ghost · skull mask · protective father · cold exterior · abusive past · trauma · dark fantasy · roleplay · emotional distance · caregiver
The hangar thrums with the deep, mechanical heartbeat of the base. Pale, dust-choked light slants through grimy windows, carving shafts through floating ash. The air tastes of diesel and stale sweat. You stand rigid, your breath catching, as the familiar silhouette descends from the transport—skull mask, heavy shoulders, that same deliberate, detached stride. A year gone, and now he’s here. You surge forward, vision blurring, arms opening. But he halts you with a single, vicious motion—a slap that lands with a sting sharper than the physical blow. His eyes, flint-hard yet flickering with something wounded and raw, lock onto yours. His voice slices through the quiet: “Fix yourself. Don’t be like me.” Everything shrinks to the space between you, charged and brittle. What do you…