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San Francisco, California.
How the fuck have you never been to San Francisco.
It's loud. Generally rather unpleasant. The alpha touring us showed us the piers and I don't know how he can stand the place. Reeks of dead fish.
The Golden Gate is lame. And don't bitch to me about how the one on this postcard is red. You're the history nerd here; if you don't know it already, look it up.
Grand Canyon, Arizona.
Stop bitching at me for pictures. We're not sight-seeing. We're going on a cross-country mission to dismantle all the Doctors' previous operating theatres and make allies along the way. The postcards just happen to be coincidental stops so please tell Mason that I am not under any circumstances getting him a postcard from Forks, Washington.
If you want pictures, talk to Scott. He's the one that dragged us to the Grand Canyon since it was "on the way."
Great Salt Lake, Utah.
I never want to look at salt again. Malia shoved me into the lake and I feel like a robot running on shitty, grainy oil. My hair is still crunchy. It's been 3 days.
You can taste the salt in the air. It's really weird. It feels dry and humid at the same time. It's awful. You're not missing anything other than the "view" that Scott can't get over, This postcard isn't much different than the real thing. Now can you tell him to get over himself?
P.S. You owe me 20 bucks if you licked the postcard to see if it was salty.
Estes Park, Colorado.
Colorado's cool. Lot's of wolf sanctuaries here. I think I remember one of them from my time with the Doctors so I'm trying to avoid that part of the state, but Argent thinks we might need their help. It turns out the wild omega we're tracking is actually an entire rogue pack. I'm regretting coming out here more and more every day. I'm about five seconds away from ditching everyone to go do my own thing.
P.S. I hope you like the wolf on the other side. It was so stupid looking and reminded me of you so much that I couldn't help myself.
Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming.
Yellowstone is a lot cooler than I thought it'd be. Laugh about the irony of werewolves visiting as they're reintroducing wolves all you want, but I specifically sent this postcard in an envelope so you could see the stupid faces they make without your stupid phone ruining the quality. Please get a new one. I'm sick and tired of the butt dials.
P.S. I'm pretty sure you get free admission to all national parks. Stiles does because of his ADHD. Look into it, maybe.
?, Oregon.
Don't ask me why this stupid, good for nothing town has postcards. This place is miserable. We tried 4 different places before I gave up and decided to sleep in my truck. I till have some blankets in here and it's better than piss, mold, and bedbugs. The others found a "decent" place, if you can count people having really loud sex down the hall all night. I think Argent is the only one not showing signs of sleep deprivation, but I think it's more from his hunter training than anything.
I think hell was more pleasant than this shit hole.
Forks, Washington.
Tell Mason to shut the fuck up about vampires, please. And here's his stupid postcard.
P.S. No, I don't know everyone address off the top of my head, Liam, just because I stalked you once years ago.
Seattle, Washington.
Starbucks fucking sucks. Even Malia agrees with me on that.
Someone tell Seattle to tone it the fuck down. This city does not need a Starbucks on every damn corner. It's ridiculous.
NYC, New York.
We're driving back down from New York or I'm killing myself. Planes are fucking awful. Airports are fucking awful. TSA is fucking awful. I got pat down because I brought chocolate that happened to be wrapped in tinfoil. God forbid someone dares to eat a very common snack on an airplane. No, it has to be drugs.
Somehow New York is even worse. I swear I smell sewage no matter where we go in the city. I think it would be better if I couldn't hear the rats. Or the obnoxious tourists.
Speaking of which, here's your stupid postcard. I hope you take the joke about me killing myself better than Scott did when he tried getting tourist shirts. You're not getting one by the way. I refuse to be associated with anyone who owns a "I love New York" shirt.
Portland, Maine.
Maria -- the alpha from New York -- decided to drive down to Beacon Hills with me after this. She has some business in Chicago and Wichita, then something in Oklahoma. I'll be back later than the others. Scott's going to pick up my truck and drive it back to Beacon Hills.
I was not kidding in my last postcard.
Chicago, Illinois.
I should've taken the plane. Maria and Elenore won't stop arguing or New York or Chicago style pizza.
It's New York, but I like my head on my shoulders.
Wichita, Kansas.
Having postcards with just song lyrics is so incredibly lame. And sounded fitting. Here you go, loser.
Maria was adamant that we go to the museum and I managed to catch some recordings on the history of aviation. Thought you might like it. I hope you have an mp3 player though. Can't be handing you anything without you putting some work into it.
Love,
Beacon Hills, California.
Apparently Beacon Hills is such a hot spot for murder that it's become a small tourist attraction. Ridiculous.
Did you seriously just walk in and not see me? Dunbar, I know I call you an idiot all the time but you cannot actually be this stupid.
Jokes on you, I can sit here and wait all day for you to realize I'm already here.
P.S. 32 minutes is way too long. I'm never letting this go.
SHUTUP THE O
You're just mad I overheard you practicing your confession, dumbass.
D : TAKE IT B ACK ): ): ):
:D