rowan 🦌 @arthurmorganshairyballs - Tumblr Blog

i genuinely forget my usernames arthurmorganshairyballs i did it for a joke but i cant bring myself to change it

Of the many things you've said about your lieutenant, ghost, never once would you have expected to say he's...shockingly good with babies.

"Hey lil' man," ghost coos to the baby sat in his lap, happily chewing on the ear of a snoopy plush with a tiny fist wrapped around ghosts pinky. "Having fun? Thinking up some big things, I'm sure."

It looks comical how small a normal, healthy baby looks in his lap. Little arms waving absolutely while it turns to look at ghosts unmasked face. Baby doesn't cry, only stares up at ghost before exclaiming "ahh!! Babbfaaahh!!"

Ghost, he only laughs and holds baby up in his palms so baby can touch all over his scarred face. Little excited "ah ah ah"s and random giggling interspersed whenever ghost pulled a funny face.

"Smart fella, ain't you?" Ghost snorts, sets baby back down to chew on snoopy. He's got this soft, sappy expression on his face. Looks so natural with a baby in his arms. You can't help but snap a few photos.

Next time you baby sit, you'll ask your cousin about letting the twins stay over. You have a strange feeling ghost would love a princess fairy teaparty.

rawme-price

No thoughts just wolf shifter!ghost who lost the ability to properly shifter due to injuries from roba...

Instead of shifting into a proper wolf, he becomes something...different, wrong. Limbs too long, torso bent at an odd angle. His fur is patchy and thin, tail wiry and ears too pointed. Ghost can't escape his disfigurement even in his other form, the one meant to bring comfort to him.

If ghost had it his way, he'd never shift again. Live his life as a human and pretend his wolf never clawed at his insides begging to be seen.

Unfortunately for ghost and his tendency to never address his emotions, shifters have to shift at least once a month to prevent hospitalization.

So, once a month, ghost drags himself deep into the forest outside of base.

Government property technically, least risk of being seen by civilians or gunned down by hunters. Under the moonless night, ghost becomes a twisted memory of a wolf. He stalks the ground, indulges in every instinct while stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his body.

Every stumble is just excitement, every wrong-sounding howl and bark just a weird echo. But when ghost finds his way to the river he loves, he also finds another shifter.

Another shifter like him.

A deer, at some point. But your fawn spots still paint your hide, your legs have too many bends in them, and antlers sprouts only from the right of your head. You, too, are a creature born of violence.

It is a silent agreement, what happens between you.

That night, two monsters follow eachother through the woods. For once, ghost finds himself play-bowing and chasing another creature again. He feels light, happy. Working his twisted muscles until you end up curled into his soft stomach, soft grass under you and polluted sky above.

Only in the morning will ghost learn that the terrible scarred thing in the woods is the shy archivist on base. The one who smiles at him when no one else will.

Now, he smiles back. You're his pack, after all.

rawme-price

No thoughts just box jellyfish!reader working with the 141, right?

An oddity even amongst hybrids, your particular type of presentation had thousands of singers developing in your skin. Each one loaded with the poison to stop a mans heart. Otherwise, you look completely normal, the perfect weapon to do some real damage on missions.

Of course, this also means you get certain...privileges, on base.

No one dares to bother you, not with the government-mandated patch on your uniform at all times. A large warning symbol indicating harm at contact. Sure, you make sure every inch of your skin is covered, but no one takes a chance.

You spend nearly your entire military career unbothered by people so long as you get the job done.

Until you meet ghost.

Giant of a man, he towers over people in a distinctly hybrid way, though you can't tell what he is. He's a goddamn pain in your side. Doesn't hesitate to grab you, always pushing you to train or work on something. Hissing about improvement.

It's driving you mad.

Your final straw is him standing in the doorway of the gym, refusing to let you leave. He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed down at you "everyone else practiced sparring today, even price."

"Yeah, well find me someone will and I'll be glad to," you hiss, moving to shove him out of the way. "Anyone stupid enough to grapple me on the field will die anyways–"

The air is knocked out of your lungs so fast it makes your mind spin, spine knocking brutally into the floor.

"Not the ones immune to you," Ghost's face is mere inches away. Belatedly, terrifyingly, you realize he took his gloves off and his bare skin is wrapped around your throat without a twitch of pain.

"Wh– what–" you struggle, unable to fight out of the pin ghost put you in.

Ghosts other hand pulls his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth, opened to show off rows and rows of spiny teeth, all the way down his throat. "Leatherback sea turtle. Your venom does nothing to me." He leans closer "I could choke the life out of you and never feel a pinch."

Ghost leaves you lying on the floor, heart racing, gasping for air.

"We start sparring tomorrow. I won't have a liability on my team."