dog!ghost, the touched-craved puppy.
requests are still open! forgive the grammar.
trigger warning for homelessness, and eating disorders due to being poor. Abusive childhood. Unhealthy coping mechanisms. Mention of a knife fight - scar on his face. Mention of food. I think that's all?
It can go so many ways; I truly think for hybrid's au, the type of species you are can influence some traits of your personality, not in a cliché manner, but more for little mannerisms and so on.
In my troubled mind, he is a cane corso, no doubt about it. A massif dog, a beast of nature even for his kind - the ground trembled beneath his feet, no matter what shape he was in. In a way, he reminds me of Cerberus, the mythological dog from hell. I think he hides behind it, protects himself from society, and slides into that role.
He definitely does not like other people. He's a stray, hardened by his tragic childhood, and then he got recruited by the military.
In this alternative universe, he does not search for it. Actually, he's content with doing odd jobs and haunting the streets of whatever city he lives in at that time. He probably moves around a lot for work; maybe like he does illegal jobs in construction for the season, lives on some boat as a fisherman, and doesn't see the earth for weeks on end. Simon doesn't want a house, a place to come to because it reminds him of the one he lost, the one that has been stolen from him - tarnished by his deadbeat dad.
He doesn't want to mingle with normal people. He is a ghost and has been long before becoming a soldier.
So, he avoids Manchester at all costs, the city reminds him of too much pain, and too much loss, and he still hasn't overcome the grief that came with his childhood years.
But, one day, he works in a little village close to one of these stupid military bases, and goes eat not too far from whatever building he is currently working on, and there are soldiers there. Simon doesn't care and doesn't look. He just knows from past experience they are loud and obnoxious.
Keep in mind, the man is huge - square and broad all over from years of physical jobs. Black ears puff from his hair, twitching at every sound, one missing a patch of flesh from an old knife fight. Sharp fangs poking from his thin mouth catch the light and the eyes, pushing against his lips into a gore curl. Most turn around when they see him, the scars and consequences of his home life, adding to the imposing and threatening aura he has from being a massive breed.
So, he's eating a bland meal, never putting much money into pretty much anything even for his basic survival, until there is a shadow that towers over him. Over him. He keeps on eating his raw meat, with cold peas, thinking it's one of his colleagues or one girl that's stupid enough to come close. But, no.
It's a blond woman, face unwavering when they lock eyes, in some civvies clothes but he knows anyway. Simon always knows. She's military. From the way her shoulders sit straight to how her hands are steady at her side to her analytical stare. She smells like powder and something he can recognize that most soldiers have - a reek of metal. Blood.
She talks and gives him a nice speech, but he doesn't care much. All he hears is a good job, something about training and going to other countries, and a warm meal he won't have to waste money on.
His plastic bag is thrown into the trashcan as he follows behind her, dirty blond hair unruly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his paw. Military life will be good for him. It will keep his mind busy, days too. And he will do what he is good at, made for. Hunting.
A few years later, Ghost comes around again. The building is crippling away, and he's behind two of his colleagues, a black mask covering the bottom half of his face and sunglasses on. Johnny, his loud and obnoxious sergeant, finds them hilarious. Ghost doesn't care much - except he does.
Johnny is his friend. Kyle, the calmer and more subdued, but startlingly smart man is, too. Even the older man who easily strides at his rhythm, Price, he could consider him one of his mates. They are in this stupid village and go together to eat outside the base, which isn't so stupid anymore. It's remotely a place he feels comfortable in.
They stand in the little shop that sells sandwiches and good meals that keep his belly warm for the rest of his day when they come around, at the back of the waiting line. You have cat's hair on your jeans, white strands easily noticed on the dark denim that seems melted along the curves of your thighs. He knows he is staring, Johnny tells him about that more often than not.
But Simon cannot look away. You are here, with some earphones on, uncaring of the world around you, of everyone passing by that fills the shop - with heart-shattering eyes. And this time, instead of finally staring at the gorgeous creature there, Simon pays for their meal.
Actually, he pushes rudely some bills into the lady's hand behind the counter and points to them with a tilt of his head.
Johnny is snorting half of his brain through his nose, but he waits in front of the shop. He doesn't know it yet, but Simon is not a stray anymore. Neither is exactly a Ghost.
Not when they step towards him, a little embarrassed, and ask him if they can offer him coffee. Not when they sit around an atrociously small table outside a coffee shop, sharing their meal, and he feels his broken tail wag behind him, seeing their cheeks swell with food.
@archive-doll all rights reserved. reposting or modifying, including translating or use on AI is not permitted. original characters are not my own but the stories and writing are.
