#Senior Care Services for Aging Parents

[orianecare]

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[reasonsforhope]

"Vice President Kamala Harris is proposing to provide federal funding to cover home care costs for older Americans, aiming to help the “ sandwich generation " of adults caring for aging parents while raising their children at the same time.

Appearing Tuesday on ABC’s “The View,” Harris talked about taking care of her mother when she was dying and personally experiencing the challenges many families face when seeking affordable in-home care for their aging loved ones.

She promised that if, elected in November, she will seek to expand Medicare, the federal health insurance program for older Americans, so that it covers long-term care and includes services like in-home aides. Harris said aides could help seniors do things as simple as preparing meals or putting on sweaters because it is “about dignity for that individual. It’s about independence for that individual.”

Her proposal is a new one just a month out from Election Day but the issue is one that President Joe Biden's administration has been working on for years.

In an effort to soften the effects of inflation, the White House promoted as part of Build Back Better, its legislative agenda that stalled on Capitol Hill years ago, steeply increased federal spending for child care as well as for seniors. After Build Back Better collapsed, the Biden administration continued to promote increasing spending for what it calls “the care economy,” a cause Harris has continued to mention after replacing Biden at the top of the Democratic ticket.

“These plans are common sense. They can help family caregivers work and save both families and the federal government money by allowing seniors to stay in their homes instead of being sent to nursing homes,” the Harris campaign said in a fact sheet detailing her proposal. “Medicare at Home will also reduce hospitalizations.”

As part of a blitz of media interviews she’s been doing in recent days, Harris sat down after her appearance on “The View” with radio personality Howard Stern, who said that his mother is 97. Taking care of an elderly parent, he said, “will bankrupt you.”

Such costs have increased pressure on adults caring for their parents and kids simultaneously. In 2019, roughly 30% of family caregivers of older Americans lived in households that included children or grandchildren, according to AARP.

Harris would likely have to work with Congress to achieve key parts of her proposal. Harris’ campaign points to past, similar proposals projected to cost $40 billion annually, but says much of that can be offset by savings achieved through efforts begun by the Biden administration to expand Medicare’s ability to negotiation prices with major drug manufacturers.

Harris is also promising to further expand Medicare to include hearing and vision coverage, while changing existing rules that can allow federal authorities to seize a deceased beneficiary’s home to recuperate costs. [Note: I'm sorry the current rules fucking what] The campaign fact sheet says that practice “means that those homes are not passed on to the seniors’ children, which particularly harms rural and minority families.”"

-via AP News, October 8, 2024

[steviewashere]

Don't Dish What You Can't Serve

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Sexual Harassment (Not Between Main Pairing), Chewing Tobacco, Gross Shit Happens That I Can't Say Because It Spoils The PlotTags: Different First Meeting AU, No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural AU, Steve Never Became Friends With Tommy and Carol, Hurt/Comfort, Tommy Hagan Being an Asshole, Tommy Hagan is a Piece of Shit Here, Waiter Steve Harrington, Line Cook Eddie Munson, They Work at Benny's, So This is an AU Where Benny's Never Closed, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Gets Revenge, Steve is a College Student (But That's Not Entirely Important Here), '86 Was Eddie's Year

🥤——————🥤 Steve picks up a new job in the summer of 1986, waiting tables. The job at Family Video fell through and it just didn’t pay enough. He was starting his first year at the local college soon and he desperately needed the money. Especially since his parents cut him off, sighting his one gap year as enough reason. And so he goes to Benny’s, fills out an application and turns it in the same day. Back at his apartment, also the same day, he gets hired on. Alongside another guy around his age, one he recognizes from high school as Eddie Munson—who must’ve finally finished his time as a senior and now just needed to work.

Neither of them really talk to each other outside of putting orders in and taking orders out. Maybe occasionally scolding the other because—“You didn’t ask how rare he wanted his steak, Harrington? How the hell am I supposed to make it then?” and “Munson, you forgot the fucking ketchup on this asshole’s cheeseburger and now he won’t shut the fuck up about it. Fix this, please for the love of god.”

So, sure, they don’t get along all that well all the time. They’re not friends. More so just acquaintances. And so they don't really talk.

However, that changes one evening.

It’s a couple weeks before the upcoming school year is supposed to start. Hawkins, Indiana is one of those little college towns. Meaning, the new students were finally moving, coming around, getting to know where they now lived. And that includes one particular customer, Tommy Hagan, and his girlfriend, Carol Perkins. They’ve been coming in since mid-July, despite the new year starting in September, despite move-in dates set in late August. Every Sunday, Steve sees their pinched, smarmy, cocky faces. And every Sunday, they always cause some sort of issue.

The first time, Tommy spilled his soda all over the tiled restaurant floor. Claimed it was an accident, but Steve saw him. He saw the guy push his cup over the edge. Heard him snicker as Steve bent down to wipe it up, as he stood back up and plastered on a tight smile, promising that he’d get him a new soda right away. Flushed with shame as Tommy laughed and laughed and laughed his ass off about the, “Guy with the big stupid eyes and no thoughts in his head” and how he, “Probably doesn’t have much going for him if he’s working in a place like this.”

A riddle and game, that’s what it was. Steve would welcome them, take their orders, put them in for Eddie to make, drop the food off, and be at their service if something went wrong. Which was always. And he’d endure the stupid comments Tommy would make when he wasn’t in earshot. Spanning from how incompetent their waiter was—“He’s always screwing something up, swear to god. Don’t even know how he’s holding a job here, jeez.”—to how big of a manwhore he is because of how tight his work pants were. As if Steve would ever be catching tail in his stupid slacks, always stained with food and sticky soda by the end of the night, and the same pants that give him wedgies if he doesn’t make them sit right on his waist. All in all, Tommy is their worst customer. But it’s just a job, Steve always thought, it’ll get better at some point. Tommy will eventually start classes and leave me alone.

Then, of course, comes the Sunday a couple weeks before the new school year. Tommy is alone this time. No Carol on his arm. He just slides into one of the booths and watches Steve work until he approaches. And immediately, something is terribly off about this encounter.

“Welcome to Benny’s, can I get any drinks started for you?” Steve asks. His script. Customer service voice pitchy and monotone as it drips from his mouth.

Tommy doesn’t answer for several moments. Leaving Steve to stand and loom and stare. To smile and squirm. As he rakes his eyes so unnoticeably over all of Steve’s frame. His tongue trails along the inside of his lower lip, eyes heated, a gross smirk on his face. Smarmy.

“Bet you’d look good without that dumb frilly apron around your waist,” Tommy teases. It’s half-flirtatious, Steve thinks. But all the same creepy and…predatory.

“Excuse me?” He can only respond.

The asshole hums, assessing. Repeats himself. And adds, “You’d make better tips, too. Maybe put some gloss on your lips, a tighter shirt, no apron…yeah…vision’s coming together, baby. Could make everybody your bitch when you serve them.” He stares for a second longer. Rests his face in his left hand and flutters his eyes at Steve. “Can I get my usual, pretty boy? And one of those strawberry milkshakes.”

Steve writes the order down on his little notepad, shifting foot to foot. His stomach twists and knots. Brain still whirling at what Tommy said, unable to retort. Doesn’t even know how to really feel. Not flattered, that’s for sure. Slimy…that seems like a good enough substitute for the emotions mildewing in his chest.

“Y’know,” Tommy continues, voice sticky the way humidity is—uncomfortable—“I see how hard you work around here sometimes, even if you are pretty bad at it. Swear I can see the cogs just clogging up in your head. If you wanna give that pea brain of yours a moment to relax, you could share that drink with me. Maybe I’ll tip you real good this time, baby.”

He shifts again. Hands clammy and bile in the back of his throat. Steve swallows hard, thinks he stutters something out akin to, “I’ll be back with your order,” and promptly disappears into the kitchen.

The door swings closed behind him. And he’s not really looking, not paying attention. Just trying to get away from the residue left in Tommy’s air of existence. In the seconds between entering the kitchen and trying to storm away, he runs into somebody. An exerted grunt, raspy and deep, sounds out in front of him.

“Hey! Watch”—the person gently grabs him by the shoulders and leads them somewhere that he can’t really register. In a softer voice, no longer agitated, “Steve? Hey, man, y’alright?”

Steve sniffles. It’s then that he recognizes the heat in his cheeks, overwhelmingly hot and itchy. The scalding of tears. A pinch behind his eyes. There’s a soft cushion underneath him, the telltale creak of one of the older dining chairs. The air smells like garlic and grease, but a breeze catches over his exposed forearms—most likely from an air conditioning unit. He’s in the break room, he can finally notice. And break he does.

“That asshole is back,” he garbles, “and he”—hiccup—“he’s being really gross to me.”

The person crouches down in front of him, putting them eye-to-eye. And he knows immediately that it’s Eddie. Long hair pulled up into as neat of a bun as he can manage. A group of pitch black bats on pale skin. Dark brown eyes, shifting back and forth between his own with a mixture of concern and anger.

“What’d he say to you, Steve?”

He sniffs again, trying to gain some composure before he inevitably has a full-blown breakdown. Inevitable because he always has one when he goes home to his apartment, but it might happen here, and he can’t afford to let it happen here. Not today, at least, not now.

“Calling me…calling me baby and pretty boy. And he—he’s trying to make me share his stupid milkshake and he calls me stupid—that I have a…a fucking pea brain. Eddie, he calls me stupid every single time he comes in and I just—he’s just—I can’t”—

Eddie runs his warm hands up and down his biceps, gently pushing the fabric of his quarter sleeve, too. He shushes low and whispered. Murmurs, “I don’t want you to go back out there without me, alright?” His eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s wet ones once more. One of his hands leaves and digs into his back pocket, producing a black bandana. And he carefully brings it up close, patting it over Steve’s blotchy cheeks. “You don’t deserve that, Steve,” he whispers, “and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. Just wait back here for a bit and I’ll get his order done.”

Steve nods slow and heavy. Wipes the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes—to which Eddie tuts at and firmly drags it away, replacing it with the worn, soft fabric of that bandana. “Sorry that I ran into you at the door,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you did. Because I’m going to make sure that asshole never bothers you again. ‘M sick of hearing what he does to you every single time he comes in.” Eddie stands up, but leaves the bandana to dangle in Steve’s loose grip. A tentative stroke through Steve’s hair, something he usually wouldn’t allow, but it’s too nice to turn down. “We’ll put him up on the wall, too. That bastard can suck a fucking egg.”

He laughs at that, or at least something like a laugh. It’s brittle, airy, but genuine. And watches Eddie go.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, though, Eddie wanders back into the break room and drags them back towards the milkshake blender in the kitchen. He has the ingredients all laid out next to the machine: vanilla ice cream, a gallon of milk, some freshly chopped strawberries, the can of whipped cream, and the glass itself. Adds the milk and the ice cream, but then stops abruptly, turning to dig something out of his pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Steve quietly asks, worried to be overheard through the ticket window.

“Oh, just some good ol’ payback,” Eddie answers, something darker than mirth in his tone. What he produces from his pocket is a can of chewing tobacco. The nasty menthol kind, too. He shakes the little tin in his hand, the tobacco thunking against the lid of the container. And then he twists the cap off, plucks a quarter sized amount, and stuffs the wad between his bottom teeth and lower lip. Mouth literally bulging with the tobacco. “We’ll blend this shit first,” he whispers, scheming, “add the strawberries. Then, comes the grand finale.”

Steve side eyes Eddie. His deft fingers flittering over the buttons of the blender, scooping out the strawberries with the same hand he picked up tobacco with. He grimaces, but doesn’t comment on that. “Grand finale?”

“One of the biggest fears that customers have when they go into any restaurant is that the waiter is going to spit in their food,” he nonchalantly explains, capping the blender, “though, a lot of them don’t consider the line cook. Or at least, the rude ones don’t.” Eddie shifts something in his mouth, what sounds like the slosh of thick saliva. “He’ll probably complain, but it’s not like he’ll be believed. It’s a safety hazard, sure. But nobody suspects the cook because they’re supposed to know that shit. A cook spitting in a patron’s food? No way, man. That shit’s taboo.”

“And if he is believed?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “Then I get fired. But it’s whatever. I’m already on my way out anyway, got enough money for what I need.” 

Before Steve can ask or get in response, Eddie’s blasting the blender. It chugs and churns the half cup of milk and the measly two scoops of ice cream. The strawberries burst and bleed juice throughout, mixture turning pink. And with a few shakes, a half-way pit stop to unclog the bigger chunks, and a go-about with the partially dysfunctional blades—Eddie chucks the lid off, unlocks the pitcher from the machine, and turns away from Steve.

“I’m gonna have the good graces to not make you watch this shit,” Eddie gives as an explanation, “y’may wanna cover your ears.” Steve doesn’t, though wishes he did. With a cough and a semi-gag, Eddie inhales and burbles the saliva in the back of his mouth. He can hear the way the tobacco spit dribbles from between Eddie’s lips, the way it plops into the blended mixture, and the last little dredges left in his mouth. Steve’s stomach turns, but he doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t step in.

Eddie turns back around with the blender. Sitting on top of the pink mix is one quarter sized glob of tobacco and saliva, the spit already spilling down the sides of the pitcher. “Ta-da!” Eddie exclaims, shaking the pitcher back and forth. “And that is what I like to call the revenge special. Half cup milk, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, four chopped strawberries, and a fantastical exported ingredient from the land of your’s truly. It may be a seasonal item, but it’s got the gust of something that’ll last a lifetime.”

“God…that is disgusting,” Steve mock-whispers. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Thank you, it’s one of my many tricks.” He sets the blender down onto the metal counter, a hard thunk that rattles the milkshake glass. “Now, do me a favor and pour that into the glass, get him one of those stupid striped straws, spray it up with some whip. And I’ll dish up his monstrosity of a cheeseburger.” Eddie’s eyes soften away from the mirth they previously had. His voice dropping low, too. “I’ll deliver it, too, by the way. I would never throw you under the bus for something gross like this. This should hopefully get him to stay away, though. If he does complain about you and you have to flee, I’ll help you find a new job.”

“I could just say I did it, y’know,” Steve tentatively says, “that I fucked up his drink. You don’t need to lose your job because of issues I’m having.”

“You were crying, Steve,” Eddie points out gently. “Nobody makes my waiters cry. And nobody gets away with it, either.” He slinks away from Steve without another word and without another word getting in. And Steve watches him for a long moment. As he busies himself around his workspace, tidied and organized the way he needs it. The flex of his muscles as he flips and cuts and assembles that cheeseburger. His baby hairs at the crown of his head getting stuck to his sweaty temples, hard work painting and furrowing his brows.

But when he’s caught staring, Eddie simply and softly smiles, gestures at the blender, and turns back to his plate. So, Steve does what he’s told. Assembles the nail to his coffin, one pour and spray and straw at a time. And walks out of the kitchen, behind Eddie’s flexing back, his grease stained and sweat drenched white t-shirt. He sits at the front counter, in one of the old, flaking barstools. Watches.

Tommy looks up at Eddie from his spot in the booth, eyes wide as he sees Eddie take a seat across from him. He grimaces and sours. “You aren’t that waiter. Who the fuck are”—

“Heard you like milkshakes,” Eddie drawls. “Thought maybe I could get your opinion on a new recipe I’m trying. It’s strawberry, don’t worry your preppy little chinos off. But there’s been a slight change, was wondering what you’d think about it.”

Across the table, Tommy gives Eddie an odd glance. “Is it that important that you watch me? Surely I could’ve just sent my compliments to you or whatever when I’m done.”

“Nah, I like getting it straight from the source. So, go ahead, take a sip. Tell me what you think.”

Steve has to physically draw himself back, has to swallow down the gag and bile working their way through him, and genuinely convulses back against the counter as Tommy takes his first, long, hard sip of the milkshake. His face doesn’t move much with the sip, but he does scowl a tad, grimacing with a slight twitch in his upper lip.

“Tastes sour,” Tommy comments.

Eddie hums. “But is it good? Sometimes sour’s a good thing.” He reaches across the table, then, and plucks up Tommy’s cheeseburger. Crosses one arm across his chest, hand resting on his opposite bicep, and brings the food up to his mouth, taking a hearty bite.

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, “that’s my cheeseburger, man! You can’t just”—

“Get a second sip and maybe I’ll consider remaking your food.” Eddie smugly watches Tommy take another deep swallow. His eyes cast at the glass, roaming at the little brown flecks in the shake. Knowing and proud. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I mean it’s…objectively, I guess it’s good. Can I get a new burger, man? I’m starving here and I’ve got a date with my girlfriend in thirty minutes.”

All at once, Steve’s heart enters his stomach. Eddie takes another large bite of the burger before replacing it on Tommy’s plate. He crosses his arms against the top of the table, fingers tucked securely in the creases of his elbows. Leans all the way across until he’s nearly nose to nose with Tommy.

“So, could you taste what was different? Could your pea brain discern the new flavor on your tongue?” He asks, smarmy as Tommy has ever been. Over-confident, yet satisfied.

Tommy’s eyes widen at his words being thrown back in his face, startles against the back of his booth. Fingers gripping to the edge of the table, cheeks going pale. “I…I don’t”—

“Spit.”

“Wh—What?”

“Spit,” Eddie repeats coldly. “You just drank my fucking tobacco spit.” Silence. And then, “How’d I taste, baby? Be honest. Was it everything you’d ever hope it would be with a man?”

More silence. Tense and thick, enough that it weighs on Steve’s shoulders across the way. However, Tommy finally registers what just happened. He gags hard, hand covering his curdled mouth. Behind it, muffled, he says, “You’re sick in the head. I’ll—I’ll fucking tell your boss. You’ll fucking regret this.” And he stands up on shaky legs, dashing away before he can vomit all over himself.

Eddie only watches him leave, satisfied and content. He looks back to Steve, grins. “I can’t wait to see his girlfriend’s face when she finds out he isn’t allowed back.”

Steve nervously giggles and crosses to the booth, sliding in where Tommy just was. “You’re insane,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it? Too bad he didn’t leave a tip. There is a cheeseburger if you want the rest of it. Promise I didn’t fuck with that.” Eddie’s eyes are on him, soft and thoughtful, watching him pick up the partially eaten burger. “I can make you a new one instead, if you’d prefer. Extra cheese, too.”

“Trying to get in all the cooking you can before this inevitably backfires?”

“Sure…or I’m trying to make sure you’re taken care of. One in the same, I suppose. So, provolone, right? Could even combine some of the cheese if you want. Pepper jack and havarti…colby jack and swiss. Take your pick.”

Steve glances up from the plate in front of him. Heart beating fast and chest gooey as Eddie looks onto him with something like reverence. “Provolone, please,” he requests quietly, “and can I get extra crunchy crinkle fries, too?”

Reaching out a hand, Eddie gently pats the back of Steve’s left. “You got it, baby”—he hisses—“I probably shouldn’t call you that. I’m so”—

“It’s alright,” Steve murmurs, “I…uh…I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, then stands from the other side of the bench. “You’re gonna give me a hero complex and an ego, Stevie.” He begins to retreat towards the kitchen, calling out about bringing the dishes back when he’s done, that the milkshake could just be tossed glass and all.

But Steve stops him with, “Hey, Eddie?” Is met again with those soft, dark brown eyes. “Thank you,” he quietly says, “I never thought I’d get him away from me. Means a lot that you helped.”

There’s a soft smile on Eddie’s face, one that Steve can’t help but return.

“Anything for you, man.”

He makes Eddie stop again, though. To gaze, to drink in that tight white t-shirt and the spatter of black ink on his arms, his heavy pretty curls, and that soft face of his. “When we finish closing up for the night, do you wanna come over to mine? I’ve got a rented copy of Empire Strikes Back and a few beers. Only if you”—

“I’d love to, Steve. Now let me make you your food, sweetheart. Before you gobble me up with that hungry stare of yours.”

🥤——————🥤

[dixons-sunshine]

Soooo headcannons would be absolutely amazing (tbh i'm obsessed with this story-)

Only if your up for it of course, just letting you know that I am interested (and I'm sure i'm not alone) bc you asked :)

Thank you for writing! Your work is amazing!

(I've also lost many drafts that didn't save and it's always so so sad)

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons |Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Word count: 840.

A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I have so many personal headcannons and I'm so excited to share it with you all. Maybe I'll incorporate some of these into oneshots one day. Who knows? But I'm really in the mood for Young!Daryl these days, so send in some requests for him if y'all wanna see more!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

★ Your ages aren't specified, but I headcannon that y'all are 17-almost 18 in this au.

★ As mentioned in Through The Good Times And The Bad, you moved to the trailer park when you were twelve. However, Daryl definitely didn't approach you first. You had to go up to him and start talking to him.

★ You were exploring the woods behind the trailer park when you stumbled upon a river. There you met Daryl, and since he was the only kid there who was your age, you wanted to strike up a friendship, although it was difficult.

★ I also feel like Daryl definitely didn't talk during the first few weeks when you went up to him. With Merle and his father constantly ruining his self-esteem, he was sure that you would recognise what a screw up he was and head for the hills.

★ However, when a month passed with you showing up at the river and keeping him company, he found himself looking forward to seeing you, and with that knowledge, he slowly started warming up to you.

★ The first time he ever spoke a word to you was when you accidentally slipped on a wet rock and fell into the river. He snorted a laugh at your predicament, and couldn't resist the urge to tease you.

★ “Careful. Heard the rocks in the river ain't exactly dry.”

★ You had laughed at him and splashed some water at him, and that was the start of your friendship.

★ Although you quickly became close friends, it took almost two years for him to start opening up about his father.

★ His father's beatings had started to become way worse and he started leaving more visible marks, resulting in questioning glances from you, though you never pressed for answers. That made him feel comfortable enough to gradually start opening up to you.

★ By the time you were both 15, you knew all about his father, Daryl's past with his mother committing suicide and his asshole of a brother.

★ This is definitely the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope.

★ You had started crushing on him when you were 14. However, Daryl only started acknowledging his own feelings for you when he was 16 and you had saved up to get him a gift for his birthday.

★ His feelings had smacked him right in the face, and the rest is history.

★ Moving away from you and Daryl for now, it's pretty clear that your mom is yours and Daryl's number one shipper.

★ She knows about Daryl's abuse, but not to the extent that you do. She only knows the "basics", so to speak.

★ She's offered to talk to social services for him, but Daryl had refused, so she offered for him to stay over whenever he needed to.

★ She totally already sees Daryl as her son-in-law. She knows for a fact that you and Daryl are meant to be together, even if you're only teenagers.

★ This might only be me, but I headcannon that your mom in this was a teen mom—she got pregnant during her senior year in highschool.

★ She's implied to be a single mom, so the dad split when he found out she was pregnant.

★ She lived with her parents to raise you until you were 6. Her parents eventually kicked the two of you out and you've been in and out of multiple crappy apartments before settling on the trailer park.

★ She's the type of mom who tries to give you the freedom you desire while still being strict. Hence the "if anything happens, be sure to use protection" jokes. She knows she can't stop you from doing that, but she can ensure that you don't make her mistakes.

★ She definitely "secretly" buys condoms for you and Daryl.

★ During the first few months of your relationship, she noticed that the box remained untouched. Knowing Daryl's shyness, she knew that it wasn't because you and him were having unprotected sex. The two of you weren't like that.

★ When she noticed after a couple of months that there was finally one gone, she couldn't help the teasing she bestowed on you when Daryl went home.

★ She has met his father a number of times. The man has hit on her more times than one, completely unaware that she knew his son. However, since she was aware of the abuse, she's told him to "fuck off" every time.

—

I have so many more! If y'all want a part two, let me know!

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[wardenparker]

The Stars Re-Align, part 2

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Cursing, food/alcohol, mentions of military service (obviously), complicated relationships, family drama, of-age teenage sexuality, flashback, abusive relationship, domestic abuse, slaps to the face, verbal abuse. Summary: A trip down memory lane brings a conversation full of honesty with your daughter. Frankie frets about the future with Will. And then the world turns upside down all over again. (This chapter begins with a flash back). Notes: Rated E for an Explicit portrayal of an abusive relationship. Even if the on-page violence is minimal, it still deserves to be tagged.

“What time are your parents getting home?” The most frequently asked question you and Frankie have for each other these days, as you decide where to hang out after school and what hanging out will actually consist of.

Frankie smirks and shrugs slightly, eyes dark and full of promise as he slides them up and down your body. “Don’t know.” He admits. “Late. They said something about bowling after Dad got off work.”

The subway is packed full but somehow Frankie still manages to get impressively closer to you as the stops roll by. “Your place, then,” your head bobs in agreement while you try to think a little with his hands on you. Two more stops.

“My place.” He leans in, nuzzling your neck and dropping a kiss on your thready pulse. Grinning when it jumps against his lips.

“I’ll—” It’s all you can do not to gasp any time Frankie kisses you, and you’re in public. “I’ll call my Mom from your phone. Let her know.”

“Tell her you’re staying the night.” He encourages, knowing that he won’t want to let you go home. You live two stops from him and it’s close enough to swing by and have you get dressed in the morning. Or you can wear his clothes. He doesn’t mind that at all.

“It’s a good thing she likes you,” you huff, but again the sound turns into a swallowed moan when he touches you. “I’ll tell her.”

“Good.” Frankie loves how you melt for him. It’s something he takes pride in, aware that you do talk to your friends about your relationship, and that you only have good things to say.

"Not gonna let me study at all, are you?" It's a half-hearted gripe, although you both do have homework to do. Senior year is starting out better than you could possibly imagine and college applications will go out soon. Everything is just as perfect as you could possibly want.

“I bet you that you’ll get an A after our study session.” He chuckles in your ear. “Every prep test you get right, you get an orgasm.”

"Frankie." The little whine only spurs him on. If not for the train jolting to a stop and the hustling bustle of people moving all around you, he'd probably slip his hand under your clothes right there on the train.

“What?” He gives you an innocent look. “You know I’m good for them.”

"I know you are," you huff as he moves you off the train and onto the platform along with the masses. "That's why I'm whining."

“So you’re going to be a good girl and get every answer right, aren’t you?” It’s become a game to him, to see how often he can turn you on in public and he loves how responsive you are. His baggy pants hiding his hard cock from the public as he teases you.

"I would get every answer right anyway." It's another huff, but it's good natured. Mostly just the fact that he's so damn good at getting you all riled up no matter where you are.

“I know, my girl is smart.” He hums, guiding you towards the stairs. “Sexy, sweet, nice ass…shit that’s not an ‘s’ word.” He huffs playfully, just wanting to hear you laugh.

It works, because of course it does, and the sound bubbles out of you as you hustle up the stairs to street level with Frankie right behind you. The extra sway in your hips is just for him, but if someone else notices you couldn't care less. At times like this your world is just narrowed down completely and entirely to Frankie.

Friends for years, Frankie had finally gathered the courage to ask you out in middle school, elated when you said yes. There hadn’t been the drama others had, no huge fights and breaking up only to get back together, the two of you had been steady. He had tried to brush off all the jokes about getting married straight out of school and you popping out six kids right away. You both had plans that didn’t include kids for a few years. At least until after he was a higher rank in the Army. “Shake that ass, baby!” He calls out, whistling in a catcall.

If you were any version of yourself except a teenager desperately in love, you might have huffed at him or made a face, but in this moment you just giggle and throw even more sway into your movements until you’re all the way at the top of the stairs and waiting for him to join you.

“Goddamn.” Staring at your ass, Frankie nearly trips over his own feet on the stairs, catching himself and grinning when you giggle at him again.

“If we don’t get you home in one piece, you don’t get to have any fun,” you remind him, clicking your tongue teasingly.

“Ass.” He sticks his tongue out at you playfully.

"Didn't you just point out how much you love my ass?" The playful retort comes with a kiss to his cheek, and you grab his hand to head for his apartment.

Like others in the building, the apartment had been the Morales family home for years. Making the habit of pulling out his keys and unlocking the door almost automatic. It’s a long-ingrained motion.

“Any sign of siblings?” Before you sling down your backpack on Frankie’s desk chair, you bite your lip and look around curiously for his brother and sister.

"Nope." Frankie doesn't see any of the tell-tale signs of the younger ones being around. He would be tripping over their damn shoes around the door.

“Thank goodness.” The less time you have to spend being social, the more time you and Frankie have to yourselves, and you grab him by the wrist to pull him down the hall to his bedroom.

"Eager to study, already?" Frankie laughs as he lets you drag him away from the living area.

“We can study while other people are home.” You throw a pout at him over your shoulder. “Or do you not want to try what I learned from the copy of Cosmopolitan that Shelly Estrada stole from her mother?”

“What was in it?” He’s always interested in what you learn from those magazines.

“Something we absolutely could not hide under a blanket.” Giggling a bit, you bite your lip and toss your backpack down in his room at the end of the hall just in time for his arms to come around you. “And involves me being on top of you, which I know you love.”

His brow wings up and he grins instantly, always loving when you are bouncing on his cock. “But we had fucked with you on top under the blanket.”

“I know.” Your eyes flash with mischief as your boyfriend practically slams his bedroom door shut. “This is different.”

The click of the lock is loud, securing you inside and keeping out the rest of the world through the action. “Tell me.”

“You get on your back.” One of his favorite views of you is from his back so that isn’t a hard sell. “But when I get on top of you, it’s flipped. So you can eat me out while I suck your cock.”

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, eyes widening in absolute delight as he quickly reaches for his shirt to pull it off. He loves using his tongue on you and enjoys the very boastful reputation you have given him by bragging to your friends. “I’ve seen it in a porno.” He admits, nodding in agreement. “Fuck, take your clothes off baby.”

“Boys have pornos and girls have Cosmo,” you tease, already pulling your t-shirt over your head.

“Girls can watch porno too.” Frankie snorts. “Bet it would turn you on and give you ideas.”

“Girls can watch porno too.” Toeing off your shoes and pulling off your socks lets you strip your jeans off too, and you stand unafraid and unapologetic in your underwear in front of Frankie. “But where would I get it?”

“Watch it with me.” He groans, pushing down his own jeans and underwear so his hard cock springs out and bobs in the air. “Sit on my dick while you watch another girl get fucked.”

“Next time,” you promise him, though it’s a little breathless as your mouth waters at the sight of him and you pull your bra and panties off as fast as humanly possible. “I want to try this first.”

"I want to try it too, baby." He is always eager to try new things, positions, everything with you. He had cum so quickly the first time he slid inside you. Embarrassed, but you hadn't blamed him for it. Now, he was proud of the fact that you were cumming before him, completely boneless as he fucks you into the bed of his childhood bedroom every chance he gets. You are his everything.

******

Sitting home alone last night was probably a bad idea, but you hadn’t wanted to wreck Rachel’s night. Instead you barely slept — crying intermittently and picking at the remains of your birthday cake with a seemingly endless margarita in your hand while you watched rom-coms and thought about Frankie. Just because Santiago was probably right to end things didn’t make it easier.

Now you’re hungover with your face bowed over a cup of coffee and trying to lecture yourself into making breakfast while you try to figure out what the fuck to do with yourself today.

There’s an extreme sense of guilt that has settled over Frankie’s shoulders. He had – unknowingly – crashed your party and ruined things for you. And changed his entire life in the process. Another child. A grown ass woman who was half his. He hadn’t told Marie, couldn’t even find the words, although he had scooped up his precious little girl and held her close, locking himself into the nursery with her.

As if you were feeling some of those vibes beat out to you across towns, you abandon the thought of breakfast for now in favor of going upstairs to dig out your oldest Memory Box. The box full of keepsakes and memories all pertaining to Frankie. Not the one that contains all of the pregnancy-related things that you’d shown Rachel multiple times in her life, but the secret one you keep tucked in the back of your closet that has things like ticket stubs to the movies and concerts you went to together or the endless Polaroids you took on every occasion. That box. That is the one you bring back downstairs to wallow in at the dining room table.

******

“I don’t think I need to leave Mom alone today.” Rachel tells Benny, sighing softly and reaching for his hand. “This doesn’t make things weird, does it?” She’s asking yet again, but she needs the reassurance.

“We’ll adjust, baby.” He promises her. She needs the comfort of hearing it again and, to Benny’s surprise, each time he says it he means it that much more.

“I didn’t know. I feel like I should have.” She confesses quietly.

“How?” That still doesn’t make sense to him. There is no way she could have known just based on instinct. “Absolutely nobody thought this was gonna happen, baby girl. And it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

“I know, I just—” she clings to his hand and sighs. “I’ve always had this fantasy of my dad coming back and finding us.” She admits quietly. “And now…I don’t know what to do.”

“Frankie’s a good guy.” Benny huffs, knowing that sounds lame. “He’s been through so much. Saved our skins way more times than I can count. And the way he is with Luna? Baby, I know it isn’t what you imagined, but give Fish a chance. You might be surprised to find out that your Dad is just a normal guy who will do right by you.”

“I feel guilty.” She huffs. “Santiago is a good guy too. And yet…” she shrugs slightly. “If you had asked me yesterday if he was someone I would want my mom to be with long term, I would have said yes.” She glances away. “Now…”

Benny’s brow furrows, seeing the guilt on her face for even thinking it. “You wish your parents could be together?” He guesses, soothing one hand over her back.

“Is that wrong?” She asks softly. “If he’s the man you say he is….my mom deserves to be happy.”

“Of course it’s not wrong,” Benny shakes his head. “But…it’s up to them.”

“Yeah.” She sighs softly and smiles at Ben. “Do you want to come in? Or do you want to run for the hills for right now?”

“If you want me to come in, I will.” In no way does he want to give her the impression he’s making a run for it, but he also doesn’t think it’s his place to be in there right now, either. “What if I drop you off now so you can have some time with your Mom, and I’ll come by with dinner later? I can pick up from the Thai place you guys like.”

“That would be good.” She nods, thankful that she can determine what kind of mood you are in. It’s possible that you have simply brushed off the entire thing, but she doubts it.

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Pad Thai for my girl and that crazy peanut curry your Mom likes.” He grins when Rachel almost opens her mouth, but he holds up his hand. “And the fried calamari with the sweet chili sauce. Otherwise don’t bother bringing anything at all. I know, baby. I love you.”

She laughs and leans over to press her lips to his cheek. “You are the best.” She promises. “Thank you for being here. For not finding all of this crazy.”

It’s a little crazy, but not nearly crazy enough to lose her over, so Benny just hums and kisses her back. “Text me if you need me, baby. I’m going to train for a few hours.”

“Good luck.” She doesn’t ask if Frankie is going to help, she doesn’t want to know right now. Since his pilot’s license was suspended, Frankie had been helping Benny train and right now, it’s just too awkward to think about.

Normally vigilant, you don't even hear the front door of the house open when Rachel comes inside. The box of memories has overflowed all over the table as you uncover more and more pieces of your past, and there is definitely a damp tissue in your hand when you finally hear footsteps on the kitchen tile. "Oh shit." The sound makes you jump, but when you wheel around to see your daughter standing there, you relax immediately. "Sorry, sweet pea. I didn't know you were coming home. You scared me."

“Hey Mom.” Curiosity practically seeps out of her pores, looking over pictures and trinkets that she’s never seen before. She knows this has to be a box of things from your time with her dad. She knows it. “Organizing?”

"Um...more like memory lane." You glance back at the table before looking up at your daughter and pat the chair beside you. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

“No, but I can wait.” She doesn’t want you to stop, so she slides into the seat and picks up a Polaroid. “Holy shit….you two look like babies.”

"That was..." Tilting your head slightly in consideration, you squint at the faded photograph and end up smiling. "Sophomore year. So we were about 15? They took us all on a class trip to Ellis Island."

“God.” She huffs, squinting at the photo. “You two look over the moon crazy about each other.” She points out, noticing the way that her dad’s arm is slung over your shoulder and he’s grinning like he’s the luckiest boy in the world.

"We were." If there's a note of yearning in your voice it's unintentional, but you do reach for another photo and hand it over to her to inspect. "Senior prom," you hum in amusement, and offer her another photo that has you and Frankie noticeably younger with a very excited looking collie in the photo between you. "And this is the day he asked me out." Shifting the picture from Ellis Island into the middle, you look at the trio with tired eyes. "The beginning, middle, and almost-end of our relationship."

“You never really talked about my dad much.” She studied each photo carefully, as if she could possibly glean some friction that was under the bright smiles and finding nothing. “Did it hurt too much?”

"Partially." It was a large part of it, if you're honest, and you realize belatedly that you've picked up a piece of jewelry he gave you ages ago like it's some kind of fidget toy. "But also...I didn't think we would ever see him again. And I didn't want you to build up dreams of him thinking he might just stroll in through the front door one day. Which seems ludicrous now, since that is essentially what happened."

Rachel snorts and leans back, biting her lip. “It’s fucking crazy is what it is.” She admits. “He’s like…one of Ben’s best friends. He said they’ve been through some shit together. Francisco saved his life…more than once. My father saved my boyfriend’s life.”

"I'm sure you have plenty you want to ask." Pushing back from the table, you squeeze her shoulder gently and step away to scour the refrigerator for anything breakfast oriented. "But first...how are you and Ben doing, honey? Are you guys okay with all this?"

“We’re okay.” She promises, reaching for another photo. “He’s coming back after training with Pad Thai for dinner.” She tells you. “Santiago still asleep?” His car isn’t in the driveway, so it’s an invitation for you to talk, rather than a question.

"Probably." He's a heavy sleeper, and definitely not a morning person, so wherever he is he's probably still asleep. But that isn't what Rachel is asking and you both know it. "He didn't stay, honey." Suddenly you want absolutely nothing to eat all over again, and your head pounds even harder. More coffee will help... "We, uh...we broke up, Rach."

“Oh shit.” She huffs out the whispered curse and shoots out of her chair. Dropping the photos as she rushes towards you to engulf you in a huge hug. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

"It's okay, honey." It hurts like hell, but you aren't going to treat your daughter like your therapist. It's more than enough that she's there to offer you comfort and support. "I'm just glad that the whole situation hasn't come between you and Ben."

“He broke up with you, didn’t he?” Rachel frowns deeply, upset on your behalf. “That asshole. I’m going to chew him a new asshole.”

"It just wasn't meant to be, that's all." The last thing you want to do is cause more drama with this group of friends that she has. It's bad enough that her father is in the middle of all of this. "And he's entitled to make that decision for himself."

“Did he say why?” She demands.

"He didn't have to say why." But now she's upset, and you start buzzing around the kitchen again to keep yourself busy and hopefully soothe both of you with some food. "If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't happy about it."

“Oh.” That makes her pause and she tries to see it from his point of view. “Oh shit….” She sighs and moves to flop back down into her chair. “He— it’s because of Dad, right?” She asks quietly. “Some kind of bro code. ‘Thou shall not sleep with friend’s former girl’? That has to be it.”

"I don't know if it's as formal as that, but...basically." Yogurt and fresh fruit from the fridge are joined by a box of granola from the cupboard and you put on a fresh pot of coffee to brew. "It's okay, sweet pea. I promise. And please don't think any less of Santiago for putting his friendship first. He's known Frankie a heck of a lot longer than he's known me."

“I just— I don’t like the fact that him showing up has ruined things for you.” She’s still conflicted, and she would never tell you her secret fantasy, even as close as you are.

"It's better to find out early on." That's what you're telling yourself this morning. That you were better off finding out that Santiago and Frankie are best friends before you and Santiago had started planning for the future. "It's not anybody's fault. It's just...how life is sometimes."

She blows out a guilty sigh. “I wish I had stayed home.” She mourns. “I didn’t know he was going to break up with you. You were all alone.”

"I didn't want your night ruined." Once the coffee pot is going again, you grab bowls and spoons and bring the whole tray of breakfast things to the table. "You deserve to have a nice time with your boyfriend. That shouldn't stop on account of your Mom having a little drama in her life."

“A little drama…” she snorts and rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Unaware that she looks exactly like Frankie would have. Right down to the downturn of her frown and the crease of her dimple.

"You look exactly like your father when you do that, you know." You've always thought so, and she's been doing that posture since she was a toddler. "If you ever see him do it, it will be like looking in a mirror."

She rolls her eyes again, sensing that you are trying to steer the subject back to him and she lets you “Tell me about it?” She asks softly. “All of it. The good, the bad and the ugly.”

"For the most part, it was all good," you admit. A basic breakfast comes together easily for both of you and you fill your bowls with yogurt and fruit and honey and granola in your own personal perfect ratios. "We were nearly inseparable. And since we went to the same school, and our Dads worked for the same company, it all went pretty smoothly for a long time. Everybody just...assumed we would always be together. Even us."

“Was there ever any sign he would break up with you?” Rachel can’t even fathom how abruptly the relationship ended if you were as close as you say. It’s just not how she knows her mother to be. You have always been strong and vocal.

“We had a whole plan.” A plan that went haywire, but a plan nonetheless. “But…when I found out I was pregnant I panicked. I started pressing Frankie to get married quickly, instead of waiting like we had planned. I should have told him why, but I was seventeen and convinced that he would just break up with me if I told him the truth. And…no, before you ask. He never gave me any indication that he wouldn’t have wanted a baby. But he wanted to wait to do the grown-up things, so I thought that springing the news on him would ruin it. But if I could show him that getting married earlier wasn’t a big deal, then the baby news would be okay, too. It…it doesn’t make a lot of sense in retrospect. But we were just about to graduate high school and I was hiding my morning sickness by claiming it was nerves over my boyfriend joining the Army. I was not at my best critical thinking levels.”

“Do you think he would have stayed if he had known about me?” The question is quiet, introspective. Wanting to know if she would have been wanted. She knows you love her; you’ve always made that clear, but she also wants to know about the man who is the other half of her biological makeup.

“I didn’t think so at the time, but I don’t know how much of that was just fear of the unknown,” you admit, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently in your own. “But I know he wants to get to know you now. I’m sorry that isn’t a very good answer.”

“Are you— are you okay with that?” She asks, unsure if getting to know Fransisco would cause you pain. She wouldn’t want that, not for a moment. “If you don’t want to see him….” She shrugs. “I can meet him out in town. Not talk about him.”

“Honey, no.” On this point you are absolutely firm, and you shake your head adamantly. “There’s been enough years of not talking about your father. He’s not someone to be ashamed of and we’re not going to treat him that way.” Will it hurt? Of course. But you would rather see Rachel happy than anything else in the world.

“Okay.” She’s still eyeing you doubtfully, but she agrees. For now, she will just make sure that there isn’t a lot of talk about the man you had loved. “Do you— how do you feel about getting to know him again? Seeing him?”

“I wish it hadn’t been by surprise.” That admission comes with a little laugh, because yesterday is still so unbelievable to you, but you just shrug and shake your head. “To be honest, sweet pea? If I can’t face him at this point, I’ll never be able to. And you deserve to know your father.”

“It might be a good thing, then.” She decides. “You make it sound like you never expected to see him ever again.”

"I didn't." You can admit to that very easily.

She nods, looking down at the photos again. “You loved him.” She can tell that easily by the besotted look on your face. “Do you still? Or love that version of him?” She points to the high school photo of them together.

"You're really not going easy on me with the questions today, are you kiddo?" The coffeepot finishes percolating, and you pop up from the table again, needing a fresh cup if you're going to continue on with this line of thought from your daughter. After a few moments of silence filled only by the pouring of hot coffee, you return to the table and sigh. "Yes." You nod finally. "I still love him very much. But who he was then and who he is now may be two completely different people so I have no intention of making a nuisance out of myself after a whole lifetime apart. I only care that you get to have your father around if you want him in your life."

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “Who would have fucking ever thought? Not me. I mean, I always thought it would be wild if Ben had met my dad. But you nor my grandparents ever even said his name.”

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Rach. Life just...doesn't make sense sometimes. But we always make the best we can out of the confusion." The two of you doctor your coffee and dig in to your light breakfast. Whatever happens, you will just keep rolling with it. Your adult life has been making sure that Rachel is cared for and happy, and that doesn't change just because Frankie Morales still makes your heart clench.

******

He’s in the room with Luna when there’s a knock at the front door. Watching her play with the toys in front of her and squeal happily for tummy time. She’s almost ready to crawl, but for some reason, hasn’t started yet. It irritates Marie, but Frankie is happy to have his daughter still immobile for a bit longer. Once she starts moving, there will be no stopping her.

Marie pulls open the front door with a huff, dressed to go out and irritated that she's being delayed even for a few seconds. "Will." The figure of Frankie's friend fills the doorway and where she once had patience to pretend to be glad to see any of them, it has evaporated recently. "He's been in with the baby since yesterday. Good luck getting him out."

“Hey Marie,” Will doesn’t care for the woman, but he also knows that as long as Frankie is with her, he needs to be polite. Knowing that causing any problems for his former teammate would not be in the man’s best interest. “You are dressed up nice. Big plans?”

"Girls' day," she tells him breezily. Marie grabs her purse and sunglasses with the door still open and swans right through it. "Bye!"

“Bye.” He watches her practically zip down the stairs and chuckles slightly. It’s not like having a day for yourself is not warranted. He wonders if Frankie offered this so he could go to the cookout yesterday. “Fish?” He calls out, wanting him to know that he was here. Everyone is a little more on edge since South America and it wouldn’t be wise to startle him.

Luna squawks happily at the familiar sound of her uncle Will's voice, and he steps further into the apartment. Footfalls that are heavy enough to be heard, but not heavy enough to disturb the downstairs neighbors. The woman who lives below Frankie works third shift and will barely be asleep at this hour of the morning.

Frankie looks up as the door opens, his eyes falling on Will before looking back down at his daughter. “Uncle Will is here.” He coos, brow furrowed as he goes over yet another thing that he missed out on with Rachel. “What’s up?”

“Thought you could use some company,” Will tells him honestly, but he also reaches out for Luna and grins when she reaches back. “And I wanted to see my favorite niece in the whole wide world,” he babbles, laughing when the little girl giggles and looks over again at Frankie. He looks like he needs to stretch at minimum, if not run a marathon to get rid of some stress.

“Only—” Frankie breaks off from his usual retort, paling slightly when the new dynamic hits him all over again. “Where’s Jess?”

“Brunch with her sister.” Will’s girlfriend is typically around for whatever mischief the group gets up to when she isn’t at work, but makes seeing her sister a priority just like Will and Benny make each other priority. It gives her a good foundation of understanding for the Miller brothers, and makes her a solid support person for the whole group — not just for Will. “She asked me to apologize to you for having to work yesterday. Said it sounded like you could have used the support…”

“Yeah.” The word is heavy, pushed out of him on a sigh. He reaches up to scrub his hair, his hat missing this morning and he picks up Luna to hand her to Will when she keeps squawking for him.

“Hey little fairy queen!” Will blows a raspberry on Luna’s cheek to make her laugh and nods his head that Frankie should follow him out into the living room. “Marie went out,” the younger man tells him.

Nodding quietly, Frankie groans as he pushes himself up off the floor. “Yeah. She said something about a day off.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. Seems like she’s needed more and more days off since he’s come back from South America, but every time he suggests spending time together, it’s thrown in his face that he was radio silent for nearly fourteen days – double the amount of time he had said he would be gone. Frankie has just given up trying to apologize.

“Talk to me, Fish.” Will insists, carrying Luna into the kitchen to grab them drinks and looking the little girl over. “Does she need a bottle? I have no idea what time it is.”

“She ate about an hour ago.” Frankie sighs and moves over to the fridge, opening it up to notice that Marie didn’t get the cereal he had asked for, nor any of the baby foods. He sighs and grabs a couple of sodas. It’s a bad idea to drink right now. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Fish.” Will’s tone is deadpan and matter-of-fact all at once. “C’mon man.”

Sighing again, he pops the top of his soda and takes a swing. “What do you want me to say?” Frankie huffs. “This is going to be a big fucking deal.” Marie is going to kill him. It’s not going to matter that his child is grown or that he never even knew about her. His girlfriend had this strange obsession with having been the only girl to have a baby with him. Had once jokingly told him that she had baby trapped him— although it hadn’t felt like much of a joke at the time. She had been six months pregnant at that point. “I feel goddamn guilty.”

“You had no idea.” Will reminds him. He cracks the cap on the soda that he had been handed and quietly approves of the choice. Marie hadn’t been a very good influence in Fish’s habits but since coming back from South America he’s been trying to clean up his act pretty dramatically. “But uh…hell of a coincidence, honestly. We always knew you and Pope had the same taste in women.”

“Fuck.” Frankie snorts and rolls his eyes, trying to hide the pain in them. “It’s not that….” He hedges guiltily, reaching out and tickling Luna under her chin and then dropping his hand. “I’ve been stuck on what could have been if I had known.”

“Would you have stayed?” It’s a hard question, and maybe it doesn’t have an answer, but it’s important that he’s at least thought about it. About what he would have done then and what he’ll do now.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” The answer is immediate and fierce. “I should have asked questions. Demanded to know why she wanted to get married so badly.”

“You were kids.” That part of the situation cannot be stressed nearly enough, and the two men bring Luna into the living room to settle her in her playpen so they can talk.

“We were adult enough to make a baby.” Frankie shoots back before he winces. “One who is currently fucking your brother. Jesus Christ.” He flops down onto the sofa and covers his face with his hand.

“Yeah…Benny promises to cool his jets talking about her like that, by the way.” That conversation had been had between the brothers already — Benny had brought it up and Will promised to deliver the message. “He never would’ve if he had known.”

“Still gonna punch him.” Frankie snort out, looking up at the ceiling. “Definitely didn’t need to know that shit about my daughter.”

"More than fair," Will agrees with a snicker. "He absolutely deserves it. My only request is to be allowed to film it for posterity."

Frankie laughs, probably for the first time since his world has been flipped upside down and he leans back. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

"Perfect world." Will poses, pointing a finger and the neck of the Dr. Pepper bottle at Fish. "Best case scenario, what would you want?"

Frankie shakes his head. “Time travel isn’t possible, man.” He sighs and looks over at Luna. “And I don’t regret having my baby girl.”

"Okay, that's fair." Nobody could regret little Luna, in his opinion. She's the best baby in the world, and he and Benny have their fair share of nieces and nephews to compare to back home from their sister. "Best case scenario of the future."

Guilt swims in his stomach and he rubs it reflexively. “Come on, she hates me.” He starts out. “There’s no way I could possibly have that happily ever after like in some kind of fucking Hallmark movie.” He closes his eyes. “Besides, Marie would fucking murder me.”

"Respectfully, Marie can rot in hell." None of the guys like her, but Fish had been so deep under her spell in the beginning that they had let things run their course, hoping that he would come to his senses along the way. Instead, Fish ended up with a baby on the way. "If you want your girl, maybe one of us can at least do a little recon before you just assume that she hates you?"

He hates the hope that blooms, knowing it would be squashed quickly. “Fuck— how could she not hate me?” He huffs, rolling his eyes and flopping his head forward to take another sip of the soda, even if he desperately wishes it was a beer. “I left her alone to raise a kid. Our kid.” He bites his lip. “I almost saw her….after boot camp. But I was too goddamn stubborn and that bit me in the ass.”

"What happened?" Trying to poke and prod along this highway through Fish's memories is precarious, but it's why Will is here. Pope isn't going to be able to talk sense into Fish right now while he's still getting over the woman who fathered his best friend's oldest child. And Benny sure as fuck isn't going to be the one to offer advice when he's currently sleeping with said oldest child. This one is Will's job.

“I don’t even fucking know.” Frankie closes his eyes. “There was the normal bullshit teasing.” He admits. “Everyone saying I was going to knock her up before we graduated. Have to get married. But we had a plan. I was going to go through boot camp and my schooling and then we were going to get married.” It’s filtering through memories that he’s simultaneously repressed and played over and over again. Not sure where daydreams end and reality begins.

It does no one any good to point out that he had very clearly gotten you pregnant before graduation, so Will glosses over that particular detail entirely. "So when she started pushing too, you dug your heels in?"

“She just hit me with it out of nowhere.” Frankie tells him. “At our graduation party. Demands that we get married. Gets angry when I remind her that we had a plan. That I wasn’t marrying her right out of high school.” Frankie sighs, the ‘hindsight is 20/20’ saying is smacking him on the forehead, but you could have told him. “She started crying and telling me we had to get married or it’s over and I snapped.”

"Okay." When Will nods, he leans forward in his seat and watches Luna playing with her brightly colored plastic key ring for a few seconds. "So neither of you gets points for 'Most Mature Teenager Ever'. That's not super surprising."

“No, but I could have cooled down. Gone back to talk to her.” Frankie sighs. “I left for boot camp the next day.”

"But we all know you never forgot about her." The elder Miller brother looks up, raising an eyebrow at Fish and daring his friend to challenge him. "We all have heard you talk about her."

Frankie blushes slightly, knowing that Will is right. “You never forget your first love.”

"Can I be honest?" Normally it's not something he has to ask about, but this is a sensitive topic.

“Shoot.” They’ve been friends for too long to even question it, but Frankie gives him the go ahead.

"It's pretty obvious to anybody who knows you that..." Will shrugs, almost apologizing for the observation. "That you're still in love with her. Or at least you still have love for her."

“That obvious?” Frankie rolls his head back and groans. “Great. Now everyone is going to think I’m pathetic. And Marie can never know who she is. Never.”

"Nobody thinks you're pathetic, Fish." He chuckles softly as Luna has her keys in one hand and reaches for her teddy with the other, determined to have both toys at once. "But man...we've got to do something about this whole situation before you lose your mind or your health or both."

“Seriously thought about just getting faded.” He shoots Will a bland smile to show he’s joking. “Too bad we burned Lorea’s house down. Sure he had some shit stashed in there too.”

"That shit would've killed you," Will points out without hesitation. "But that's exactly what I'm talking about. You and the little queen over here deserve a way better environment than the one you've got."

“Marie swears she’s clean too.” Frankie had gone into rehab before the baby was born, another sore spot between them. But he wants to get his license back bad enough that he would do whatever it takes.

"It's not just that." It's largely that, but not just. "We're worried, Fish. Honestly worried. You're miserable except for your little girl, and you don't have to be."

“She’s pissed at me.” Frankie reminds Will. “Rightfully so. I got popped on a test. I lost my fucking license.”

“So you’re telling me it’s just right now?” Will challenges. “It’s completely temporary that Marie is upset. It’s not been years of excuse after excuse and abusive, controlling behavior that you would have called any single one of us out on already?”

“What do you want me to do, Will?” He feels helpless and stuck. “We have a kid together. I can’t just fucking get rid of her.”

“Jess and I talked.” It might be horrible, but just getting Frankie to admit that he would rather not be with Marie is a huge step forward. They’ve been worried about him for a long time and they’ll take the avenue in that they’ve got. “We cleaned up the spare bedroom and we want to offer it to you and Luna. One floor away might not be far from Marie yet, but it’s a good first step. A safe step.”

“She’s going to try to take Luna from me.” Frankie is immediately shaking his head no, sitting up. “I can’t— Jesus Will, she knows what happened in South America. You don’t think she won’t use that shit to take my child from me?”

“She has no proof.” The reminder is a stark one. That the trip five men made and only four returned from was a dire one. “We were ghosts down there, man. As far as anybody can prove, we were in Sao Paolo on a boys’ trip. That’s all. Nothing illegal about that whatsoever.”

He’s right, but the blind panic still grips Frankie. “I can’t lose her.” He murmurs, looking over at where she has tired herself out and sprawled on the mat of her play pen to sleep. “I’ve lost too much already.”

"We're going to do everything we can, and we're going to be on your side every step of the way," Will assures him. "If you want to get out of this situation, then we're going to help you. Together."

“She’s gotta leave me.” Frankie had never married her, thank God, but he sighs softly. “I think she’s close.”

Ruefully, Will chuckles under his breath. "Then maybe we should tell her about Rachel."

Frankie huffs out a small chuckle. “Do you want her to hit me with a fuckin’ frying pan?”

"My reflexes are pretty good," he's still chuckling, but this time he shrugs and nudges Fish. Seeing him laugh even a little is good. "I'll stop it before the pan gets to you."

“You mentioned a lawyer once.” Frankie reminds him. “You think you could—? I mean, you don’t have to.”

"Absolutely." There is no hesitation in Will's answer. In fact, he's practically pulling out his phone.

“Don’t— I mean, just talk to them.” Frankie hedges. “See if they would be willing to talk to me.”

"I know he will, but I won't jump the gun. I'll just talk to him." The lawyer in question is ex-Army and specializes in custody cases without a clear-cut answer. Will knows he'll do everything he can for a man like Frankie.

He can’t even believe he is contemplating this. “I know she’s going to find out about Rachel.” Frankie murmurs quietly. “But I’m dreading it.”

"That's more than fair." Shifting on the couch, Will looks away from the little figure of Luna asleep in her playpen and focuses on Frankie. "But will it be better or worse if she finds out on her own, rather than you being direct with her?"

“I don’t fucking know.” Frankie frowns, scratching his head. “She’s been so….volatile after Luna. Or South America. Pick one. But she just throws a fit when I tell her to go to the doctor.”

"You shouldn't be alone when you tell her." That much is pretty damn obvious, but Will isn't beyond stating the obvious right now. "If for no other reason than having a corroborating witness for the custody trial."

“Might need a camera.” Frankie snorts quietly, hating how bad things have gotten. He could deal with a lot of shit, but it’s getting be too much.

"Florida's a two-party consent state," Will reminds him. "A witness is better than a camera."

Frankie blows out a sigh and nods. “Yeah. You’re right.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand how I get myself into this shit.”

“What matters is that we’re going to get you out of it.” The promise is solemn. Quiet, even. That they are going to get Fish out of this hellhole of a relationship. “You and Luna. You’re going to be safe, so she can grow up without worrying that her mom is going to blow up at any time.”

“I don’t understand what went wrong.” Frankie continues on, shaking his head. “It was good at the beginning.”

“Not everything is made to last.” They aren’t necessarily the softest words of wisdom out there, but Will knows as well as anyone that good things come to an end. After all, things were great with his ex-fiancée until they weren’t. “And sometimes…sometimes we get a second chance.”

“Not that I deserve one.” That comment comes for a multitude of reasons, not just leaving you alone and unsupported during your pregnancy and your daughter’s life.

Will hums, understanding where the thought comes from even if he doesn’t agree. “Isn’t that up to her, ultimately? And to you, if you want to give her a second chance?”

“I don’t have any reason to not give her anything.” Frankie snorts. “I owe her. A shit ton of back child support, too.”

"Just start small," the other man advises. The small smile playing on his lips is just from being happy that his friend is starting to seem more relieved. "Talk to her. Get to know Rachel better."

Frankie blows out a sigh and looks over at Luna again. He can’t imagine missing any more time with her than he has to, and he missed Rachel’s entire life. He had a lot to make up for. “Yeah.”

Will blows out a sigh, reaching over and patting Fish's shoulder with the force of a man who knows his own strength but understands some people need to have love and support knocked into them instead of handed gently. "We'll figure it out, man," he promises. "Whatever it takes.”

******

Because Marie is gone out for a girl’s night and Will’s girl is spending the day with her sister, Frankie and Will end up ordering a pizza. Relaxed for the first time since the big reveal, Frankie is sitting on the sofa, laughing with two slices on a plate and another soda in his hand. Luna is already fed, bathed and down for the night, so he’s seriously contemplating the option of a beer.

The door slams open without ceremony, definitely loud enough to make both men inside jump and loud enough to wake up the baby, but Marie doesn't care. She tears inside like a tornado, already seething and ready to scream before she's even closed the door behind her. "Francisco!"

“Jesus!” Frankie jumps up, pizza spilling onto the floor and he’s half afraid that there’s been an accident, until he sees her fury-filled face. “What?”

"What the fuck is this?" There is a slip of paper in Marie's hand and Frankie's coat is draped over her arm, but she throws that down on the floor in the entry way. "Tell me why I reached into your coat pocket and found some slut's phone number?"

His eyes widened, latched onto the paper and he shakes his head. “It’s not— Marie— she’s not— it’s not like that.” He promises, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck around on you.”

"Then who the fuck is Rachel?" She snarls, practically spitting the name at him as though its very existence was proof enough of his wrongdoing.

“She’s Benny’s girl.” He pleads for her to understand. “I promise. She gave me her number as a friend, nothing more. She’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in her.”

"So you're fucking your friend's girl now?" Marie is very much in the camp that men and women can't be friends without sex getting in the way, so she doesn't buy this bullshit for a second. "Do you hear this Miller? This asshole is fucking your brother's girlfriend."

“God no.” Frankie nearly blanches at the thought and he can’t shake his head fast enough. “No— I’m not fucking her. Never. Please, babe, you gotta believe me. There’s nothing like that between us.”

"Is that where you were yesterday, asshole?" The fire in Marie's eyes makes it abundantly clear that she has already drawn her own conclusions. She has already decided what happened and nothing Frankie says will dissuade her. "Rachel's house?"

“With Benny.” Frankie stresses, wincing when he hears Luna start to cry out in her bedroom. “Fuck.” He hisses. “Will was there. Nothing happened. Goddamnit, you woke the baby.”

"Oh, who gives a fuck about the baby?" She wails, which only makes Luna cry louder. "You're cheating on me!"

“Hold on.” Will doesn’t like to get involved in this, but he holds up his hand. “Fish isn’t cheating on you.”

“Nobody asked you.” Marie spits, clearly only wanting Will involved in the argument when it suits her.

“I’m not cheating on you.” Frankie implores one more time. “Please, just— believe me. Rachel is—” he can’t say it. The words are stuck in his throat.

“Rachel is what, Francisco?” She’s spitting mad — literally — and when Frankie doesn’t answer her immediately she steps further into his space and slaps him clean across the face. “You’re a piece of shit, Morales. But you knew that already.”

His head snaps to the side but he doesn’t react. Will tenses, not sure if Frankie would ever snap to jump back, but he knows that it would be a mistake on the other man’s part. “I am.” Frankie tells her quietly. “We both know that.”

Satisfied with at least that one answer, Marie tosses the piece of paper on the ground at his feet and crosses her arms. “So what the fuck do you have to say for yourself?”

She won’t stop. Not now. Now that she has this insane idea in her head that he’s cheating on her. Frankie glances over at Will, sighing heavily and he scrubs his hands on his pants. “Thing is…Marie…” he swallows, feeling nervous even though he had been cool under more dire circumstances than these. “Rachel is….uh, she’s my fucking daughter.” He confesses quietly.

The moment of hesitation before Marie starts laughing like a disgusted hyena is only the amount of time it takes her to process the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard in her life. Without another second of thought or hesitation, Marie's hand makes contact with Frankie's cheek a second time, the slap ringing through the apartment with a violent vibration. "You should have been groveling on your knees every day you had me," she spits, arms crossed again despite looking like she wants to make it three slaps for 'good' measure. "You fucked up for the last time, Morales. Hope Rachel is enough of a slut to make up for the fact that you wouldn't know where to put your dick with a road map." Shoving past both men, the whirlwind of Marie's anger propels her toward the bedroom with impressive velocity. "Have fun raising that crotch goblin alone, asshole. You fucked up for the last time."

“Marie…” Frankie can’t believe what the fuck she just said. The door to the bedroom slams open and he can only pray that it’s their bedroom and not Luna’s as the baby’s screams get louder. “I’m coming, baby girl.” He rushes to the baby, wanting to protect her and calm her down.

Will stands in the living room, hypervigilant with his phone in his hand to call for help – emergency services or the guys, whichever is needed – just in case. Frankie had closed the door to Luna's nursery behind him to keep the noise down but it's the door to the master bedroom that Will is watching closely. If Marie wants to start shit with him, too, he's right here ready for it.

Rushing over to the crib, Frankie picks up a red-faced, screeching Luna. Gasping for air as she screams, shaking in fury. “It’s okay, baby.” He coos softly, making sure to keep his own emotions closed off, not wanting to transfer energy to her. “Daddy’s gotcha. I’m right here. Shhhhhush.”

Rattling from the room next door continues, finding a crescendo in the crashing of something that might have been furniture. When Marie throws the door back open she seethes at Will, screaming something incoherent before shoving him out of the way to snap up a few things from the living room and throw them into the various bags she has been packing in the bedroom. Mere seconds later, she is marching out the door with one last screeched "FUCK YOU, FRANCISCO!" and leaving it open as she stomps off down the hall into the night.

Luna is halfway soothed, still hiccupping and sobbing into his chest as Frankie rocks her as he paces around the room. Completely sure that his girlfriend has trashed the apartment, but his concern is his daughter.

The door to the nursery opens slowly about a minute later, and Will swallows but shakes his head solemnly. "Well..." The best he can do is sigh. "She's gone. Took about four bags with her."

Frankie turns and nods. “Can you— uh, I think she might need another bottle.” He tells Will. “I don’t want to put her down.”

"I got it," Will promises, putting up one hand as if to tell Fish to stand down. "I also called in reinforcements. The guys should be here in no time. We'll get the place cleaned up and figure things up." He flashes his friend a half smile, trying for a joke. "Guess you won't need to move in with me and Jess after all."

“I don’t—” Frankie bites his lip and frowns. “You don’t think she will come back, do you?”

"Maybe for some stuff she left behind, but those were full bags, Fish." Will shakes his head again, not even sure what to say at this point but sure as all hell that things will be figured out before the night is over. "I'm just glad it's not too late. The number of noise complaints should be fewer." With that, Will steps away to make Luna a bottle and wait for the others to arrive.

“It’s okay, baby girl.” Frankie rumbles softly, rubbing her little back and jostling her to calm her down. “You’re okay. Everything is good.”

******

Benny ignores his phone the first time it goes off in his pocket. The second time, even. It's the third time his phone buzzes with a text message that he apologizes and takes his cell out at the kitchen table as he's eating dinner with you and Rachel. "It's the group chat," he explains, the repeated apology apparent in his voice. You both know there is a group chat with the guys, but opening it at the table isn't his usual thing. He tries to have manners around his girlfriend's mother. "Oh shit..." Benny breathes a second later, eyes widening as he reads the texts.

“What?” Rachel looks over at Benny in concern. She knows how hard he tries to impress you and it’s rare that he’s even pulling out his phone.

"I, uh..." He's already halfway pulling the napkin out of his lap with panic on his face, and he looks up at you and Rachel but his eyes jet back down to his phone. "It's Frankie," he explains, unsure how that particular news is going to go over. "He's...my brother is over at his place. It's a SOS text."

“What is it?” Rachel’s eyes widen and she reaches for Ben. Almost ready to claw the phone from him to see for herself. Her mind has immediately started spiraling with worst case scenarios.

"The text says clean up and mission assessment," Benny tells her, although he knows that that won't make any sense to her. It's more like reassuring her that grabbing his phone won't do her any good.

"Is he okay?" You ask, wanting a much plainer and more immediate answer than whatever cryptic military text message he got.

"Safe." Benny clarifies. "That text means he needs our help, not that something has happened to him."

“I’ll go with you.” Rachel is immediately tossing down her napkin and standing. Clearing her plate so she can tidy up quickly and head out with him. It’s obviously time sensitive.

"Baby..." Benny stands too, watching Rachel's anxiety start to build very obviously. "You don't need to do that. We can take care of things. I don't even know what happened yet."

"It doesn't matter what happened." In the split second he looked away, you've stood up, too. Gathering things up on the table means you'll just throw leftovers in the fridge and wash the dishes later. "If he needs help, we're going to help him."

“Mom…are you sure?” Rachel stops and turns towards you. “You don’t have to. Everyone would understand.”

"Sweet pea, I have eighteen extra years of stubbornness on you," you remind her, never once pausing as you clear up from dinner. "We'll take two cars, I'll follow you and Ben since I don't know where I'm going."

Rachel looks over at Benny, but he’s just shaking his head and holding his hands up. Unwilling to get in the middle of that argument. “Don’t look at me.” He snorts.

"Leftovers in the fridge. Two cars. Let's go," you insist, knowing from the churning in the pit of your stomach that whatever the problem is...you're in it now. If Frankie needs help, you're going to be right there to give it to him.

“Yes ma’am.” Benny helps put away the food, clearing his own plate and grabbing his keys out of his pocket. “You can follow me.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[welldonekhushi]

Call of Duty OC: Katya Kovalevskaya 🌹

An updated bio sheet of Katya! The last one felt like it was straight Wiki format style, but doesn't really explain her character properly, I also added some changes to her character as well so, here you go! <3

GENERAL:

Name: Katya

Full name: Yekaterina Viktornovna Kovalevskaya

Codename: "Katyusha"

Alias(es): Lady of Death (by the Red Army), Mama Katya (by her soldiers), Der Russische Leutnant (by the Germans)

Age: 32 years old (Call of Duty: World at War), 58 years old (Call of Duty: Black Ops), 70 years old (Black Ops: Cold War)

Gender: Female

Nationality: Russian

Languages spoken: Russian, German (for intelligence purposes), English

Date of birth: June 15, 1916

Place of Birth: Ural Mountains, Imperial Russia

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Martial Status: Single

Occupation: Senior Lieutenant and Sniper of the Red Army (retires after the events of the first Black Ops)

Status: Active

Rank: Senior Lieutenant (1942), Lieutenant Colonel (1945)

Affiliation: Red Army, CIA (briefly)

Universe: Call of Duty: World at War, Call of Duty: Black Ops, Black Ops: Cold War (alternative AU)

Faceclaim: Anna Chipovskaya

Song: "Katyusha" by Boris Alexandrov

Biography: Yekaterina, commonly known as Katya joins the Red Army for the service of the Soviet Union to avenge her parents death under the hands of German forces. While defending her country amidst the raging Second World War, she faces tremendous amounts of obstacles and barriers in her life which often try to make them as her weakness, but the woman was sworn to take her last breath in achieving one goal with her comrades — and that was liberating Berlin.

AFFILIATIONS:

3rd Shock Army (Red Army)

Sergeant Viktor Reznov [K.I.A]

Private Dimitri Petrenko [K.I.A]

Private Chernov [K.I.A]

Commissar Markhov [fate unknown]

Major General Nikita Dragovich [K.I.A]

Colonel Lev Kravchenko [fate unknown]

CIA (Call of Duty: Black Ops)

Alex Mason

Frank Woods

Jason Hudson

Grigori Weaver

SKILLS AND ABILITIES:

Weapon induced: Scoped Mosin-Nagant, Tokarev (TT-33), PPSh-41, Molotov Cocktail, RGD-33

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand combat, but rarely, since she's more used to being a sniper giving covering fire

Special skills: Is a very experienced sniper, that gave her the infamous name of "Lady of Death", but Katya didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she was only serving her people as a soldier of the frontlines.

Talents: Knows natural remedies, holds a lot of empathy for others, can speak fluent German even if she knows a little bit of it

Shortcomings: Due to the incident, she lost her face partially along with the half-vision of her eye throughout the accident, faces survivors guilt, is a bit mentally depressed but she's able to push those negative thoughts down

PERSONALITY:

Myers-Briggs Type: ISFJ (The Defender)

Is very protective towards her comrades: Ever since she lost her parents, Katya had always been searching for a way to cope up with her loss by taking care of the people she loves and believes in the most. Even if she never married, or birthed a child, she automatically unlocked her motherly instincts by calling her comrades as her "sons and daughters", considering them as her one, found family.

Ruthless, but at times merciful: Katya has shown immense strength and courage in the battlefield as a sniper and a squad leader, haunting the Germans in their own sleep thinking Katya wouldn't kill them and make the mattress they're sleeping on as their deathbed. But also, when Katya wants to show mercy, she'll show it. She thinks there's no use to wasting her own bullets on someone who already decided to surrender to the Red Army.

Emotional: Let it be a soldier dying, or a civilian, she'll ask forgiveness from God that she wasn't able to save an innocent despite having the duty to protect her own people. The incident that killed all of her soldiers left her deeply scarred, and believed she committed a bigger sin for being too naive and careless, and she deserved the impact on her face. It was even worse when Nikita Dragovich killed her teammates again by putting them as test subjects for the Nova 6 experiment that made her grow deranged and bloodthirsty to hunt Dragovich and his lapdog, Kravchenko in a fit of vengeance, until the CIA caught her presence.

Intelligent and observant: Katya is more aware of her surroundings ever since the incident impacted her, which caused her to be very vigilant, and grew her intelligence in the battlefield which made her useful for the Red Army as a sniper and as a squad leader in the infantry.

BACKGROUND STORY

Katya was born around 1916 with her mother Elizaveta Kovalevskaya (neé Petrova) and father, Viktor Kovalevsky. Spending her childhood in the Ural Mountains, she learnt how to snipe at a young age from her father, who was a hunter, the reason why she took her father's skill in the field of sniping.

In 1939, she recruited herself in the Red Army as a sniper, in which her talent gave a huge role and reputation among the soldiers as a source of bravery, courage and inspiration, that gave her the name "Lady of Death". But, Katya on the other hand didn't want to coin such a name for herself when she believes she's only doing it for the protection of her own people.

But, in 1941, when Germany attacked Soviet Russia under "Operation Barbarossa", her village became a victim of the attacks, which ended up killing her family in the process. Broken and enraged, Katya wanted to avenge her parents death by going through missions and eliminating every single enemy who tried to cross the Soviet borders. Her life completely changed when one day she encountered General Heinrich Amsel, who was responsible for the death of her family along with many others, wanted to kill him by her own hands but never succeeded because he evaded before she could get to him.

Furious, the General wanted to eliminate Katya in her path, by luring her into a trap that he was staying at a hotel and could grab her an opportunity to end his life there. But little to her knowledge, it was all a set up, when he used that entire building as a decoy with the explosives attached. His soldiers locked away his teammates, including Katya but she was able to break through it. In a desperate attempt to find her comrades who were still locked inside, it was too late before the explosion could take effect, and blew her out of the building, leaving her drastically injured.

The explosion was the turning point of her life, where it emotionally scarred her and made her regret being a soldier, when she couldn't even protect her own soldiers, who basked into the flames of Amsel's planned explosion. She was taken for medical assistance, which took her a month to recover physically, and mentally. But, that didn't stop Katya from retiring, as her mind still revolved around that one goal — to eliminate General Amsel, and push all the German forces back from invading Russia.

Somewhere around 1942, she was promoted to Senior Lieutenant, and became the squad leader for the 3rd Shock Army, and participated in the Battle of Stalingrad alongside Pvt. Dimitri Petrenko and Sgt. Viktor Reznov. As the General's whereabouts were found, she led her team throughout the warzone and successfully countered Amsel, which led to his untimely death under the hands of Dimitri's sniper rifle. Katya, who held immense pride for the Private for doing something she couldn't, made him along with Reznov and Chernov as her closest comrades.

After the entire battle, in 1945, they finally achieved victory by liberating Berlin by hoisting the Soviet flag on the Reichstag, Katya was now at peace, hoping for a better future after the war's end.

But, somehow.. her life was going to go into a bigger turmoil, when she gets sent to the mission around the Arctic Circle, leading the events of the first Black Ops.

[normieauaskblog]

Big yap post time!! Get comfortable!! And we are finally getting into the rough stuff.

I promise I will make a comic soon, but for now, the gangs' parents and their stories :]

Cw: Mentions of religious trauma, child abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, death.

NORMIE AU PARENTS

《~~~~》

Victoria Stone, the mother of Eddward Stone. She was widowed when Edd was about 6, having to take care of him all by herself while juggling 3 jobs. Despite everything, she was never a bad mom.

《~~~~》

Cecilia Vincent, mother of Matthew Vincent. Retired Model of Paris fame, when Matt was only 3, she left her husband and moved to the UK to start a new life. After such an easy time leaving her husband and country, Cecilia felt as though she had been saved by god and became an incredibly devoted Christian.

Cecilia drove Matt from sinning, costing him his freedom and happiness, and allowed her priest to verbally berate Matt in front of the entire service. One day, she caught Matt in his room being physically intimate with his friend Tord. She didn't hesitate to condemn him for participating in homosexual behavior and hanging around a gay person.

After sending Matt to a conversion camp for over a year, he turned 18 and never spoke to her again, opting to move in with his friends.

《~~~~》

Hunter Thompson, Thomas Thompson, and Jonathan Thompsons father. After accidentally knocking up a girl who went to his high school, he tried to be present in the childs life while finishing his senior year. He ended up knocking her up again when Tom was 2, and due to complications during birth, she passed away and left him with two very young children.

After a year of trying to figure out how take care of the children, he just gave up, opting to leaving the two alone for hours at a time, getting high, and screaming at them if they bothered him. One day, when Tom was 5 and Jon was 3, Hunter had gotten aggravated with Tom and had locked him out of the house.

After walking 15 minutes alone, barefoot in the cold, Tom went to his best friend Edds house, where Victoria took care of him and called the police. Hunter was arrested the same night, and Tom and Jon were taken by CPS.

Ivory and Enver Travers, the foster parents to Thomas Thompson and Jon Thompson. Immigrants from Turkey, who wanted nothing more than to help troubled children. They received a very traumatized little girl, Thomas(deadname redacted) Thompson and a very confused Jonathan Thompson. Tom grew to be rude and rebellious, causing increased tension and stress onto Ivory and Enver. Despite it all, they both remain proud of how their two boys turned out.

《~~~~》

Patryck and Paul Andrews, the parents of Tord Andrews. The two met at a festival event. Patryck was a talented lawyer from Poland, and Paul was a veteran from the German military who'd been retired due to an injury that'd left him half blind. After hitting it off and dating for 3 years, they decided to have a child.

Patryck, being transgender, had hormonal issues from taking birth control and testosterone that caused fertility issues. After a long wait, they finally got their miracle child, Tord.

For the first 7 years of Tords life, Paul was an alcoholic. He occasionally would get angry and loud, which ended up leaving Tord with lasting issues with alcohol and being around drunk people. When Tord was 10, Paul had been given an ultimatum and quit.

When Tord left for the army at 19, their home became a safe space for Matt, who had basically become a second son to the two. Despite their age, Paul and Patryck remain active, and just as in love as they were on their first date.

《~~~~》

Yeah Tord is Paul and Pats kids im sorry im cringe :(

[billthedrake]

PRE-FROSH (CHAPTER ONE)

This story is a sequel to "Dad's New Life."

I was prepared to take a good amount of teasing, and maybe more, this weekend. But the guys in the Sig Ep house were cool, I had to admit.

I didn't think I was going to be able to visit. But my older brother Connor swore to my parents he'd keep a hawk's eye on me and keep me from drinking or doing anything I shouldn't. I got along OK with my brother, but growing up he was always kind of bossy, taking advantage of being three years older than me and more of the popular kid in school.

He was still that guy, only now I'd grown up, taller than Connor now, and had really bulked up. I'd say it was basketball and lacrosse, but a lot of it was just obsessively working out and keeping my growing teen body fed with enough protein to put on muscle. I still had a young face - and I had a good idea it would be a while before I could pull off a fake ID - but I was starting to get a strong build for my 6'3" frame.

I now sat in a big sofa in the rec room of the fraternity house, watching some dumb TV. Connor plopped himself next to me with a knowing grin. He had two beer cans in his hand and offered me one. "Not a word to Mom and Dad, Squirt," he admonished.

"Course not," I said, gratefully taking the beer. I took a few sips. It was cheap beer but I didn't care, I loved it.

"Hey O'Brien," one of the brothers said. Alan I think his name was. A senior and a stocky, goofy dude who I discovered was one of Connor's close buddies in the house. The Four Musketeers they called themselves, and Alan was the crudest of the bunch. "Is the pre-frosh gonna partake of Mike's services?"

I wondered if Mike was a drug dealer or something. I figured my older brother wouldn't be into anything too wild. He was the studious one in the family.

Connor got an uncharacteristically shy look. "Dude, it's my baby brother we're talking about."

"I'm not a baby," I objected. I'd turned 18 a couple weeks earlier.

This fraternity brother just gave me a sly wink before turning to my brother. "Like your brother doesn't get his dick wet. The young dude's a fucking lacrosse player fer Christsake."

Fuck, they were talking about sex. With a dude. I smirked, and Connor laughed when he turned to see my expression. "You don't even know what you're grinning about, Jase," he teased.

I shrugged, showing off as much teen bravado as I could. "I figured if it wasn't fun, you wouldn't be acting like I wasn't ready for it."

I could sense my brother was frustrated, cause he didn't object or act bossy, he just gave me a pale grin. "All right. Just remember. No talking about what happens this weekend. Promise?"

"Yeah, dude," I said, annoyed. "I fucking promise."

It was a half hour before Mike showed up. I heart his booming baritone voice coming down the SigEp house steps to the basement before I saw him. I don't know what I expected, but the guy was older, a lot older. Like, dad's age. And buff as hell. He didn't quite look like an ex-athlete, not like Coach Carson, but he was big and beefy and muscular, more of a gym-pumped build, but he clearly took real good care of himself. He wore a snug polo shirt and faded jeans and had a Chicago Bears ball cap on. His shirt was all filled out with huge pecs and big guns. I had jerked off to some bi and gay porn, maybe more than I'd like to admit. I never thought of myself as into older dudes, but something about this guy got me going.

Particularly since I was putting two and two together and realizing this buff older man really was somehow providing some kind of services to the fraternity brothers. Maybe just a handjob or something, and I wondered if he was actually a fucking hooker the way the guys acted so nonchalant.

"Hiya, fellas, how's it hanging?" he asked, giving Dale a fist bump. Dale was another one of the Four Musketeers.

"About six inches soft," Dale wisecracked.

It may have just been banter, but this was not what I was expecting for my pre-frosh weekend on campus.

Mike gave a soft chuckle and looked around. "Same room?" he asked.

"Yeah," Alan replied. "We set it up to make it extra comfy for ya."

Mike smirked but didn't take the bait of the taunt. He just asked. "Who's first?"

"Let the prefrosh have first dibs," said Kyle, a sophomore soccer player who had a whole stoner vibe about him.

I looked over at my big brother Connor, like he was going to object. He just shrugged in a "you wanted it," kind of way.

So I acted like I wasn't some dumb young high schooler and stood up. I felt the guys' eyes on me, almost giggling.

I followed the big guy up the stairs and down the hall. I don't know whose room we were using... one of the brothers', but Mike seemed at home, like he came here regularly. As we stepped in, I started to get nervous, my bravado going right out the window. The man caught on.

"I've not seen you around the house before," he said.

I stood awkwardly in front of him, shifting on my feet some. "I'm just visiting," I explained. "I'm still in high school actually," I added, then immediately regretted it. I was probably blowing my chance for a handjob right then.

But the man didn't seem fazed. His blue eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his ball cap and a smile formed on his handsome face. Up close I could now see the silver flecks in his stubble and for some reason I found that really hot. "Is that right, buddy?" he asked. "Not too young for me are ya?" he asked. Kind of flirty in his question.

"No sir," I replied. Feeling dumb for calling him that. "I'm a senior... just turned 18 a couple weeks ago."

He nodded with that sexy smile of his and now openly looked me up and down. "You're big for 18... you lift regularly I bet."

"Yessir," I said. I wished to hell my parents hadn't instilled that deference to elders thing in me so hard. I probably seemed like an idiot to this guy. "I'm a typical jock, I guess. Hoping to get a lacrosse scholarship somewhere." God, I was blabbing now.

"Nice," was all the guy said and like that he was crouching down in front of me. I'd lost any chub I had with the nervousness and the small talk, but now I knew instantly I wasn't gonna have a problem getting hard. I felt that horny tightness in my chest and throat as I watched this hunky guy get in position and run his hands along my legs.

Mike looked up at me. I tried to gauge his age. Late 40s to mid 50s. He was well preserved for sure, but also had a tan that made his face look more ruggedly handsome. "I bet you get a lot of attention from men."

I shook my head. "I wish," I replied. It was refreshing to be honest, even if I didn't even know this guy.

Mike's paw now massaged the growing boner in my shorts. "Just send out the signals, stud, and I can guarantee you'll get as much attention as you want." It was wild to hear his words in such a deep baritone of a voice, the Chicago accent thick as hell.

"Signals?" I asked. In addition to a handjob, maybe I could get some advice for hooking up. If I had the guts to back in my small hometown.

"Yah," he explained. "Eye contact, body language. Letting a guy know you're open to his advances." His fingers were now undoing my shorts. "I wasn't sure about you, actually. You seem the shy type."

"I've never done anything like this," I admitted.

"Na? Ever have your cock sucked, buddy?" he practically growled.

I shook my head. My heart pounded more. Maybe this was gonna be more than a handjob.

I watched as he pulled my shorts and underwear down. My cock flopped out, hanging in midair for a second before it bounded up into a hard upright position. I was hornier than I realized.

"Hot damn!" Mike gasped. "Cherry and hung as fuck." His hand wrapped around my meat, sending shock jolts of pleasure to my balls. The man's eyes seemed fixed on my dick. "Hell of a cock you got, buddy," he said. Then looking up, he asked, "You Connor's brother?"

"Yeah," I replied. Blushing some. I guess I figured Connor partook of Mike's services, but this was crazy to think about. My dick enjoyed the idea of my big brother getting sucked, though. It jerked in Mike's mitt.

He returned his attention to my crotch. "I could tell. Though you're even bigger than him.... fuck!" He paused and licked his lips. "God, I love virgins."

And like that I watched, almost as if in slow motion, as this middle-aged hunk leaned in and started taking me into his mouth. He used his mouth to wet me down at first, just an inch or two, but it felt incredible. Pleasure but also the novelty of sensation. I'd not been entirely truthful. I'd fucked a couple of chicks, that drunk fumbling at parties kind of fucks, and I'd dated one girl who let me feel her up and she'd give me a handjob. THIS, though, was another world. Mike knew what the fuck he was doing.

The kicker was when he pulled back a second and took in a breath then swallowed me all in one go. His throat felt snug and tight but it was the nastiness of the action which caught me off guard.

Not as much of a shock thought as a voice in the room.

"How is he, Pre-Frosh?" It was Craig, a fit, muscular junior, a kind of typical popular frat dude. The fourth guy in the Four Musketeers group my brother hung out with. I'm guessing he was sent in to keep an eye on things and make sure I was OK.

"Fuck," I gasped. Switching personalities now that I was trying to impress one of Connor's brothers. "Dude knows how work a cock."

Indeed, as I spoke Mike was bobbing up and down on me with slick sounding mouth strokes, his spit running down my balls.

I got a better view of Craig as he stepped up. He always wore his longish dirty blond hair under his ball cap and I saw his cute-handsome face examine my own. "You gonna nut soon, bro?"

I shook my head. "I could. But I want this to last." It was my first time out, and once I got over the fear of a quick trigger I'd settled into enjoying the rising and cresting pleasure without quite orgasming. Though I felt it could come any second now.

"You up for sharing?" he asked. Cautious. I had a sense if it was any other brother, he would have butted right in. But I was Connor's kid brother.

I pulled back and we both laughed as Mike tried to follow me, latching his lips on my meat before I finally broke free.

Craig was already pulling down his sweatpants to reveal his hard dick. He was regular sized, with a good looking cut cock. I enjoyed seeing it but also was proud I outmeasured this college bro.

"Hot," Mike gasped as he moved from his crouch to a kneeling position. Craig played host by offering a folded towel for his knees. The man pulled off his ball cap and tossed it aside. His hair was short and showed a good bit of gray on the temples, but he had enough length on top to give that matted-tousled look from his cap. Mike was still in his polo and jeans and his muscle looked pretty amazing as he scooted toward Craig.

"Fuck yeah," the fraternity brother grunted. "Suck my fucking cock dude."

Craig's eyes were down on Mike, eagerly watching the big guy do his work. Craig's smaller size meant Mike could go wild, battering his own throat with hard and fast movements of his skull.

I didn't know where to keep my eyes. On Mike and his slutty thrill in sucking cock. Or on Craig, who was clearly responding to the sexual stimulation in his face and whole body.

Craig finally reached down and held Mike's head, steadying it and slowly pushing him off.

"It's O'Brien's turn," he said with a chuckle. "I know you like the big ones, Mike," he added.

"I do," the man admitted without shame. He gave Craig's tool one more lick then watched as I stepped up to where Craig had been.

Somehow his BJ now had warmed him up for me. It wasn't just the deep throat that got me off. It was the swiveling motion of his head and the milking suction. Involuntarily I gripped the sides of his head to brace my body.

"Oh SHIT!" I cried. I was entering orgasm now, one that put my previous ones to shame. I saw white for a second and felt light headed. Like Mike was sucking out my consciousness along with my cum.

I heard Craig laughing. "Go for it, bro!" Then. "Niiiccce."

Mike finally spat out my prick. "If you want seconds, stud, you know where to find me," he winked.

Craig meanwhile was practically pushing me out of the way, eager for his turn, his dick reddened and leaking in excitement. "Tell the next guy he's up," he said as he thrust back in between Mike's wet lips. "It won't take me long."

I found my shorts and underwear and put them back on, taking one more view of Craig, who was actively fucking the big burly dude's face.

Everything about this was so crazy and so exciting. A couple of the guys on the team had bragged about gangbanging Kelsey Myers, but I think they were bullshitting. And here was an out-there gangbang happening in my brother's fraternity house.

I was still flush and breathing heavy when I returned to the den. "Who's next?" I said, as I plopped next to my brother on the couch and picked up the beer can, which hadn't warmed up too much. I took a sip of the cheap watery stuff, which for whatever reason tasted like the best goddamn beer I'd tasted.

I could tell Connor was watching me, trying to read me. I turned to him. "What, bro?" I asked, maybe acting more annoyed than I was.

"You OK, Jase?" he asked in a low voice.

I nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?" I said, trying to play it cool. "That was awesome."

He paused and took a sip of his own beer. "You won't mind if I go in there soon?"

"Fuck no," I said, getting the courage to make eye contact with my brother. We were two O'Brien men experiencing the same cocksucker. It was a strange bonding experience for sure. "I'd feel bad if you didn't on my account."

Indeed Connor's turn was next and he got up off the couch, a boner already forming in his sweats. I had never thought of my big bro like this, but indeed he had a pretty big tool.

He was gone about ten minutes. Good for him. When he came back he was flush like I was, the Irish genes making his cheeks rosy pink after sex. I could tell he was embarrassed to have done that with me there, and I enjoyed being the laidback one for a change.

"Seriously, bro," I whispered. "Thanks for letting me do that. You know, for not getting all protective and shit."

He shrugged. "Just don't tell Mom and Dad," he warned.

"What the fuck would I tell them?" I said with a chuckle.

Connor laughed. "You got a point there."

We were watching some dumb MTV reality show, but mostly my attention was on the brothers as one by one they got up to go partake of Mike's services. Alan might have been the last to do so, and when he came back he asked, "Anyone up for seconds?"

I heard the guys laugh as I stood up.

"Pre Frosh is going back!" cried one of the guys. I hoped I wasn't embarrassing Connor or anything, but I had tasted the forbidden fruit and wanted another bite while I still had the chance. I ignored the taunts and made a beeline back to that room.

The door was ajar and I pushed my way in. I saw Mike's polo shirt before anything else. It was on the floor, a few feet away from where that folded towel was, and his discarded jeans.

The man was lying on the bed, face down and ass up in a dreamy quiet repose. I underestimated how muscular he was. That ass alone jutted up in two round hard globes and his back dipped down then swelled up in an amazing mass of lats and rear delts. The back was tanned and totally smooth, a contrast to his pale but furry buns.

I was taking off my shorts and underwear when Mike turned and looked over at me. "I was hoping you'd come back, buddy," he said in his deep soft voice. "You eager for the full ride?"

I wasn't the brightest guy I suppose but it was dawning on me what he meant. At least one of the brothers had fucked him and Mike was now asking me if I wanted to fuck him too.

"Yeah," I said. Like it was a normal occurrence for me. My dick was rock hard again and I fisted it a little.

Mike gave a smile as he watched me get closer to the bed. "Damn, I'm gonna feel that in me good, aren't I?"

Somehow he knew how to be flirty as hell in a masculine way that got me rock hard. Before this weekend I would have imagined I'd enjoy having sex with one of Connor's fraternity brothers instead. Living out some SeanCody or CorbinFisher fantasy. But this older guy was pushing my buttons big time.

"Yep," I said, trying to act cocky like Craig or the other guys had. Only I didn't know where to start when it came to fucking. Surely it wasn't as easy as in the porn videos.

Thankfully Mike seemed to read my hesitation. "Just climb on buddy. Daddy's all lubed up for that big monster."

I wasn't sure what I thought of the daddy thing. But this man was so hot and so clearly in heat, humping the bed some and hiking his meaty ass up for me as I got onto the mattress.

His muscle felt warm beneath me as I stretched my body on top of his, trying not to put all my weight down on him, but just enjoying this. It was so different than fucking a chick, the complete lack of hesitation as Mike reached back and gripped my tool long enough to guide me in place.

"You have an amazing body, stud," he hissed. "Hot fucking high school senior."

My prick felt the wetness of the lube. Then as I pressed in past his recently fucked folds, I knew it wasn't just lube. I'd heard the phrase sloppy seconds of course but it was insane how sloppy Mike's ass felt. Tons of fraternity cum awaited my dick as I bored inside him. I knew not to just ram it in him, and in a way I savored the slow inching in and the way the man's cuts clung to me.

"You have a great body, too, Mike," I said, now letting my chest press more against his back muscle. A thought occurred to me. "You let guys do this a lot?" I asked.

He leaned his head back up against my neck. It took me a second to realize he was moving his ass back against my hips too, doing some of the work to penetrate his ass with my long cock. "Yeah, I do," he replied, matter of fact. "That bother you, buddy?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I guess it's kind of hot.... thanks for letting me do it."

Mike let out a deep growl. "Anytime buddy... that dick of yours feels AMAZING."

I sawed some inches in and out then decided to go for it. Sending my hips forward I pressed all the way inside him. I'm thick and long and I know Mike really felt that.

"Oh FUCK YEAH, buddy!" he grunted, pushing his chest up a little as if to challenging me to press him back down to the bed. I did, accentuating my movement with another thrust into him. "Love that horse meat ya got."

I would have loved this anyway. Losing my virginity with a man. Having my first ass fuck. But Mike was gonna spoil me, I knew. The man just loved sex and his love was infectious. I held on to his shoulders and started fucking. Not hard but with a steady deep pump. Maximizing the pleasure on my cock but also aiming for that vocal response from him.

"Take that dick, man," I growled in his ear as my hips now worked faster. Mike was bigger and more muscular than me but I had the leverage position to hold him steady while I nailed him, as well as the sex adrenaline pumping in my veins.

I worried I was going too hard, but the harder I nailed him the more he seemed to get into it.

"GODDAMN! High schooler fucks like a porn star," he growled.

I worried the brothers could hear us mate. Then I hoped they could hear everything. I was riding that excitement of my first piece of ass, and I was rising to the occasion. I now knew why my lacrosse buddies were so excited by pussy, but this was even better.

His ass was slick and I could feel the wetness along my cock and balls and had a good idea all that cum was frothing up his furry crack. A few of the fraternity brothers had fucked and bred Mike's hole. Connor was probably one of them, I thought.

That idea I was fucking on my brother’s load made my balls tighten immediately. "Holy fuck," I gasped, my cum working up real quick. A part of me wanted to slow down and enjoy this more. That part of me lost out, though. I held on tighter to Mike's beef and just went to town, cumming deep inside the man's guts.

"Get it, buddy!" Mike cried, eager for my seed. I had no idea if he was going to get off. Maybe he did earlier. Right now it was just about my spurting prick and my pure need.

I rode out the cum and finally slowed my roll, now kissing along the man's neck and feeling up his body.

"Hmmm," the man muttered. "You sure that was your first, Stud? You fuck like a champ."

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Hell of a first time, too," I said. "I'm gonna remember this one for a long time."

"I'm glad, bud," he said. "Damn... it feels like I got a baseball bat wedged up inside me."

"Sorry... I can pull out," I said.

"Don't on my account," Mike said, softly, almost shyly. "I mean, I figure an 18 year old jock has another in the tanks, right?"

My dick wasn't going soft and while I wasn't 100 percent sure I could come again soon, I knew I wanted to get as much Mike time as I could. It might be a long time before I had a chance to fuck a man again. "Yeah," I replied.

I humped him some more, before Mike asked if I wanted to try some other positions. We didn't do them all, maybe, but I had a good number of firsts that afternoon. Missionary, cowboy, reverse cowboy, standing. But we finished in doggy, which might have been my favorite.

I felt like a total stud when I finally dismounted and saw how much cum I'd added to Mike's hole. I gave his rump a gentle pat which made the man laugh.

He watched as I got dressed again. "You around town for long?" he asked.

"Just the weekend," I said.

He grinned and looked me up and down. "If I give you my number, will you hit me before you go?"

This is not how I expected my college visit to go. "Hell yeah," I said.

Mike slid out of bed, his beefy body looking amazing all naked and some wiry silvery hair in his chest fur. His dick was pretty soft but I could see the trickles of fresh cum dripping down the insides of his hairy thighs. He found his wallet and fished out a card to hand me.

It read “Daddy Mike” with a phone number, Insta and Twitter handle and OnlyFans URL.

"Are you a porn star?" I asked in surprise. I now felt like a small-town hick for sure.

"Just like to have a little fun," he said. "If you're the jealous type don't look me up online," he said. "A couple of dudes learned that the hard way." He seemed weirdly apologetic to be warning me.

"If what we did just now was a 'little fun' I'd hate to see a lot of fun," I joked.

"The weekend is still young, Pre Frosh," he winked.

I was a little lightheaded and thirsty when I got back to the den. A couple of the guys razzed me for taking so long and I notice Kyle and some other dude get up to go into together.

Connor seemed quiet, not pissed off but in a strange mood. Later, after dinner, we found ourselves sitting alone. My big bro decided to check in with me.

"I guess I shouldn't have been so worried about you with Mike," he said. An edge to his tone, like maybe he didn't approve. I don't know.

I sighed. "I'm gonna call him up tomorrow, you know, go hang out with him." It was a weirdly euphemistic way to say I was gonna fuck Daddy Mike again.

That hit my brother the wrong way. "Come on, Jason. I'm supposed to be watching out for you."

"Dude, it's gonna be fine," I countered. I didn't know if I could convince him of that, or if he needed convincing. Maybe he just felt guilty things had gotten out of hand.

"You know," I added. "I'm into dudes, Connor."

"Clearly," my brother laughed. OK, he wasn't THAT pissed off at me if he was joking around.

That made me laugh, too. "I mean, like, I know that's what I want. I'm gay."

"Oh," he said. "That's cool." Then, "you know I still worry about you, Jase. It's what brothers do."

"Yeah," I conceded. I shot him a wry grin. "And thanks, bro. I wouldn't have it any other way."

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jonathan Cohn at HuffPost:

Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris on Tuesday proposed a major new initiative: expanding Medicare to cover the cost of long-term care at home. Such a plan could mean the option of staying at home, rather than in a nursing facility, for the millions of seniors and people with disabilities who need help with the daily tasks of life. It could also mean physical and financial relief ― and new opportunities for school or work outside the home ― for the millions of working-age Americans who today provide so much of that care on their own without much in the way of outside assistance. If the proposed legislation is enacted, such a program would represent a substantial boost in federal support for caregiving and, by any measure, one of the largest one-time increases in American history. Harris made her announcement during an appearance on “The View,” the nation’s top-rated daytime talk show, and presented the initiative as a way to help the “sandwich generation” ― that is, the working adults who have aging parents while still caring for children. Roughly a quarter of the American population falls into that category, according to Pew Research.

“There are so many people in our country who are right in the middle ― they’re taking care of their kids and they’re taking care of their aging parents ― and it’s just almost impossible to do it all,” Harris said. “Especially if they work, we’re finding that so many are then having to leave their job, which means losing a source of income, not to mention the emotional stress.” Harris pledged to finance the home care initiative fully, in part by tapping the savings from yet another reform she has proposed: expanding the federal government’s power to negotiate drug prices directly with manufacturers. The federal government acquired that power just two years ago, thanks to Democratic legislation that Harris supported.

[...]

The Home Care Struggle Today

Dollars alone don’t capture the scope of the proposal ― or the change it could mean for individual families. Nearly 20% of seniors require some kind of help with bathing, eating and other daily life functions, according to the available research. The percentage is even higher for older seniors, plus there are non-elderly people who need these services because of disabilities. But Medicare doesn’t cover this kind of long-term care, except in limited circumstances, nor does private insurance. And few families have the income or savings to pay out of pocket for these supports and services, which over the course of a year can easily generate bills into six figures. That leaves Medicaid, currently the nation’s single largest payer of long-term services and, for millions of Americans, a true lifesaver. But Medicaid is available only to people with low incomes, which means that families cannot qualify until they have “spent down” whatever savings they have or figured out ways of transferring those savings to relatives. (An entire legal specialty exists purely to guide people through this process.)

And that’s not the only issue with Medicaid. States manage the program, even though the federal government covers most of the cost, which means eligibility, benefits, management and reimbursement for long-term care vary enormously depending on where people live. That’s especially true when it comes to home care. Many states cap enrollment, creating long waiting lists for services and forcing people into nursing homes (which Medicaid covers more uniformly) even when they would prefer to remain at home. The alternative for many families is to provide care on their own, which is nice in some cases and terrible in others and somewhere in between for the rest.

[...]

But the version Harris is putting forward now is different from the old one. The previous proposal would have essentially taken the existing Medicaid program and made it bigger. Harris envisions Medicare taking on home care for its beneficiaries, which to many analysts and advocates for the elderly seems like an improvement, in part because Medicare is not limited to those in the most dire economic circumstances. “The care that people need ― the long term-care ― is part of their overall health care needs,” Georgetown public policy professor Judith Feder, a co-author on one of the recently published papers sketching out a proposal, told HuffPost. “Nobody should have to be impoverished because they need health care or long-term care. It needs to be a true guarantee of security, not simply a last resort.”

Whether a home care program was part of Medicaid or Medicare, moving from Harris’ campaign pledge to actual policy would require answering all sorts of complicated questions and confronting all sorts of difficult trade-offs, over not just money but also issues like how to balance support for professional care workers and those who prefer to provide care on their own. There would also be questions of whether and how to restructure Medicaid’s long-term care supports, how those would integrate with the new Medicare initiative and what that would all mean for the providers of care, who, undoubtedly, would have a thing or two to say about it. But the potential complications go hand in hand with potential benefits, which include everything from additional savings to Medicare (because some studies suggest home care reduces hospital expenses) to shifting more care out of nursing homes and back to the home setting.

Democratic Presidential candidate Kamala Harris is making a major proposal to help seniors and their caregivers by expanding Medicare to include home-based care.

See Also:

Vox: Biden’s push for child care failed. What lessons are there for Kamala Harris?

[queenwille]

(same anon as before) you guys are definitely right that seeing graphic war imagery constantly is mentally damaging, even just through a screen. And with Jewish trauma it absolutely makes sense that sharing that imagery is offensive in Israel.

I think, maybe, this is what (partially) fuels people’s hatred towards Israelis. It is definitely not common knowledge outside of Israel that you guys aren’t seeing what many of us are seeing, so when we are bombarded constantly with pictures of children’s mangled bodies, a lot of people think “how can Israelis sit back and watch this happen?!” They don’t realize that you guys aren’t watching this happen. All of the violence and gore and trauma from Gaza we’re being exposed to via the internet is incredibly distressing, but as far as I know pretty much nobody knows that Israelis aren’t seeing the same footage that much of the rest of the world is (I understand why though). I think that misconception might be driving some of the rhetoric of Israelis being cruel people who condone the killing of children, etc.

let me start by the easiest part: many times that footage is joined with unverified information and you wouldn’t believe how many of those are actually from syria. yup. nothing to do with israel. promise. the neighbors are well known for their psychological war (nassrallah spoke about it this in his speeches week, actually 🥴), so israelis aren’t too fast to believe all of those or how authentic the story behind them is.

but back to what you wrote, that’s the thing, it’s not through the screen for israelis, so there’s no need for the screen. i think that what’s hard for the west (and i don’t mean to offend anyone but this is usually the case), mostly americans, to comprehend is this is real life in israel. literally most serve in the IDF or any other national service (ambulance/special unites/police/hospitals/children at risk/prisons/welfare facilities). at the age of 18, israelis become young adults, as they are brutally exposed to life’s tragedies and have the responsibility to assist in taking care of it. it’s just the way it is. israelis don’t go about their senior year dreaming of a fancy college with a prestigious education and some worthwhile parties. they spend it thinking how they can have a meaningful service, that’s literally how it’s called- meaningful. the college stage comes muuuuch later, at the age of ~23-25. after they’ve finished their service and took 1-2 years to chill out and clear their heads from it and travel for really long periods of time (sometimes even over a year). only then they’re ready for university. it’s a whole different mentality. PTSD due to military service is so so common in israel that it’s well known that many don’t really react to that travel stage too well and completely lose it out there and come back mentally destroyed (usually due to drugs that trigger the PTSD they weren’t aware of). it’s been reported of parents that had to fly out to places like india or south america to bring back their children who lost all ability to function on their own.

my point is that, for some reason, israeli and jewish trauma is mocked or overlooked on a daily basis. for some reason it’s common to think the IDF are random AI robots or idk. nope, they’re a very real part from the very small israeli and jewish community/nation. literally most of the people in israel are or were in the IDF.

israelis aren’t heartless to those views, israelis are mostly furious at how those videos are used for, pardon, yeah? mental masturbation. please don’t see this as a direct offense to you, but it sometimes it feels like y’all enjoy watching it almost as much as you enjoy watching a sports game. also keeping up the death toll scores like the scores of the season in football. we feel like a reality show to you and it really is infuriating, because like any other reality show- it’s bias. i truly don’t think you understand how much you make the animosity worse by spreading so much misinformation and demonizing/dehumanizing israelis. it literally fuels everything to an extent far beyond your comprehension.

oh and important thing about horror pics, if im not mistaken there’s a whole thing in judaism about respecting the dead and not exposing its dead body? (having all the jewish surnames in jewish history didn’t help me be a good jew, i’m sorry 😞 )

[the-possum-writes]

[Werewolf! Razor Modern AU]

Character: Razor

Fandom: Genshin Impact (Ginger Snaps inspired)

Tags/Warnings: Headcanons, Modern AU/Early 2000's, Gender Neutral Reader, Violence, The dog dies, Mutual pinning, Childhood Friends, Jealousy, Senior High School Setting (aged up), Angst and Comfort.

Wordcount: 4530

A/n: I wanted to play around with something different. This is my first time writing for a genshin impact character and I've been meaning to write for Razor since he's my first four star and I immediately grew attached to him (big sword go whoosh), the idea came to me when I was watching Ginger Snaps one night and doing my genshin dailies.

❥The setting would be in the united states around 2003, in an small rural town surrounded by pines, monotone suburban homes with the chilly early autumn season forcing everyone to wear coats and scarfs.

❥You first met him in elementary school. He just moved in the neighborhood with his adoptive widowed father Varka. Razor was selective mute at school. It didn't make him many friends at first cause the other kids thought he was weird but that didn't stop you from approaching him.

"Do you have a favorite animal?" You'd ask him

Razor pointed at the picture of a pack of wolves in his national geographic picture book, they looked pretty cool so you drew him one with a few broken crayons. He was amazed that you drew him anything, let alone his favorite animal so he returned the gesture and pointed at you as if asking for your favorite. A day later he gave you a gift, a homemade sculpture that resembled an animal made with glued popsicle sticks and googly eyes. Ever since then the two of you have been inseparable.

❥You grew up together and hang out at each other's houses to the point its like a second home, go to the same after school activities and rarely spend more than a few days without one another. Eventually Benny was added to the mix after getting to know you two and struggling to make his own friends in 5th grade, Razor started talking more too. Jump back to current days where you took the first years of highschool for granted, now as graduation comes closer each month you’re now left uncertain of the future as the thought of pursing career paths puts a damp on your friendship with Razor.

❥Razor loves animals, especially canines. He already has a dog but if he had a bigger yard he'd fit many more, you know he also donates money to wolf conservation groups whenever he gets the chance and wants to go to college and go to veterinary school in hopes of helping many more in the future. Your plans aren't as goal oriented as his and you just follow his steps and do anything to be near him, like when you tagged along when he did social service at a dairy farm, but college is a bigger problem for you since your parents have been going through financial struggles. Shaking your head at the thought, you try and focus on your buddy.

❥The two of you walk down the street with a small group of neighborhood dogs on their leashes, it's a chore you're used to in hopes of raising extra cash, meanwhile Razor tags on just cause of the joy it brings him.

❥Due to his preference of animals over people, you're one of his only friends (with the other being Bennett, but isn't as close anymore since he made more friends throughout high school, the three of you are still in good terms though) even before you met Razor he didn't really talk much and although he talks more with you around, he gets tired really fast and resorts to broken sentences which might seem obnoxious to some. But to you, it's charming.

"Have you thought about your costume for Halloween?" you'd ask him.

"Thinking about being a wolf."

"Razor, you were already a wolf last year and the year before that." you snort.

"...They're cool." He gives you a sheepish smile. He doesn't care what others think about him. The street you two walk down is very domestic and ordinary, with a group of kids playing street soccer just around the corner. 

❥But an alarming scream rang out from one of the homes, with a woman clutching a hand to her chest. "He took Max, the beast took Max!" Both Razor and you, along with the kids turned to look at her for a moment- the kids soon went back to their game, meanwhile your attention immediately went to Razor who was already having glossy eyes but tried to hide them from you by crouching down to one of the dogs level to avoid you seeing him.

"You okay?"

Razor pets one of the dogs to distract himself. "I'll be okay. Just wished people would stop leaving their dogs outside." 

It's then that you realize how much the group has shrunk compared to last month, you two would handle about 15 dogs in one go but now there's just 4 of them excluding Razor's own dog Andrius. 

❥"Word around the street is that there's gonna be a costume party at Bennett's, you wanna go? We could have matching costumes." you try to change the subject.

"Can't. Promised Klee I'd take her trick or treating."

"Right, right the neighbor girl." you nod, looking away to nothing in particular while you wait for Razor to recover.

"I know what costume I'll wear." Razor eventually stood up.

"What?"

"Werewolf-" he joked, just in time for you to see his cracked grins.

"Oh god, can't you be more original?." you laugh. 

❥The next day at school you got into some beef with Scaramouche, a classmate of yours who was talking shit and wouldn't shut up. It left you feeling humiliated and angry, it was so bad that when you learned of his pet cat it sent you into a frenzy that led you out here after dark and past curfew with a bag of fake blood and fake fur. Razor managed to intercept you just a block away from your house. He stands up right in front of you, giving you a look you can't decipher under the dim street lights.

"Don't try to stop me Razor. I'm not gonna hurt his cat- I'll just leave this on his doorstep and give him a well deserved scare. " you insist, walking around him as you continue your intended path, but rather than stopping you he walks alongside you. 

"I won't stop you, but won't let you go alone either." 

❥The two of you took a shortcut through a park that was near the edge of the forest, stopping abruptly due to seeing a dog carcass lying near the swings. Razor immediately tenses up, while you feel your own resolve for petty revenge dimishing. 

"Let's give it a proper burial." you suggest already grabbing the dog's frontal paws. It's cold outside so you're wearing gloves, but Razor wasn't, so when he grabbed the dog's hind legs he immediately letting go once he touched it.  "It's still warm... This was recent." He fears.

❥A growl echoes from beyond the street lamp's light drawing your attention to the pair of white dots reflecting from the creature's eyes, Razor slowly raises his arm to your shoulder but neither your flight or fight instincts respond and you're standing there motionless even as the creature rushes towards you.  You tumble to the ground as Razor jumped in front of you, you couldn't see the beast but it chomped down on Razor's arm and dragged him away from the streetlight and into the pine forest. "Razor!" you chase after him in the dark. Getting scratched by tree branch after tree branch until you loose sight of him but his screams are still audible as you try to make sense of which direction its coming from.

"RAZOR!" You shout, starting to worry once you don't hear him anymore, but you do hear the beast.

You eventually spot it in the dark, hunched over Razor.

❥You pick up a piece of a log, walking carefully towards the creature as it mauls Razor's thick jacket and you smack the thing twice before it growled at you and ran off to lick it's wounds. You use those precious seconds to pick up Razor and toss his arm over your shoulders, struggling to get him to respond in any way that lets you know he's alive. It takes every piece of your sanity to not freak out at the sight of his blood.

 

❥"Let's get out of here-" you huff while carrying him by his good arm. But no matter how much you run you know the beast is just behind the two of you, soon your shoes feel the form pavement of a street as you made it out of the forest with a car in sight. You desperately make gestures at it but it looks like it's not slowing down in the slightest, your eyes then went to the clear pair of sickly yellow looking at you, you can't make out it's form due to its blacken fur but you know it's running at you.

❥The car blares it's horn at you and screeches to the left as it avoids running you over but in that moment it ended up running over the beast instead, hearing it leave an enormous dent against the car's hood.

It's tires screech into a halt a few feet's away from you now. Hearing the opening and closing of the door.

"What are you doing out here?! What was that?" The driver shouted at you, recognizing him as Albedo from your chemistry class.

"Doesn't matter! Just help me take Razor to the hospital!" You beg desperately.

❥Hes freaked out, maybe almost as you are. But while he drives off you stay in the backseat with Razor as you try and remove his jacket to check his wounds, what you see is something out of this world. Razor as a nasty gash across his chest and bleeding like an uncooked steak but slowly you see it heal itself at a rapid pace.

❥Razor snaps awake and grabs you by the wrist. He calls your name in a foggy voice, if Razor ever drank you get the feeling this is how he would sound like when drunk. "What are you doing? What happened?" He asks you, noticing how he caught your hand on his bare chest.

"What's going on back there?" Albedo asks you but you don't respond immediately. Only telling him in a tired voice that he's fine and that you just want him to take you two home.

❥Once you got home you called Varka and told him that Razor was gonna stay over at your house because of a school project, something both of your parents are used to. 

He falls asleep shortly after but you're left awake and still left shaking, turning a side glance at Razor just to make sure he's still here with you.

❥Theres some spare clothes for him in your room (due to previous frequent sleepovers where the two of you play videogames on weekends), you've grown used to seeing his torso bare but this time while he's dressing you stare intently at his back searching for any marks or scars but they don't seem outright visible at first. Just the faintest white scar as if it were a wound from years ago which would be impossible.

❥ "Razor? Do you remember anything about last night?"

He stays silent as he looks upwards, a very him thing to do when he's shuffling through stuff in his head but this time he comes empty handed. "I remember we were in the park and then... Everything goes fuzzy after that." He states simply, but then looks back at you meeting your eyes as he shrugs it off. "We're gonna be late."

"Right..." You bite the inside of your cheek.

❥Despite your worries, the day goes about as usual as it normally does. You don't have the heart to ask him any more details cause you suspect he's having some sort of memory loss due to the traumatic experience, you could've just shrugged it off after a few sleepless night and go on with your life but you felt the lingering sensation that there's more to this attack than meets the eye.

❥It isn't until you saw Albedo that you went up to him while actively looking behind your back, as if this was something taboo. "Albedo right? I know we only have chemistry class together but about yesterday..."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I got yelled at for leaving a huge dent in the car." He grimaces.

"I was gonna ask about that, did you see what you ran over? We got chased by it but I didn't get a good look, it was so dark I..."

"Look," Albedo sighs as he runs a hand through his hair out of some bottled up frustration. "I didn't get a good look at that thing nor do I care what it was- I just happen to find the two of you covered in enough blood to stain my car and took me hours to clean, so I'd appreciate it if we'd just drop this topic and go on with our lives okay?"

You nod solemnly, not the closure you were expecting but if this is what you need to move on then surely-

❥Razor suddenly pops up right behind you once Albedo left. Scaring the bejewels outta you, "What did he want?" He asks, adding a passive aggressive emphasis on the 'he' as if Albedo just spat on his shoe.

"Albedo? Not much, I was just asking about last night."

There's the faintest hint of a grimace and a frown on Razor's lips as he looked in Albedo's direction, it "No need, I'm okay remember? Besides, he's no good."

"What? You mean those rumors that he cooks drugs with the chemistry equipment?" You laugh it off. That was the first sign of Razor feeling off.

❥He’s a fast runner, making him an eye catcher in the track team meanwhile you just joined so you could be with him.

❥Normally during P.E. you'd sit on the benches watching over Razor and taking care of your backpacks while he runs a few laps around the race track, but the P.E. teacher wasn't having it today and sent you to the field as well, while you were doing leg warm ups you kept your eyes on Razor as he ran to his heart's content. Usually when you see him and his medium length gray hair tied in a ponytail (you help him dye it, looks like he needs a touch up since the dark roots are becoming visible) flowing in the wind he has this carefree attitude to himself, sometimes he can be a bit competitive but it was never something that overcame him. Today however, he looked different. His facial features were furrowed and concentrated as he had a slow start but soon sped past student after student, gaining a shocked (and pissed) expression from Scaramouche as he surpassed him in the first lap, Scara tried to match up to him around the second lap but Razor wouldn't allow it. When he ran past your side of the field you could see for a split second how Razor was baring his teeth as his leg muscles contracted as he forced his body to over do himself for the sake of coming first place. 

Even the teacher was impressed, but still concerned. "Easy there Razor, save that for nationals and you might get yourself a scholarship."

❥ You're expression became solemn at the mention of a college scholarship, knowing you didn't have the same amount of physical (nor academic) prowess to get one.

❥While you get up from crouching you hear one of the students from your group walk up to Razor. "Wow Razor you were amazing, have you been jogging recently?" One of the girls, Mona you think was her name was complimenting him but it went just as you'd expect it to go.

"Not really, only when I take Andrius on walks. He's energetic so sometimes-"

You smile to yourself as you hear him go on into a long talk about his dog, you walk up to Razor and hand him his water bottle as you take your place at the race track. Mona, now bored outta her mind follows along as well. Meanwhile you took notice of Albedo hanging out with other sketchy students just a the other side of the benches, he didn't turn to look when Razor's group was running but now when it's your turn he spares you his attention, talking to his buddies. If only you would've noticed the glare Scaramouche directs in your direction.

❥ Despite the new attention you still run as graceful as a headless chicken, soon lagging behind from the rest of the group because your legs start giving away mid lap. "Come on guys, one more lap to go!" The teacher blows through their whistle.

By the time it's finally over you head to where Razor is waiting for you with your water bottle ready, but Scara has other plans, he takes the opportunity of your weak legs to stick his own foot out and causes you to stumble and fall. Hitting your forehead against the corner of the benches.

❥The teacher doesn't notice what caused your fall, but Razor does. This has his nostrils flaring and his own blood pumping, going up to Scara and giving him a smack across the cheek, which soon escalated into a fight in the ground.

❥ One trip to the teacher's office later; you wait for Razor outside as you hand him his backpack, walking up to a vending machine for a cold drink. "You didn't have to do that you know, I could've handled him myself." You scold Razor as you hold a cold beverage to your forehead

"He deserved it." 

You smirk briefly before your pursue your lips together. "He did... but then again you've never reacted that way before." 

But Razor only shrugs. That wasn't the last time he did something out of character.

❥He's been getting fuzzy lately too. During lunch there was a classmate standing too close to him and Razor snapped at him to move, like sure you hate people getting in your personal space too but Razor wouldn't normally say it outloud.

❥The two of you were doing homework when a difficult question came up, causing you to chew the bottom of your pencil and look everywhere but your work. Your wandering eyes took you to Razor's own concentrated look. "Hey Razor, how often do you shave?" You brought up.

"I don't, why?"

You give him quizzical look, lowering your pencil down so you could run a hand over his cheek and down his chin feeling the soft prick of facial hair. Razor stays quiet, just letting you touch his face but for some reason this time it feels...good. Or atleast it did until you pip up. "Holy shit dude, you're growing facial hair! And here I thought you were gonna be a baby face forever but apparently I was wrong." You grin to yourself  as you remove your hands from him.

"What?" Razor touches his own face, feeling the peach fuzz starting to form. "Would it look bad on me?" He asks somewhat bothered by the fact.

"I don't know, I mean I'm used to looking at you without it but then again Varka has a really cool beard and is rocking it. Who knows."

"But, would you like it?"

Now this is an interesting spot to get placed in, Razor doesn't really care what anyone thinks about him- if he wants to wear the same Halloween costume he's worn since elementary he'll keep doing it, so for him to ask about your opinion on his appearance was something unexpected.

"...I like you the way you are."

❥ What Razor didn't tell you was that his face wasn't the only thing growing hair.

You stopped by his house to pick him up for school but he wasn't answering the door, so you invite yourself in and head straight for his room only to find it empty, "Hurry up Razor we got Ms. Lisa on the first hour. She's gonna have our ass if we're just a minute late-!" you shout. The closest thing you to a response was from the bathroom so you went in there and attempted to barge in but found it locked. "Razor open up."

Silence.

"Razor? What's wrong?"

"Promise you won't freak out." He mutters from behind the door.

"Razor I'd never do that, whatever is going on I'll help you."

The doorlock clicks as he let you in, that's where you take in the odd sight of him with overgrown hair- normally this shouldn't be shocking with a guy his age but it's worrying when the hair is coming from the claw marks scattered over his back and chest. Not only that but there's fresh cuts seeping down his face and few parts of his body, a quick glance at the bloody shaving razor on his sink gave you all the visual information you needed.

"Holy fuck Razor-" you were about to spew more curse words that would make a nun faint but you promised you'd stay calm and that's how you intend to keep it. "When did this started happening?" You ask in a low voice, helping clean up his fresh wounds.

"A day or two, I think." The uncertainty in his voice makes you wanna hug him, and that's what you did, even if it meant staining your clothes. “…I didn’t want you becoming scared of me.”

“Don’t worry Razor, it won’t change anything between us.” You promise.

❥Theres something wrong going on with him but he’s still in denial, he keeps insisting everything is alright and he’s just going through usual guy stuff but you know it has to be something more than that. Your fears came true when one night you’re woken up by the sound of shuffling in your room, you recognize Razor’s silhouette as he climbs through the window which you could’ve sworn was locked-

“Razor? What’s is it? It’s like three in the morning.” You groggily shuffle in your bed at your attempt to turn on your lamp but Razor covers your hand as he stops you.

“Don’t, I… I don’t want you to see me like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice cracks and it only worries you even more. You then start to process the hand covering your own, it’s wet and… warm. Too warm.

“Razor? What did you do?” He has you on edge, it’s now that your other senses start to wake up, specifically your sense of smell. It smells like something metallic, the first thing that comes to mind is that one time you were caught in the rain and there were coins in your pocket that had a specific smell.

But last you checked it didn’t rain today, so where was Razor at?

“I don’t know, I woke up and before I knew it I was… Razor was…” He sounds like a kid again, talking in the third person.

❥The reason he didn’t want you to turn the light on was because he didn’t want you becoming terrified of him, as much as he is of himself. When you turn the handle of your lamp your barely catch yourself from screaming at the sight In front of you, the dark stains covering his mouth, the front of his shirt and coating his hands- you feel a sense of déjà vu to the incident in the woods when he was covered in blood as you worrying grab a nearby towel and try to clean him. But Razor instinctively jerks away from you.

“Razor… What happened? Are you okay? Talk to me.”

“It’s not mine,” he starts but immediately covers his mouth.

“Then who’s is it?”

Razor doesn’t respond but he jerks forward as he grabs his stomach with one arm and uses the other to try and cover his mouth, he rushes to your bathroom but doesn’t make it in time and starts vomiting something viscous at the entrance to your bathroom, you really want to help him in any way you can. Hold his hair, rub his back as he lets it all out. But you see bits and pieces of what Razor’s puking, chunks of red meat, bile and patches of undigested fur. And between that bile there’s a metallic clank against the tile floor of your bathroom, it bounces a bit as it lands on the floorboards of your bedroom.

Time slows down as you slowly crouch down to pick up the metallic plate, you know what it is, you don’t want to see it but a part of you needs to confirm the truth.

❥The metallic plate is covered in the same blood staining Razor’s clothes and now splotch on your bathroom floor, it’s small and fish shaped as you swipe the substance with your thumb and read the letters engraved into the plate. It’s a name, a dog’s name.

❥You immediately drop the plate. You try and wipe the blood on the towel you got but it wouldn’t come off, you wipe and wipe until your palm burned but in your fear induced state you still see the blood on your hand. Still feeling it’s warmth, still smelling it despairing scent of wet metal. It’s no wonder you don’t feel safe anymore.

It's like you're back In that park again, slowly turning your head in Razor’s direction as you make small movements once he’s done emptying his stomach, but Razor is smarter than the beast that attacked you two. He knows what’s going through your mind now that you’ve seen him, he’s faster than you he could grab you in less than five steps but he doesn’t resort to that. He can’t, not in this state.

“Don’t leave me. Please… there’s no one else I can trust with this…” He’s so lost, so vulnerable and confused.

❥Despite everything, he’s still Razor. Your Razor. The one who would never purposely lay a hand on another animal, the one who wouldn’t cross the street without holding your hand since primary school, the one who’s had your back even though you’d tell him about your financial problems or internal struggles.

He needs you now more than ever.

You carefully walk up to him, wiping the lower portion of his face with the towel as adrenaline tears start running down your cheeks. You’re terrified, there’s no hiding it, but still: “I’m not leaving you Razor. We’ll figure something out, together.”

“Promise?”

“I Promise."

[bruhstation]

CASA TIDMOUTH’S MOST NORMAL AND RELIABLE RAILWAY WORKERS: THE NEWBIES OF ACT 2

Rebecca Nassif

Age: 23 Occupation: NWR 22's driver

A bright and optimistic newcomer to Sodor’s railways, Rebecca is the trainee for the express that Gordon took under his wing. She always sees the bright sides of things and firmly believes that there’s always a way out in every situation… which makes her prone to accidents due to how she is quick to act and late to see both sides of things. She’s also very clueless to Sodor’s cultural quirks and supernatural occurrences which always makes her seniors worry, while she can only giggle and say “Oops!” whenever confronted about it.

Underneath her cheerful demeanor, Rebecca can’t exactly understand the circumstances others went through or relate to them, and she secretly always felt bad about it. Yet due to her upbringing, she can’t help but feel like other’s feelings and worries are her responsibilities, making her fear that she could possibly strain her relationships every time she failed to understand them. Could this be the reason that she always try her best to make others smile…?

Trivia:

Her family runs a small catering service. The wave of gentrification in her hometown that eventually impacted their business is what made her decide to take action and support her family despite her parents’ discouragement.

Rebecca’s father wanted her to settle down with someone well off and live a peaceful life, not having to worry about her family. Even though she loves her father dearly and is usually obedient, she went against his words and moved to Sodor the moment she heard that the railways there are in desperate need of new workers hiring. She had no idea what she signed up for.

She has a calico cat named Eli.

She strongly sees her dad in Gordon. She also calls him “Coach”, something that he doesn’t mind. Her jokes and wisecracks always make him stifle his laughter.

The sheer willpower and unparalleled determination of Sudrians always hype her up. When asked about a word she can use to describe her Sudrian colleagues, she replied with “hardcore”.

Likes: her parents’ cooking, pistachio kulfi, orange-flavored gum, ridiculous meathead animes like Dragon Ball

Dislikes: overly complicated pieces of literature, rich people that can’t appreciate culinary arts

Nia Eunike Wanjala

Age: 24 Occupation: NWR 18's driver

Even though she’s generally friendly and cordial to her peers, Nia can be described as an extremely honest individual. She’s not sarcastic, she’s not being rude, just really honest and straight-to-the-point. This stems from her mindset to expect the worst in any situation in order to not disappoint herself with any bad outcome that might happen. Nia also loathes being pitied and automatically assumes that people feel sorry for her whenever they show even a semblance of kindness or worry to her. This becomes a problem to her as she wanted to show genuine care and appreciation for her peers yet couldn’t bring herself to trust them, thus making others think of her as distant even though she didn’t mean to.

Under her bluntness, she’s actually quite understanding of other’s troubles and always gives out rational advice (though she also points out what they need to fix and generally not biased). Even so, she wants to trust others and longs for strong bonds with the people she care about, but her skepticism prevented her from doing so. She kept rocking back and forth between catering to others’ needs and wanting to do the things she personally wants to do. At the end of the day, she just wishes someone could at least see the good intentions that she showed through her actions.

Trivia:

She tries her best to respect Thomas – younger yet much more experienced than her – and James – still proud but now much wiser – because they’re her seniors, but she always felt exasperated at their clowneries. The thing that always surprised her is that despite all their tomfooleries, they somehow always got their jobs done.

She moved to Sodor after a chain of events that started off from a particular flood that washed over her small hometown and destroyed her childhood home. She hopped from job to job and city to city to support her family, but after many trials and tribulations, she found a newspaper that mentioned something about Sodor in desperate need of new workers hiring railway workers.

Unlike her fellow newbie, she quickly catches on to the small island’s mysteries because she already counted the risks it has to offer… and she knows this won’t get easy for her.

She actually gets flustered easily, especially when showing genuine appreciation (that isn’t part of her “obligation”).

Whenever she gets nervous or is panicking, she starts counting prime numbers.

She’s interested in magic tricks. When she was a kid, a lot of kids like to watch her perform simple magic tricks. In actuality, she’s mainly interested in the science and mechanics behind them. She also thinks it’s quite a good way to kickstart a friendship.

The sheer willpower and unparalleled determination of Sudrians sometimes scare her. When asked about a word she can use to describe her Sudrian colleagues, she replied with “weird”.

Likes: the Gatsby sandwich, magic tricks (her go-to is the infinite handkerchief trick), dandelions Dislikes: heavy rain, dishonesty, people that hide secrets for the sake of others

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that KERIME SAKARYA.. they’re a 26-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being CALCULATING & DECEPTIVE but there are some people who have seen them being CONVIVIAL & ORGANISED. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of a disembodied voice giving directions into an earpiece, always having back up plans for your back up plans, and following in the footsteps of your mother, but that could just be because they’re considered the KNOWLEDGE BROKER around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some She had the envelope, where you think she got it from? Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

OVERVIEW

Name: Kerime Azra Sakarya

Nickname(s): Keri

DOB: May 9, 2098

Age: 26

FC: Hande Erçel

Height: 5'9"

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Owner of Hole In The Firewall / Information Broker

Relationship Status: Single (Closed)

[+] easy-going, convivial, organised [–] calculating, deceptive, venal

BIOGRAPHY

tw: death

Kerime was born the second out of three children to parents whose lives were not at all what they seemed. Her family moved to the USA when she was still young and she does not remember much about her life before then.

Unlike their older brother, Aslan, they grew up into an ordinary teenager who lived a very ordinary life. Did they have an inkling that things in their family were not what they seemed? Sure. They wouldn't be nearly as smart as they thought they were if they didn't. But they also didn't really care to find out the truth.

One thing that was not ordinary about Kerime was her eidetic memory. Her ability to recall things perfectly without even having to try, combined with being generally bright, made school almost too easy for her. She did very well, but she was a nightmare for her teachers because not only did she not have to put any effort in, she could point out any time that they contradicted themselves.

As a result, they frequently got kicked out of class, were sent to the principal's office, and received detention. They approached it all with a smile on their face. They had never seen the point in taking anything too seriously.

During her senior year of high school, her best friend died in an accident while filming herself doing a crazy stunt. She had been warned that it was dangerous but had still acted recklessly. It served as a painful wake up call for Kerime that there were some things in life that you did have to take seriously.

They joined their brother in Dallas-Fort Worth after graduating from high school. Unlike in the past, they decided not to play ignorant, arriving armed with a number of arguments as to why they would be a valuable asset to his business.

She started by helping with intel gathering and serving as a form of mission control when he was out on a job. Over time, as she grew more confident in her skills and developed her own connections, she started expanding her side of the business—branching out into money laundering and information brokering.

They gained a reputation for being the person that you go to when you want information on someone because they seem to know at least something about everyone. To quote Burn Notice: "Whether you're a coke dealer, a thief, an arms dealer, or a spy, you need someone to clean your money, which makes a good money launderer the closest thing you can get to a Yellow Pages for criminals."

Eventually, she opened Hole in the Firewall. It serves as a front for her other businesses, but she does genuinely care about her patrons there, as well as her staff. She is not in the Skyport Mafia, but she has clients among their ranks and pays a protection tax to them in the form of services rendered.

In spite of their ties to the criminal underworld, they have a very lighthearted demeanour, are often quick to laugh, and still don't seem to take themselves too seriously. However, that doesn't mean that other people shouldn't take them seriously. They are dangerous and can flip on a dime when necessary.

MISC

She has a cybernetic enhancement that overlays a custom HUD over her field of vision. It can be connected to other devices, allowing her to extract and review information from them while going about her day-to-day business.

[vig1lantnakia]

:// LOADING FILE: 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟷𝟷𝟶 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟷𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟷 𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟷 𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶𝟷𝟶𝟶 𝚉𝟹𝚁𝚉𝚅𝚁𝙰 𝙽𝙰𝙺𝟷𝙰 𝚂𝙰𝙰𝙳 ...

... 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴: INPUT ACCESS CODE TO PROCEED...

Character Name: Nakia Saad Nicknames: Kia, [ Hacker Name: N1X, Nix ] Place of Birth: NYC, USA Birthday: February 12th, 1985 Sexuality: Panromantic Demisexual Gender Identity: Non-binary ( They or Him ) Zodiac: Aquarius MBTI: ISTJ Occupation: Intelligence Agent, Hacker Languages: Arabic, English, Spanish, Japanese Moral Alignment: True Neutral Love Language: Acts of Service

THE BIOGRAPHY ( very mild bullying tw )

Born to a family of immigrants, the importance of hard work is ingrained into you from a young age. NYC isn't an easy city to grow up in, and you see your parents work through numerous shifts at the hospital, one a surgeon, and the other a nurse, they work day and night to make a living. You are a sharp child from a young age, and even if you tend to cause trouble every once in a while, it's nothing that can stick to you. Your teachers call you too smart for your age, just that you need to focus. It's not that you don't work hard- it's just that the moment you get your hands on your first laptop, you spend nights illuminated by its light. You have always had a perchance for gadgetry, trying to break technology apart, and then enhance it or fix it back up, but now, with your own computer, you feel like a new world has been laid in front of your feet. You revel in it. You are lucky that your parents don't realize the sheer amount of time you spend there, and you learn how to code like a pro when you are in high school. Named sort of a recluse, you keep it to yourself most of the time. Again, some teachers find this worrying, but you manage to fly under the radar long enough, get a friend or two, and live through the various nicknames tackled onto you. You don't care about what the bullies think, but you do enjoy hearing them screech when one day, their entire internet history has been posted on the corridors of the school. Who would have done that? Such a shame, guess they will never find out. You get into a prestigious college as a computer science major, full ride, and you find it much easier than high school. People care less about what the silent kid is doing, and the professors don't particularly care if you show up or not. You learn a lot, and it's during your senior year in college that they scout you. Men in black, most would think, are dressed as older college students. This is your first interrogation in which they give you an offer for a new life, which you are reluctant to accept. You love your freedom too much, you love your hacking, you love learning about things before anyone else. It's the offer to teach you more than that that convinces you, and you sign up to be an intelligence agent. Years pass, you learn a lot, and you grow a lot. Though, deep down, you are that same kid who just likes getting the dirt on people. You fly too high, or too low, whichever way the Icarus myth goes, and you get caught by an underground organization. Highly illegal, who dare to blackmail you into doing their dirty work. All you can do is say yes, and try to weave the threads in the background, to get back at them, to free yourself before the agency catches wind of everything that has been going on. Then, before anything else that can be figured out — you wake up on a ship. And you realize things can get more complicated after all.

THE INTERVIEW

“What is the last thing you remember before arriving on the island?”

The light of the sun bothers them. The sense of scenery feels familiar, even though the last time they were interrogated, it was a sterile room with fluorescent lights. This time, the warmth of the sun burns into their skin. "I was working." It's a simple answer, the calculating glare focusing on the person in front of them. They try to soften it up, knowing apprehension is not the best trait when interrogated. They would know, going off from the number of times they have been in this exact spot. The silence makes it clear the person is looking for a better answer. "It was- just like another day, man. I swear." A huff of breath masked as a laugh. "I was in front of my laptop, coding the night away- trying to catch up on some of the tasks that I couldn't finish back at the HQ." A softened truth. Nakia was not working on anything related to his official job at the agency, but the second job they were forced to do. The ultimatum given to them by the underground organization, once they caught wind of Nakia's other 'hobbies' which consisted of them collecting dirt on the rich and the powerful. They aren't here right now, which makes Nakia unsure how to feel. "I was reaching a breakthrough and then — I found myself with a headache on that goddamn boat."

“Do you think you will be remembered or forgotten?”

A loaded question, one that threatens to raise their hackles. This back and forth, which they have little control over, makes them less likely to give up honest answers. "Depends on how long." Their leg shakes up and down under the desk, they begin with a shrug. "If you mean far into the future? I'll be forgotten. In the great expanse of time and space, I do not fool myself to think I am important enough that people will remember me by name." Maybe their deeds, or the event in which they would whistleblow who they wished, or managed to turn down that organization. However, as it stands, with them being in the middle of nowhere, it seems completely impossible. As much as Nakia wants to go back, they have an inkling it's not going to be as easy as some residents were thinking.

“What do you feel you could contribute to life on the island?”

A practical question, one all of them have thought of for they are stranded here, with little from home but their own skills. They nod, a hum at the back of their throat. "Sure. I have an engineering background - when anything technical goes wrong- or we need a solution to an infrastructure problem, I am the person to call." A little smirk on their lips, their eyes move down to their palm, the crackling of energy that could not be seen, but one that they felt. "Plus, these powers, will only help us further as we try to make a suitable living here." And then, besides the basic needs of shelter, food, and drinkable water, there are also other aspects Nakia is useful for. Namely, solving mysteries, investigating, and digging where people do not want them to dig. They know how to set up a case, how to gather information. Even if they were almost always behind the scenes back at home ( and behind their computer ), it does not feel that much different to look for clues as to why they ended up here, to learn where these powers came from. "I also have a… Useful background when it comes to solving problems. I think it is particularly handy to have here, considering everything."

“Do you think with your heart or your brain?”

There is the true answer, and then there is an answer they are willing to give. Of course, it ends up being the latter that's uttered from their lips. "I think with my brain. I am a scientist at heart." With their degrees in computer science and industrial engineering, this is the most palatable answer that they are willing to give. Not the one where they feel irrationally annoyed at being plucked from where they were, or the revenge that swims in their veins when they think of the organization that dared to blackmail them. There have been decisions in Nakia's life where they acted on emotions rather than rationality, though those have often led to less than favorable outcomes, which is why they do not wish to accept it out loud. "I am a highly analytical person, I like calculating various outcomes, and choosing the best one after." when they aren't wrapped in thoughts of fury or revenge, this is the truth.

“What are you most curious about regarding the island?”

Fingers tap on the surface of the wooden desk, a plethora of questions that have been revolving around their mind, threaten to reach the surface. Tongue pressing to the inside of their cheek, they try to pick one that would make them seem less irritable, less apprehensive about everything. "I suppose- the powers, to begin with." A supernatural feat, one bestowed to each and every one of them- but for what purpose? What was the aim? "And where exactly we are would be good to know." So that they could get out, eventually. When it comes to actual questions they would ask, it would simply be 'Why?', putting them all here, on this island, cameras everywhere, phantom eyes at every corner, without a purpose — it all seems like someone is playing a game on them. A fucked up one, and Nakia does not have any answers yet. They hate this with their entire being.

THE CONNECTIONS ( mostly pre-island! )

- People from another life: Childhood friends / enemies who knew Nakia in high school or university. Before they disappeared from the face of the earth and became an intelligence agent. This could go a few different ways, maybe they kept in contact, and Nakia told your muse they have been working for a tech company, or they did disappear and this is the first time these two would be meeting after almost two decades. - Family friends: Nakia's parents work in healthcare, so anyone they touched / saved / helped would be very interesting. Nakia never wanted to pursue that career themself, and they would be apprehensive about someone who knows their past to this extent. Free to explore. - Government colleagues: If your muse has a job related to the government, maybe Nakia and they could have met up for work. Nakia could have done work on your computer, or database, or any other thing. Maybe your muse knew about what he was doing, or they just told them they were an IT guy. - Actually just an IT guy: Okay, hear me out, maybe they lived close, and your muse actually needed an IT guy. Nakia found this all too amusing, and actually played into it. So now, when you need your laptop to be fixed or your TV isn't working properly, you can Nakia, and they come by. Payment would need to be non-monetary, they'd want homemade food or something like that, but we can discuss. Maybe friends or other stuff can be plotted. - Coffee pals: When Nakia is in a slump, they go to this small café, and spend hours there. Maybe your muse was in a slump of another variety, or they just found Nakia interesting and approached them. This became somewhat of a routine, and they became friends.