#Carson City Home

[thistimeischittychitty]

Things you can see in Carson City. Photos taken 1-20-2025.

[orpheuslament]

Paris, August 2024, Dante Émile

[howebuilt01]

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[filosofablogger]

Good People Doing Good Things -- Florence Phillips

I was working on a ‘good people’ post tonight … had spent over an hour on it and was about halfway finished by my estimation, when my research began to expose some little tidbits that led me to think that maybe he wasn’t such a ‘good’ people after all.  In all good conscience, there was enough doubt in my mind that I couldn’t use him for today’s post.  But at this point, I was discouraged, tired,…

[rcmclachlan]

One of my most persistent headcanons is that the 118 and the 217 work together in secret to try and get Buck and Tommy back together because none of them can take it anymore. They're all sick to death of the moping, the constant checking of phones, the sad, wistful smiles, the baking—oh god, they're so sick of the baking. Hen's ready to throttle Buck because Chimney's AIC levels are through the roof and if he becomes pre-diabetic she won't be responsible for her actions.

Not to mention the sad playlists. Lucy has been forced to listen to "Wasted Time" by the Eagles so often that if she ever sees Don Henley on the street she's gonna beat the ever-loving fuck out of him.

It isn't long before someone from one station reaches out to the other, because enough already, and then the 118 and 217 are meeting every Friday to brainstorm ways to get these idiots in a room together. But, oddly enough, it feels almost like the universe is working against them.

For one thing, their shifts never line up, even though Bobby and Captain Carson coordinate almost daily on making sure Buck's and Tommy's schedules match. They've even roped a few folks over at Dispatch into it to ensure the 217 and the 118 work the same calls. Despite this, there's a slew of emergencies that manage to mess up all their planning, pulling the 118 and the 217 to opposite sides of the city—or, in some cases, keeping one on the ground while the other is called to the sky.

Once it becomes apparent that The Great Reunification™ isn't going to happen on a call, they shift their efforts to group outings. The 217 are regular haunts of The Naughty Pig—they have a designated table and everything, right next to the staircase. So Eddie starts making noise about wanting to check out this one bar in West Hollywood that he hears is really cool and unpretentious, with an excellent selection of beer and cocktails, and after about a week of him dropping the most unsubtle hints in history, they get Buck to leave King Arthur and his flour in peace for a night so they can grab a drink at The Naughty Pig.

Except, when they show up, Tommy's nowhere to be found. While the others distract Buck by trying to get a table, Dana catches Hen's gaze and makes a small, throat-cutting gesture. They meet in the bathroom and Dana says Tommy went home sick earlier with what she suspects is pneumonia. Which means Hen's going to spend the night in this cool bar while Buck gets white girl wasted on Bud Light. By the time he's on his 8th and warbling into the table about Glee for whatever reason, Hen decides to call it a night.

A week or so after that, Eddie goes for broke and disconnects the battery in his car. That same night, Buck comes over to hang out and play video games (and offload a metric fuck ton of muffins), and when they decide to grab pizza, uh oh! Eddie's truck isn't starting.

He makes a big scene of looking under the hood, but he just can't find the problem. Buck's like "That really sucks but we can always take the jeep?" but no, Eddie needs his truck, how can he live and work without his precious Denali? He decides to call a buddy of his to come over and try to fix the issue, so he leaves the room and calls Tommy, who's surprised to hear from Eddie (which makes Eddie feel like a monster, because, yes, he hasn't really been in touch with Tommy since the breakup but he never meant for Tommy to think their friendship was collateral damage).

Tommy agrees to make the drive over, and Eddie walks back into the living, patting himself on the back, only to find Buck putting his shoes on. Maddie had called while Eddie was on the phone: Mrs. Lee was taken to the hospital by ambulance after a bad fall and Chim and Maddie need him to babysit Jee while they go to LA General. So not only does Eddie's plan backfire spectacularly in a way he can't even be mad about, but Tommy gives him shit for a week because Eddie apparently can't plug a loose cable into a battery on his own.

After that, the 118 and the 217 convene at their usual Friday spot and the mood is dour. Nico thinks it might be time to throw in the towel, and despite everyone making noise about it, no one can really argue with him. They'd given it their all, but the house won.

Then Lucy swans in, takes one look at their disappointed faces, and slaps a piece of paper down onto the table. It's a flyer for the Backdraft Ball next month.

Chim looks up at her, expression grave, and asks, "Do you really think this will work?"

"It's either this or I go to jail for murdering every single living member of the Eagles," Lucy says. "Which I might do anyway. I haven't decided."

"Well, we've come this far." Hen lifts her glass and surveys the rest of the table.

"And if it fails," Dana says, the corner of her mouth twitching like she maybe, possibly thinking about smiling within the next decade. "I can't say I haven't enjoyed this. It's been fun hanging out with you weirdos."

Rapping his knuckles on the table top, Eddie cheers, "Hear hear!"

"Your speaking privileges haven't been reinstated," Dana snaps. "Put a sock in it."

"I told you, the mustache was a toxic symbol! You can't still be mad about me shaving it!"

Dana sniffs and takes a dainty sip of her wine. "You look like a mutant four-year old."

"All right," Chim announces, standing. "Operation: Last Ditch Effort is a go."

They clink their glasses to seal the deal. When Dana knocks hers into Eddie's, his stein shatters.

A month passes and everyone's been talking about nothing except the Backdraft Ball, which Buck can't understand. In the eight years he's been a firefighter, they've never once attended.

"Didn't you once call it a pathetic get together for people who had to get their stomachs pumped on prom night?" He asks Hen, who's browsing the Local Eclectic website for earrings to go with her admittedly amazing jumpsuit.

Hen shrugs. "What can I say, Buckaroo? I've grown as a person."

Meanwhile, at the 217, Lucy corners Tommy in the Bell-205 and says, "If you don't go to the Backdraft Ball with me, I'm gonna tell everyone you said Elon Musk is a genius who's going to save the country."

Horrified, he says, "That's a fucking lie! You know I hate him more than my dad!"

Lucy smiles meanly. "I do know that. No one else does, though."

Later, when she's alone, she sends the group chat two emojis: a helicopter and a thumbs up.

Finally, the big night arrives and everyone's dressed to the nines. Even Buck can't help but be a little excited, because he's in a really nicely tailored tux, courtesy of Ravi for some reason, and there's a literal mountain of scallops wrapped in bacon, which he stands next to for most of the night until Maddie, who came as Chimney's date, wanders over and asks why he's not mingling.

"I dunno," he says, shoving his sixty-seventh scallop into his mouth. "I-I always thought... I guess I hoped I'd come to one of these with Tommy, you know? He's such a sucker for the whole all-eyes-on-you thing. He never went to any of his school dances, not even prom, because he wouldn't get to dance with the people he really wanted. I... I wanted to be that for him."

While Buck turns to the scallop mountain—which is more of a foothill now, thanks to his tireless efforts—Maddie looks across the ballroom where Lucy is talking to Tommy. Their gazes lock. Over Tommy's shoulder, Lucy jerks her head toward the dance floor, where they're playing some golden oldies and dozens of ancient captains are dancing with their wives to The Girl From Yesterday.

Maddie nods, then grabs Buck's hand. "C'mon. I want to get at least one dance in before the night's over."

Pulling a scallop off a toothpick, Buck squints. "Where's Chim? Isn't that, like, one of his duties as your husband?"

"Last I saw him, he was trying to convince Chief Simpson to install crazy slides in all the firehouses," Maddie says sunnily. "And honestly? Chief Simpson looked intrigued. So suck it up and take your sister for a spin."

Buck rolls his eyes and pops one more scallop into his mouth for the road, but he goes with her without complaint. Maddie stops at their table and says she's going to text their babysitter. She sends the group chat the green circle emoji. It's go time.

Elsewhere, Lucy slips her phone into her purse, then grabs Tommy's arm and says, "Great news! Dana's gonna make the DJ play something else before I burn the building down, which means we can get a dance in."

Wordlessly, Dana gets out of her seat and heads toward the front of the room.

Lucy drags Tommy into the crowd and makes sure to keep his line of sight away from where Maddie is doing the same to Buck. They've only got one shot at this and the timing has to be perfect.

Her cheek on Buck's chest, Maddie holds Lucy's gaze and gently leads him into a half circle, just as Lucy does the same with Tommy. Lucy gives a sharp nod of her head and, hands on Tommy's arms, spins him around so that when Maddie puts a hand on Buck's chest and shoves him as hard as she can, Tommy's there to break his fall.

"H-Hey, what was th—" Buck looks up with wide, outraged eyes, but the words stick in his throat when he sees who caught him.

Tommy's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Even if he'd been able to find the words, the sweet keys of an old piano would've drowned them out.

Smirking, Lucy shoves Tommy a little closer, just as Nat King Cole croons "Unforgettable... that's what you are."

Lucy makes a note to buy Dana lunch the next time they're on shift, because, damn, good choice.

Almost as if he's helpless to stop himself, Tommy tightens his hold on Buck's waist, wrapping his arm a little tighter around him, and Buck can't prevent a shaky gasp from punching out of him when he gets a whiff of Tommy's cologne. He puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady himself, unerringly stepping closer until they're chest to chest.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't..." He trails off, caught in Tommy's gaze, and he doesn't blink out of fear that this is some mercury-induced hallucination from all the scallops.

Smiling a little, Tommy takes Buck's hand in his. "You're free to say no, but—"

"Yes," Buck says immediately, nodding, tightening his fingers around Tommy's. "Yeah, let's, uh. Yeah."

Catching Maddie's gaze, Lucy jerks her head back toward the refreshment table, where the rest of their group is waiting. Hen's got the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and Nico is dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a corner of Dana's shawl.

"Nicely done," Lucy says to Maddie, who preens a little.

"If you'd let me in on your little scheme earlier, I could've had them back together in a day."

They accept the back slaps and high-fives they've more than earned, then turn just in time for Buck to rest his cheek against Tommy's as they sway together. Maddie squints a little, but she thinks she sees Tommy murmuring along with Natalie Cole. "No, never before... has someone been more..."

She sniffles a little and happily takes the plate of fruit and cheese that Chimney hands her.

"Save the Studio Ghibli tears for the wedding," he says teasingly, then adopts the weird Brooklyn accent he busts out sometimes. "Ya did good, kid."

"I did good," Dana breaks in. "And if they use this song for their first dance, I take full credit."

She looks over at Nico, who's using a toothpick—with a zucchini and goat cheese rollup still skewered on it—to get something out from beneath his nail, and smacks him upside the head.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've stopped shaving," Eddie says to her, gesturing toward his face with a can of ginger ale. "Am I allowed to speak again?"

She gives him a deadpan look. "Give it another week, then maybe. Right now you look like you're going through puberty again."

"Better than being four," he says cheerfully.

The group content themselves with watching Buck and Tommy for another minute, but when Buck tilts his head ever so slightly to brush his nose against Tommy's, Lucy makes a face. "I guess this means we don't need to keep meeting up on Fridays, huh?"

"Whoever said that?" Hen grins. "I still haven't managed to beat you at air hockey, Donato. I demand a rematch."

"Plus, my friend Josh has been a little unlucky in love these days and could use a hand," Maddie chimes in, then gestures toward the dance floor. "Our results speak for themselves."

The song has changed, but Buck and Tommy haven't noticed, too busy wrapped up in each other.

Lucy tilts her head and smiles. It looks like Tommy's exhaled for the first time in weeks.

Don Henley gets to live another day.

[hlblng]

"Never again, never again shall I look on the light of the sun" - Euripides' Hekabe (transl. Anne Carson)

When the Greeks sail to Troy to retrieve Helen, wife of Menelaos, and lay waste to the city of Troy, the greek army is prevented from sailing on in Aulis. Artemis has been angered and demands a blood sacrifice in exchange for the winds that will carry the ships to the shores of Ilium.

So Agamemnon, chief commander of the army of Hellas, sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia at the altar of the goddess. Her death in exchange for eternal glory.

After the sacking of Troy, the remnants of the victorious greek army make ready to sail for home. But Achilles' vengeful ghost halts the winds, demanding proper sacrifice at his grave. Achilles demands blood in exchange for the winds that will carry the ships to the shores of Hellas.

So Odysseus and Agamemnon choose Polyxena, the youngest daughter of Priam and Hekabe, a princess of Troy. Her death in exchange for a homecoming worthy of the victors of Troy.

Though these two events are 10 years apart in the context of the story of the Trojan war, these two girls have always been connected with each other in my head. I imagine them at a similar age, looking similar even. I imagine Agamemnon thinking of Iphigenia as he watches Polyxena bleed out in front of him. Two sides of the same coin.

[shaiyasstuff]

sapere aude | sylus | preface/chapter one

synopsis : He promised to protect you. But guilt doesn’t protect. It confuses the living for the dead—and love for something far more dangerous.

content : light angst, slow-burn, mentions of death, 50/50 cannon!au, reader is mc’s sister,

writer’s note : i have this image of sylus in glasses during his days in the HQ, when he’s not out on missions (it’s so hot omg) anywayss original idea was posted here. Wanted to make this full angst but i got ambitious yet again. Tagging my lovely: @blessdunrest because I wanna know her review🫶🏻

parts | one | two | three | four

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

It was rhythmic, almost hypnotic—the sound of boots against concrete, echoing down damp, narrow halls like a cruel lullaby. A sound that might’ve meant nothing once. A hallway. A late night. Someone going home.

But now, it was a requiem.

Every step was a countdown. Every echo, a reminder.

Your body hung from chains, swaying slightly with each shallow breath. The pain had dulled somewhere between the blows and the blood loss. Now there was only exhaustion—a bone-deep kind that settled in your marrow and refused to let go.

You didn’t cry anymore. Fear had long turned into a quiet, shivering ache. Something wordless. Something hollow.

The blindfold pressed against your skin, wet with sweat and blood, but you barely felt it now.

“P-Please,” you whispered, or tried to. The word cracked in your throat, weak and worn and useless.

The reply came sharp, a voice made of metal and contempt.

“Shut up, bitch.”

Then came the blow.

Your body folded, something hot and metallic flooding your mouth as you choked on blood. You felt it drip down your chin, staining what little of you was left untouched.

The chains groaned as you sagged forward. The cuffs bit into skin already shredded. Your arms were dead weight. Your legs had forgotten how to exist.

There was no fight left in you. Only the bitter taste of survival, drawn out too long.

Then—

The door opened.

It was just a sound. Just hinges and wood. But it broke the rhythm. Broke the air.

Silence followed, thick and waiting.

“B-Boss! We didn’t think—”

The voice cut off.

Not in silence. In a scream.

And then—nothing. Not even footsteps. Not breath. Not sound.

Stillness.

You flinched. Instinct. Reflex. The body’s last protest.

But you didn’t know why. Not yet.

Not until you heard him.

“Luke. Kieran. Free her.”

The voice was quiet. Even. Unrushed.

And yet, it carved the air clean.

You heard movement. Keys. Chains. Someone’s breath catching. The sound of metal surrendering.

Then you were falling.

But arms caught you.

Warm. Steady.

A chest beneath your cheek. A heartbeat—too fast.

“T-Tha—”

“Don’t thank us yet,” came a voice, younger, clipped. Edged.

Another voice followed. A twin reflection. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

But you were already fading.

The world tilted. Softened. Disappeared.

And just before you slipped beneath the dark, you heard it. That voice again. The one that had ordered the world to stop.

“Who is she, boss?”

A pause.

A breath.

“…A debt I’m supposed to pay.”

But even then, as sleep dragged you under, some part of you heard the truth that lingered beneath the words.

‘Or maybe… a sin I was meant to atone for.’

—•

Evening settled over the skyline like a bruise—purple and bruised gold, too quiet for a city that once knew how to scream. From the rooftop, the world looked deceptively calm.

Sylus stood at the edge, the wind tugging at the hem of his coat, a single coin turning slowly between his fingers. He always carried it. Not for luck. But because it reminded him that everything had two sides.

He didn’t hear Kieran’s approach. Only the shift in air.

“Boss,” Kieran said, voice tense. “There’s a problem.”

A pause.

Luke joined a breath later. “It’s Carson. He took a girl. She’s still alive, but it’s bad.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just flicked the coin upward, watching it catch the last light of the sun. It spun like a blade, glinting—then fell back into his palm.

“Where.”

“Sub-level two.”

He moved without another word.

The stairs echoed with the sound of his descent. Steady. Inescapable. Like judgment wrapped in leather and steel.

He didn’t need to ask what had happened. He already knew.

Carson was dead. Or he would be soon.

The hallway reeked of old blood and mildew, the kind of smell that sank into skin. He walked through it like it was nothing. Like he belonged to it.

The door opened.

And time stopped.

The first thing he saw was blood.

Then—

You.

Hanging from the ceiling like something discarded. Forgotten. Unmade.

Your body trembled, barely. Still fighting, even in ruin.

It should’ve been a stranger. It was always strangers.

But it wasn’t.

It was you.

His breath caught, a sharp, involuntary thing that stole the space from his lungs.

Why is it her?

It echoed in his chest. Unwelcome. Unforgiving.

He didn’t allow the emotion to show. Didn’t let his hand twitch. His jaw tighten.

Only his voice broke the silence. Cold. Measured.

“Luke. Kieran. Free her.”

He didn’t glance at Carson’s remains. Not again. They didn’t matter.

Only you did.

You fell.

Kieran caught you.

Even unconscious, you looked like resistance incarnate—shattered, but not surrendered. A porcelain doll cracked by grief, still managing to hold her shape.

“Who is she, boss?” Kieran asked, quieter now.

Sylus didn’t answer at first.

He stared at you. At the blood. At the mess someone else had made of you.

“…Miss Hunter’s sister,” he said at last. The words burned more than they should have. Like ash he couldn’t swallow.

Luke exhaled slowly. “She had a sister?”

“She didn’t talk about her,” Kieran murmured.

The hallway swallowed the rest.

There were ghosts here. Too many. Too close.

They carried you back, steps careful, arms too gentle for the kind of men they were.

The medic arrived wordlessly. She didn’t speak. Just worked. Quiet and practiced.

Sylus stood outside, back against the wall, fingers curled tightly into fists.

When the medic emerged, she nodded once. “She’ll live.”

He nodded back. Said nothing. Then stepped inside.

The room was dim. Shadowed.

You lay motionless, wrapped in bandages and silence.

He moved toward the bed slowly. Each step drawn by something he couldn’t name.

And then—he saw you. Fully.

Your features were a reflection. Not perfect. But enough.

His breath stilled.

He hadn’t expected the resemblance to hurt.

And it did. Sharp and surgical.

The same jaw. The same eyelashes. The ghost of a woman he couldn’t save, buried beneath the bruises and blood of another.

You looked too much like her.

He’d watched you from afar. Always from afar. Mephisto’s footage. The corners of crowds. Rain-streaked windows in cities that had forgotten what light was.

He told himself it was enough.

But guilt has long arms.

And tonight, they’d wrapped around your throat.

He reached out once, fingers trembling in the space between your cheek and the air. But he didn’t touch you.

Couldn’t.

Instead, his hand curled into a fist and fell back to his side.

He sat.

And waited.

His presence didn’t fill the room. It pressed against it.

A vow unspoken. A promise he didn’t deserve to make.

Still, he kept watch.

Not because you needed him.

But because it was the only thing left he could do.

Light bled in soft through narrow curtains, pale and reluctant, as if even the morning wasn’t ready to face what lingered in the room.

You stirred.

Slowly. Like rising from beneath water.

Your body ached. Not with sharpness—but with the heaviness of something that had been broken and stitched back together without your permission.

The ceiling was unfamiliar—dark beams carved with patterns too intricate to be decorative. There was no sterile white light. No beeping monitors. Only hush. Only warmth.

And him.

He sat beside the bed, still as stone.

At first, you thought he was part of the silence. A shadow carved into the corner of the room.

But then your eyes adjusted. And his gaze was already on you.

Silver hair caught the morning light like something delicate, ethereal. But his eyes—

Red. Deep. Unreadable.

They didn’t flinch when you looked at him. Didn’t soften.

He was watching you the way someone might watch the final flicker of a candle—distant, resigned. As though he expected you to disappear.

Your throat burned when you tried to speak. The sound died before it found shape.

He moved, then. Smooth. Practiced. Like he’d done this before. Like he’d waited for this moment longer than he cared to admit.

A glass of water. Held out.

“Don’t talk,” he said. Quiet. Firm. Not unkind, but final.

You took it. Because your body was too tired to do anything else. Because his voice left no room for resistance.

The glass touched your lips. Cool. Steadying.

You drank, and his eyes never left you.

There was no pity in them.

No cruelty either.

Just something still. Like regret that had forgotten how to ache out loud.

Then—a knock.

Another voice. Familiar. Steady.

“Boss. We investigated.”

He didn’t look away from you.

“Come in.”

The door opened. A man stepped in. Young, sharp-eyed. Startled when he saw you—but only for a moment.

“Carson,” he said. “Tried to sell her. Took five others. Kieran’s cleaning it up.”

You saw it.

The shift in Sylus’s posture. Not movement—he didn’t move.

But something cold gathered in the room. Like breath freezing in the lungs.

“I see,” he said.

And nothing else needed to be said.

You knew then. Carson was already dust. The kind of dead that didn’t leave echoes.

Still, the younger man hesitated. “We don’t deal in that kind of business. Someone’s pushing. Instigating.”

Sylus turned to him, and the man straightened under the weight of that gaze.

“You know what to do.”

“Understood.”

And then the room was quiet again.

The man left.

The silence returned.

But now it was different.

Now, it had shape. It had weight. And it was sitting across from you, watching every breath you took as if it might be your last.

You tried again.

“W-Who…”

But he raised a hand. Not abrupt. Just enough to quiet you.

“I’ll explain everything,” he said. “But not now.”

His tone didn’t threaten. It promised.

“For now,” he continued, voice shifting ever so slightly—less frost, more gravity—“Just rest.”

You looked into his eyes then, and for the first time, you saw it.

Not safety.

Not warmth.

But stability.

And for someone who’d forgotten what solid ground felt like, that was almost enough.

“You’re safe with me,” he said.

And somehow, you believed him.

Not because of the words.

But because of the silence that held them.

—•

When you woke again, the light had shifted.

It was afternoon now. Slanted gold filtering through the narrow space between curtains, brushing the bed with a kind of fragile tenderness.

As if the sun knew how easily you might break.

You were alone.

And somehow, that felt heavier than being watched.

You sat up slowly, the ache in your ribs blooming sharp under the movement. Your breath caught. Your muscles trembled. But you moved.

You had to.

The room was too still. The silence too complete. You couldn’t bear to drown in it again.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold. Your feet were bare. The world felt far away.

But you took a step.

Then another.

The hallway was quiet—dimly lit, lined with heavy bookshelves and gold-edged sconces that cast soft shadows along the walls. It smelled like wood and old paper. Like memories.

Then—

Laughter.

Faint. Two voices, low and familiar. It reached you like a thread in the dark, something warm and fraying.

You followed it.

Not because you trusted it.

But because you didn’t want to be alone.

You found them in what looked like a living room. Wide. Open. Wood-paneled walls. Weapons scattered like afterthoughts. A fire lit in the corner, though it didn’t crackle. It simply burned.

Luke was lounging on a couch, flipping a knife with casual precision. Kieran stood by the window, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.

They turned when they saw you.

“Hey—she’s up,” Kieran said, voice light but edged with caution.

Luke sat up, brows lifted. “You should be resting.”

You didn’t answer. Just stood there, gripping the doorway like it was the only thing holding you up.

“Who… are you?” Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be.

But it didn’t matter. They heard.

“I’m Kieran,” the one by the window said. “That’s Luke. My twin. Don’t hold it against me.”

Luke grinned. “Nice to meet you, I guess. Still breathing—so that’s a win.”

You didn’t smile. Not really.

But something loosened in your chest.

Kieran stepped forward. Not close. Just enough. “We were the ones who pulled you out.”

You nodded. Slowly. The words hung in the air between you, unspoken.

They saw you broken. They saw you bleeding.

You couldn’t look at them long. There was too much memory behind your eyes.

You glanced around the room instead, drinking in the details. The normalcy. The warmth.

“Why am I here?” you asked.

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because one of ours forgot what the rules were. Took you. Tried to sell you.”

A pause.

Kieran’s voice was softer. “Boss handled it.”

That word again.

Boss.

The one who didn’t smile. The one who said, You’re safe with me.

Your fingers curled slightly at the memory.

“He’ll explain everything,” Kieran added. “Eventually.”

Luke pushed off the couch, stretching with a casual groan. “In the meantime, wanna tour the place? Beats sitting around waiting for answers you won’t like.”

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Because doing nothing meant thinking. And you weren’t ready for that.

They guided you through the halls, slow and careful. Kieran stayed close, steadying you when your steps faltered. He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to.

Luke talked enough for both of them—spinning stories of near-deaths and absurd luck, of missions gone sideways and rescues pulled off by the skin of their teeth.

His words danced with levity, but there was steel under them. Like someone who knew too much about endings.

You saw the way Kieran watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. Not out of curiosity. Out of calculation.

Not because he didn’t trust you.

Because he didn’t trust what your presence meant.

Eventually, they led you into a grand dining hall. Tall windows. Carved chairs. A chandelier that caught the light like frozen starlight.

It should have felt like safety.

It didn’t.

It felt like a memory you hadn’t earned.

“Don’t let it fool you,” Luke said, smirking. “We still eat like animals.”

You made a sound—something almost like a laugh.

Almost.

They kept walking. The manor was vast. Worn in places. Lived in. This wasn’t a kingdom. It was a sanctuary built out of necessity and quiet rebellion.

They weren’t soldiers. Not really. Not anymore.

Problem solvers, they called themselves.

Saviors, sometimes.

Monsters, on the worst nights.

By the time you reached the final corridor, your body ached with every breath. But you didn’t ask to stop.

Not until you reached a tall, unmarked door.

Luke knocked. “Boss. She’s awake.”

Silence.

Then—a sound. Barely audible.

A hum. Permission.

Luke opened the door and grinned at you over his shoulder. “End of the tour. Five stars or we riot.”

You didn’t smile.

But you stepped forward anyway.

Because this was the part you couldn’t avoid.

The truth was waiting on the other side.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Softly. Decisively.

You were alone with him again.

The air in the room was different—cooler, denser, like the stillness that hangs in cathedrals long after the last prayer has been spoken. A sanctuary built of shadows and silence.

Sylus sat behind a wide desk, fingers poised over open folders and screens that glowed faintly with information you didn’t understand. He didn’t glance up right away.

But you could feel it.

The tension wound tight beneath his skin.

The weight of a thousand things left unsaid.

Finally, he looked up.

Crimson eyes. Cold. Constant. And yet, somewhere beneath the surface, a flicker of something else.

Recognition. Or maybe… guilt.

He closed the folder with a quiet snap and folded his hands in front of him.

“Come,” he said. “I don’t bite.”

There was no warmth in his voice.

But no danger, either.

You stepped forward. Slowly. One careful foot after the other. The ache in your body was quieter now. Manageable. Just another scar trying to form.

You sat.

He watched.

His gaze didn’t pierce. It held. Like a question he wasn’t ready to ask aloud.

“I’m sure you have a million questions,” he said, his voice level, as if this were a meeting, not a reckoning. “But you only need one answer.”

A pause.

“I knew your sister.”

The words landed like a knife laid gently on the table between you.

Not a threat.

A truth.

Your throat closed around the weight of it. You hadn’t said her name. Hadn’t brought her up.

But he had.

And somehow, that made it real.

“How?” you asked.

It came out quieter than you meant. Fragile. But he didn’t mock it.

He took a breath. Measured. Hollow.

“We were… close,” he said. And for a moment, the mask slipped.

Just a crack.

Enough for something old to bleed through.

You saw it then—not clearly, but like a reflection on dark water. Her smile in his memory. Her voice in his silence. Something broken between them, never spoken aloud.

And maybe never forgiven.

You swallowed. “And Carson?”

His eyes sharpened, the crimson in them flickering like embers. “Gone.”

Just that. One word.

Final. Absolute.

You nodded, though the ache in your chest didn’t ease.

Then—his voice again. Low. Heavier now.

“I made her a promise.”

You looked at him, heart thudding.

“What kind of promise?”

His hand twitched—barely noticeable. Then he removed his glasses and folded them neatly on the desk.

That gesture said more than his words.

His eyes were bare now. Unshuttered.

“Before she died,” he said, “she made me swear I’d protect you.”

The room went still.

Not from silence. From memory.

You thought of your sister’s voice.

The way she’d held your hand when you were small. The last time you saw her. The way her shadow still curled around the corners of your grief.

You had cried for her in a stranger’s arms. Grieved her behind closed doors. And now here he was.

The man who hadn’t been at the funeral.

But who had carried a piece of her in silence.

You didn’t know whether to hate him or thank him.

So you said nothing.

Because there was nothing safe enough to say.

“All you need to know,” he said, voice softer now—like the edge of a blade dulled by time—“is that you’re not here by accident. And you’re not alone.”

Your breath shook.

Not from fear.

But because a part of you wanted—desperately—to believe him.

His words echoed like wind through a hollow place:

I promised her I’d protect you.

You pressed your hand to your chest, as if to quiet the ache rising there. As if to keep from falling apart all over again.

You wanted to ask her what to do.

But the dead never answer.

Only the living carry their promises.

And sometimes, those promises look like men with red eyes and silence where softness should be.

He didn’t look at you when he spoke again.

His gaze dropped to the desk, to the place where his folded glasses rested—still, undisturbed, like something sacred he didn’t want to touch.

“I should have known.”

The words were quieter than the room.

You blinked, caught off guard—not by the admission, but by the weight behind it.

“I should have seen the signs.” His voice was steady, but too careful. Measured like someone standing at the edge of a confession he didn’t know how to give. “Carson was… slipping. And I let it slide.”

He finally looked at you, and for a moment, you saw it.

Not power. Not steel.

But something quieter. Guilt, raw and unfinished. The kind that carves itself into the bones and settles in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

“I trusted the wrong man,” he said. “And you paid the price.”

You didn’t speak.

Because if you did, you weren’t sure what would come out. Grief. Rage. Or worse—understanding.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, fingers lacing together.

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness,” he said, and this time, his voice wasn’t steady at all. “That would be… self-serving.”

The pause that followed was heavy.

“But I will say this—” His gaze held yours now, unflinching. “What happened to you will never happen again. Not under my roof. Not under my command.”

There was a promise in his voice. One made of steel and silence.

But beneath it, something else.

A tremor.

A flicker.

Like the moment before a dam breaks.

You stared at him—really stared—and realized something you hadn’t before.

He wasn’t just protecting you because of your sister.

He was atoning.

For what, you didn’t know yet.

But you felt it in your chest. The way his words seemed to recoil the moment they left his mouth, as if every syllable had teeth.

“I don’t expect trust,” he added after a moment, softer now. “Not from you. Not anymore.”

He exhaled.

And in that breath, you heard it.

The echo of a man who once made a promise to a dying woman.

And failed.

He sat back in his chair, gaze drifting away once more—toward the window, where dusk had begun to gather along the edges of the sky.

The silence between you stretched again. But this time, it wasn’t sharp.

It was soft.

Frayed.

Wounded.

You lowered your gaze, unsure what to say.

So instead, you simply whispered, “Okay.”

It wasn’t forgiveness.

It wasn’t absolution.

But it was something.

And in a world like this, where men like Sylus carried ghosts on their shoulders and tried to outrun them with orders and silence, it might have been enough.

Just for tonight.

Night fell slow and uncertain, wrapping the manor in a hush too heavy to be peace.

You stood at the window of your borrowed room, hands resting lightly on the sill. The glass was cold beneath your fingers. Outside, the courtyard flickered with scattered lantern light, their glow trembling against the darkness like breaths you couldn’t catch.

You hadn’t lit the lamp.

There was something comforting about the dark. Something honest.

It didn’t pretend to fix what was broken.

It simply let it be.

You thought he’d left hours ago. After the apology. After the vow laced with guilt and too much restraint.

He hadn’t lingered.

Just turned away, coat whispering behind him, and vanished into the hall with the quiet surety of someone who knew how to disappear.

And yet…

You felt it.

That strange, almost imperceptible pull at the edge of your awareness.

The weight of eyes not cruel, not curious—just there.

You turned, slowly, scanning the room as if the shadows might shift and give him away.

But nothing moved.

Only silence.

You let out a breath. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe your nerves were frayed beyond recognition, making ghosts out of memory and meaning.

You crossed the room, eased into the bed, and pulled the blankets up to your chest. The pillow smelled faintly of smoke and leather. A scent that didn’t belong to you.

You turned onto your side, facing the door. Just in case.

But sleep didn’t come.

It hovered at the edges—teasing, half-formed.

And then—

A whisper of motion.

You didn’t open your eyes.

Didn’t move.

But you heard it. The barely-there shift of air. A coat settling over a chair. The weight of someone sitting down slow, deliberate.

A presence settling like dusk in the corner of the room.

Sylus.

He said nothing.

Did nothing.

But you felt the silence curve around him, reshaping itself. No longer empty. Just… quiet.

You wondered how long he’d been there.

How long he would stay.

You should have been angry. Or afraid. But you weren’t.

Not with him.

Because his silence didn’t feel dangerous.

It felt like a vigil.

Like penance.

You let your lashes lower, heart steady but uncertain.

He didn’t think you were awake.

And so, for the first time, you saw him without the armor.

Just a man in a chair.

Posture too still. Hands clasped together as if in prayer—or apology.

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the floor like it had answers he’d never find.

The light from the hall bled faintly beneath the door, gilding the curve of his jaw, the silver of his hair, the hollows beneath his eyes.

He looked tired.

Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix.

But the kind that came from carrying too much of the past without letting any of it go.

A moment passed.

Then another.

And softly—so softly you almost missed it—he spoke.

“I should’ve come sooner.”

You didn’t know if the words were for you. Or for her.

Maybe both.

He stayed there a long time after that.

Saying nothing more.

Just watching.

Just breathing in the silence like it was the only thing left that didn’t lie.

And eventually, you let yourself sleep.

Not because you trusted him.

But because, somehow, for the first time in days, your heartbeat no longer felt like a countdown.

[jonquilyst]

Day 14 - Challenge Day

2 weeks into the 3rd season of TDS, only two-thirds of our cast of 18 are still in the running. That's still more than half, of course, but the one-third of the cast that has already been eliminated is a sizeable chunk. Not to mention one of our teams has already dissolved! The plane is beginning to get less and less crowded...

We've ventured away from the city and have arrived in Forgotten Hollow! It's a pretty bright day for an otherwise gloomy and sleepy place. Legends say this neighborhood can get pretty dangerous at night for humans, since it's home to vampires. Thankfully, it's too sunny for any vampires to be roaming around, so our human contestants should be safe.

That isn't to say we won't have a good scare, though! In today's challenge, one member from each team will take turns grabbing a treat from a pair of trick-or-treat bowls. These aren't ordinary trick-or-treat bowls, though. Each time a treat is taken, the bowl will scare the treat-taker!

Here's the catch though: these bowls have several different jumpscares, and the teams will need to get two specific ones to receive points: either the zombie hand or the ghost. If a contestant gets any other jumpscare (mist or simply the candy flying out), it will not count. The team with the highest points wins invincibility and first class!

Also, our team numbers are even, so everyone is participating today!

Raylan (OD) and Estrello (IN) were chosen to go first! As you can see, Alanna (IN) is feeling pretty competitive today and urged Estrello to get the correct jumpscare. Lucky for him, he got a ghost! But Raylan also got a ghost, preventing Team Integrity from starting a lead. Both teams score a point!

As if TDS hadn't done our beret club dirty enough, the wheel of names have chosen for Carson (IN) and Marilyn (OD) to go against each other!! In the end though, Carson got the mist and Marilyn simply had candy flying out with no ghost or zombie hand, so neither of them score a point for their teams.

It was the same story for Nite (OD) and Matteo (IN), who both got the glowing mist. The teams remain tied at 1-1.

Things take a turn when Touma (OD) and Avery (IN) have their turns and both are met with zombie hands! The score increases to 2 for both teams.

When Ziggy (OD) and Alanna (IN) have their turns, at long last the tie between the teams was broken when only Ziggy got the correct jumpscare! He got a ghost while Alanna was stuck with the glowing mist. Team Odyssey takes the lead!

Last but not least, Tomiko (OD) and Elio (IN) have their turns and a similar outcome unfolds. Tomiko got the ghost, while Elio only had candy fly out. Tomiko has her treat knowing she just secured her team's win! The challenge ends with a score of 4-2!

TEAM ODYSSEY WINS!

Congratulations, Team Odyssey! You weren't gonna let Team Integrity have another win, so you've successfully won invincibility and taken back first class! You are all safe.

And Team Integrity, it's time for another elimination for you! This time just you and your team alone. Who will you be sending away this time? We will find out...

Today's Confessional: Ziggy Skint

"I knew we had it in us to win and get first class back. Sure, we might not be the best singers, but we're good at many other things, and I know we aren't afraid of any ghosts or zombie hands! I thought the jumpscare was pretty funny."

"Elio is pretty popular on their team, so I thought it was epic seeing Tomiko beat them and therefore winning the challenge. I know Elio's a good sport, but they looked pretty sore after they lost!"

@ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @bloomingkyras @changingplumbob @lyratea @invisiblequeen

@paracosmic-sims @matchalovertrait @aliengirl @nakasumi-sims @kissalopa

@hellogreta @kari-sims

[dreamscarx]

Fears to Fathom: Carson House

Lot details

∞ World: Del Sol Valley ∞ Size: 40x30 ∞ Price: $163,015 ∞ Lot Type: Residential ∞  3 Bed, 2 Bath

Note Enable “bb.moveobjects on” before placing  (Pictures taken with terrain mod override)

Packs used ~EPs: Cats&Dogs City Living Cottage Living Discover University Eco Lifestyle For Rent Get Famous Get To Work Get Together Growing Together High School Years Horse Ranch Island Living Lovestruck Seasons Snowy Escape ~GPs: Dine Out Dream Home Decorator Jungle Adventure Outdoor Retreat Parenthood Strangerville ~SPs: Backyard Crystal Creations Home Chef Hustle Laundry Day Moschino ~Kits: Artist StudioBasement Treasures Bathroom Clutter Blooming Rooms Book Nook Cozy Bistro Desert Luxe Everyday Clutter Greenhouse Haven Little Campers Pastel Pop

~This Lot has been playtested, but let me know if something isn't working ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[bqstqnbruin]

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs. 

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.” 

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.” 

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue? 

“Anthony came by work today.” 

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.” 

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.” 

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do. 

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?” 

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts. 

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.” 

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least. 

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?” 

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar. 

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her. 

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.” 

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around. 

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her. 

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this? 

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” 

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be. 

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all. 

“That’s nice.” 

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’” 

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side. 

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her. 

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her. 

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.” 

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?” 

“If you want to call it that.” 

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.” 

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells. 

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.” 

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.” 

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.” 

“It’s kind of annoying.” 

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.” 

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.” 

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.” 

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.” 

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket. 

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame. 

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.” 

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.” 

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him. 

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. 

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.” 

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead. 

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked. 

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised. 

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her. 

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.” 

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?” 

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.” 

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.” 

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?” 

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?” 

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.” 

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her. 

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.”

“He might just be dumb.” 

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire. 

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother. 

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same. 

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her. 

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs. 

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend. 

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same. 

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed. 

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her. 

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them. 

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.” 

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with. 

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought. 

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to. 

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan. 

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing. 

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast. 

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent. 

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.” 

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law. 

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else. 

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.” 

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another. 

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother? 

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.” 

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.” 

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack. 

She would never be with Jack. 

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed. 

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up. 

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them. 

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her. 

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment. 

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?” 

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.” 

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all. 

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.” 

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.” 

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ‘no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.” 

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night. 

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted. 

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.” 

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.” 

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called. 

“No,” Jack mumbles. 

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.” 

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.” 

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.” 

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep. 

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger. 

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty. 

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.” 

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him. 

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside. 

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did. 

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.” 

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way. 

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him. 

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I’m too deep in this fandom smh

Ok ok I was listening to my Breeders CD and came onto the song “Drivin On 9”. Looked up the lyrics cos for the longest time I thought the line was “Drivin All Night”, and found out it’s actually a cover of a song sang by a dude…and holy shit this song is so Sandypop to me ok. The original would be Soda’s POV and the Breeders version is Sandy’s.

Just augh look at the lyrics istg I’m not crazy

“Drivin’ on 9 You could be a shadow 'Neath the street light Behind my home

Drivin' on 9 I sure miss you Pass the motel Give a dog a bone

Drivin' on 9 You'll sure look pretty In Carson City Walking down the aisle

(Carson City Nevada is known for quick/cheap weddings)

Drivin' on 9 Will you wear white? I sure hope not But you might, just to spite

Drivin' on 9 Does your daddy have a shotgun? He said he'd never need one Looking at the pines

(Shotgun weddings = fast weddings, usually due to a pregnancy. Sandy’s dad doesn’t need one because she isn’t gonna marry Soda)

Drivin' on 9 Looking out my windowsill Wondering if you took your pill Wondering if it's mine

Drivin' on 9 How old is Cindy? She sure looks like me Send me a card”

God I have such a clear vision for this in my head. The Breeders version w/ the alternate lyrics works so well for Sandy too, particularly here:

“Looking out my windowsill Wondering if I want you still Wondering what's mine”

Like she’s questioning if she wants to do this with Soda. Idk, in my take on Sandy, she liked Soda and cared for him, but never was in love with him. And she didn’t expect to have to be with him forever. So she’s choosing to raise their kid without him because she just doesn’t want him like that. And it completely kills him. She’s kind enough to tell him the kid isn’t his, but boy, the kid sure looks like him…

Sandypop aside this song is so solid I genuinely love it sm

[woah-were-halfway-there]

The Fight

a/n: y'all asked for this one back, here it is. enjoy!

the one where carson and auston almost break up

word count: 2.7k

Everything happened so quickly and unexpectedly.

It was just a regular Tuesday in late September, and Carson was still adapting to some new things in her life. She graduated from university that June and landed a job as a social media marketer a month and a half later for a company in downtown Toronto.

She wasn’t to start her new job until September, and with the money she had saved, Carson could spend most of the summer in Arizona with Auston.

It was the third summer in a row that she had visited him during the offseason. Sure, being there for over a month was much longer than the usual week or two Carson would usually spend visiting her boyfriend in the city he grew up in during years prior, but it was needed. And it was nice for the most part, but it, too, brought some change.

About two weeks before Carson was to fly back home to Toronto, Auston asked if she would move in with him. They had been dating for over two and a half years, and he felt they were at that point in their relationship.

It worked out, too, because Carson’s lease at her old apartment was up at the beginning of September. Lexie was leaving Toronto altogether, so Carson was left looking for a new roommate or place to live.

Carson was open to whatever; she just needed a place to stay. However, her search ended when Auston asked her to move in because, although hesitant to do so, being afraid they may not have been ready for that step, Carson didn’t see a reason to say no.

Things went great… at first.

When Carson returned to Toronto alone, she began slowly packing and moving some of her stuff into Auston’s condo. Soon after, Auston was also back; he helped her move the rest.

Carson started her new job the day after Labour Day and got to spend almost two weeks living with Auston before he had to leave for Newfoundland with the rest of the Leafs for the remainder of training camp and to kick off their preseason games. Auston was gone for his birthday but returned soon after. Soon after, the guys were to play exhibition games in Ottawa, Buffalo, Montreal and Detroit.

The day before the Leafs was to take on the Habs at SBA, Carson was on break at work, texting Lexie just catching up with her best friend, updating each other on how each of their moves went, when Carson got a notification on her phone.

It was about Auston.

It wasn’t rare that Twitter notified Carson about news regarding her boyfriend, but this tweet, in particular, had her on edge.

“Maple Leafs star Auston Matthews was charged with disorderly conduct and disruptive behaviour in Arizona,” Carson read aloud as she tried to process the news article's title.

Surely, she would have been aware of Auston being criminally charged for something, Carson thought. There was no way he wouldn’t tell her something like that. However, Carson was proven wrong when she clicked on the article and saw the rest of the story.

Carson couldn’t believe what she was reading, but the evidence was right before her, and there was no denying it. Auston had been charged with disorderly conduct and didn’t bother telling her about it.

Anger, disappointment, frustration, and many other emotions hit Carson like a tidal wave. It wasn’t long before she was packing up her laptop and other belongings before telling her boss she wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home. Carson’s boss didn’t press her about it and sent her on her way.

It took Carson about thirty minutes to get home. It wasn’t a long commute back to the condo, Carson worked downtown Toronto as it was, but she found herself taking a long way back in an attempt to clear her mind.

It didn’t work, and she returned home with her heart racing.

When Carson walked into the condo, Auston was on the phone. He was pacing back and forth, pushing his hand through his hair and going off to whoever was on the other end of the call. Carson didn’t make her presence known immediately, but then Auston looked right at her.

“Ok, yeah, I, uh, I have to go. I’ll call you back later, alright? Carse just got home,” Auston said into the phone before telling the person he was talking to goodbye and hanging up. Then he stepped closer to Carson, and she could feel herself stiffening. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t call me that right now,” Carson spat and watched as Auston’s face went pale. He knew that she knew.

“Carson, I can explain.”

“Explain what, Auston? And why now? It seems you’ve had four months to explain but decided not to.”

Carson could feel the tears building in her eyes and hated that she was on the brink of crying because she was already so frustrated.

Carson didn’t care that Auston saw her that upset. She needed to understand what was happening but wasn’t sure if she trusted Auston enough to tell her everything she needed.

“I-,” Auston started, then paused, and Carson could see that tears were fighting to break free from his eyes too. “I’m assuming you saw the article. Babe, I am so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Carson asked, her voice cracking. She was terrified to know the answer.

“I didn’t know how,” he stated, and Carson would’ve been lying if she said it didn’t sting a bit hearing that. “I never thought it’d become this whole ordeal. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t get the chance.”

“Didn’t get the chance to tell me? Auston, this happened in May! What do you mean you didn’t get the chance? You could have told me when it happened or when you flew back here for my graduation at the beginning of June. You could’ve told me when I came to Scottsdale for an entire month or before you asked me to fucking move in with you after you were criminally charged with disorderly conduct but didn’t tell me!”

A sob left Carson’s mouth after those words left her mouth because she knew it was real then. And that sucked a whole lot.

“I know,” Auston sighed and looked towards the ground guiltily. “And I’m sorry, Carse, I really am. I knew you’d be upset and was too chicken to tell you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed. Fuck, this is just a whole misunderstanding. I shouldn’t have been charged at all.”

Now, that comment didn’t sit right with Carson.

“W-what do you mean by that?” She questioned.

“The whole thing was just stupid,” he explained. “I was drunk. I didn’t mean any harm by it. This entire thing just shouldn’t be happening right now. The charge was completely unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Carson scoffed, not believing what she had just heard. “Auston, you made a woman extremely uncomfortable and scared. You can’t decide someone's trauma for them. It doesn’t matter what you meant by it; you still did it and need to own up to that.”

“And this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d get worked up over it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I’m getting worked up over the fact that my boyfriend harassed a woman, got charged because of it, didn’t tell me and is now pissed because he’s getting called out for it. God, Auston, grow up! You’re a fucking adult.”

“Grow up, huh?” He asked, looking surprised and raising his voice. “Yes, Carson. Thank you, really good tip.”

“Ok, well, now you’re just being rude.”

“I’m just, this is a lot to deal with, and you being on my ass about it isn’t helping.”

“I cannot believe you right now,” Carson told him while shaking her head. “That’s on you, Auston. Not me. And do excuse me for being on your ass about this because, a friendly reminder, I didn’t know anything! You left me in the dark. You assumed that I’d freak out over this, and honestly, I am not in the wrong for doing so. I would have listened to you if you had told me and tried to help you through it, but you assumed I wouldn’t. And that hurts. I would have tried to understand, but you didn’t even give me a chance. What happened to us being a team and telling each other everything, hmm? That’s why you wanted me to move in with you, right? Cause we’re in this together, but let me tell you, it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it at the moment.”

Carson was crying and saw a few tears in Auston’s eyes. She wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be ok. But Carson knew better. It wouldn’t be that simple.

“I don’t know what else I can say,” Auston finally said after a few seconds of silence.

“Have you talked to your parents yet?” Carson asked, sniffling and only imagining what could be running through Ema’s head with news of Auston being charged just coming out of nowhere.

However, Auston didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked away from Carson and to the floor again.

“They already knew.”

“Pardon?”

“They already knew,” Auston repeated and looked at Carson apologetically. ”My whole family knew when it happened. I asked them not to tell you because I wanted to be the one to let you know, and then I just didn’t.”

“Oh, my god,” Carson whispered and had to look away from him, adding the feeling of betrayal to every other emotion coursing through her.

“Carson, it’s not their fault. This is on me,” Auston pleaded as he stepped towards Carson and reached out, but she quickly backed away.

“Don’t touch me, Auston. Please.”

The hurt expression that washed over Auston’s face as Carson said that was almost enough to get her to give in to him right then and there. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“I don’t know what I can do to fix this,” he spoke softly. “Babe, I-.”

“That’s something you need to figure out,” Carson cut him off. “Not me. You. You did this, Auston, and have already roped so many people into something I can tell you haven’t taken any responsibility for. The way this is being handled is no one's fault but your own, and I really thought you’d be one to see that.”

“I am, Carson if you’d just-.”

“You made a woman uncomfortable, then told me that her pressing charges were unnecessary because they inconvenienced you. Do you not realize how fucked up that is? Auston, I’ve considered doing something similar because of my psychotic ex, and you know this. I, god, it doesn’t even feel like I’m talking to my boyfriend. I feel like I don’t even know the man that is standing in front of me right now.”

Carson could tell how her words struck Auston, but she didn’t take them back. That was precisely how she was feeling.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath. “But I’m still me, Carse.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Carson responded and didn’t bother wiping any tears she knew were streaming down her face.

The two stood silently for a moment before Carson stepped further into the room just to go around her boyfriend and head down the hall toward their bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Auston asked as he entered the room shortly after Carson, only to see her packing a bag.

“Anywhere but here,” Carson sniffled as she moved to grab some clothes from the closet.

“Baby.”

“I asked you not to call me that.”

“Carson,” he corrected as he continued following her between the closet and bed. “You’re upset, I understand. But you shouldn’t drive. Let's wait it out, and we can both cool down and talk.”

“I’ll call Mitchy,” Carson deadpanned. “Or Steph, or an Uber, it doesn’t matter. I just can’t be here.”

“You don’t have to leave. This is your home too.”

“Except it doesn’t feel like home, Auston, and neither do you right now,” Carson sobbed as she zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I need to go.”

Auston was crying just as much as Carson at that point. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know,” Carson responded, unsure of if she’d be back, which was a thought that broke her heart even more.

Carson walked by Auston and back to the front door without another word, completely aware that he was right behind her as she went.

Auston watched as Carson started calling, who he assumed was Mitch while gathering her work things and putting her shoes back on. No more words were exchanged between them as Carson opened the door and walked into the hallway.

However, Carson did hear the faint ‘I love you’ Auston said just before the door closed and separated her from him.

Carson was still sobbing as she leaned against the wall for support and waited for Mitch to answer her call. As soon as he picked up, Mitch asked if she was ok, and Carson told him that she felt like everything was falling apart. Mitch asked where Carson was and told her he was on his way to get her.

A couple of hours later, Carson was lying on Steph and Mitch’s couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket and still crying. Her head rested on Steph’s lap as they sat there watching the second High School Musical movie, which Mitchy thought might not have been the best idea with how Carson began sobbing again when Gabriella sang Gotta Go My Own Way, but still, Carson refused to turn it off.

The last time Carson felt that much heartbreak was when she found out her ex, Chris was cheating on her after being together since she was fifteen. It was from that heartbreak Carson was able to meet and fall for Auston, but never in a million years did she expect him to make her feel similarly to how Chris did. So yes, it was two completely different situations, but it hurt just as bad.

Similarly enough, though, this was the second time Carson showed up at her cousin’s place, utterly distraught over a boy. But luckily for her, Mitch never turned her away and was always there to help where he could. He was always his twin’s rock when she needed it.

Carson didn’t know what to do, think or feel. It was all fuzzy, but she was thankful to have Mitch and Steph to help her through her breakdown.

To try to clear her mind, Carson turned off her phone and left it in the kitchen for the night.

Upon setting her phone down, Carson saw numerous missed calls and texts from Auston. He and his family tried to get ahold of her to apologize and talk, and other family members wanted to check in on her. But she couldn’t face it.

Mitch made sure to talk to Nate, Mya, and the rest of their family just to let them know that Carson was with him and would be staying with him and Steph for as long as she needed to. He informed Carson that Nate and Mya were not impressed and that Lexie called him fuming, which was to be expected. Mitchy also told Carson he messaged Auston because he knew her boyfriend would be stressing over not knowing where she had gone after their fight. In that message, Mitch made sure Auston knew how pissed he was at the situation but still knew Auston would be relieved to get an update on Carson.

Once the movie was over, Carson was too exhausted to watch the third High School Musical, so she opted to watch an episode of The Office while cuddling Zeus before eventually falling asleep.

Steph slowly got out from underneath Carson’s head while Mitch grabbed another blanket and draped it over her so she wouldn’t get cold. They didn’t bother waking Carson up so she could move to the guest room because they knew if she wanted to, she would. So, they let her be and hoped for her own sake; the following days would be much better than this one.

[forrest-dunn]

Forrest stood on the beach, barefoot in the cool sand, the sunset painting the sky in fiery streaks of orange and pink. The waves rolled in steadily, crashing against the shore before retreating back into the vast ocean. He watched them, hypnotized by the rhythm. Each surge felt like a heartbeat — steady, inevitable, alive.

It had been years since he’d let himself be this close to the ocean; years since the water had stolen something from him he could never get back. The grief had become a constant companion, silent but always there, like a shadow he couldn’t escape. Recently, though, it had risen to the surface, raw and unrelenting. The pain, the guilt… it had started bleeding into everything. The women, the drinking, the reckless choices. A desperate attempt to bury something that refused to stay buried.

A month ago, Henley had found him sitting on his apartment floor, staring at nothing. She didn’t ask questions or offer empty words of comfort. She just told him to pack a bag. They disappeared into the mountains for a while, hiking trails that stretched for miles, far from the noise of the city and the weight of his own head. It helped, but it didn’t fix anything. Henley knew it. Forrest knew it.

When he dropped her back home, the answer became clear. He had to face it.

That night, he drove until the road disappeared into the horizon. Myrtle Beach wasn’t the closest option, but something about the name felt right. The long drive gave him time to think, or try not to think. He pulled into a beachside motel as the sun was rising and booked a room with a balcony overlooking the ocean.

The first day, he couldn’t even step onto the sand. The sound of the waves crashing made his chest tighten, and the smell of salt in the air felt suffocating, but he didn’t leave. He kept the balcony door open, let the sounds of the ocean fill the room, even when it brought tears he couldn’t stop.

By the second day, the crying had turned to something else. He sat on the balcony, gripping the armrests of the cheap plastic chair, whispering to no one. “I’m sorry.”

He said it over and over again. To Carson. To himself. To the 16-year-old boy who had tried so hard to fight the current, who had screamed for help until his voice broke, who had watched helplessly as his little brother was swallowed by the ocean.

On the third day, he stepped onto the sand.

Now, standing here at sunset, Forrest felt like the water was staring back at him, as if it were alive, as if it remembered everything.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said quietly, his voice lost in the crash of the waves. But, he stayed. 

The tide rolled closer, licking at Forrest’s feet. The cold sting startled him, but he didn’t move. He closed his eyes, letting the salt air burn in his lungs, letting the sounds pull him under. He thought about Carson’s laugh, his stubbornness, the way he used to dive headfirst into the waves without fear. He thought about Henley on the beach that day, building a sandcastle, unaware of the tragedy about to unfold in front of her. He thought about how he’d tried, how hard he’d tried, and how it still hadn’t been enough.

The tears came again, slow and quiet this time. He let them fall.

“I wish I could go back,” he whispered. “I’d trade anything. Everything.”

The ocean didn’t answer. It just kept moving, pulling away, coming back.

Forrest wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked out at the horizon. He didn’t know if he could forgive himself, but standing here, he felt something new. Not peace, exactly, but maybe the start of it.

For the first time in years, he didn’t turn away from the waves.

[howebuilt01]

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[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 108

Carson city

Nothing useful so far. No sign of Elysium yet either. A few outposts holding the communication lines across Utah and down into Arizona. Breadcrumbs of data, pointing the way to auxiliary Zero Dawn facilities—the sort that didn't last long once the Swarm broke ground off the southern coast. I have a lot of leads to follow. I just have to hope that a thousand years of decay haven't destroyed every last one of them.

And I got sentimental, after a while. Riding in circles, pointed backwards by newly decoded logs, through outlands occupied only by bandits and tiny tribes holding out against their raids. Mostly machines. New machines. At least that's been exciting.

I finally found an ancient map of the area in one of the old Enduring Victory military bunkers. Carson city was close; the place where Elisabet was born, and might even have returned to. At least, she meant to. When I set out I didn't think she could have walked all the way from Gaia Prime across the dead lands, through the swarm's ranks. I suppose they might have been laying down to rest by then, food running low. Still, a long journey to make alone.

I rode west, coming up through Arizona to dodge Carja borders and Tenakth territory, walled off by mountain ranges. More of Elisabet's journals were decrypted on the journey, both written in her curt tone and spoken in confidence to Gaia. If only I had a voice like her's to encourage me on my way. My odds seem just as impossible. The old world is in ruins, its data mostly a mess of garbled code, but Gaia wouldn't have sent me on this journey if she didn't know that there was a backup somewhere—some way to repair her.

At least I hope so. Machines think in microseconds, but maybe even she didn't have enough time to think things through before the mountain cracked and crumbled.

I made it to the ranch in the evening. The sun through the hanging dust of the desert touched everything pink and gold, and there was this oasis, this ring of vegetation clinging to a rusted structure in the middle of nowhere. Tall pines, the only trees for miles around. Even now, twenty years after the terraforming system started spiraling, the place was still green. It's probably some deep part of the world's programming now. This lingering honour of its creator.

She was lying on a bench, wrapped in armour like the set I so recently stripped for parts. Pink flowers framed her corpse in a triangle, like one of Demeter's metal flowers. Ivy climbed up through her suit. My Focus projection showed me a picture of her face. A holoskin, they used to call it. There was nothing but a skull beneath that helmet, if even that, but the projection showed her at peace. Showed her name on her cracked chest plate.

There was a pendent by her hand, clearly dropped from her grip, likely held until the end. I recognised it as a map of the world. The colours of green and blue paint still hadn't faded completely. There were hinges, rusted shut, that I didn't prise for fear of breaking it altogether. It seemed one nudge away from dissolving.

As I held it, and as I journeyed back, there's one journal I kept listening to over and over. Elisabet spoke of her mother often in her talks with Gaia, but mostly in the abstract. This one memory, she spoke of in detail. It clearly made its mark on her. Maybe the first time she felt guilt and reeled from it in a rage. Her mother forced her to feel it, to act on it. Taught her might be the better word. From all I've heard of the Old World, seems like a lot of people never learnt. There's the burning of one tree, a few birds, then there's the entire planet and all life on it. Faro could never face up to that.

The journey out here wasn't a complete waste of time. Closure, maybe—something priceless, a garden instead of a headstone, another abandoned old house that will never be home—reassurance, a feeling of being watched. The good kind. More importantly for the mission, there was data on Elisabet's suit mapping out the locations of other Zero Dawn facilities—backup data centres and old laboratories roped into the project as Robot Command scooped up all the resources it could find. Yet more leads. Best get back on the trail.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The Rinckel Mansion is an 1876 Victorian Italianate in Carson City, Nevada and is decorated nicely, except for the kitchen remodel. 4bds, 3ba. $2.4M.

This is the only photo of the entrance hall, which is a weird choice.

The sitting room is so fancy, isn't it? All of the original moldings and woodwork is intact and the professionally painted ceiling is amazing.

This is one of 2 dining rooms. At some point it was a bed & breakfast, and has since been maintained by the current owners. Isn't that a nice alcove in the front of the room?

This is another dining room. The two front rooms would typically be sitting rooms, and this would be the dining room.

The kitchen is industrial, unchanged from when it was a business. I don't like the cabinetry, except for the antique Hoosier cabinet.

This room, currently used as a home office, has a beautiful alcove with a starry wall and ceiling.

The 2nd fl. hall at the top of the stairs.

Love the alcoves in the rooms. This is lovely.

The bedrooms are spacious, but if it was a B&B, there are only 4 bds and not all of them have dedicated bathrooms.

And, this is bedroom #3.

Bedroom #4 is set up as a family room.

This shower room is kind of a disjointed reno.

And, bath #2 is down a side hall.

In the yard is a porch and a very large pergola.

9,583 sq. ft. lot with lots of parking on the sides.