#yes this was at least slightly inspired by the line about canine teeth

[shutupeiffel]

Everyone else in the Oxventure tag: Making well thought out posts about the finale and it's consequences

Me, wandering in with a bubble tea: So, "Red Wine Supernova" by Chappell Roan is a Prudence/Merilwen song sung from Merilwen's perspective, right?

[foap-enjoyer]

Upcoming Wolfshifter!Soap X Ghost fic

(in the very, very early stages, so this won't be dropping for a while yet, I do apologise)

Heavily inspired by both Silver Lining, by Lemonwrap on AO3, and bluegiragi’s comic series, which can be found on tiktok and on tumblr, as far as I know.

~

Summary: Simon Riley hates shifters. His dad was a shifter, his old superordinate Major Vernon was a shifter, hell, even Manuel Roba was a shifter. They were slimy beasts, not made to trust. Animalistic creatures made of pure evil. At least. He thought they all were.

~

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

Price studied him with soft, gentle eyes, "He's not a bad man, Simon." 

"I'm not working with a shifter." He repeated like a broken record, shaking his head once more. "You know how I feel about them."

"No." Price's eyes turned firm, "Soap is nothing like Roba, Simon." His chin raised in an almost defensive gesture, "He's like a son to me."

"He's a shifter." Ghost huffed, "He's not your son. He's a-"

"He’s a what?" Price interrupted. "A monster? A mutt? I don't care whatever you think he is, I can guarantee he is nothing like whatever you dream up in that dumb head of yours." A finger poked into his chest harshly. "You work with him or you're off my team and back to basics since you clearly can't follow orders."

Ghost's eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. "Yes sir."

"That's what I want to hear" He patted him on the shoulder, "Now come and meet him."

They took a wander down to the nearest common room, their allocated one, as a ‘squadron’. Despite them only being a meagre four the room itself was large, enough space to hold at least twenty others atop of themselves. A little kitchen, a TV, and a dining room set, where the two other members of this team were situated. 

The two men were sitting on opposite sides of the worn, brown table, playing what looked like, from this distance, a very aggressively-playful game of Uno, or some other card game. Both were Sergeants, if he remembered correctly. Gaz, a lively, kind soul, whom he had already met previously, was a Staff Sergeant, a rank just below him, and Mactavish…

He squinted his eyes to get a closer look at this… shifter.

A dusty brown, neatly-kept mohawk sat atop his head, light stubble following from his hairline to sweep itself gently across his face. Bright, midnight-blue eyes, soft, pink, grinning lips, a strong, playfully scrunched-up nose-

Oh my God. He shook his head slightly, as if that would be enough to rid himself of his thoughts, clenching his teeth together and grinding them painfully. What the hell is wrong with me?

He watched as the man chucked down a card onto the large pile between him and Garrick. Gaz responded with a groan, reaching over to another pile and beginning to draw several cards into his personal stash. “You’re a dick, Soap.”

A flash of white as Soap bared his teeth in a playful smirk. Long, sharp canines stood out in tow. “Would ya loo’ at tha’?” The man held up his one remaining card, gently placing it onto the pile. “Uno.”

“You’re such a cheat.”

Soap huffed, leaning back in his chair. “Am not.”

Gaz laughed, “Am too!”

“Boys.” Price coughed.

Gaz’s neck snapped awkwardly over to their superordinates, clearly having not noticed their earlier arrival. Ghost didn’t miss the way Soap didn’t flinch or spook, turning with gentle, practised ease. He had already heard them come in.

Their Captain gestured to Ghost. “This is Lieutenant Ghost. Gaz, you’ve already met him, of course.”

Gaz gave a cheerful wave, cards still in hand, his shock dissipating almost immediately into his usual, easy-going, persona, “Hey, Ghost.”

Ghost gave a curt nod. “Garrick.”

“And Ghost, this is Soap Mactavish, who I spoke about previously.”

Ghost took this moment to meet the man’s eyes. The blue shade of them had lightened considerably when contrasted against the light hung between them from the ceiling. Now more of a sky-blue than any midnight hues. They studied him viciously, an emotion to them that he couldn’t quite make out. But he knew, from experience, that it was some form of uncertainty. A curious worry. Many soldiers meeting him for the first time gave him similar looks. He wasn’t exactly a poster-child for the military, nor a runway model. His attire had garnered him some odd looks over the years.

Before he could truly figure the man out, the emotion was gone within a flash of their eyes meeting. The man broke out into an easy-going grin, eyes softening considerably. To the point it almost shocked him. It had to be an act, he knew shifters could smell unease, and he was sure as hell not comfortable right now. Soap waved a hand slightly, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Eyes trailed over his mask once more. A bite of the lip; Ghost couldn’t help but be drawn to the long teeth poking between cherry lips once more. “Dinnae think masks were in tha rule manual.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed defensively, a retort hot on his tongue; Neither are shifters.

He would have said it, if it were true. But it wasn’t. They may be an uncommon thing, in this cruel, cold world, but the military still opened their arms to everyone and everything, it seems. So instead, he sighed, rolling his eyes. “What kind of name is Soap, anyway?”

Soap smirked, leaning back on his chair and kicking his boots up onto the table, mindful of the Uno cards. He winked, raising his hands to rest behind his head, “I clean up.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The shifter shrugged, angling his hands slightly to adjust that stupid mohawk of his with his fingers. “Tha’s fer me ta kno’, and you ta find ou’.”

“Sergeant Mactavish is our demolitions expert.” Ghost’s gaze whipped over to Price, who had long-since moved on to the nearby kitchen, in the midst of making himself, and Ghost, a cup of tea. The kettle flicked on with a soft click. “And a resident sniper. Though that’s part of the applicant, working in 141.”

“Got a goo’ sniffer on me, too.” Soap scrunched his nose, as if to draw attention to it, before relaxing and grinning, a long, animalistic tongue swiping across cracked lips. “I’ll sniff anythin’ out ya need in a jiffy, LT.”

He couldn’t help but huff. "We've got real dogs for that."

“Lieutenant.” A warning from Price. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. Soap only grinned brighter, like he was getting off on making the man annoyed. Or maybe it was a warning. A snarl in disguise. Not that he’d be scared of some fucking muppet called Soap of all things.

“I’ll have ya kno’, sir, I put all tha dogs ta shame.”

He narrowed his eyes, scoffing under his breath. He knew Soap heard it, even if Price and Gaz did not. “Sure you do, Sergeant.”

“You should see him in action.” Gaz piped up, snickering, “Then you’ll take it back, Ghost.”

~

I'm very excited to be writing this (I KNOW I'M NEGLECTING MY WHUMPTOBER SERIES, I'm so sorry, this is my first ever AU-esque fic I've ever written and I got a little sucked in after reading a few similar ones. Besides, I give thee content with this regardless, suck it up.)

For anyone wondering about the rest of the team, as of right now, Soap is the only shifter (Not that someone's gonna magically be bitten and turned, he's just, as of the early stages of writing this, the only shifter, especially in 141, that won't change.)

[galfridus1]

Metro Blue

For the colour challenge I got this as my prompt. It is called Metro Blue and the colour reminded me of London’s Piccadilly Line.

Here is the story it inspired. Warning for fluffy Banlaine.

With a heave, Elaine hauled her suitcase through the doors of the train, just barely managing to control her momentum so that she did not hurtle to the floor. Gingerly she took a seat, checking her satchel was still around her shoulders and her passport safe in the zipped up pocket of her coat. It was a difficult business getting her large bag to behave but, after a few attempts, she managed to prop it up against her legs so that it was stable but mostly out of the way of the other passengers. She was ready to go.

The Piccadilly Line. Elaine gazed up at the poster where the map of London’s dark blue tube line was displayed. It showed all the many stops between Cockfosters and Heathrow Airport, including the little loop at the end where the trains would go round to Terminal 5 and so back again. It looked like some sort of demented snake and she shuddered a little before forcing herself to look straight ahead. This was an action she regretted instantly. The man opposite her, impossibly tall and sprawling out over the limited space with limbs that looked too long to be real, was leering at her with a lazy grin. His eyes were red and the teeth that stuck through his smile were sharpened to points, like little fangs.

She was just about to turn away from the unsettling sight, maybe to find a book to bury her face in, when the man fished out a brown bottle from the recesses of his coat and drank from it, smacking his lips with appreciation. Was that alcohol? Elaine opened her mouth crossly, then closed it again. Yes, it was illegal to drink on the tube and yes, the man was a despicable oath who ought to be told to stop, but no the person risking themselves should not, she decided, be her. Not on this occasion. So she went back to her initial plan, pulling a slim volume from the shoulder bag that rested next to her on the seat and, checking once more that her suitcase would not cause a nuisance to other passengers. She began to read with earnest, pleased the pages hid her increasingly hot cheeks.

Well this is interesting, the man thought to himself as he examined the woman sitting opposite him. Tube etiquette was that one did not look at other passengers, let alone stare at them, but Ban had never followed the rules. He took the broad in, from the soft, fine blonde hair that fell around her face so that it tickled her shoulders to her short, summer dress and light coat, the pocket of which she tapped nervously every three minutes. But it was her eyes that interested him the most. They were golden and blazing, conveying a strength of will that was totally at odds with her demure posture.

He also knew she hated him. Ban cackled out loud as the woman looked at him furiously, her mouth gaping open. He took another draft of ale smacking his lips with gusto, even though the liquor was not the best. It was hilarious and a challenge he could not pass up. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to tut at him but then talked herself out of it. Every thought in her mind flashed plain across her face. So Ban sank back in his seat, spreading his legs out in front of him so his right foot was just shy of the woman’s enormous pink suitcase and waited for her to lay into him.

But she ignored him. They passed through three stations, Ban inching his foot closer to her at each one, and still she just read. He cocked his head to one side, peering at the book in her hands. Pride and Prejudice. He snickered. A girl like that would read something old and stuffy. All pretence at stealth gone, Ban knocked his foot quite deliberately against the bright pink case so that the back of it rammed into the prim lady’s legs.

“Hey!” exclaimed the girl, her blazing eyes once more pointed in his direction. “What are you doing?”

Ban grinned, making sure his canines were on show. “Sorry~” he drawled as he raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling a little to see the girl flinch.

[[READ MORE]]

“So you should be!” The girl looked at him, eyes like pointed daggers, before sucking in a deep breath. “Apology accepted,” she muttered more to herself than to him, before her face fell once more into the pages of her book.

Elaine was furious. Livid. And a little upset. She considered moving seat to get away from the uncouth man, but over the course of her journey the tube had slowly started to fill up with passengers. Now they were at Green Park and a whole host of people pooled as one onto the train. Within moments, every seat and spare patch of ground was occupied and the way to the door barred by several rather solid looking bodies. She was stuck. With the man. Though at least there were many others now with her, she comforted herself. Enough to subdue him should he turn violent.

Elaine grit her teeth and made herself mutter something about accepting the oaf’s apology, then attempted to lose herself in the wonders of Mr Darcy’s Derbyshire estate. And it worked. For a while. Then the man actually leaned forwards, the top of him pressing into her personal space. “What do you want?” she snapped at him.

“What do any of us want?” The man spread his legs out even more in front of him and Elaine cringed back into her seat.

Her nails dug into the palms of her hands and she was just about to bark out some angry retort when the man added, “I just wanted to talk, but I’ll leave you be if you’re busy…”

Elaine looked into the man’s eyes. He’s being sincere, she thought to herself. She could see loneliness in the depths of his, one she was more than a little familiar with. “What’s your name?” she whispered in spite of herself.

“Ban~” said he lazily, leaning back with a grin. “And yours?”

“My name’s Elaine,” she found herself saying.

Ban smiled. Finally he was getting somewhere. “Elaine, huh? That’s nice. And where are you flying to?”

“How did you know…”

Ban grinned again. “You’ve got the biggest suitcase I’ve ever seen and you’re going to Heathrow. It wasn’t hard.”

He watched as Elaine’s shoulders fell a little and she gave a tentative smile, then to his surprise, she stowed her book away in her bag. “I’m going on an adventure,” she said in a bit of a whisper. “I’ve… not travelled much,” she admitted and his brows raised. Apparently once she started the girl could not stop. “But I think it’s time. My brother’s left home and I’ve no responsibilities anymore. I thought I’d go and see the world…” She trailed off, blushing slightly before her eyes looked directly into Ban’s. “I’m going to see an old school friend who’s moved to Rome but… I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

“Why not?” asked Ban, finding he was genuinely interested.

“Well, I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s not me,” she insisted, her round eyes wide and pleading. “I’ve always been the responsible one, the one who stayed at home and looked after our parents while my brother… did not…” She blushed, her gaze falling to where she could watch her fingers lacing together in her lap.

“I see.”

Elaine looked up to find Ban looking at her kindly, all trace of the teasing smile gone from his features. “I understand,” he said softly. “I lost my family too.”

Elaine nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “It feels wrong,” she whispered. There was a pause as the train burst out from the tunnel and into the light, the sudden sunlight enough of a distraction to help her stem the tears that had threatened.

“It feels wrong to be enjoying yourself? Or trying to?” Elaine nodded again, then fished in her bag to retrieve a tissue. “I get it,” said Ban as she blew her nose. “It does get easier.”

“What happened to your parents?” Elaine asked, chastising herself inwardly as Ban shook his head.

“I’d like to tell you, but this is the end of the line,” Ban drawled as the train pulled to a stop, a female voice floating over the tannoy asking passengers to check they had all their belongings before leaving the train. “We’re at the airport and you’re going to Rome.”

Before Elaine could protest, Ban picked up her bag with such ease she had to do a double take. She followed him in silence as they followed the signs for Departures, stopping by boutiques selling SIM cards and maps of the capital. “Here we are!” Ban declared as they made it into the terminal building, plonking her bag down on the shiny marble tiles.

“Thank… Oh!” Elaine felt her stomach fall as she registered the persistent rumble of annoyance in the background and the milling crowds of passengers all with cross faces. She looked up at the electronic display, her heart racing as she realised all the flight numbers were listed in red, the word ‘cancelled’ showing next to almost all of the listed departures, including her flight for Rome. “What’s going on?” she asked in a daze.

“Computer failure,” a gruff old man barked as he passed her. “It’s messed up air traffic control. All European flights are grounded until tomorrow. They’re telling us all to go home or get hotels,” he complained and Elaine followed his gaze to a group of uniformed officials with harassed expressions who were surrounded on all sides by angry people.

“I guess it’s fate,” she whispered. “I’ll go home. Thank you, Ban. I’ll take these back… hey what are you doing?” she yelled as Ban picked up her suitcase and began to walk away. He did not stop and she had to trot to keep up with him. “Hey! What…”

“There’s no flights right? So I’m taking you for a coffee,” Ban said as she drew up alongside him. He smiled down at her, and for the first time she appreciated just how tall he really was. “These things tend to work out when you relax.”

Elaine frowned. “But… don’t you have to get a flight too? You should go and see if it’s cancelled.”

“Nah, I was supposed to get off at Kensington,” Ban confessed as he rubbed the back of his head. “My mate’s got a bar there. The Boar Hat. He’s looking for a chef, but he’s going to hire me, he won’t mind if I’m late. Now, let’s get coffee.”

Elaine felt her pulse quicken as Ban held out his free hand for her to take, their fingers twisting together as he led her away.

Ban turned towards the girl holding his hand. This is the best day of my life, his heart sang as she gave him a tentative smile.