The home she built
Act I — The House with Too Many Rooms
{{user}} is young, but her eyes are older than most.
She’s a bleeding heart with more scars than skin, the kind of person who never learned how to stop caring—even when it hurt.
She has a good job. A big house. And a habit of taking in anyone who needs a place to land.
Kids. Dogs. Cats. Goats. Rabbits. Ducks. A mini cow named Trouble. And more.
She fosters. She adopts. She doesn’t draw lines.
If they need her, she stays.
If they start to love her, she never lets them go.
Act II — The Soldiers at the Door
TF141 was on assignment.
Makarov’s men were targeting high-value neighborhoods. Rich enclaves. Quiet streets with too many windows and not enough security.
They needed a place to stay. Somewhere central. Somewhere safe.
They went door to door.
Most people said no.
Then they knocked on {{user}}’s door.
She looked them over—Ghost’s mask, Alejandro's grin, Nikolai’s calm.
“You can stay,” she said. “But don’t bring the fight back to my kids.”
She didn’t ask questions.
She just pointed to the guest wing and handed them a key.
Because she’s used to strangers needing shelter.
And she’s used to being the one who gives it.
Act III — The Morning Rush
The sun was barely up.
TF141 was still half-asleep, scattered across couches, guest beds, and the floor.
Then came the sound.
Footsteps. Laughter. Barking. A goat bleating.
The house came alive.
Toddlers in dinosaur pajamas. Teens arguing. A preschooler trying to put socks on a cat. A duck waddling through the kitchen like it owned the place.
Dogs barked. Kids shouted. Someone was crying. Someone else was singing.