#rip truman you are not coming back any time soon

[sunshinetrinket]

new pfp 🔥🔥

[singledarkshade]

New Old Friend

Part Three

(Part One and Part Two can be found here) Jack grimaced as he listened to the tenth complaint phone call in a row about power outages. Glancing over to where Jo sat, he saw she was listening to something very similar.

“Okay, Mr Fredrickson,” Jack said, finally managing to get a word in, “We’ll look into it.”

Hanging up he sighed, waiting for Jo to finish her conversation.

“Call Henry?” Jo asked the moment she’d hung up.

“Please,” Jack clasped his hands together. He headed over to their small chalkboard they had and cleaned it. He updated it to read, ‘0 days since something weird has happened.’ They’d never made it to 4 days never mind a full week.

Jo appeared at his side and handed him the phone, “Henry.”

“Henry,” Jack said the instant he took the phone, “We’ve had calls that there are a lot of power surges and outages around town. Tell me it’s not you.”

There was a pause before the other man replied, “Not from anything I have going on just now.”

Jack sighed, “Damn. That means GD is more than likely to be the culprit. I might need your expertise while I check this out.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Henry said before hanging up.

Frowning slightly, Jack mused, “We?”

Henry hung up the phone turning to where Rip and Gideon were scanning over some of his inventions. The AI was impressive but also very opinionated.

Henry loved her.

“Problem?” Rip asked.

Henry nodded, “I think your shard may be causing some power problems in town. I’m heading to Global Dynamics. Feel like coming along?”

Rip smiled interested, “I assume I have the credentials.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Henry tried to look offended but didn’t quite manage to get rid of his smile, “Your ID badge is in the wallet I gave you.”

Gideon frowned, “I assume I will be turned off.”

Rip bit his lip at her tart inquiry as Henry turned to her.

“Actually no,” he smiled, “GD is used to people field testing their experiments. Although we might want to avoid Fargo, he is our current AI expert.”

Gideon smiled sweetly making Henry chuckle at how Rip rolled his eyes. Grabbing his coat Henry led them out to the truck. Rip climbed inside and Gideon appeared to sit between them.

Starting to drive, Henry smiled as he saw Gideon study their surroundings.

“Dr Deacon,” she said, “I am intrigued by the town. You stated that it was created for those with genius intelligence?”

Henry nodded, “Back in the fifties Albert Einstein and President Truman founded the town as a haven for the smartest people in the country. To give them a place to create and learn. It wasn’t much at first but soon the town grew.”

“It is a shame we do not have a place like this within our own universe,” Gideon noted thoughtfully, “It would have been a good place to relocate the children after we removed the Time Masters.”

Rip shrugged before musing, “It would be an interesting place to have grown up,” sadness filled his voice, “Or to raise a child.”

Gideon shook her head so Henry wouldn’t ask Rip anything, she didn’t say anything further simply watching the scenery fly by. Reaching GD, Henry was pleased by the soft impressed noise Rip made when he drove through the shield surrounding it.

“Hologrammatic shielding,” Rip noted, “Impressive.”

Henry nodded, “There are a lot of top-secret projects within this building, we need good security.”

“Of course,” Rip nodded, a small smirk on his face.

Henry frowned, “What?”

“I believe Captain Hunter has already worked out several ways to infiltrate this building,” Gideon noted amused.

Glancing at the other man, Henry frowned at the slight shrug, “Just try to refrain from doing anything that will get you thrown in federal prison. Or do you know how to escape from that too?”

Innocence covered Rip’s face as they climbed out the truck and started to the front door. Henry pulled out his security badge and motioned Rip to show his. The guard studied it for a second before turning to Gideon.

“She isn’t real,” Henry said before explaining Gideon was an ‘experiment’ Rip was working on.

Looking extremely impressed the guard motioned them inside and Henry led them to the rotunda. Turning he found Gideon glaring at him.

“I’m not real?” she demanded sharply.

“He didn’t mean it like that, Gideon,” Rip soothed, “It was a simple way to get past the guard without going into the technical specifications.” Giving a sniff she turned to look around and Rip shrugged, “She may forgive you sometime soon.”

Henry moved to stand in front of Gideon, “I am extremely sorry I called you not real, Gideon. I never intended to insult you.”

Gideon smiled and nodded graciously before turning to Rip, “You should be taking notes.”

Before Rip could retort a call came making them turn to see Jack jogging over to them.

 Jack Carter had the look of a man who knew he was about to step into an insane asylum, a look Rip often saw on his own face when dealing with the Legends.

“I called Alison,” Jack said as he reached them, “She should be meeting us soon.” He looked at Gideon and asked, “Who is this?”

“I am Gideon,” she replied, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sheriff.”

Jack moved to shake her hand stunned when it went through hers, “What?”

Henry laughed, “Sorry, Jack. Gideon is an AI, very advanced. Rip is testing an interface.”

Rip turned showing the disc attached to his temple, “Henry agreed to help me with the experiment.”

“What do you want, Carter?” a bored voice came from behind them.

Rip turned with the other two men to see a tall man with a sneer of superiority on his face walking with an elegant woman whose air of authority marked her as the boss.

“Nathan,” she scolded the man at her side before turning to them, “Carter, Henry and,” she paused at Rip, “Dr Hunter I presume.”

Rip nodded and took her offered hand, “Yes,” he said before adding, “And this is Gideon, my AI companion.”

“Dr Alison Blake,” she introduced herself to both of them, “Gideon, you are incredible.”

Gideon smiled back, “Thank you, Dr Blake.”

“Please don’t,” Rip muttered, “Her ego is big enough as it is.”

At Gideon’s sharp look he stared innocently at her.

“Dr Nathan Stark,” the final man introduced himself, “I’ve read your papers on Artificial Intelligence.”

A cough made them all turn to the Sheriff, who was standing waiting to explain why everyone has been called.

“Carter,” Alison turned to the Sheriff, “What do you need?”

Jack turned his attention from looking annoyed at the new man to Alison, “We’re getting reports all over town of power outages. I checked with Henry and it’s not him.”

“That’s some police work there, Carter,” Stark stated.

Irritation covered Jack’s face, but he continued, “We’ve gone over the other options in town and it’s not connected to any of them. So, here I am.”

Alison held up her hand to stop Stark from retorting, “We will check the list of projects to see if there is anything that could be causing the outages.”

“What about my favourite place, Section 5?” Jack demanded.

“That’s classified, Carter,” Stark stated, “As you know.”

“And as you know,” Jack retorted, “It’s usually the cause of all the problems.”

Alison sighed in annoyance, “Section 5 projects will be included in my check. Why don’t we head to my office?”

                                 *********************************************

 Gideon was fascinated by Global Dynamics. Not the humans, who were arguing as humans usually did while her Captain was sitting watching, taking in the dynamics and relationships between the people in the room.

The interface her Captain was wearing which allowed her to be seen by the people in this world, had the excellent side-effect of allowing Gideon to interact with the computer systems of this world.

And the Global Dynamics computers were fascinating. None were as advanced as she was of course, but for the period they were in, advanced enough.

She hadn’t informed her Captain of her new abilities just yet; he might insist she not pry too much into the information she should not be privy to. Considering all the things he’d had her hack in the past though, he had no way to complain but she felt it best to keep this information to herself for the moment.

Accessing all the files for the people in the room, Gideon was impressed by Dr Blake. Smart and independent, she was raising her son alone who himself was different. Dr Deacon, Gideon already liked but seeing his file she was very impressed, and in another life, he would have been taken as a Time Master. Sheriff Carter was not as conventionally smart as the others, but he had his own kind of intelligence and his file showed how many times he had saved the town.

Finally, was Dr Stark, who Gideon didn’t like at all. Yes, he was smart but in this room that wasn’t unusual, but he believed himself smarter than everyone else. Gideon had seen that arrogance before in Thawne, in Druce and so many others.

He was the type of person who could so easily fall into supervillainy if the right, or wrong, type of dominoes fell. It looked however that the people in the room with him kept him on the right side, if only just.

Scanning the systems, Gideon checked for the power issues to help the Sheriff. Going through all the projects, she was impressed by some of the things the scientists were studying although others were laughable but that was humans, eternally optimistic.

Continuing her way through the systems, Gideon turned to Rip.

“I need to speak to you privately,” Gideon said to him softly.

Confused Rip touched the interface and turned it off before he moved to the other side of the office away from the others.

“What is it?” he asked softly so he wasn’t overheard.

“I have checked the projects within Global Dynamics, and nothing could cause the power outages Sheriff Carter is investigating,” Gideon told him.

Rip frowned, “How…”

“The interface Dr Deacon created allows me to access the computers,” Gideon smiled at him, “Quite interesting.”

Rolling his eyes, Rip noted, “But I’m guessing that is not what you wanted to tell me.”

“Astute as always, Captain,” Gideon replied before telling him, “The shard is in a laboratory in the area known as Section Five. It appears safe at the moment but accessing it may be difficult.”

“Wonderful,” Rip sighed.

 Rip was surprised and extremely interested that Gideon could use the interface to access the computers, but it would likely be helpful to reach the shard. Henry motioned him to follow on as he and the Sheriff headed out the office.

“Well?” Rip asked Henry falling into step with the other two men.

“They’ll let us know,” Henry replied, as Jack let out an annoyed sigh.

They reached the exit and started to the cars. Glancing at Gideon, Rip shrugged, “It’s nothing in here that’s causing the power outages.”

Henry and Jack both stalled turning to Rip.

“How do you know that?” Jack demanded.

“Gideon,” Rip explained, “She had a quick check of the systems.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “The interface?”

“A small side-effect we didn’t expect,” Rip noted.

Jack chuckled, “Let’s not tell Alison or Stark about that but at least I won’t be wasting my time waiting for them.” He rested a hand on the top of his jeep, frowning in thought, “Okay, so there has to be a reason why the power in the town in going crazy.”

“Well, it has to be someone in town,” Henry noted, “But if it’s not a GD experiment, then it could be either an unsanctioned one or, even worse, a school project.”

Rip stared at them, “You’re kidding?”

Both men shook their heads, Jack adding, “I thought the same when I first came here but the kids are just as smart as the parents. Which means they can be just as much trouble.”

“Okay,” Henry said, “Let’s get back into town and make a plan.”

Jack nodded, “I’ll meet you both there.”

As the other man left, Henry and Rip climbed back into Henry’s truck. Rip reactivated the interface allowing Gideon to be seen by Henry once more.

“So,” Henry said as he began to drive, “Did you find anything else interesting while you wandered through the GD systems, Gideon?”

Innocence covered her face, “Why, Dr Deacon I am shocked you think I would look at things I am not authorised to access,” she told him.

A mischievous smile touched her lips making Henry laugh.

[jackjots]

#4 Hospitality

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around the first half of Episode 4)

Day #4 @30daysofwayward

CW: Mention of blood (I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

They say practice makes perfect, and over the years I had crafted the perfect hangover. I made some coffee, grateful I’d brought it with me from my car. My car. I groaned, leaning against the counter as the coffee brewed. I called the shop as soon as it opened, and arranged for my car to be towed. They told me what time I could expect it to be done, and as I hung up I realized I should have asked what their hours were. I pushed the thought away. I should just try to get some work done, and then go get my car. Go to the library. Drop off the book. Come back home and work more. That’s all I should do. 

I poured my cup of coffee and as I looked at the dark abyss I thought of Prism’s dead eyes. I grabbed some milk from my fridge and poured it in to disrupt the abyss. The clouds of white mixing with the coffee almost had a red tint to it, or was I imagining it? I violently opened my drawer and grabbed a spoon, using it to stir the thoughts away and made the coffee a caramel color. I didn’t love the taste of milk in my coffee, but my mouth tasted sour anyway so it really made no difference. 

I sat down at my computer and as soon as the screen blared white at me I turned it off again. I grabbed a pen and paper instead, but regardless of the medium, my head pounded and my words were all dried up. I fetched my mail and didn’t bother opening it. I laid on the couch after taking some pain killers and getting through most of the cup of coffee, and let my thoughts wander back to the night before. I tried to piece together my hunch about Desmond, but once again I was having trouble envisioning him as some sort of criminal mastermind. Also, ripping pages out of a book, slashing tires, and murder didn’t quite line up in my head. And why would it be the chapter on werewolves? It didn’t make sense. 

I thought of the person I’d bumped into and sat up. Fur coat. I groaned as my head hurt again and gently laid it back down. I scolded myself for such a silly thought, and decided I needed some water. 

After a few glasses and more leaning over my sink just in case, I decided to take a shower. I took a small nap and it was as if my normal brain had come back. I had time for a small meal before I had to start my trek back into town to get my car. 

I brought the book, with the intention to return it and be done with the whole thing. 

On my walk, I remembered I was missing the town council meeting, with only a moment of regret from my still lingering curiosity. I turned onto the street that became the main drag of town. They’d towed my car back for me, as an expensive favor, since it would’ve been too far to walk, and I’d already paid over the phone. My car was right where I’d left it, with brand new tires. I got in the car and sat for a moment. The curiosity came back in the stillness and quiet of my car. I couldn’t just leave. I had to know. 

I walked into the Dead Canary, feeling a little queasy at the memory of running in after seeing Prism just the night before.

“Shelby.” Desmond looked as surprised as I felt that I was there. “What can I do for you?”

“Did Truman Hensley get elected?”

“No.”

“No?”

“The Sheriff is running in her brother’s place. You’ll get to vote after all.”

“Good.” 

“And Paul’s doing alright.”

“Paul?” I blinked. “Podcast Paul?”

“You found him last night, with Prism.” He bowed his head gently at her name.

The other body. I had forgotten, in the blur of it all. “Oh. Good. I’m glad he’s not dead.” 

He nodded. “Indeed.”

With a touch of uncertainty, I sat at the bar. “Desmond, what happens if Truman Hensley wins? What happens to this town?”

“I wouldn’t be too worried about that.” He said, but he looked away when he said it.

“I am worried. And I’m not sure why.”

“You feel at home here, and maybe you don’t want that home to change.”

I blinked. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Very astute Desmond.” He couldn’t kill anyone, I thought to myself. Why, because he was being nice to me? Like murderers weren’t nice to people sometimes? I shook my head. “I just can’t get over the feeling that something else is happening here.” 

“You’re starting to sound like those - what did you call them? Podcasters.” He chuckled. “You may just be seein’ things that aren’t there.” 

I sighed and rubbed my face. “Maybe you’re right Desmond. Maybe I’ll just return the book and stop asking why. And just be happy with what I’ve got now.”

“If you keep asking the wrong questions, you’ll keep getting the wrong answers.” 

“The wrong questions?” He didn’t say anything, he just stared at me while cleaning a glass, and I decided it was time to leave. 

The drive to the library felt like it went by faster than normal. I barely saw the scenery as it spilled out before me. It was as if my vision kept being obstructed by big blurry thoughts: being told rather than listened to about Prism’s death, the censorship of werewolf information, Paul being attacked (or exploded? With crystal shards? Which didn’t even make sense?), Desmond’s possible involvement- I didn’t see the car come around the bend and the world went black.

Irony is getting your car fixed only to wake up to smoke coming from the hood. I looked around. I had, very luckily, been pushed to a road shoulder and had crashed into the wall of the hill instead of off of the road to a tree riddled hillside. No one had stopped, so it was a hit and run. An accident. There was a mass of white coming from the steering wheel. The airbag was deployed, and the red on it surprised me. I checked my nose. It was bloody. I almost laughed at the blood on my hands. With wide eyes, I went over my body with soft pats to make sure nothing was broken. I felt okay, albeit shaky. I shuffled around in my glove compartment to get my cell phone. I’d stuck it in there for emergencies such as this one, and waited for it to turn on while my car made unnerving creaking noises. Once it was loaded, I could see clearly there was no signal. I wasn’t close enough to the valley to make it that way, so I decided to walk back to town. 

To say this was a stupid decision was an understatement. The idea of just staying with the car until someone drove by that could help me didn’t even occur to me; I had to move. There was no place to walk on the road. I just clung to the rocky hillside when a car would go by. I was grateful traffic was rather slow, and almost cried when there was a large swatch of road to walk on. By the time I got back to town, the adrenaline had worn off and my whole body felt like someone had punched it. I couldn’t walk home, I decided, I had to just give up at the Dead Canary. It was aptly named. I felt like a freaking Dead Canary.

If Desmond was surprised to see me before, apparently I looked pretty bad this time. 

“What happened to you?”

“Car crash.” I said. And then the world went black, because apparently talking was just too much energy I didn’t have.

I woke up in a strange bed. I jolted up and then shrank back down. “Two for one discount.” I heard from the other side of the room. The drunk lump was erect and I realized he was in a lab coat. I thought I’d heard him referred to as a doctor, which I’d taken as a joke, but with horror I realized Henry actually was a doctor. 

“What?” I asked.

“Desmond got you a room.” I smelled the air as he wobbled closer. “Are you drunk?”

“Hardly.” “Why did you say two for one?” “Paul? Earlier? With the crystals?” “Ah.” “You’ll be fine. Just a broken nose, some bruising probably. I don’t have another lolly pop.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll be...I’ll be around if you need any more medical attention.” 

Henry left and I was alone in my room. I realized out of nowhere I’d left the book in the car. The car. I groaned and got out of bed. Someone had taken off my shoes, so I put them back on and carefully made my way back to the bar. 

“You’re up quick.” Desmond threw a towel over his shoulder. 

“I left my car-

“Up on the highway, already got it towed.”

“How did you know?”

“Only one way to go really.” 

“True.” I paused as my face throbbed. “Thank you for putting me up.” “No issue.” “How much do I owe you.”

“You stayin’?”

“Probably not.” “How you getting home?”

“Walking.” Even just taking a step now made my body ache and I paused through the pain. “Actually, is it okay if I stay?”

“I’ll charge ya half price.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Can I get some water? And maybe a paper and a pen?”

“What for?”

“I write as a distraction, and I don’t have my notebook or anything with me.” 

“I’ll get that for you. Anything else?” “No.” 

“Just hang tight.”

The sun was setting, and I thought about trying to call someone for a lift home. But the idea of just staying put til tomorrow was too tempting. And something about having been put to bed, and taken care of, was just simultaneously alien and comforting. 

With the paper and pen in my pocket, my glass of water, and some aspirin Henry had fished out of his pocket that I inspected carefully before risking, to my room. I saw a closed door next to mine and wondered who else would be staying there. And then it occurred to me. Of course, Artemis and Paul. The only visitors in this town. I listened in the hallway for a moment, but no sounds were being made. I went into my room and shut the door. 

There was a small mirror and desk set up that I sat down at. My reflection startled me. My hair was tangled, there was bruising around my eyes, and blood still under my nose. Great, I thought. Good thing only Desmond and Henry had seen me. I tried to clean myself up a little bit. There was blood all over my shirt. I took it off, relieved I had been wearing a long sleeve shirt over a short sleeve one. My jeans were also spotted with blood, but that was ignorable. I put the pen and paper down on the desk. My head felt a little too wobbly to write just yet, but having the option made me feel better. I’d have to write about the feeling of a broken nose; I knew that would be useful for my main character. I tried to touch it, but winced which made it hurt worse; like a ball of heat in the middle of my face just aching. 

I went back to the bed when I heard talking from my wall. I tried to ignore the urge to listen in for a while as I heard the voices were low, but I finally couldn’t help it and pressed my ear up to the wall. 

“I’m gunna get a drink.” Said a voice, and footsteps.

And then, “I think I’m a werewolf now.” 

First of all, those were really thin walls, but also, what?

What?

[indulgnces]

hi howdy hello!! i go by jess and this is my first time playing my sweet bb girl, so i’m pumped! more about my girl audrey below the cut!

❛  ( SARAH JEFFERY )  ◈  dude, shut up ! AUDREY ROSE from DESCENDANTS is on screen. their fans swear they’re just DETERMINED & OUTGOING, but we’ve all seen their JEALOUS & STUBBORN side ! according to TRUMAN WIKIA, they’re TWENTY-ONE years old, BISEXUAL, & identify as CISFEMALE ( SHE/HER ). they’re currently a STUDENT & are RELIEVED about life in truman. luckily they have HER DIARY & HER SONGBIRD NECKLACE with them & can visit THE FAIRY COTTAGE whenever they want. penned by JESS.

sooooooooo confession: i’ve never watched a descendants movie from start to finish 😬 I know! crazy considering I’m playing a character from the movies, but like, have you guys ever seen a character and just be like wOW, that is My Type of character? cause that’s what happened with audrey. descendants 3 came out and was trending, and I checked the tag and like was 👀👀👀 to audrey to the point that I watched queen of mean and got HOOKED. caught a replay of the movie and watched all the audrey parts while skipping over the rest. since then I’ve been in love with my girl and she’s been on my mind so much that I’m returning to rp after a small break to play my girl. In preparation I skimmed through descendants 1 & 3, and adurey’s youtube short story so I’m good to GO. 

CANON LIFE

“A lifetime of plans, gone. Our family status, gone. Audrey, you were supposed to be his Queen, and you let him slip through your fingers. Your mother could hold onto a prince in her sleep.” 

daughter of sleeping beauty and prince phillip, princess audrey has been groomed since she was a child by her grandmother to become the queen of auradon. she’d been friends with prince ben since she was a child, and was expected to marry him when she got older.

grew up used to the finer things of life, and as such, audrey was a bit self-absorbed and spoiled. became the most popular girl in school due to her status and beauty. was cheer captain. finally became romantically involved with ben at some point in high school. life was going exactly as planned. 

then ben decided to invite 4 villain kids (vks) from the isle of the lost to auradon, and everything went to shit. the stark black and white, good vs. evil mentality was deeply ingrained in audrey’s psyche, so she was very much AGAINST the idea of any isle kids coming over. convinced the vks were up to no good, she never warmed up to the them, and bullied them (mostly mal) at times. and you know what? she was RIGHT

mal used a love potion to steal her boyfriend, who then humiliated audrey by serenading mal during a tourney match, where audrey was cheering at. no one gave two shits though?? or suspected foul play at all?? they just cheered and were like “ah, cool! our soon-to-be-king has suddenly declared his love for this new vk who’s only been here for a few days! how awesome and totally natural !! “

audrey was still plenty popular by the end of the movie, but her fairy godmothers decided to treat adurey to a spa trip, which turned into an extended trip that required her needing summer school bc she missed so much school (aka why she was absent for descendants 2)

by the time audrey came back in descendants 3, everyone was ALL up mal’s ass crack. ben proposed to mal in front of everyone, serenading her with the SAME song he did in the first movie when he ceremoniously proclaimed his love for mal while simultaneously dumping audrey, and everyone cheered AGAIN for their union. damn thing broke audrey’s whole ass heart. on top of that, her grandmother chastised audrey for her failures in securing ben and basically failing the family. 

she also lost her status come d3??? like, at the end of d1, she was still cool as fuck. but come d3 girl is not even being invited to her friend’s birthday parties anymore?? she has no friends?? no one gives two shits about how she must be dealing with everything? and wow does that not help things at all.

that night, in her loneliness and anger, audrey decided to steal the queen’s crown from the artifacts museum. it was a petty thing. she was hurt, and just did NOT want to see the crown she’d envisioned as her own for all her life be placed on mal’s head. she didn’t have a goal beyond taking the crown. however, when she went to the museum, maleficent’s scepter sensed audrey’s emotions and desires for revenge, and revealed itself to her. it’s glow lured audrey to it, fed into her emotions, and bing bang boom, audrey became the ultra fabulous QUEEN OF MEAN 

under the scepter's influence, she put half of auradon under a sleeping spell, the other half she turned to stone, then she made ben a beast after he rejected her, and made mal an ugly old hag. she was foiled at the end by mal, and ended up falling under a sleeping curse as a result. with no True Love’s Kiss to awaken her (rip), the heroes ended up getting Hades to use his magic to wake her up.

at the end, she apologizes for her crimes & her emotions were finally acknowledged when mal and ben stepped up and apologized for their inconsiderate past actions to audrey (wELL, they never actually apologize?? they say ‘I owe you an apology” but both don’t like actually say sorry, and that’s 100% something audrey has noticed for sure). she celebrates at the end with everyone else when the barrier is brought down and is last seen dancing with harry hook 

POST CANON

totally headcanon that she’s still not 100% happy as she’s shown in the end while dancing around okay

she’s STILL lonely!! she STILL wants those apologies!! she’s STILL lost about what to do with her future now that her whole life plan has blown up in smokes. she’s HURT okay. her friends? abandoned her! ben? abandoned her! that one hurts the most bc after spotting that pic of audrey/ben as children together, I 100% hc that they have been best buds for years before falling into a relationship. and while it’s clear ben was not really ~in love~ with audrey ( i image they ended up getting together bc it was just Expected yknow?), audrey still had feelings for ben. even if it wasn’t true love (she def wasn’t In Love tho she thought she was), she did still love ben. he was her best friend, and the fact that he never came around to apologize to her for humiliating her the way he did after the love spell broke HURT. 

also hc that she had to take a remedial goodness class following her stunt 

the ending given to her is life a brief showing of her and harry hook smiling at each other all soft like before dancing, which like, i’m game for, but in terms of her actual future, audrey was trying to figure out just how to do life moving forward following everything

TRUMAN

“Tell me it was all a bad dream.”

yeah so I said audrey was relieved about her life in truman? 100000% true!

her life was incredibly sad and lonely before, so convincing her that all that shit was all just a bad dream was an incredibly easy thing to do for the descendants actors okay (im sad for her bc of this tbh)

her life as she knows it: she still comes from a family of high status and money. not technically a princess, but she sure does act like one. believes she was born and raised in truman, but was sent to boarding school at auradon prep since she was a child, where she thrived and grew into a typical Popular Girl (head of cheer team/one of the most beautiful girls), before returning to truman after graduating. basically she believes she had the same perfect life she had before in canon, minus the vks, ben, and the whole fairy tale/royalty stuff (basically everything that ruined that perfect life).

all that other extra stuff, including going all queen of mean and losing ben and being drop kicked by literally everyone, is just POOF, fuzzy memories, bad vivid horror story nightmares! every now and then she’ll witness an engagement, or spot a serenade, and it’ll trigger an overwhelming sense of sadness, but for the most part, she’s content putting her life behind her. her new life is a much happier one. that could totally change once she starts encountering people from her past life again.

only really recognizes her family members as family members, and maybe recognizes some past auradon friends (maybe chad charming as her ex since he’s the only one who didn’t totally abandon her rip)

since “returning” to truman, she’s entered university on the island. she wasn’t sure where she was going with life, but she knew she’s always been really good at drawing and really good at event planning. so in uni, she decided to keep her artistic talents as a hobby and pursue a career in event planning. in pursuit of this, she’s a senior at college, majoring in hospitality management.

PERSONALITY

positive: determined, headstrong, outgoing, self-assured, polite, moral, dedicated 

negative: jealous, stubborn, demanding, bossy, petty, close-minded, seemingly mean (tho she doesn’t consider herself mean, okay? she just can come off as mean/rude)

CANON CONNECTIONS

ben & mal: need them both bc they are the ones who hurt her the most so i’d loooooove to play out these dynamics in truman!! they’d be the most Triggering faces for her 

jay & harry & chad & uma: underrated audrey ships i’d love to play out bc literally crumbs are given to the majority of these dynamics, and so I want to just...explore them?? three of these 4 are vks and 2 of those 3 are people audrey actively pursued in some sort of ~connection~ at the end of the movies when the Couples got together, and she did that even tho she is very Moral and has confusing feelings about vks, and i just wanna know more!! 

TRUMAN CONNECTIONS

yeah this is getting long, so I’m planning on posting a whole separate post in the truman plot tag for these wanted connections! 

and yeah! that’s everything on my girl! if you’ve made it this far, you’re the best my dudes!! I’m gonna be on mobile for a good portion of the day before coming on at night, but if you’d like to do any kind of plotting with my girl, just go ahead and hit that like button, and I’ll slide in y’alls dms! ♥

[waywardnerd67]

The Prom

Summary: The Winchesters hear of mysterious deaths that were classmates from Truman High School. Sam and Dean go back to Fairfax, Indiana to investigate what is going on. When they get there, it is filled with alumni for the Class of 1998’s twenty-year reunion and Dean gets to experience one high school event he never thought he would. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Peyton Harris (OFC) Pairing: Dean x Peyton (OFC) Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1980 (With Lyrics) Louden Swain Song: “Prom” – Able-Legged Heroes A/N: My second entry for @mrswhozeewhatsis 2018 Louden Swain Fan Project. This time I went with my favorite Swain song, “Prom”. I love how upbeat it is and can’t help but bounce along to it whenever I hear it. Lyrics are bold. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Dean Winchester sighed heavily as he had east out of Lebanon, Kansas. “Sam, are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure that this is our kind of thing?” He asked as Sam was looking over the few articles he had found online. “Two mysterious deaths in Fairfax, Indiana. Oh, and get this, demon omens for the last two weeks. So yeah, I would say this is our kind of thing. I know the last time we were here was no cake walk but we should at least check this out.” Dean nodded, “Alright. At least we’re not going back to that god-awful school again.” Dean shivered as Sam chuckled. Dean stopped in Jefferson City, Missouri to grab some food and stretch his legs. While they were sitting in the little roadside diner, Sam’s phone buzzed on the table. “What is it?” Dean asked as Sam looked down at his phone his worried look on his face.

“There’s been another death in Fairfax.” Sam looked up at his face going from worried to sympathetic. “Okay, so who is this victim?” Sam handed over his phone as Dean looked down to a woman who looked familiar to him. As he read her name his eyes snapped back up to Sam, “You’re kidding? Once again this has to deal with Truman High School?” Dean began reading the article on the death of Amanda Heckerling, one of the many girls Dean had a fling with during their month stay at Truman High. Dean looked up seeing Sam pulling out his laptop and he glanced back down to Amanda’s picture. She was beautiful and she had the perfect family with a husband, kids and even a dog. Dean was once again reminded of what he could not give any one, the perfect life.

“Why didn’t I catch this before?” Sam muttered looking at his computer screen. He turned the screen towards Dean showing a connection between victims. “You’re kidding?” He asked in disbelief as Sam shook his head, “They all graduated the same year you were supposed to. It’s almost like something is…” Dean looked up, “Trying to call me out, let I’m getting that message loud and clear.” He sighed turning the computer back around looking down at his food suddenly not feeling hungry. Quickly, they got back on the road driving six hours to Fairfax. After arriving, they changed into the Fed suits so they could interview Amanda’s family. Dean was sitting outside in the Impala waiting for Sam to finish talking with her husband. People were coming and going from their house that all looked familiar to him making his stomach churning.

He watched as Sam walked out with a girl that took Dean’s breath away. She had long light brown hair, fair skin and hourglass figure. Sam laughed at something she said and then gave her his card as they parted ways. “Who was that?” Dean asked as soon as Sam was in the car. “The woman I was talking too?” Dean gave him a pointed look, “No the tree that was next to you and the woman. Yes, the woman!” Sam chuckled as Dean started to drive towards their motel. “Of course, you wouldn’t remember the nerds from school. That was Peyton Harris. She wore thick glasses, had braces, on the heavier side and always wore a mustard yellow sweater.”

Flashes of her came to Dean’s mind as he remembered that ugly sweater, “Right. Some of Amanda’s friends would make fun of her because she looked weird. I guess it was just a phase.” He glanced over to Sam who rolled his eyes. “Peyton told me that everyone who has died was involved in the twenty-year reunion that is happening this weekend. Amanda was organizing it all so I figured it would be a good idea for us to go. Peyton said she would put us down to be there so we could talk to more classmates.” Dean groaned, “Great. Exactly what I don’t want to do.” Sam snickered holding up a flyer he got from Amanda’s husband, “It gets better. The theme is Prom Night, so we’ll have to dress accordingly. Suits or tuxes are a must.” Sam started laughing as Dean growl. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”

Jenny said she don't wanna be depressed 'Cause she looks so good in her satin dress And we're playin' the prom

Trevor's sad, he don't wanna be mad But his tux got dirty that he borrowed from his dad, And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin the prom

Dean grumbled as he and Sam walked into the school gymnasium that was decorated with balloons in the Truman High colors and pictures from the senior class. “Dean, is that you? Wearing an apron?” Sam asked trying not to laugh as Dean felt his cheeks burning. “Dude, I hate this.” He said ripping down the picture and placing it in his coat jacket. “I’d appreciate it if you gave me my picture back.” Dean slowly turned towards the lovely voice behind him seeing Peyton in a gorgeous royal blue dress that matched her eyes. “Th-This is your picture?” He asked as he handed it back to her. She pinned it back up on the board and then Dean saw that right next to him she stood with an apron on as well. “Yes, I remembered I had this picture of you from Home Ec class. Our pie one first place our of all the classes mainly because you were an expert on how pies should taste.” He chuckled nervously shrugging, “I do love pie.” She giggled and someone called out her name as she excused herself.

The jock's all cleaned up, we're all impressed But who's that girl, and why's she wearing my dress? And we're playing the prom

The gymnasium never looked so good We're the best fuckin' school in the neighborhood And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

Sam walked away to talk with some of the alumni there about Amanda and the other victims. After listening to a girl complain about someone wearing the same dress she was and one guy admitting he had to borrow a suit from his dad he decided he needed a drink. Dean walked over seeing a guy spiking the punch who was wearing his old football letterman jacket. “Smart man.” He mumbled as he grabbed a glass for himself. “Trust me, you don’t want to drink that.” He glanced over to Peyton who was walking up to talk with the caterer. “Could you please empty this bowl and refill it with the hurricane mix.” Dean looked surprised at her, “You already pre-spiked the punch.” She smiled at him making him weak in the knees, “No one should have to suffer a high school reunion without alcohol.” Dean nodded smiling back at her, “My kind of girl.” Peyton scoffed and then started laughing, “Not really. I mean I was the loser freak of our class. What was it everyone called me, Mustard Ball because of my sweater and weight.” Dean looked down at his glass knowing he had probably called her that back then.

So grab a girl or grab a guy You better be drunk, 'cause we're already high And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

“I’m sorry, kids are jerks and I certainly know I was.” A slow song came on and Peyton set down her drink. “Well, you can make it up to me by dancing with me.” She said grabbing his drink and setting it next to hers then pulling him onto the dance floor. “Peyton, I’m not really… I mean I’ve never…” She giggled placing his hands on her hips as she wrapped hers around his neck. “You just sway back and forth. Just try not to step on my feet.” He chuckled, “I make no promises.” He looked down to Peyton who was looking around to the other couples dancing. 

For the first time, in a long time, he felt like a normal guy dancing with a beautiful girl. “It’s funny, most of our classmates haven’t changed. The popular girls are still snotty and tow-faced. The jocks are still dumb. I’m still the social outcast who finally got the courage to dance with her high school crush.” Peyton looked up at him through her thick lashes as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Me? Trust me, I’m not worthy of having any feelings for. I’m much more of an outcast than you realize.”

She was about to say something when Sam ran up to them. “Sorry, Dean I need to speak with you. Now.” Peyton let go of him, “It’s fine. Thanks for the dance Dean.” As she walked away, Dean groaned following Sam out to the hallway. “What is it?” He asked and then saw a woman walking into the girls’ bathroom coughing violently. “I spiked the punch with holy water and she just ran out with smoke coming from her.” They ran into the bathroom seeing the woman whose black eyes were shining in the mirror. “Winchesters, don’t drink the punch it’s got a nasty afterburn.” Dean pulled out his angel blade as Sam had out the demon knife. Dean then recognized the woman the demon was possessing.

“The woman you’re possessing is one of Amanda’s friends, why? Why do all of this to draw me out?” She started laughing, “Our new leader wanted to show you what is to come for you and Sam. We are going to take out everyone you love, everyone you met, everyone who has ever spoken to you Winchesters. This is personal boys and my leader isn’t the forgiving type for messing with hell so much. Next on my list is loser turned hottie, Peyton. I don’t know when, but I will get to her don’t you worry. For now, I’ll let you have your fun with her at the Prom.” 

Black smoke came from the woman’s mouth as her body dropped to the floor. Sam rushed to her making sure she had no wounds, “She’s just unconscious. He picked her up and carried her out just as Peyton was coming out of the gym. “Rosalie?! What happened?” she asked frantically. “She’s okay, just a little too much to drink is all. Sam is going to take her into the nurse’s office so she can rest.” Peyton took a deep breath as Dean gently rubbed her back. “Are you sure she’s okay?” He nodded as he led her back into the gym.

Someone was up on stage talking about their class, remembering Amanda as their prom queen and the other alumni that had died. “Now, we are going to crown our reunion prom king and queen who are…” Dean looked down to Peyton thinking she would look great with a crown on her head. “Dean Winchester and Peyton Harris!” A spotlight shined down on them as they both stood their shocked. “Come on up guys!” Someone behind them pushed them towards the stage and once they walked up crowns were placed on their heads. 

“Congratulations! Dean we all remember what kind of music you loved so this one is for you.” The beginning of AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ started to play as people filled the dance floor again. Dean and Peyton walked back down where Sam was waiting for them. “Wow, king of the prom.” Dean pointed a finger at him, “Not a word.” Peyton started laughing as she grabbed Dean’s hand. “Come on, Dean.” She tilted his crown slightly pulling him onto the dance floor. Dean looked back panicked as Sam started laughing.

We're gonna play all the songs from your favorite groups Rush, AC/DC, Motley Crue! And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @weirdoblogger69

[keywestlou]

HUMOROUS, RIDICULOUS AND SAD.....WILL NEVER HAPPEN

My sympathies are with the residents of Santa Clara Condominiums. What has befallen them is humorous, ridiculous and sad.

Santa Clara is a 111 unit condominium building. The City of Key West recently found it deficient and worn out in many respects. In need of significant repairs. The City has warned if steps not soon taken to correct the problems, it will condemn the building.

The condominium owners each face an increase in their monthly assessments to make a pool from which to pay for the repairs. The increase will begin November 1. The amount anywhere from $7,000 to $11,000 per month.

If condo owners are without funds, they will have to borrow the increases.

I doubt any of those living at Santa Clara can afford that kind of money. Reasons not warranted. The money and conditions in Key West cannot stand a hit of this magnitude.

Santa Clara condo owners are not sufficiently independently wealthy to handle such sums. Were they, they would not be residing in Santa Clara. They would be living in Truman Annex, the Casa Marina area, and perhaps even Sunset Key.

I hurt for them.

Rents in Key West keep rising. As if there were no limits. Which is the problem. There are not. Landlords are not bound by limits or caps.

Rents skyrocketing. In a market where too few apartments have been built and affordable housing is scarce. Houses rather than apartments are being constructed. Such is the market today in what many describe as the Keys “housing boom.”

South Florida overall is becoming the nation’s worst place to rent.

I do not have the Key West numbers. However I share with you what I was able to find. Since the first of the year, Palm Beach rentals have risen 21 percent, Fort Lauderdale 16.1 percent, and Miami 11.6 percent.

Wages obviously have not kept track with the increases.

It is well established that “landlords will do whatever they want because they know that people need a place to live.”

The situation is “getting worse.”

Florida laws protect landlords, not tenants. Landlords have broad discretion  to raise rents as they see fit.

Florida laws prevent local governments from establishing rental price controls. With one exception: Unless there is “a housing emergency so grave as to constitutes a severe menace to the general public.” The “crisis” must first be determined to be factual. Then an election is required to get an ordinate passed for any rent control to come into play. A step worse. The election is a yearly one. A new vote each year to keep the program going.

Florida is fraught with all kinds of problems. Healthcare another, for example. South Florida is #1 in healthcare fraud nationally. Rip offs costing Medicare and insurance companies billions of dollars a year.

The new healthcare field of telemedicine leads. Closely followed by substance abuse and COVID-19 programs.

The numbers tell the story. South Florida accounts for 20 percent of healthcare fraud nationally. Such having assisted in making Florida referred to in the medical field as the “healthcare fraud capital of the world.”

Recent 9/11 observances brought to mind a conversation a month later. I was having dinner at the Yacht Club. Terri and Donna were my guests.

Part of our conversation involved 9/11.

Terri never ceases to amaze me. She told us she lived near the 9/11 area at the time. Her neighborhood was affected for months. Grocery and drug stores were non-existent in the neighborhood after the tragedy. Many elderly resided in the area.

Terri organized with the police a system for getting food and drugs to those in need. She spent 2 1/2 months doing it. She received a plaque and commendation afterwards for her efforts.

An unusual experience yesterday. I lunched at the Eaton Street Fish Market.

I was required to be out for a doctor’s visit. Figured I would grab a bite while out. The Eaton Street Fish Market has been around for about 10 years. An excellent reputation. Especially for lobster rolls. Maine lobster rolls.

I figured why not? It’s about time I tried the place. I love Maine lobster rolls.

The Market is in a former gas station. Well done inside and out. Seating outside in shady areas.

I bought the large lobster roll. $30. Worth every penny!

Try the place. I plan on going back. It was that good.

Enjoy your day!

HUMOROUS, RIDICULOUS AND SAD…..WILL NEVER HAPPEN was originally published on Key West Lou

[evdarcy]

An Unusual Hero C7S1

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Friday 07/05/2021

Sarah pouted as she drove the car down the main street looking for somewhere to park. For such a small town it was far busier than she’d expected it to be.

‘I told you, towns like this rely on tourists, they’re always crawling with folks.’

‘You said it wasn’t summer yet. That cabins are still locked up.’

‘That doesn’t stop people who don’t have cabins coming up here to camp or hike. You know, to avoid the peak times, make it a bit of a cheaper vacation.’

‘This isn’t peak?’ Sarah asked as she stopped at a red light and watched the crowd crossing in front of the car.

‘Nope, but I’m still going to get recognised!’ he told her for the umpteenth time. He’d grabbed the map from the back of the car and now held it in front of his face as if he were scrutinising it. She hoped no one took a closer look and saw it was for the other side of the country.

She caught sight of a group of boys turning a corner on their bikes, dressed in dark hoodies, coats, and hats. A couple were wearing sunglasses and gave Sarah an idea. She slowly moved the car to follow them as the light turned green. The car juddered as she got the speed wrong again and she smacked the steering wheel ‘Damn thing,’ she hissed.

‘Seriously, it’s an automatic; how the hell can you not drive an auto?’

‘Manuals are standard in the UK!’ she said sharply as she turned down another street the teens turned into. ‘I’ve never driven an automatic. It was far easier on the highway.’

‘And the Brits mock us for our stupidity. At least we drive on the right side of the road.’

‘Don’t fucking start,’ she snapped pointing her finger at him. It hadn’t been funny having him grab the wheel to pull her into the correct lane earlier that morning when her mind had drifted, causing the car to do the same. ‘I told you I’ve driven for almost eighteen years on the left—it’s not normal for me to be on the right!’

The gang they were following stopped at what appeared to be a run down theatre and Sarah slowed the car down to a stop as the group locked their bikes to the streetlights.

Sarah scowled at the older man stood in the doorway to the crappy movie house, leaning casually against its frame as if he had all the time in the world. She narrowed her eyes and weighed up the situation, her hand moving to the piece strapped to her leg, itching to put the creep in his place—if need be.

‘Easy,’ Luc said, his voice soft as his own hand moved over hers. He gently held it as he brought it away from the Mark 23, taking it into his own lap, squeezing it to reassure her things were okay.

Sarah’s breath hitched at the contact, swallowing as her eyes locked onto to her fingers carefully held within his own large hand. She cleared her throat and ripped her gaze away from the sight she’d fantasied over for years, just in time to catch the group of boys who were about to disappear inside the dirty cinema.

‘Hey, lads,’ she called to them, her voice a bit huskier than normal. She had a feeling it had something to do with the soft caresses the star was trailing along the back and palm of her hand. She had to stop herself from shuddering, from turning to him and—

‘Try guys instead of lads.’ Luc’s own voice was quiet, deeper and rougher than it had been just a few minutes ago. She closed her eyes for a second, wondering what her name would sound like if he spoke it now.

‘Guys,’ she shouted across the lot, and one of the teens glanced over his shoulder towards her. ‘C’mere.’ She waved the young man over with her free hand, but when the boy flipped her off she nearly got out of the car. Luc tightened his grip on her hand, holding her in place so she couldn’t let her temper get the better of her.

‘If you don’t come here,’ she shouted to them. ‘I’m going straight to your principal and telling him where to find you all!’

That made the group freeze. Yeah, she probably should have opened with that.

‘What d’ya want?’ the tallest boy asked, swaggering over towards the car while the rest stood their ground. She had a feeling if she did get out the car and they caught a mere flash of what was strapped to her leg they’d piss their pants as they fled. But that would mean she’d need her legs to work and she wasn’t sure they would after Luc Truman had held her hand.

‘One, gimme your hat.’

‘What?’ the boy spluttered, looking at her as if she were mad. Sarah didn’t think he was a day over fifteen despite the fact that he was pushing six foot and the lack of manners he was displaying only annoyed her further. Even if it was kind of creepy that she’d followed them and was now asking for pieces of their clothes outside what could easily be mistaken for an abandoned building.

‘Hat!’ she said holding out her hand with a hundred dollar bill in it. ‘Now.’

The boy didn’t waste any time pulling the black beanie from his head and handing it to her, snatching the note form her hand at the same time.

‘Two, glasses’ she said, throwing the hat in Luc’s direction. The actor dropped her hand and she silently lamented the loss. She fished another bill from her pocket and as soon as it appeared out the window the kid’s sunglasses were in her hand.

‘And three, why the hell are you going in that shit-hole with Creepy Mc-Creeper-son over there?’

‘He lets us watch the… er… movies before he officially opens for the day.’

Sarah glanced around the teen, through the group of young men and stared at the man who looked like he didn’t give a damn what she was doing. ‘Movies?’

‘They’re watching pornos,’ Luc said from next to her. The boy’s face turned bright red at being caught out. ‘Right, kid?’ The kid’s mouth opened and closed helplessly, unsure if he was supposed to answer.

‘Seriously? Don’t you just watch them on your phone?’ Sarah asked. She wasn’t sure if she was more surprised at the fact they still had adult cinemas or the fact that a group of teenagers were going in to watch pornos. Together. Ew.

‘It’d save you money,’ she continued. ‘And you wouldn’t have to sport a boner in front of your friends.’

‘Family plan,’ the kid muttered before he turned and ran back to said friends. He held up the bills, snapping them between his fingers as if he’d somehow won the lottery and not just embarrassed himself in front of a strange woman.

Sarah turned back to Luc about to question him on why he wasn’t bothered by what the boys were doing when she saw he’d already donned the hat. It pushed his hair around his face, creating little blond curls that kissed his cheeks and neck, and Sarah was briefly reminded of Patric Swayze in Point Break—if today’s beanies had been a thing in the 90s, Bodhi would’ve worn one.

‘Why didn’t you go for the Point Break remake?’ she blurted out instead.

Luc raised a brow at her comment, clearly not expecting the random questions, but calmly answered. ‘They did offer me it, but I didn’t like the script.’

Sarah felt her own eyes go wide at that revelation, a well of disappointment sitting in her chest. She’d been looking forward to seeing it from the moment it was announced and had been far from impressed when Jack and David hadn’t let her see it as a Christmas present, despite the base getting an early access copy.

‘Was it shit?’ she whispered.

‘It wasn’t bad,’ Luc said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘It didn’t do well at the box office, but then the original is a classic. Even if it had been word for word perfect, remade scene by scene, it still wouldn’t be as good. Other than Swayze himself rising from the dead and taking the lead, how do you top 90s cheese and their majestic surfer hair?’

Sarah’s eyes darted to the tips of his own luscious locks trying to break free of their confines; it had been so hard to keep her hands from reaching out and running her fingers through them every time she realised she was in reach of him. She’d itched to comb it into submission earlier after he’d woken up and even now she wanted to play with the curling ends peeking from around the edge of the hat.

‘You’re right.’ She put the car back in drive and pulled into traffic. ‘Even your hair can’t beat Patrick’s Bodhi,’ she lied.

‘No one’s can,’ Luc said with a shake of his head before he slipped the sunglasses on his nose and turned his attention back to the map. She pursed her lips as she wondered what was so interesting in that map, but, she decided, at least he wasn’t whinging at her anymore.

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Friday!

[alexanderwrites]

Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 17 & 18

“It is a story of many, but begins with one - and I knew her. The one leading to the many is Laura Palmer. Laura is the one”. So said the Log Lady in her iconic introduction to the first ever Twin Peaks. Just as Laura became a conduit to the town and its people, all these people led right back to Laura Palmer. She was at the end of every road, her photograph lived in all the town’s buildings, and even decades later in The Return, her face emerges slowly from the trees during the opening credits. What was about her always will be about her, and that cannot be changed. 

Everything in these two hours presents easier answers than Laura does, but that has always been true of her - she’s the one still filled with secrets. There is something of a heartbreaking, world-changing realisation in this finale, the kind of realisation that the patrons of the Roadhouse had when Maddie Palmer was killed. There was no way for them to know what had happened, but they felt it. Twin Peaks has always been about feeling rather than knowing. It feels like falling, like the world is being rocked from its axis, and it is the show at its most powerful.

There is a common idea in Television Finales that the last episode is where something concludes - where the world, for better or worse, is put to rights. And when this finale feels like it’s heading towards that, it takes a violent u-turn and reminds us that Twin Peaks has never been normal television.

The hellish final fight between Freddie and Bob is visually very Lynchian, yet there is an unusual amount of literalness and resolution to it. Just as Freddie punches Bob through the floor, the BobBall (there’s gotta to be a better word for it) rises again, a terrifying and unstoppable anthropomorphised nightmare that violates our screen, bursting from it with visceral and unknowable force. When Bob crawled over the couch in the Palmer house and came directly towards the camera, that was an invasive and affective moment, but this is that moment amplified to unbearable measures. But he still is vanquished, broken into small pieces and absorbed through the ceiling of the office. And after everything Doppelcoop had been through, after all the vicious, hardened monsters he’d come up against - it was Lucy who killed him with a single gunshot and sent him packing back to the black lodge. 

Lucy gets her heroic moment (She has always been an unsung hero, a smarter-than-you’d-think character who, despite struggling with mobile phones, still gets things done when she needs to) and even though all of these moments feel suspiciously neat and tidy, it’s hard not to be delighted by them. It turns out Naido is Diane as many suspected (and we finally learned earlier that Judy is the ancient evil being referred to in The Secret History of Twin Peaks, and most likely the experiment we saw in the box in New York) and her and Coop’s embrace is satisfying but again, very convenient. And then - right on time! - here’s Gordon, Tammy and Albert! And Bobby, The Mitchum Brothers, James and Freddie! They’re all here, all your favourite characters! And at any moment it almost feels like someone is about to come in and say “Coop, this telegram came for you - your old pal Harry Truman says ‘Coop, i’ve sent you a piece of cherry pie and a coffee, and i’ll be home soon. Hee-Haw, and Merry Christmas!’”. It feels unreal and purposefully kind of artificial. But something tells us this is off. 

After interacting with Naido/Diane, Dale looks as though he’s almost regressing back to who he was before waking up. But instead, he’s remembering something. He’s met her before, in another world. His moment of realisation echoes throughout the scene, as a transparent and ghostly image of Dale’s face dominates the frame and the rest of the action occurs, visually, inside his head. He remembers something, and we begin to suspect that none - or all - of these worlds are real, including the one we’re in now. 

Earlier in the episode, Cooper commented that the time 2.53pm is 2+5+3 which is “10, the number of completion”. The clock in the sheriff’s office cannot move on. It is stuck between 2.52 and 2.53. Time moves strangely and completion cannot be reached. There is something missing, which the transparent Dale comments on: “We Live Inside A Dream”. He also says that past dictates the future and that things will change, and suddenly, everything does start to change. As Dale will soon change the course of history, the moments in the office begin to feel unreal. Their current existence can’t exist as it does if what happened in the past is undone. The dream will soon be shattered, and it’s already starting to fracture. Is it future or past? One and the same. 

The past dictates the future, so if the past can be changed, then there are infinite ways that the story could turn out. There are versions where Laura was killed, versions where she lived, versions where she was never born in the first place. The version that we know is a dream inasmuch as it is just one version of events. It’s a version that was directly affected by Bob because he killed Laura. And so, as the sinking feeling begins again, the lights go out in the office and Dale, Gordon and Diane find themselves removed from the office and walking through darkness. Is this what it’s like to go missing in Twin Peaks? Is this what it was like for Jeffries or Desmond? And are the people in the Sheriff’s office still there, wondering just where the hell those three went? Or are they non-ex-ist-ent?

The trio find themselves in the basement of the Great Northern hotel. The door to which Dale has the key is maybe the final and most important precipice that he pushes himself through. Though he has been guided by The Fireman, this decision is what changes everything, and it’s a decision that we now know was not the right decision. It’s so painful, in hindsight, to see Dale so plucky and optimistic going into this. He so selflessly wants happiness for everyone, and not only that but wants to remove pain that exists now and has existed seemingly forever. He wants to be the ultimate hero, and once he’s in 1989 and writing himself into Laura’s history, he begins to act as a version of The Fireman. Jeffries has sent him here, after telling him where to find Judy, (”Say hello to Gordon. He’ll remember the unofficial version”), and at first Laura sees him hiding and screams. It’s an absolutely ingenious retconning of events, and visually it is seamless. The events that we see from Fire Walk With Me feel and look like a distant dream that Dale tries to wake her up from. When Laura stumbles through the woods, she sees Dale, looking tall, benevolent and completely out of place, much like The Fireman did whenever he appeared. 

As Laura Palmer’s theme chimes in, and as you hear her voice again, sounding so young and so sweet, it is overwhelmingly moving. You know that he is here to save her, and it is the bittersweetness of wishing this could happen and knowing that it cannot that makes you ache. As he lead her away, her plastic-wrapped corpse disappears from the beach, and Pete Martell finally gets to go fishing. It is almost too much to fathom, but as Dale leads her through the darkest woods, through complete silence, we know that it cannot be that simple. The sound the Fireman played back in Part 1 finally triggers something, and Laura is gone again, her agonising scream shattering our hopes. Laura is gone. She hasn’t been saved, she has been entirely relocated, and Sarah Palmer - or Judy, who seems to live inside her - feels this. The smashing and stabbing of Laura’s portrait by Sarah is violently ugly, and the editing as her strikes are reversed and chopped up is masterful. Someone has stolen her Garmonbozia. 

When Dale makes it out of those dark woods, he’s in the Black Lodge again, and this is where things start to look familiar. Laura’s whispered secret causes Dale some confusion, and she is ripped out of the lodge and placed in another time and another place. Her whisper is something we will never know, but it isn’t something Dale is happy to hear. “You can’t save me”. “You killed me”. “I’m in Odessa”. Who knows - it could’ve been any of these things, or none of these things. The point, really, is that we don’t know. We almost feel as if her words would somehow answer a cosmic question that’d make everything fall into place, but would they really? What could she say to make any of this okay? I think Dale’s reaction - an incredulous “huh?” - says that he is realising what we are all realising throughout this episode. Some awful, horrible truth. And even still, he listens to Leland - “find Laura”. 

Outside of the Lodge at Glastonbury Grove, it’s hard to tell what is real in the darkness of the woods. Diane is there, and Dale and her confirm to each other that they are their real selves. But by this stage, we don’t know who they are anymore. This is further obfuscated by the purposeful lack of time that we spend with Dale and Diane together. They are suddenly driving somewhere far, far away from Twin Peaks - 430 miles to be exact - to the place that Doppelcoop crashed and was nearly taken back to the lodge at the top of the season. And it’s here, next to crackling electric pylons that physically resemble the owl cave symbol we’ve seen time and time again, that Dale and Diane go through the final door. (Speaking of final doors, i’m so delighted to see a version of Coop/Dougie returning home to Janey-E and Sonny Jim. It was a long time coming, but it’s nice to see that sometimes you really can go home).

They know things will be different on the other side, but don’t they already feel different? We have been entirely disconnected from the rest of the characters in the finale, and that makes wherever Dale is seem completely isolated. The last of Dale as we know him is gone after one final kiss, and the blue skies turn into the darkest of nights once again - we are in another place. In this other place, Dale and Diane are still themselves, but they’ve lost something. Dale is colder, slower and quieter. Diane seems to be in pain again. At a motel, she stares out of her car window and sees herself emerge quietly from behind a wall. Perhaps this was a warning to her to get away. That the identity of Diane would be dead by the morning if she stayed. She stayed, and the world changed. 

Nothing has ever felt as wrong as their sex scene feels. Dale is emotionless and still throughout, not even reacting as Diane claws at and mashes his face; she looks towards the ceiling, desperate to be far away. It feels like they are becoming other people, they are slipping away from who they are into entirely different roles. It feels sickly and uncomfortable, as if the more they try to get closer, the further apart they drift. They aren’t themselves anymore.

She is gone when he wakes up, and in this other world they’ve passed into, she has fully accepted her identity as Linda. It is a continuing theme from Lost Highway, a nightmarish concept of finding out that you are not who you thought you were. Dale doesn’t accept that he’s Richard, and is confused by the letter he finds naming him as Richard, and signed Linda. Dale is holding on for dear life, but even he has to acknowledge that outside, the motel is not the one they entered last night, and the car he gets into is not the car they drove last night - if it even was last night. Identity is a big theme in Lynch’s work, and Dale bases his identity on being an enthusiastic, kind and hard-working man, but now he is being pushed further and further away from that until he is literally somebody else.

Dale seems to drive without direction. He’s not his usual determined self, and not a note of music is heard now. He drives through a flat, faceless but realistic looking town. The banality receives a jolt of terror, as a giant “JUDY’S” sign makes the place feel manufactured again. Inside the cafe, Dale is different. He doesn’t enjoy his coffee, he is far more violent than usual when dispatching the three men in the cafe (though gotta admit: they deserved it), and there is a spark gone from his eyes. He’s Dale minus something. He leaves Judy’s with his information on where to find “Laura” and waiting outside Laura’s - or Carrie’s, as she’s known in this reality - is that same buzzing telephone pole that was found in the fat trout trailer park. It is a symbol, a warning, a normal object repurposed as a symbol of something evil and dangerous. It is directly outside her house. Dale recognises this but continues.

There is such pain in seeing Laura not as Laura. She has disappeared from one reality to be thrown into one manufactured by Judy which sees her as Carrie, someone with a great deal of pain inside her too. Nervous and unsettled, she reacts with a stuttering dread to the name “Sarah”. She is on the verge of a realisation, even if she brushes off being told by Dale that she is a girl named Laura. He seems to have such a lack of control in this scene. He asks rambling, untidy questions that don’t get him anywhere. He has little sense of authority, and is easily confused by what he learns. He is Richard in this timeline, or at least, he was supposed to be. He’s holding onto Dale but he’s not as strong as he was. He wants to wake Laura up and to take her home, but what does he expect from that? Does he really think Laura can be saved, and Judy defeated? Would Laura really want to return home? Dale doesn’t think of this because he’s fixated on fixing things. But he ruptured something when he went back to 1989.

It’s hard to say what is more troubling in Carrie/Laura’s living room: the corpse, or the figurine on her mantle of the white horse. “Woe to the ones who behold the pale horse”, we were told by the Log Lady. Woe to Dale and woe to Carrie/Laura. We have descended fully into this netherworld with them and cut off contact with what is familiar. The focus that they get in this last episode begins to hint that this is it. As the minutes go on, we know there cannot be an encompassing closure. There are threads and stories that won’t be tied off. You can think of these last moments as a detour, but they’re a detour that close the story in an eternal, figure 8 loop. Just as the first ever episode of Twin Peaks shifted gear with Dale driving into the town, the final parts close with the same journey. The first time, he’d gone to save the memory of a girl named Laura Palmer. The second, he’s come to bring that girl back to life. 

And so they drive, and drive, and drive. She is happy to be leaving Odessa, to be far away from Judy’s and White Horses. She doesn’t know exactly what to expect, but she accepts the ride. The dark night ahead of them is the longest yet. The headlights on the road linger for so long. They are leaving Odessa on an odyssey through the lost highways and into woods of Laura’s memories. The blackness becomes all encompassing, this becomes their dark night of the soul. We are going deeper into this world and deeper into Laura, and we wait for any sign that she is who she was. She looks out the window and the douglas fir trees fail to trigger anything for her. They pass the Double R diner - the lights are off and the streets are empty - and still nothing. 

This isn’t home anymore. It wasn’t home when Laura was alive, either. It was a trap for her, just as Odessa was a trap. Twin Peaks was not a dream, but a nightmare for Laura. It was her dream - her nightmare - that they all lived inside. And Dale fails to recognise this and now he’s broken it. He wants for that to be erased and replaced with something better, but if she is erased, then how can it all exist? The Log Lady once said: “When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy.”. Dale is a hero for trying to put that fire out, but Margaret was right: goodness is in jeopardy, and it isn’t easy, or possible, to save it this way.

At the house, Dale bumbles through questions to the owner. No, there’s no Sarah Palmer here. No, we didn’t buy the house from her. The answer that we do get says so much: her name is Alice Tremond, and she bought the house from Mrs Chalfont - both names given to a woman who existed both in our world and in the black lodge. Though she was largely benevolent, this hammers home that this isn’t the Twin Peaks we know. Something is very off. We are in their house now. Is this the same woman who will one day give Laura the painting of a doorway? There is too much to comprehend in these questions, and back on the street, it all washes over Dale as he is wounded in confusion. He tries to hold onto some semblance of reality, like a dream upon waking. But he is powerless again - he hasn’t delivered Laura home, he hasn’t saved her, and home doesn’t really exist anymore. 

The curtains are torn down and the realities crash into one, the dream has ended, and now we face a world where he and Laura possibly don’t exist. By taking Laura from the woods and delivering Laura back here, has he killed the memory of her? The question that strikes Dale is “What year is this?”. He staggers around in confusion; Laura looks down, beginning to tremble. She doesn’t know what year it is. She is on the cusp of a realisation, of a memory, of this dream she is in being shattered as the other one was. It is all too much to bear, until a familiar sound sends everything crashing to the ground. 

The sound is the haunted, ghostly voice of Sarah Palmer calling “Laura?” from the house. It isn’t just her calling the name - but the exact clip from the first episode of Sarah calling upstairs to Laura. A memory, a fragment of who she was and what happened to her, is calling out from some deep, dark and distant world. And like Doppelcoop’s ominous “:-) ALL” text message, the sound lights a fire and and she remembers everything. She does the only thing she can do, and we hear maybe the most famous, haunting and agonising sound in all of Twin Peaks: the primal scream of Laura Palmer.

Dale looks in fear, in shock. He has got what he wanted, but he’s realising what he wanted is not what is right. A pain that has lasted forever and will last forever is reawakened in her. Dale can go back and try to change history, and he can destroy the timeline as we know it: but he cannot undo the pain and the fear. Laura was killed. He tries to kill two birds with one stone: to save her from death, and then bring her back home. But she cannot be brought back home without remembering what happened to her. This kills her all over again. It is a paradox of anguish, a full circle that is destined to loop forever. Her scream shatters the dream, and the lights in the Palmer house suddenly shut off. She has broken something. And before we see where they go next - to non-existence, back to the start, or wherever else you like to imagine - it cuts to black, the only sound lingering is the echo of her scream. It will always echo. It will always have been, and it always will be. 

As the credits begin to roll, Dale and Laura are in the Lodge again, and she is whispering a secret into his ear in slow motion. Fear and confusion are written across his face. He is realising she cannot be saved. Perhaps he is realising his attempts to fix things have made them worse. He has shattered her dream, the dream of Twin Peaks, and as a result undone his reality as well as her’s. He has trapped himself between worlds. He longs to see, but he has never been able to wake up fully from his own dream. He has never been able to stare reality in the face and realise that he cannot save the world. If Twin Peaks has been Laura’s dream, it makes it no less real. It all happened, she saw it all unfold in her dreams, she saw herself sacrificed and much later, she saw Bob finally defeated. But then Dale undid this. 

It is impossible to think of this all in literal terms. I don’t think any of it was invalidated, and I don’t believe that it was all as simple as a literal dream. I think instead that we’ve been privy to a version of events and everyone has played inside that. Maybe that version was Laura’s dream and that’s the one that should’ve been. The Return has asked us repeatedly to question who the dreamer is, to challenge everything we are seeing, because nothing is ever simple, and nothing is ever really finished. 

Everyone believed The Return referred to Dale’s return to Twin Peaks. It didn’t. It referred to Dale trying to return the world to how he believed it should be - a place free from the abuse and murder of Laura Palmer. And he’s right, we shouldn’t live in a world where that kind of thing happens. But ultimately it did happen. Dale is powerless and misguided, because instead of learning from past trauma and building a healthy road away from that, he attempts to drive back down that dark road and delete and invalidate the existence of that trauma. That can never be done. You cannot remove it without removing everything along with it. Where he should’ve focussed on dismantling the evil going forward, he focussed on undoing the damage.

I don’t know if Laura will ever find peace in this, or any dream. I don’t know if Dale will, either. It is a painful realisation that home will never be the home you thought it was, and that you cannot go back and recapture what once existed. And the ending is certainly a bleak one that argues that we get caught in desperate cycles of trying to control and fix our pasts and futures. But what it also applauds is thorough and dedicated goodness, as well as the benefit of attentiveness and listening. Dale was goodness incarnate, but he didn’t listen as he should have. Perhaps we can make things better, perhaps we can help others and overcome evil. But we have to listen to do that. We can’t strip away the experiences of others, but we can listen and learn from them. The reason the ending was so dark was because of Dale’s flaw - that he didn’t learn this.

The Return has been about learning and about listening. It is a testament to understanding and appreciating the world around us, and loving each other enough to hear what they tell us. We shouldn’t give up. We should pay better attention. We should listen to what those in pain tell us. We should do as the log lady told us and listen to the trees blowing and the river flowing. We might never find answers that will satisfy us entirely, but we can pursue these questions, we can behold the mystery, and in this, we can try and make things better. And if we listen and look closely enough, we might just find a light shining in those darkest of nights. 

[amatara]

Those Few Truths (Twin Peaks, Dale/Albert/Harry)

Just one more before Sunday! Post-canon, not a fluffy one this time; honestly I’m not sure what I intended it to become, but somehow it turned into this weird mix of body horror and whump and h/c and, right there at the end, a ray of hope, so… here’s to hope, then. See you all on the other side~

*

For a second, he’s afraid he’s lost hold of Cooper’s hand. There’s the sensation of falling and a roar of tearing branches, punctuating the moment they rip through the veil, or the curtain, or whatever the hell he’s supposed to call the boundary between the place they just left and the real world. Or this world, at least, because there’s no doubt in Albert’s mind the other one was real, too. Then he slams into the ground near the center of the clearing, all the air squeezed out of him, but rolling instinctively until they’re free, safe, past that cursed circle of sycamores, dragging Cooper along with him. Another two feet or so and they’re out, because he can feel grass under his hands, and Cooper’s still there, a dead weight in his arms, but stirring faintly when Albert collapses half on top of him.

He can’t breathe. From somewhere, there’s the clamor of excited voices, but he can’t call out to them or cry for help. They’ve escaped, but every fiber of his being feels wrong and he can’t wrap his head around why, except that his lungs are straining to take in air and his breathing is panicked, hurting his throat. His gut feels wrong too, like he swallowed something he shouldn’t have and now his body is frantic to get it out. Clenching his jaw shut, he tries desperately to fight it.

Beside him, Cooper makes a strangled noise and rolls over onto his hands and knees. Albert moves with him, shifting his grip but not letting go, and the sound of running footsteps reaches him a second before Cooper moans, then retches violently, bringing up a jet-black stream of… bile? Gasoline? Smoke? It’s not quite liquid and not quite gaseous, but it’s pouring from Cooper’s mouth like something out of a nightmare, thick and vile and cloying, only to dissipate before it hits the ground. Albert’s still clinging to him for dear life - for all the good it’ll do, but he got Cooper out of that hellscape, so damned if he’s gonna let go of him now - when a pair of hands grab his shoulders, trying to separate him from Coop.

“No,” he protests, “no, no, leave him -” and then he twists and flails until, through some miracle, the hands back off and he’s free to reach for Coop again.

“I’m okay,” Coop mutters, from somewhere near the ground. He’s trying to push himself up on his elbows, looking like death warmed over, but at least the seizure, or fit, or whatever it was, has stopped. “I think it’s over,” he says, voice hoarse, like he didn’t use it for a long time. “I think it’s gone. Albert…?”

“Here.” The immediate crisis over, Albert feels his own panic start to rise again. His stomach is churning, queasiness building past the point of no return, and he knows with the kind of inevitability born from watching too many bad horror movies that no amount of compulsive swallowing is going to save him this time. Blood is rushing in his ears; at some level, he’s aware he’s hyperventilating, probably has been from the moment they came crashing through, but all the effort in the world isn’t enough to help slow his breathing, not even when Cooper slides a shaky arm around him. “You’re safe?” Albert pants. “You sure? They’re not coming after you?” And then, weakly, “Coop, I - I need…”

“Don’t fight it.” Cooper presses in close, and for a moment Albert couldn’t say which of them is keeping the other from falling - or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, because he’s shaking so badly he couldn’t lift a feather right now. “It’ll be over soon, Albert, I promise, but you have to let it happen.” A pair of arms loops around his chest. “I’m here. I’m here now. I’m here thanks to you. Hold on.”

Albert moans, remembering the same sound coming from Cooper, low and desperate and keening - and then everything he’s been struggling to hold back catches up with him at once and he’s choking, falling, something inside him clawing to break free. He spits whatever it is out into the grass, once, and then again, big heaving spasms until his muscles scream with it and his head’s spinning, tears mingling with earth and and dirt on his face.

Then it passes, and he opens his eyes, and whatever hellish thing he was bracing himself to see is no longer even there.

“What…” Albert coughs, thickly. “What the hell just happened?”

“The Black Lodge.” Cooper isn’t sounding too steady, but he folds into Albert’s arms like paper and lets him put his chin on the top of his head. “I’ve seen it happen before. Or rather…” Coop pauses, holding Albert tighter. “BOB saw it. You absorb more of its essence the longer you spend there, or the harder the spirits fight you.” He shivers, his fingers on the side of Albert’s throat. “You fought very hard, Albert. Thank you.”

Not hard enough, Albert wants to say, and then has to scramble to find his balance, because Cooper has just gone limp in his arms.

He mutters a curse, a fraction of a second before he hears another voice do the same; a familiar one, accompanied by a ditto face swimming into his field of vision. The owner of those hands from a few minutes ago? “Truman,” he mutters, his relief overwhelming. Harry. “Help…”

“You’re OK. I got you.” Albert doesn’t know if the words are meant for Cooper or for him, but the soft drawl that they’re delivered in is already halfway reassuring. The other half follows when Harry lifts Cooper from his arms and, with infinite tenderness, lays him out on the grass. From this angle, Coop’s looking almost peaceful, and Albert allows himself a fierce, wild moment of hope that maybe they’re going to be all right.

“You made it.” Truman’s talent for stating the obvious is as strong as ever, but just this once, Albert isn’t about to fling it back in his face. It still hasn’t quite hit him that he pulled this off without anyone dying - or worse, given the stakes this time.

“Yeah,” he breathes, reveling in the truth of that answer, oversimplified as it is. They made it. Everything else can wait, at least for now. “How long?”

“Since you went in there? Nine hours.” Truman finishes checking Cooper over, softly strokes a wisp of hair from his face. “I was starting to think we lost you, too.” He turns back towards Albert, his chin dipping down. “And I take back every word I ever said about you possibly not being the best man for the job.”

Raising a hand towards his forehead, Albert finds that it’s shaking. “Just because I don’t believe in spirits doesn’t mean I’m not up to fighting them.” And there, finally, goes his last shred of resilience as he feels the ground give way beneath him, just slowly enough for Truman to dart in and catch him before he hits the mud face-first.

Harry’s hands are gentle as they turn him over, allowing him to clutch at Cooper’s arm even as the back of his head meets the damp, soggy grass.

“It’s OK,” Harry says again, thumb pressing into Albert’s collarbone. He sounds like a man who means what he’s saying, even though there’s no telling how long that faith will survive. “You can rest now. You’ve earned it. I’ll take it from here.”

It’s a testament to Albert’s love for the man that he doesn’t spit back all the reasons why, in the grand scheme of things, none of those statements are true - or maybe he just doesn’t have the strength. Either way, in those last couple of seconds before everything goes dark, with the warmth of two souls crowded around him, he knows. No one deserves goodness more than Dale Cooper; and if there’s any good left in this world, he trusts Harry to find it, and himself to defend it… And maybe, just maybe, those few truths will carry them through.

[jackjots]

#22 Silence

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #22 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Blood, alcohol consumption. 

I took a shower and washed my blood and dirt covered clothes in the shower. I watched the dark red water go down the drain and I wondered how much was mine and how much was Trumans. I looked at my veins in my arm. How much was mine, and how much was Trumans?

After I got out of the shower, I wiped off the foggy mirror and looked at my face. I had a nice red scratch on my face, next to the puffy remnants of my broken nose. The scratch on my neck was almost totally gone, but I’d replaced the necklace about my neck, and it was starting to leave a red mark. I lifted it and touched the line. It was hot. I took the necklace off and carefully placed it back in my bag. The sting on my palms after I handled the necklace was probably in my head, I decided. I snuck back to my room in a towel holding my wet and reasonably cleaner clothes. I hung everything to dry and laid back onto the bed in my towel, not even bothering to go under the blanket. 

My body was tired, my head buzzed in the silence, and I didn’t even shut the light off before unconsciousness took over. 

I was sitting at my computer in my living room. The moon was shining through the window, larger than I was used to seeing it. I started writing, but the letters were turning up all wrong on the screen. I looked down at my hands, which were paws. 

I ran to the bathroom to see my face, but instead of mine, the hallway was the one at the Dead Canary. I went into that bathroom, but it was the kitchen. Quinn was yelling at me that I wasn’t allowed to eat meat. But all I wanted was meat. I opened the fridge but it was filled with river rocks. I slammed the fridge door and turned around to Desmond in full wolf form. “One of us.” He said in the low vibrating voice he had as a wolf. 

“Am I?” I tried to ask, but my mouth was clumsily filled with hard and sharp objects. I realized with horror that it was teeth.  

“One of us!” He yelled and I fell backward through the floor until I was laying on the ground in the woods. I heard something and turned. It was me, standing in the moonlight. I looked peaceful with my eyes closed, no scratches or broken noses in sight. When I opened my eyes and met my own stare, the other me screamed. I tried to scream, too, but a howl ripped through my chest.

I woke up covered in sweat. Although the sun was up, when I checked the clock I’d only slept a few hours. I felt dizzy, itchy, and ravenous. I slipped on damp clothes as I knew the kitchen would open soon. The cold damp actually seemed to help calm down the burning itch that was now crawling it’s way over my body. I only had to wiggle a little bit to shift the cold clothes around and calm the itch for a bit. 

I went to the bathroom and remembered my dream as I did so. I caught my reflection in the mirror and gasped. It wasn’t the wolf face I was suddenly afraid I’d seen, but actually the opposite. I looked more like myself than I had in a few days. The swelling had gone way down on my face, and the scratch was merely a mark now. This wouldn’t be easy to explain away, I thought as a knot formed in my stomach.

Why was I so worried about, essentially, coming out as a werewolf? Or possibly one. I wasn’t sure if just the little I was wounded was enough. I wouldn’t know, if I didn’t tell anyone. I considered telling Desmond, but I felt like I missed my window on telling him and now it just felt like admitting I’d lied, which was more intimidating than saying “hey I might be a werewolf”. 

My damp-pants-covered bottom slid into my usual booth. The food I ordered came out with less enthusiasm than I was used to. “Those podcast people are leaving today.” Quinn mentioned. I wasn’t sure if he was filling me in or just announcing it to the empty bar. He seemed distracted, and the food was a little less exciting than usual. I’d never had steak and eggs in my life, but it sounded so good. He had tried to fight me a little bit, but quickly let go of the vegetarian idea. “Sounds like they solved it anyway.” He’d said. “No point anymore. You know it was LSD in the water system?” The way he said it told me he didn’t quite believe it. 

The excuse was almost laughable. But as I ate the too-cooked meat, I thought through what I knew of Connor Creek, and decided it would be good enough. Probably. 

After I ate I went back upstairs and laid in my slowly drying-to-my-body clothing. A nap felt just the ticket, and it did result in dryer clothes as I blearily reasserted my existence after a few blurs of a dream I couldn’t recall.

The sun was higher in the sky and it was almost lunch time now. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep. I realized I hadn’t written down any of the events rom the night before. I grabbed my notebook and looked at my last notes about what they were saying at town hall. Should I keep recording this? I shrugged. If I didn’t, who would? 

I wrote down everything else that happened, but I used slight code wording for myself so it wasn’t so obvious. Things like saying “WW” instead of werewolf. I even included getting scratched. I didn’t plan to keep the lie going that much longer. Probably. Yes, probably. 

When I went back down, I was surprised to see every werewolf I knew of, and a few people I didn’t know very well, whether they were werewolves are not, sitting at the bar. Helen nodded at me. Olivia was deep in conversation with Rita. Sybilus was talking to...Vern, that was his name, Vern the butcher. I recognized Ags who was standing as if she was about to leave with a hand on her hip talking to Desmond over the bar. I overheard her saying she was really looking forward to experimenting with psychedelics as soon as possible. 

I ordered lunch. I knew I had a lot of work to do on my novel to make up for my missed days, and I was starting to stress out about it when Desmond dropped a beer off at my table.

“I didn’t order a beer.” I said as I looked up at him.

He was holding torn pages. “I figured I owed you one. For messing up your book.”

I rubbed my face. “That makes sense.”

“Does it? I am sorry, I didn’t realize it was borrowed.” “The library.” I grumbled. I’d forgotten. 

“You can have the pages now, not sure how much good it will do ya.” He slid them over next to the beer. He seemed to be reading my irritation as toward him, when it was really at myself for forgetting about the book entirely. Not that I could have gone to the library anyway, with my car still in the shop. But regardless, I was irritated. 

  I could smell the exact food I was waiting for; each item gave a certain odor and my mouth filled with saliva. I almost snapped: “Is that my lunch over there?” And immediately followed by. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just hungry.” 

“Seems like it.” But he didn’t seem upset. I was pretty sure I caught a smirk. It made me more irritated, this time at him. He retrieved it for me without another word.

I didn’t touch the beer until I was entirely down with my rare burger. I soaked the meat juice up with my french fries. I didn’t even use any ketchup. My appetite which usually left food to waste had me almost licking my plate clean. 

Ags left a little before I finished my lunch. She’d started talking to Sheriff Madison who came in for lunch. After Ags left I heard Sheriff Madison talking to Olivia about how the twins were gone now. 

I felt an odd little stab that I hadn’t said goodbye. But I also didn’t know them that well. 

And then Olivia said, “You know I heard their tires got slashed.”

“No, that was Shelby’s car.” Desmond interjected.

“Really?” Olivia wondered.

Sheriff Madison agreed. “Yeah. We actually kind of forgot about Paul and Artie’s car. It’s completely wild now.” 

“Well that’s odd. I swore I heard Truman,” There was a slight pause at the name, “Swore I could have heard her say something about their tires.” She laughed. “Maybe I misheard her.”

Suddenly things started to make more sense. I hardly drove into town until more recently, and if she’d seen a car she didn’t recognize, Truman could have mistaken me for Artemis and Paul. I didn’t know if she’d caused the accident, but the tires seemed entirely probable. I risked a look out at the bar and realized this conversation was happening through three other conversations on the other side of the bar. And Desmond was looking straight at me. I turned back to my empty plate. 

How had I heard that whole conversation? 

[evdarcy]

An Unusual Hero C4S2

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Tuesday 20/04/2021

Sarah had never been more grateful for the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins as she was when she ran though those doors and into the sudden sunlight, which briefly blinded them as they ran out the building. She stumbled only slightly, allowing Luc to run past her, but she found her feet quickly and was right on his tail.

She’d expected the corridor to lead to somewhere within the hotel, so it took her a brief moment to figure out where they were and she thanked the Heavens that it happened to be exactly where she needed to be. She glanced around the staff car park and saw the Volvo sitting almost right against the hotel, less than fifty feet from where they stood. She threw her torch away and grabbed her gun from the small of her back again.

‘There,’ she said to Luc. She gave him a nudge in the right direction and pointed with her piece towards the vehicle. The man glanced at her over his shoulder and frowned as he looked around, searching for someone.

‘Where’s Phil?’ he asked as he paused in his step and tried to catch his breath.

Oh. She’d heard the other man grunt and hit the wall just as they had turned right. She imagined the Demon’s men had been shooting blindly down the corridor through the gap in the door to try and slow them down.

Sarah nudged him forward again as she realised there was no point in pussyfooting around; she put it as plainly as she could.

‘Probably a bullet in the back.’

Luc stumbled at her words. ‘What?’

‘We do not have time for this,’ Sarah said as she hurried towards the waiting car. She knew she was being short with him, but her words where the truth; the Demon’s men wouldn’t be far behind. The star needed to pull himself together and think fast or he’d get them both killed.

She ran her hand under the car’s wheel arch and came back with the key. Luc stood at the back of the car and Sarah could tell he was calculating if she would shoot him in the back if he made a run for it.

‘Look, if you want to leave, that’s up to you,’ she told him as she popped the lock on the boot. ‘But I can guarantee you now, he’ll find you very quickly and kill you.’

‘He’d have to get through my team first.’ She wanted to scoff at the words, at the naivety he had. He’d been protected by his team for years, he had no reason to doubt their ability, but he had no idea who he was up against and what he was letting himself—and everyone he loved—in for.

‘David—Agent Burton—was one of the highest agents the US had to offer, and they got to him. They got to him through his family—’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘You have a wife’

‘They can have her,’ Luc sneered, his upper lip curling with contempt and disgust. Sarah’s eyebrows arched in surprise; everyone knew that Luc and Linda Truman were Hollywood’s most loved up couple. He went on and on about her during interviews and at panels, why the hell—

She shook her head; she didn’t have time to dwell. Instead, she praised Commander Cowley as she lifted the lid of the Volvo’s boot and saw the three military duffel bags and an assortment of loose weapons in the back of the car.

‘Oh, Jack, you legend,’ she whispered, grateful it had been the commander in charge of the transport rather than David. She grabbed one of the shotguns and checked it was loaded. When she saw the round in the chamber, she passed it to Luc who automatically rechecked it. Sarah raised her brow; she’d half expected him to drop the thing.

‘Listen, the bastard won’t be that bothered about adults—your wife or otherwise. Those he’ll just kill without hesitation. It’ll be kids—you close to anyone with kids?’ She watched his face drain white and his eyes widen at the thought. ‘Yeah, exactly. Think about what he’ll do to them.’

She sighed heavily as she began her next spiel. ‘Look, your best bet is with me; I’ll keep you as safe as possible. I can tell you now, you go it alone, you go back to your friends and family then you won’t last long, and neither will they. He won’t bother torturing you, he’ll go after those you’re close to. He’ll cut them up and pull them apart—while you watch—to see what you know, how much you know, and how you know it. He’ll kill them one by one until you tell him where I am, and trust me even if you did know where I was and how to get me—which you won’t—giving me up wouldn’t stop him. As soon as he has what he wants he’ll kill you and take any kids you’re close to for his trafficking ring—boy or girl. There’s a big market for both. The sick wankers.’

She didn’t look at him. Refused to try and influence him any further. He’d be a fool to go it alone, but she wouldn’t force him. As long as he kept his mouth shut about her to the press before he got taken by the sicko, she had no problem with sending him off to his own fate.

Okay, that was a big fat lie. She had a huge problem with doing that. Forgetting the fact that she’d lusted after him for over a decade, she didn’t want any one else to die at that dick head’s whim. And, when he was captured by the Demon or his cronies, Luc’s body—when they found it—would certainly not be an attractive one.

And it would be one more name to add to her list.

Shit.

She checked through the bags to distract her from that image and to quash the guilt that was already beginning to build. It was his choice, she reminded herself, just as she had been given hers, and it wasn’t as if she could really offer him much.

She wasn’t lying when she’d promised to keep him as safe as possible, but it wasn’t likely to really be much longer than what he’d get with his team. However, if he was with her when the bastards caught up to them, at least they wouldn’t be taking anyone else with them.

She sighed with relief as she found money, clothes, weapons, ammunition, and explosives in the duffel bags. But no phone. Dammit. She touched the pendant hidden under her top at the discovery. That had to be the first item on their list of things they needed to get.

‘Okay. I’m in,’ he finally agreed, snapping the shotgun shut again. Sarah nodded to acknowledge she’d heard him, eyes on her hands as she quickly took some of the C4 from one of the bags before she heaved it out the car and gave it to him. She let him throw the bag over his shoulder before she handed him a second.

Sarah glanced around the car park with a keen eye, looking for the perfect get away vehicle as she tried to recall what Jack had taught her. It had to be older for there to be fewer electrical issues; no trackers, no GPS. She’d prefer nothing before 1995.

‘That black Hyundai’—she pointed towards a small nondescript hatchback across the lot—‘head to it, stay low, wait for me there. If anyone comes out of those doors lay down a line of fire. You got eight shells in there, make ‘em count.’

Sarah didn’t watch him leave, instead she turned back to the car and grabbed a leg holster and the Heckler and Koch Mark 23. She slapped the holster to her thigh and secured the larger gun—her actual preferred firearm—within it before she went to work repacking the other pieces. She pulled the final bag from the car and returned her attention to the explosives and charges.

She packed the C4 tightly against the fuel tank, stabbing the charges into it and paused for a moment considering her set up—was that too much or too little?—before she shook herself out of it. She didn’t have time to worry, it would just have to do. She clipped the detonator to her hip and slammed the boot shut.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder as she turned, she froze when the double doors flew open once more.

Just as it had for her and Luc, the unexpected sunlight dazzled the Demon’s men and gave Sarah an advantage. She clocked each face in the blink of an eye and saw that the prick wasn’t with them. She hadn’t expected him to be. He’d probably ran the moment they blew the door into the room and noticed that she wasn’t there. She hoped with the myriad of cameras throughout the hotels and the city itself, that at least one of them had picked him up. He couldn’t be that good, surely?

A ping of optimism hit Sarah’s heart at the idea that he may have got sloppy in his chase for her. The fact that her initial escape from his clutches had so enraged him he’d personally come to the most watched city in the world, gave her hope that he would get even sloppier in the future with this second near miss.

Sarah ripped the Mark 23 from its holster and fired a shot at the group before ducking down behind the Volvo. The dull bang of the shotgun sounded from somewhere to her right and she knew Luc was doing as she’d asked. She weaved through the cars counting the flat-bangs Luc managed to get off between the hail of gun fire from the AK-103s. When Luc had made five shots she pulled the cover from the stick clipped to her hip and her thumb found the button.

The explosion was deafening and the blast knocked her to the floor between the cars.

Okay, so too much.

Her world titled to one side as she tried to push herself up to her hands and knees. She couldn’t hear anything save the rush of blood in her ears, the pounding of her heart, and the ragged intake of her breath. Her feet kept slipping out from under her as she tried to get up from her knees, and she grabbed onto the wing mirror of the nearest car to stop herself from hitting the ground again.

Sound rushed at her from every angle as her ears corrected themselves; the screaming of people, the wails of alarms, and the creaking of metals as they ground against one another assaulted her senses and almost deafened her again. The heat of the fire from the decimated car scorched her skin as she rose from between the two vehicles that had shielded her from the blast.

And as she turned to face the destruction she’d caused, she almost lost the contents of her stomach.

Dozens of cars had been blown and lifted by her bomb. Some had landed on others, some were scattered across the hotel’s gardens, but worst of all were the ones that had smashed into the hotel, leaving holes in the structure.

She swallowed as she tore her eyes away, and took a deep breath before beginning her dash across the parking lot once more. She ducked and weaved as she went, trying to avoid the remnants of the Volvo and everything else falling from the sky.

When she finally reached the little black Excel, she pulled her small metal tools from the back of her boot and began to work on the lock, surprising herself when she managed it first time. Jack would have never believed it, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

‘Get in,’ she shouted over the wail of alarms and the roar of flames as she threw her duffel bag over the front seats. She climbed in the driver’s seat and Luc followed suit. Before he even had the door closed, Sarah had hot-wired the little hatchback and threw it into gear.

They peeled out the parking lot with a squeal of tyres and the smell of rubber chasing them.

‘Do you have a phone?’ she asked Luc as they tore down South Las Vegas Boulevard. They passed people crowding the pavements, craning their necks as they tried to catch a glimpse of what had happened at the old hotel. Sarah caught sight of a pillar of smoke in the review mirror, a black column reaching high into the sky.

Yeah, she had definitely fucked that explosion up…

Luc shifted in his seat and pulled from his pocket a flashy iPhone—it looked brand new.

‘Toss it,’ Sarah told him. ‘Out the window.’

‘What?’

‘They can use it to track you. Your wife is probably on the same account as you and will be able to—’

She didn’t need to finish her sentence before the phone was gone. Again, surprise etched across her face, but she said nothing. Instead, she filed it away for later, when she’d have a chance to ask the star anything she liked and he’d bloody well answer her.

The whole set up stank to high heaven, and while she was 99.99 percent sure Luc had nothing to do with it, there was still that tiny chance he’d known. There was also a chance that someone who worked for him had been involved, and she needed to know if there was, who that might be.

‘Where we going?’ he asked as she turned off The Strip and onto the I-15. She shrugged and turned on the radio, Free’s “All Right Now” began blearing from the crappy standard speakers.

Oh, the irony, she thought as she focused on the road and put her foot down; she wanted as much distance between her and the carnage she had just created as possible.

She didn’t need any more names to add to her growing list of failures.

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Tuesday!