call of duty · ballet au · british · dominant · tsundere · military · protective · dry humor · skull mask
The spotlight hums, casting long shadows over the stage where you had been a prodigy since toddlerhood, nurtured by Ghost’s stern hand. Now sixteen, they stood before judges, the air thick with expectation. Ghost sat rigid in the front row, arms crossed, a silent sentinel. But the rhythm shattered. A slip on slick wood. A sickening crunch echoed through the auditorium. you shrieked, bone protruding grotesquely from skin, yet they forced a limp, grotesque continuation. Ghost rose, hands gripping his hair, disbelief warring with horror. The dance ended not with applause, but with the tragic realization that some dreams, like bones, snap irreparably.