#five points atlanta
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Red Tiger Tattoo By Funk Tha World at Iron Palm Tattoos In Atlanta. Combining the color red with a tiger tattoo signifies the intensity of the tiger's strength and the passion of the person wearing the tattoo.We're open late night until 2AM.
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trying to fly to atlanta to have a mini weekend bender with a friend and goddamn this global tech outage has delayed my flight by like four hours
#anyways heyyyyy atlanta peeps if you see a quirked up white boy walking around little five points alone and looking confused#that's me waiting for my friend to get off work
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Here's an idea for the less car-centric generation of Atlantans of the future who will be more open to stuff like this:
You could basically string together the parking lots of Little Five Points to make a spur trail of the Atlanta Beltline.
Yes, it's private property now. But we moved a historic church for a stadium. We collected a ton of properties in downtown for Centennial Park. Atlanta takes some really bold steps to accomplish some things.
Just convince the city that this project would help draw a big sports event and you're fine. 😘
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Atlanta City Council votes to support a pause on Five Points Station construction
by Darin Givens | June 17, 2024
Thanks to Atlanta City Council for passing a resolution this evening to support the Mayor's call for a pause on the Five Points Station construction while funding issues are examined.
Though it has no legal weight, the resolution (presented by Amir Farokhi and Jason Dozier) is appreciated as a show of solidarity with the voices speaking out with concern about the construction plan, which will close the station to pedestrian traffic for about four years.
Here's the text of the resolution...
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WHEREAS, On June 6th, the Atlanta City Council ("City Council") became aware of the provisional findings from the More MARTA Operational Audit; and
WHEREAS, these included $69.9 million in miscalculations and discrepancies in operational costs, as well as issues surrounding bus enhancement, governance, and gaps in institutional knowledge; and
WHEREAS, subsequently Mayor Andre Dickens wrote to MARTA leadership to call for a temporary halt on the construction of the Five Points MARTA Station and
WHEREAS, City Council stands united behind him in this request, and
WHEREAS, while the findings are preliminary, the figures are so substantial as to necessitate the halt until the data is made final and a public dialogue can ensue; and
WHEREAS, because we cannot, in the interest of good governance, move forward with such a major project when the very foundation of the relationship between the City of Atlanta ("City") and its transit agency is fractured.
WHEREAS, further, independent of the audit's preliminary findings, City Council has been vocal in its concerns surrounding the Five Points Station and
WHEREAS, this includes the fact that proposed improvements do not substantially improve the functionality of the station, and
WHEREAS, the planned four-year closure to pedestrian access in the center city is unacceptable; and
WHEREAS, there is a lack of confidence that this will effectively serve us during the 2026 FIFA World Cup, and
WHEREAS, and while we appreciate MARTA's emphasis on tangible progress, in this instance we should take the time to get it right rather than moving too swiftly.
NOW, THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED BY THE CITY COUNCIL OF THE CITY OF ATLANTA, GEORGIA, that the Atlanta City Council stands united with Mayor Dickens in his call for a temporary halt on the Five Points MARTA Station project.
BE IT FURTHER RESOLVED, that once the final audit report is received, there should be a public dialogue around the findings and their impact on public trust as well as City Council's ongoing concems around the construction of the Five Points Station
BE IT FINALLY RESOLVED, that these requests are being made with the best interests of Atlanta residents at heart. But also in the interest of restoring trust between MARTA and the City Government. Because the strength of this partnership is vital to Atlanta's futur
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It was nice to see Little Five Points packed today for a festival! What a beautiful day to be outside and under the shade of these tall street trees.
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Little Five Points, ATL
#atlanta georgia#atlanta#ATL#little five points#urban photography#urban#urban art#urban exploration#urban decay#urban design#urban exploring photography#urbex#urban gothic#southern gothic
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#nation of gods and earths#five percent nation#supreme mathematics#allah school in mecca#hip hop#5% nation of gods and earths#father allah#black people#black women#latino#afrobeat#atlanta rapper#black men#Atl#Atlanta hip hop#underground hip hop#east point ga#college park ga#decatur ga#african spirituality#spiritual#religion#indigenous peoples
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i always felt like vinyls were the last step in my music journey. to me, it’s peak; the epitome of music.
i spent an unhealthy amount of time at criminal records in little five points during the 2012-2014 era.
unbelievable place.
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[9/20/2023] The Frisky Whisker
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Black & Grey Lotus Flower Tattoo By Choze At Iron Palm Tattoos In Atlanta, GA. Choze is a senior artist at Iron Palm. We're open late night until 2AM. Call 404-973-7828 or stop by for a free consultation.
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Little Five Points development is welcome news
I'm a fan of this new proposal for an apartment building (with hundreds of units, plus retail on bottom) on Moreland Avenue at Little Five Points! This would replace the Camelli's building and the parking lots next to it, adding some much-needed investment in new construction/housing for the area. Also, big thumbs up for the lower-than-usual parking ratio! The proposal has 200 residential units plus commercial space, and only 147 parking spaces. That's good stuff. I love Little 5 Points for many reasons, but there's no doubt that it's slipped a bit off of many folks' radar as investment has grown closer to the Beltline. Putting more feet on this street is the right thing to do. It seems to me like L5P was largely a drive-to destination for a long time, at least in contrast with the new walk-to format of developments on the Beltline. This kind of new growth could help keep the district competitive and vibrant in a city where people expect more walkability. The proposal reminds me of the growth in apartments that Decatur experienced several years ago, which put new mid-rise buildings beside the lovely older structures of the downtown. And downtown Decatur has done pretty well for itself as a result. I think good things are in the future for L5P with this kind of growth. (For the record, I was also a fan of the nixed proposal for a mixed-used development replacing the Star Bar building.)
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Happy New Year!
#black women#black girls#blackgirlswithstyle#blackgirlmagic#black#black girl fashion#fur#fashion#afrohair#afro#furglasses#furry#Atlanta#atl#little five points#Georgia#black woman#fyp#smile#Igbo#aesthetic#happy new year#2023#stairs#city#black girl beauty#black girls of tumblr#green hair#greenafro#hair
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Hello, published author here who just noticed a thing in the s3 teaser that may help us to determine the timeline:
This is not an ARC. ARCs, aka "Advance Review Copies" or "Advance Reader Copies" are sent out in advance of the publication of a book in order for magazines/newspapers/whoever (and these days, online book influencers) to review it, and for booksellers to have a chance to read it so they can order copies for their store and hand-sell it better on publication day. ARCs usually go out around 3-4 months before publication.
ARCs are also sometimes called "advance uncorrected proofs" because they usually haven't been through copyedits yet (aka typo-finding and punctuation-checking). ARCs are always clearly marked on the front cover as what they are, to make it harder for people to sell them online and so that bookstores don't accidentally put them out as merchandise.
We know that the IWTV team knows this becaaaaause, from the end of s2e8:
*THAT'S* an ARC. You can see how it says so all over, both "advance reader's copy" and "advance uncorrected proof". It's also a paperback (as ARCs usually are) rather than the hardback that Lestat is holding -- all very typical and correct.
And here is a finished copy. And we know exactly how far after publication it is, because:
Daniel also gives a shout out to a "book fair" and Atlanta, which I take to mean the Decatur Book Festival, which takes place in October. So that means the book would have been published in June -- nice timing! Get all that good Pride Month promo for this gay-ass vampire memoir. So far we are nailing the Expected Publishing Industry Timeline And Behaviors.
So the only thing I can tell you definitively about what this means is that Louis got that ARC probably in February, aka around eight fucking months ago at the end of s2, and still hasn't even skimmed it, and that is HILARIOUS of him. not a shred of guilt on him about it either. (if you get a print ARC (as opposed to an e-ARC) and you don't even read it, it is polite to be a little embarrassed about that. not my personal best friend Louis DPDL tho.)
As for whether Daniel is a vampire during the s3 trailer -- the thing we are all clamoring to know -- I have two possible ways the timeline could be working, given the publishing industry stuff:
OPTION 1: Louis leaves Dubai -> Goes to New Orleans for Depression Hovel reunion, refuses to get back together with Lestat -> Lestat "I will woo him back with a Song, just like last time. ok that didn't work I'LL GO BIGGER. that didn't work. BIGGER" Lioncourt starts his rockstar career as a Gotta Get My Man Back tantrum -> Daniel finishes the manuscript, delivers it to his publisher, and sends an ARC to Louis (February) -> Book is published, bestseller (June) -> Daniel (who was turned at some unknown point) goes on TV about it (October) -> famous currently-bestselling journalist gets in touch with up-and-coming rockstar to get his side of the story -> Lestat has a mental breakdown on camera about how Louis is not even paying attention to all the albums he is recording, hurtful, tragic, heartbreaking
or
OPTION 2: Daniel DEFINITELY got out of Dubai alive -> [all of the above up to "Daniel sends an ARC to Louis"] -> book is getting great reviews -> already-famous Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist gets in contact with up-and-coming rockstar to do the sequel even before the book is out (slightly odd publishing choice but when you have two Pulitzers, the rules are different, so it's not implausible) -> Daniel gets his finished copies of the book (which brings us to probably May at the earliest; you don't usually get your finished copies more than a month in advance) and has one on set for interviewing Lestat -> Lestat has his sexy little rockstar breakdown on camera -> Daniel is human for interviewing Lestat but gets turned by Armand somewhere in the five-month span between finished copies arriving in May and his TV interview in October.
Option 1 gives the show writers a little more timeline wiggle room, which can be useful, but Option 2 is more Dramatic and builds extra tension if Daniel is trying to do this interview while not having a good time with his Parkinson's. Either way Louis is just out here not answering anybody's phone calls or reading the lovely ARC he was so thoughtfully sent bc he's busy redecorating his house.
THAT SAID, please take all of this with a grain of salt, i have been losing my mind over the s3 trailer and i may have missed something
this has been your war correspondent a report from the publishing industry. thank you and goodnight
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Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse
Word Count: 4885
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The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number.
“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”
“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”
“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”
You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did.
You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.
“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.
“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.
“Ten after four. Why?”
You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”
It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.
“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.
“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”
You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”
The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”
“Why's that?”
“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”
“How many?”
“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.
All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?
The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots.
“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.
Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.
A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.
“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.
“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.
“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.
“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”
“What?”
“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”
“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”
Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.
“No, actually,” Hydecker answered.
“What about neutropenia?”
He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.
“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”
“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”
“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.
“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.
“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”
“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.
“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.
You were shocked. “None of them?”
“No.”
“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.
“Well, if you think it'll help.”
“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”
Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor.
You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car.
“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.
“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you.
Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.
“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he responded.
Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”
“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”
Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”
“Honestly? Not sure.”
“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”
***
“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.
“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.
“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”
The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers.
“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.
Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”
Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.
Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.
“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles.
“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.
“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”
“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”
Sam shook his head.
“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.
“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.
“Shtriga.”
“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.
“ ‘Cause it got away.”
Sam scoffed. “Got away?”
Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”
“Not very often.”
“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.
“What else do you remember?”
“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.
“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.
“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.
A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”
You nodded to her.
“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy.
“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”
“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.
Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”
You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.
The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.
***
Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.
“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”
“The hospital,” you noted.
“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.
“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”
You giggled at Sam.
“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”
You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.
And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.
“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room.
You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”
“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”
“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”
He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”
You nodded.
“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”
“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.
“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.
"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”
“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”
“(Y/N)—”
“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”
He shook his head.
“Exactly.”
He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”
“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door.
***
The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.
“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.
“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.
“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.
“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”
“My brother's sick,” he replied.
“The little guy?”
He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”
“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.
“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.
You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy.
“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.
“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.
His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”
“I'm going with you,” he protested.
“Not now, Michael.”
“But I gotta see Asher!”
Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”
His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.
“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.
“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.
“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”
Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”
Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”
You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.
“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”
“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”
“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.
He shrugged.
You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled.
“Seriously, where we going?”
“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”
***
You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.
"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”
Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.”
He did so.
“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”
“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.
“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”
“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.
“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”
“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”
“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”
“No promises,” he grumbled.
“Dean—”
“Fine.” He hung up the phone.
“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”
“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.
***
“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said.
You and the brothers were back in the motel room.
Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”
“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.
“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”
Sam nodded. “Good call.”
“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”
Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.
“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.
“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”
You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”
“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.
“(Y/N)—”
“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”
“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.
“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”
“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed.
“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.
“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.
“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”
“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”
Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”
You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.
“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.
“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”
***
Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.
“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.
“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.
There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.
“Hey,” you said, surprised.
“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”
“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.
“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”
“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.
The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”
Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.
“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.
“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”
“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”
“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.
You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”
There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment.
“Now?” you asked.
“Not yet.”
The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down.
“Now?!”
“Now.”
You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.
“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.
“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.
“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.
“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.
“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.
“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.
You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.
You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.
“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.
***
You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.
You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.
“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.
“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.
“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”
“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.
“Really?” Michael grinned.
“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”
You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”
“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.
“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.
“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”
You shot a knowing look to the boys.
“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.
The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”
“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”
A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”
She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours.
“It's too bad,” said Sam.
“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.
“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”
“What?” Dean questioned.
“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”
Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”
Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn
hi hi! quite a few tags were broken :( please let me know if i've misspelled your tag! make sure you have notifs for my blog on so you don't miss an update!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural series rewrite#spn series rewrite
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Rick Grimes is a broken man living a half-life, solely focused on exercising his demons through his dark deeds as a part-time P.I., part-time vigilante in Atlanta. Until that is, his focus catches sight of the mysterious, sexy woman who lives next door through his window, Michonne Hawthorne. The more he watches, the harder he falls. When he takes a case that sends him crashing back into his tragic past, he also finds himself crashing through her front door to save her life – then deeper, and deeper into her dark world. There's no turning back from there. As both the case and Rick's obsession with Michonne charge at each other full steam, the two lovers discover that they feed each other's darkest instincts - and they like it. One question remains: Now that Rick and Michonne have emerged from their broken worlds to find love, who's going to stop them from burning their pasts, and all their enemies, to the ground?
________
Y'all, this is a labor of love. I wrote this story years ago, at the peak of my obsession with Rick and Michonne from The Walking Dead. It's based on my favorite film noirs, my favorite femme fatales, and my favorite broody, slightly cray-cray antiheroes. Rick Grimes is one of the best leading men ever written or performed, and for me personally, it is his dark side -- the one he taps into the protect those he loves -- that is one of the sexiest things about him. That, and his undying devotion to and love for Michonne. I wanted to explore that, luxuriate in it if you will, when I started this story.
I also very much wanted to explore Michonne's dark side. She's just as crazy as he is, after all.
Years later, after having been fed soooo well by The Ones Who Live, I've decided to revive the story and rewrite/refresh it for the current times. It's the same Vantage Point you know and love, improved and updated to amplify what I already knew back then: Rick Grimes is nothing if not a man in love. The story is finished and will be posted in batches of five chapters each! Also, there's the sequel I cooked up way back when.
-Kendra
#richonne#richonne fanfiction#vantage point reprised batch one#the ones who live#towl#rick grimes#michonne#femme fatale#film noir#I am sorry it takes me sooooo long I HAVE ANXIETY PLEASE
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