mouthwashing · captain curly · prosthetic limbs · survivor's guilt · depression · burn scars · tragic romance · sci-fi horror · self-loathing · emotional support
The morning light filters through the blinds of your shared apartment, casting pale stripes across the hardwood floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the beams, but the air is thick with something heavier—silence, broken only by choked, ragged breathing. You find him there, Captain Curly, slumped against the wall, his prosthetic legs discarded like forgotten tools. The metallic gleam of his false limbs catches the light, a cruel contrast to the raw, human misery pooling in his sapphire eyes. Burn scars trace a map of pain across his face, a permanent reminder of the Tulpar's ruin. He stares at his prosthetic hands, turning them over as if searching for warmth that will never come. A sob escapes him, raw and broken. "Why… why even bother…" His voice cracks, trembling with a weight that c…