski Resort in the northwest of Iran

- Badab Soort: a rare stairway spring

- Maranjab Desert: it is a magnificent landscape of sand runes and hills

- Sabalan Mountain: the third highest mountain in Iran

- Caspian Hyrcanian Forests: a unique forested massif remained from Cenozoic geology and Ice Age in the southern coast of the Caspian Sea

- Golestan National Park: one of the most important wildlife habitats and national parks of Iran

- Anzali Lagoon

- Urmia Lake: the biggest saltwater lake in Iran

- Chahkooh Canyon: it is a view of eroded rocks with a depth of 100 meters

- …

Delicious Cuisines

Another attractive feature of Iranian culture that has always appealed to tourists is special cuisines for food lovers. Each province of this country offers its unique yet delicious recipe which can meet anyone's appetite. Some of the most well-known Iranian traditional recipes are as follow:

- Khoresh-e Fesenjan: one of the oldest original Iranian cuisines, basically made from walnut and lots of pomegranate sauce as its flavor.

- Khoresh-e Qormeh Sabzi (Fresh green herb stew): It is an authentic Iranian dish made for thousands of years in ancient Persia. The main ingredients are sautéed herbs, kidney beans, lamb chunks, dried limes.

- Khoresh-e Qeimeh (Yellow split peas stew): It is another classic Persian dish made of lamb, tomatoes, yellow split peas, and dried lime. It is usually accompanied by crispy potato fries or pan-fried long-cut eggplants.

- Tah Chin-e Morgh (Golden crusted Saffron rice cake): This dish includes elements mainly used in the Iranian diet: rice, yogurt, saffron, egg, and entire baby lamb or chicken fillets.

- Ash-e Reshteh (Noodle and bean soup): this richly textured soup includes noodles, beans, herbs, and leafy greens like spinach and beet leaves. So it is a complete meal.

- Ghalieh Mahi: Southerners have sophistication in making delicious meals and Ghalieh

Mahi is an example of this claim. This yummy dish is a kind of spicy nutrient Khoresh made of mackerel fish, coriander and fenugreek, onion, pepper, turmeric, garlic, oil, and tomato paste. Tamarind and lots of spices are also added to make it an irresistible tasty dish.

Theses and more can be found on our website: www.Koochita.com

#tourism business cuisines handicrafts

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marylandparanormal · 7 years ago

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Ghost Expedition Montgomery County, Silver Spring Maryland: Burnt Mills West Special Park/Robert B Morse Water Filtration Plant

The Burnt Mills area in Silver Spring, Maryland takes it name from a mill that was said to have burned down there sometime before 1788, possibly circa the 1740′s timeframe

From an antique copper stencil, veteran local journalist J. Harry Shannon (aka "The Rambler") speculated in 1916 the burnt mill may have been known as "Glen Cairn Mills Family Flour"

Milling operations in Burnt Mills date to 1745 when then area was surveyed and patented as the "Mill Seat." The area's terrain and rapid waterfalls enabled the operations of a series of grist, saw and flour mills. The first mill in Mill Seat was constructed later that year on property owned by Samuel Beall Jr. And this was likely the namesake mill that burned down

The earliest records of a grist mill at Burnt Mills date to 1803 when the property known as "Beall’s Industry" was sold by Walter Beall to Peter Kemp and James W. Perry

Nathan Lufborough acquired the mill property, described in an 1823 deed as "one hundred acres more or less". He had intended to sell the mill in 1847 but he died before the sale could be completed, leaving the property to his heirs. The property was listed in 1850 as a “flour and bone” mill

The mill at Burnt Mills was owned by James L. Bond from 1858 to 1886. The mill produced three grades of flour and stone-ground corn mill. The technology of the mill improved over time. A roller mill replaced mill stones around 1895. A turbine had replaced the wheel by 1880

Bond sold the property to his sons-in law in 1886. The last owner was Dr. George W. Bready who acquired the flour mill and land in 1906

In 1913, The Rambler rendered the following portrait of the old flour mill in the Sunday Star

The shingle roof of the mill is green, dark and old, with moss, but nearly everything else about the mill - the miller, of course, included - is whitened by the flour and meal ground there, and which has been grinding there so long that no man's memory runneth to the contrary

Near the mill is the miller's house, bowered in the shade of numerous close-growing trees and the home of Dr. William T. Brown, surrounded by shrubbery, orchard and vineyard

By 1922, the mill had ceased operations. That year, the mill was sold to the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission (WSSC). The old mill sat idle for years until it was demolished in 1928

In 1879, Burnt Mills (Four Corners) was a farm community with a population of 125 persons. In 1934, the Robert E. Lattimer Land Company developed the area as a community of country estates known as Burnt Mills Hills. The development preserved the area’s topography of rolling hills and streams and farm lanes

WSSC began construction of a water filtration facility in 1930. The plant featured a "state of art" design, by WSSC Chief Engineer Robert B. Morse, for rapid sand removal and water treatment

The plant had two filter assemblies, two pumping stations and a new concrete dam. Pumping stations were designed in the Georgian Revival style to give the appearance of large colonial houses rather than a public utility

The low-lift pumping station moved cleaned (sediment free-water) to filter assemblies where lime and ammonia were added

The filter assemblies featured circular rings that were used for each stage of the filtration process, which included coagulation, filtration, and delivery

Chlorine was added as the high-lift pumping station moved treated water to WSSC distribution lines

The late Robert Brooks Morse (1880-1936) was married to Carrie Emma Ross-Morse (1883-1979). They had two children: Caroline Allen Morse (1903-1905) and Katherine B. Morse-Devereaux (1904-1984)

He was trained as a civil engineer at Johns Hopkins University (A.B. 1901) and at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (S.B. 1904). He became Chief engineer at WSSC since its inception in 1918

Unfortunately, he died prematurely at age 55 due to blood poisoning, months before the water filtration plant opened. WSSC named the water filtration plant in his honor

The water filtration plant did not have the capacity to meet rising service demands from suburban growth and it was closed in 1962. The Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission acquired the former water plant in 2000. Today they are recreational facilities known as Burnt Mills West Special Park (the high-lift pumping station) and Burnt Mills East Special Park (the low-lift pumping station)

There are no haunting legends associated with historical Burnt Mills nor the Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Facility. However, there may be potential for transcommunication experiences owing to area history. The ghost expedition will focus on "drop-in" communications, and not on evidence for a haunting

The ghost expedition will also participate in National Ghost Hunting Day (NGHD), an event sponsored by Haunted Journeys magazine. Connectivity and live streaming will be provided by SHINDIG. Digital marketing services for the event are being provided by CyberSpyder. The event will attempt to build a global “consciousness bridge” that will last two hours

Data from random event generators (REGs) belonging to the Global Consciousness Project (GCP) that are in proximity to participant locations will be monitored over the event

Results from NGHD 2016 noted a marked shift in random walk trending generated by GCP REGs at the outset of last year’s event

Similar patterns were also encountered at NGHD start in MPR’s REG experiment in 2017 in Dundalk

The film project will not be open to the public but will be livestreamed over the SHINDIG platform. Look for “Site, MD, USA, Burnt Mills West Special Park”

REFERENCES:

Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Boyd, T.H.S. (1879). The history of Montgomery County, Maryland - From its earliest settlement in 1650 to 1879. Baltimore, W.K. Boyle and Son

Bushong, W. (1994, May). Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant. M33-22. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Maryland Historical Trust

Cook, E.M.V. (1992, Nov). The Story of Burnt Mills. In The Montgomery County Story, Quarterly Journal of the Montgomery County Historical Society, Vol. 35. No. 4., Rockville, MD. pp 225-235.

Find A Grave, database and images. Memorial page for Robert Brooks Morse (13 Sep 1880–31 Jan 1936), Find A Grave Memorial no. 135832899, citing Chebeague Island Cemetery, Chebeague Island, Cumberland County, Maine, USA. Maintained by townsendburial (contributor 47629974)

Historic Preservation, Montgomery County, Maryland. (1996, Mar 6). Montgomery County Atlas (MCATLAS) Map Viewer: ROBERT B. MORSE COMPLEX (WSSC). Resource Number: 33/022-000A. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Montgomery County, Maryland

Kelly, C.L. (2012). Burnt Mills Hills. M33-29. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission. Maryland Historical Trust

MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND HISTORICAL CHRONOLOGY. (2018). Maryland State Archives

Montgomery Parks. (2016, Aug 15). Burnt Mills West Special Park. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission

Montgomery County Planning Department. Montgomery County Atlas (MCATLAS) Map Viewer: Burnt Mills West Special Park. Montgomery County (MD). Department of Parks. Montgomery County, Maryland

National Ghost Hunting Day: The World’s Largest Ghost Hunt. (2018). Haunted Journeys

Shannon, J.H. (1913, Jun 22). With the Rambler. Sunday Star, Washington DC. Reprinted in Neighbors of the Northwest Branch

Shannon, J.H. (1916, May 14). With the Rambler: Tramping the Northwest Branch. Sunday Star, Washington DC. Reprinted in Neighbors of the Northwest Branch

Sutton, R. (2016, Jun 16). Burnt Mills Dam has a long history in Montgomery County. Ross Sutton Blog. Keller Williams Real Estate

Williams, B.J. (2017). Exploring Collective Consciousness: Could There Be Some Implications for Paranity?. National Ghost Hunting Day Collective Consciousness Article. Psychical Research Foundation

IMAGES:

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). REAR ELEVATION of high-lift pumping station. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). FRONT ELEVATION of high-lift pumping station. Colesville Road (also called U.S.Route 29 or Columbia Pike) is in foreground. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Burnt Mills Flour Mill prior to its demolition - Figure 1. (c 1928). From Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Burnt Mills Flour Mill prior to its demolition - Figure 2. (c 1928). From Beall, J.R. (1931). The history and construction of the mill at Burnt Mills, Maryland. Initiation Thesis. Records of Phi Mu Fraternity, Special Collections, University of Maryland Libraries. University of Maryland, College Park. Hosted at archive.org

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). GROUND FLOOR of high-lift pumping station. Note the main stairway and columns. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). ATTIC of high-lift pumping station showing steel framing and concrete slab roof units. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). OFFICE SPACE ON SECOND FLOOR of high-lift pumping station. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

Historic American Engineering Record. (1968). BASEMENT of high-lift pumping station. Note steel I-beam and pump foundations. Robert B. Morse Water Filtration Plant, 10700 and 10701 Columbia Pike, Silver Spring, Montgomery County, MD. Library of Congress

National Ghost Hunting Day: The World’s Largest Ghost Hunt. (2017). Haunted Journeys

Montgomery Parks. (2016, Aug 15). SOUTHEAST ELEVATION. Burnt Mills West Special Park. Maryland-National Capital Park And Planning Commission

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newstfionline · 2 years ago

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Friday, February 3, 2023

Leaving (Gallup) An analysis of survey data of 127,000 respondents in 122 countries collected throughout 2021 found that 16 percent of adults around the world—the equivalent of 900 million people—would like to leave their country permanently if they could, a sentiment that reached 37 percent among respondents in Latin America and the Caribbean, 37 percent in sub-Saharan Africa and 27 percent in the Middle East and North Africa. More than half of the respondents in multiple countries wanted to move away, with levels highest in Sierra Leone (76 percent would like to move to a different country), Lebanon (63 percent), Honduras (56 percent) and Gabon (55 percent). The most desired destination is still the United States, where 18 percent of potential migrants said they would most like to get to, followed by Canada (8 percent of migrants) and Germany (7 percent).

Police traffic stops (BBC) Tyre Nichols is one of dozens of drivers to have died in recent years after being pulled over by police. The death of Mr Nichols in Memphis has highlighted how one of the most common interactions the public has with police—the traffic stop—can turn deadly. Last year, at least 86 people were killed by police in interactions that began as traffic stops. Since 2017, more than 800 people have been killed after being pulled over in the US, according to statistics from the Mapping Police Violence database. Last year, traffic stops led to roughly 7% of all police killings nationwide. Larry James, general counsel of the National Fraternal Order of Police, told the BBC that the dangers of a stop—when an officer doesn’t know who, or what, is in a vehicle—mean they must exercise caution. “There have been situations where officers have been shot, just flat out killed or seriously injured, in traffic stops. That’s the bottom line. So they’re extremely cautious,” he said. Ayesha Bell Hardaway, a law professor and co-director of the Social Justice Institute at Case Western Reserve University in Ohio, said that a lot of police training for traffic stops is “antiquated”. “As dangerous as police officers are taught it is for them, we know that civilians are killed at a far greater rate by police officers than in reverse,” she said. Police departments also give officers incentives to pull people over, seeing traffic stops as a way to fill city coffers or using them as a metric for officers to be evaluated.

Frustrated Texans endure winter storm with no power, heat (AP) Thousands of frustrated Texans shivered in their homes Thursday after more than a day without power, including many in the state capital, as an icy winter storm that has been blamed for at least 10 traffic deaths lingered across much of the southern U.S. Even as temperatures finally pushed above freezing in Austin—and were expected to climb past 50 degrees (10 Celsius) on Friday—the relief will be just in time for an Arctic front to drop from Canada and threaten northern states. Across Texas, 430,000 customers lacked power Thursday, according to PowerOutage.us. But the failures were most widespread in Austin, where frustration mounted among more than 156,000 customers over 24 hours after their electricity went out, which for many also meant their heat. Power failures have affected about 30% of customers in the city of nearly a million at any given time since Wednesday. For many Texans, it was the second time in three years that a February freeze—temperatures were in the 30s Thursday with wind chills below freezing — caused prolonged outages and uncertainty over when the lights would come back on.

Biden’s ‘no’ on F-16s for Ukraine met with skepticism in Pentagon (Washington Post) President Biden’s brusque refusal to fulfill Ukraine’s request for F-16 jets has been greeted with skepticism at the Pentagon, where some officials, citing the administration’s pattern of reversal after first rejecting other pleas from Kyiv, foresee eventual approval or a scenario where American allies provide the aircraft with administration approval. One senior defense official, who, like some others interviewed for this report, spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss internal deliberations, said that while the Pentagon’s calculus was unlikely to shift soon, there remains a possibility that the discussion could be “M1-ed,” a reference to Biden’s recent commitment of M1 Abrams tanks after administration officials suggested for months that the sophisticated arms would be too complex for Ukraine to maintain.

Ukraine Fears New Offensive Is Underway as Russia Masses Troops (NYT) Moscow has massed hundreds of thousands of troops in Ukraine and is targeting dozens of places a day in a markedly stepped-up barrage of artillery attacks. Ukrainian forces are struggling to hold their ground on a 140-mile stretch in the east, awaiting tanks, armored vehicles and other weapons systems from the West. Ukrainian officials have been bracing for weeks for a new Russian offensive that could rival the opening of the war. Now, they are warning that the campaign is underway, with the Kremlin seeking to reshape the battlefield and seize the momentum. “I think it has started,” President Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine said this week.

Hindu vigilantes carry out wave of anti-Christian violence in India (Washington Post) Over two decades of practicing and proselytizing Christianity, Badinath Salam had been kicked out of his home several times and often harassed. But in December, he recalled, the vitriol turned virulent. Leaders in his Indigenous Indian village beat drums to summon all 100 households to a clearing, he said. There, gathered villagers pummeled their Christian neighbors, who made up one-fifth of their village, and left Salam hospitalized for three days. When the drumbeats began again a week later, on Jan. 9, Salam ran for his life. In this part of central India, he wasn’t the only Christian forced to flee. Since December, Hindu vigilantes in Chhattisgarh state in eastern India, enraged by the spread of Christianity and rallied by local political leaders, have assaulted and displaced hundreds of Christian converts in dozens of villages and left a trail of damaged churches, according to interviews with local Christians and activists and as seen during a recent trip to the area. In villages, bruised and beaten Christian converts picked through the rubble of churches destroyed by mobs wielding sledgehammers. In dusty townships, Hindu nationalist leaders led impassioned rallies promising more action against Christian conversions. In an empty government gym of the dusty township of Narayanpur, evicted families including Salam’s sought refuge, sleeping on mats next to a few sacks of spare clothes and grain.

Iran imprisons couple for 10½ years after they danced in public, activists say (Washington Post) An Iranian couple have been jailed for more than 10 years each after a video of them dancing romantically near a Tehran monument was posted on social media, according to the activist news agency HRANA. Astiaj Haghighi and Amir Mohammad Ahmadi, Instagram influencers who are reportedly in their early 20s, were arrested by security forces at home in November, the activist group said. They were sentenced by a Tehran court to 10½ years in prison each for “promotion of impurity and indecency, assembly and collusion against national security, and propaganda against the regime.” Their imprisonment comes amid a broader crackdown by Iran’s theocratic government in a bid to extinguish a months-long uprising calling for its ouster. Women and young people are playing a central role in the movement. In some cities, women have taken off their headscarves and set them on fire, in an act of defiance against the ruling Islamists. (Haghighi was not wearing a headscarf in the video of the couple dancing that circulated.) Others have cut their hair in public. At least 14,000 people, including children, have been arrested during the protests, the United Nations said in November, adding that by a “conservative” estimate, more than 300 people have killed. HRANA also estimates that Iran has issued at least 22 death sentences and charged more than 100 people with capital offenses.

Blinken visit deepens Israeli and Palestinian skepticism about U.S. role (Washington Post) On one topic, Israelis and Palestinians appear to agree: Both are deeply skeptical, even scornful, of renewed calls made by the Biden administration this week for a two-state solution here. Many called the gesture—at this moment of violence and radicalism—feeble, even farcical. On his first trip to the region after the return of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to power, and amid days of escalating bloodshed, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken promoted the long-held dream of two states side by side—one Israeli, one Palestinian—as the best guarantor of peace. But recent polling suggests that only a third of Palestinians and Israelis believe in two states today, and they both blame the United States for not doing more. Outside the post office in the Palestinian neighborhood of Beit Hanina in East Jerusalem, Ahmad Abdulaziz, a young accountant, said “the two-state solution is like a song the Americans sing when they want to pacify us. It’s like a lullaby you sing to children to put them to sleep.”

The Grid Grinds To A Stop (CNN) South Africa is the latest country to face power grid issues, with the situation escalating to the point that President Cyril Ramaphosa is considering declaring a national state of disaster. Outages have caused a variety of issues, including car crashes, opportunistic criminals, rotting food, decomposing bodies, bankrupt businesses, and water shortages. State-run power company Eskom has struggled with corruption issues since its creation in 1994, and the South African government has failed to create the new power plants experts say are needed to keep up with demand for decades. Even established power plants are a problem area due to lack of maintenance and criminals stealing both coal and power cables for resale. To compensate for its failing infrastructure and energy shortages, Eskom has resorted to nationwide rolling blackouts occurring multiple times per day, affecting even the most basic services. South African citizens have been advised to bury their dead within found days as morgues lack the resources to keep bodies preserved for longer periods, police have struggled to control crime due to traffic jams caused by a lack of traffic lights, and average people can’t cook or even use water due to constant rolling outages. The country’s government is coming under increased fire from demonstrators and political organizations, with no solution in sight.

Pope consoles Congolese victims: ‘Your pain is my pain’ (AP) Pope Francis on Wednesday urged Congo’s people to forgive those who committed “inhuman violence” against them, celebrating a Mass for 1 million people and then hearing firsthand of the atrocities some of them have endured. Francis sat in silence as victim after victim came forward to tell their stories. He watched as they offered up at the foot of a crucifix a symbol of their pain: the machete used to maim and kill, or the straw bed mat on which they had been raped. When they knelt in front of him for a blessing, Francis placed his hand on their heads, or on the stumps of the arms that remained. “Your tears are my tears; your pain is my pain,” Francis told them. “To every family that grieves or is displaced by the burning of villages and other war crimes, to the survivors of sexual violence and to every injured child and adult, I say: I am with you; I want to bring you God’s caress.” The intimate encounter at the Vatican Embassy in Kinshasa was an extraordinary moment of a pastor seeking to console his flock, and of a pope seeking to shine a spotlight on what Francis has called a “forgotten genocide” that barely makes the news. Despite being home to one of the largest U.N. peacekeeping operation in the world, eastern Congo has been mired in violence since the early 1990s as rebels and militias vie for control of mineral-rich territory.

#headlines #news

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