#!!! almost forgot him

[howlidae]

thena doodles!!

[asher-more-like-trasher]

yay human designs help i can't stop drawing them

[cassettedude]

one fucked up looking cat

[coatree]

Happy Hermit A Day!

Fun fact! I have no reason why I did this! For some reason this entire month I’ve just been amped to draw Hypno. Ignore that it’s technically the 30th when I post this, I was asleep

[greyauras]

Dunmeshi Vine Compilation.

That's it. I've been looking at it for so long that I don't know if it's even funny anymore. Also was an excuse to get a yt account for fandom use. And to be the change I wanted to see, I guess. (I love Fandom vines.)

[tricks-tickles]

Poke, Pinch

honestly i had no idea what i was doing for the title so i just titled it what it was in google docs (shrug)

thank you to -anonymous- for the request =]

word count: 2496

pairing: Lee!Todoroki/Ler!Midoriya

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started with a poke.

After the sports festival, Midoriya and Todoroki had become tentatively closer, bordering on friends, in Todoroki's opinion. They didn’t hang out, per se, but they sat together at lunch and were an efficient team in Heroics. They got on surprisingly well, with Midoriya rambling on about heroes, or their school work, or whatever else was on his mind, and Todoroki listening attentively. Well, usually he was listening, but sometimes Midoriya would start to mumble and Todoroki’s attention would drift away from him, and onto whatever was gnawing at the back of his mind.

Today was particularly bad for this. Todoroki was preoccupied with the upcoming final exams, and it seemed Midoriya was affected too, his muttering taking on a more harried tone than usual. In fact, Todoroki didn’t even realize that he’d zoned out until a poke to his side drew him back. A completely innocent motion that, for reasons unbeknownst to Todoroki, sent a spark of electricity up his side, making him jump and flinch away. Midoriya blinked at him, hand still raised.

“Are you alright?” He asked, more bemused than concerned. 

“I’m… fine, sorry for zoning out. What were you saying?” He replied. Midoriya squinted at him, before launching back into the conversation.

It didn’t end there.

Heroics was an incredibly varied class. One week they’d be doing rescue simulations in the fake city of Ground Beta, then attempting stealth in the sprawling tunnels of Ground Gamma, or fighting robots with one hand tied behind their backs in the main gym. Each lesson was a new challenge, designed to prepare them for the eclectic life of a hero.

Today, they were put into pairs and given a small (fake) flash drive. The aim was to last five minutes in a fight, until their ‘backup’ arrived, without having the drive stolen by the other person. Todoroki had the good luck of being paired with Midoriya, who went first. He stashed the flash drive in one of the pockets of their P.E. uniforms, then fought on the defensive while Todoroki tried to pin him down to get the drive. Unfortunately, Midoriya was very slippery, and each time Todoroki managed to get him down he would twist so the drive was out of reach, forcing Todoroki to let him back up to try again. Eventually, just as Aizawa called out that there were 10 seconds remaining, he managed to unzip Midoriya’s pocket and finally retrieve the drive, which miraculously was still in one piece. 

Midoriya grinned, panting as he wiped his brow. “I almost had you.”

“Sure,” Todoroki said, clenching the drive in his hand. He’d seen how much trouble Midoriya had keeping his pockets away from Todoroki and decided to just hold on to the device until time was up. Aizawa gave them the go-ahead, and they went back into it. 

It was a tense few minutes. Midoriya kept his focus on Todoroki’s left hand while using his quirk to dodge the streams of ice bursting from his right one, always keeping right on his tail until there were 30 seconds remaining. Midoriya managed to pin him on his stomach and at this point he abandoned all strategy, solely focusing on keeping his hand tucked under him, far from Midoriya’s reach. Then, he felt something. A gentle pinch to his side, right under his ribs, made him gasp as the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Midoriya pinched him again, and this time his arm jolted to push him away. Each pinch caused his nerves to light up with alien sensations. Was this some weird aspect of Midoriya’s quirk he hadn’t noticed before? Either way, without realizing his hand had drifted into Midoriya’s reach, which he grabbed, prying Todoroki's fingers up and retrieving the drive in the last second. 

So, a draw, and a new weakness that Midoriya had discovered in him. Thankfully, it seemed to be limited to him only. 

Todoroki did not notice Yaoyorozu watching him curiously, from her own mat next to them.

Sometimes the exercises they did were team-building, but more often than not they were pitted against each other. Today in Heroics, they were to complete a sort of obstacle course, disguised as a sort of storage room in a warehouse. The class was put into ten pairs, where they would compete within each pair to see who could complete the course in the fastest time, by flipping a leaver at the end of the massive room. The course was split into five lanes, meaning half of the class would do the course, then the other half. Easy. The groups were random, with pairings like Uruaka with Aoyama, Midoriya with Bakugo (unlucky), and Todoroki with Yaoyorozu. 

There were no quirks allowed, which put them at roughly the same level, but Todoroki was confident in his ability to win the competition. They took their starting positions, then held still as they waited for Aizawa to give the word.

“Ready…” He drawled, 

“Set…” Todoroki tensed,

“Go.”

There was a flurry of movement, then the rest of his classmates vanished as they entered their lane. Todoroki took off, vaulting over a series of crates as they entered the thick of the course. Sliding under beams, climbing over debris, and swinging over massive pits. Todoroki internally scoffed, they hadn’t put much effort into making it seem like a realistic warehouse.

Throughout the race, Yaoyorozu had kept with him, till they were neck and neck at the finish. A great wall, with bump-outs to climb to the top (and a not-so-subtle mat at the bottom in case they fell). They both hit the wall at the same time, scaling to the top. Todoroki took the lead but soon realized that the wall didn’t go quite to the leaver. There was a gap, taller than him, but he likely could reach it if he stretched for it. So then it would be a case of winning through speed and height. He and Yaoyorozu were similar in height, but she had an inch or so on him which would mean a lot in this last task where the odds were so close. Balancing carefully on the last bump-outs (conspicuously larger than the rest so they could be stood on), he stretched up to reach the leaver. His fingers brushed the base of it. He sighed and stood as tall as he could, Yaoyorozu joining him only a foot or so away at her own leaver, but his focus was on reaching it. 

As she reached the last few bump-outs, she looked up, seeing Todoroki struggling to reach the leaver. Since he was only a little shorter than her, Yaoyorozu realized she likely wouldn’t make it in time. As she pulled herself up onto the platform, she ran over his weaknesses in her head, until she landed on one. Just an idea, something she’d seen a week or so ago. Carefully, she stretched up with one hand, and with the other reached across the gap between them to scribble her nails over his ribs. The results were immediate, and just what she needed. He doubled over, arms flying down to protect his ribs. She reached over a little more, wiggling her fingers against his stomach. Amazingly, he actually let out a short laugh, before stumbling backwards, and straight off of the platform, falling onto the mat below. She reached up again, standing on the very tips of her toes, and finally latched onto the leaver, yanking it down. The lights in their lane of the course flashed green, and she jumped down to meet him on the mat, offering Todoroki her hand.

Todoroki was ready to lie on the mat forever, wallowing over the fact that he just walked off the platform, but he accepted Yaoyorozu’s hand anyway. She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“I did what I had to,” She said sheepishly, “But sorry for tickling you, that was quite unprofessional.”

“It’s alright.” He said, but inside he was reeling. Tickling? Was that what those feelings were? He knew about tickling as an abstract concept but hadn’t realized that that was what was happening. He was ticklish. Suddenly, Todoroki felt the need to do some investigating. 

The next day, Midoriya had invited him over to do some last-minute studying for the exams, seeing as they were only next week. He arrived at 12:55 pm and knocked on the door. It was opened by a woman, presumably Midoriya’s mother, who greeted him with a kind smile.

“Todoroki-kun! You’re early.”

“Oh. Sorry, Midoriya-san.” He said, bowing slightly. She waved his apologies away, inviting him inside. 

“It’s been quite a while since Izuku’s had a friend over, I’m just happy that U.A. has given him so many new opportunities.” She said, leading him into their living room where Midoriya was standing next to the sofa, scrolling on his phone. He looked up and beamed when he saw Todoroki. 

“You’re early,” He chastised, “You weren’t supposed to be here till 1:30!” Oops. Todoroki had remembered the time to be there as one o'clock, but he supposed it was better to be early than late.

They set up in Midoriya’s room, spreading out various books and laptops on his bed and the floor to revise for their exams. Midoriya’s mother brought in some snacks, and they spent a few hours working on their English, Japanese and Fundamental Heroics.

At 3 pm, Midoriya closed his laptop dramatically, 

“If I have to read another word in romaji, I’m going to drop dead on the spot.” He announced. They agreed to take a break, Midoriya going to the bathroom, and Todoroki helping himself to some rice crackers. 

When Midoriya came back, he cleared some of the books off the bed and sat down next to Todoroki.

“So… what did you think of training yesterday? Kacchan and I pulled the leaver at pretty much the same time and he ended up almost fighting Aizawa over who won, it was so awkward. I’ll bet you and Yaoyorozu got on a lot better.”

Todoroki hummed. “We also were very close, but she ended up knocking me off of the platform.” 

Midoriya laughed, “I wouldn’t expect that from her! How’d she manage it?” He asked.

Todoroki felt his face heat up, slightly.

“She, um, tickled me.” He said quickly, staring at his hands.

This made Midoriya laugh even louder. “Reheally? That’s pretty underhanded of her.” 

“She apologized. I’m not sure how she knew I was… ticklish when I didn’t.”

“Wait, you didn’t know? What did you think happened when I pinched you during training last week?” 

Todoroki shrugged, fidgeting. “I don’t know, I’d never been tickled before.”

Midoriya frowned, then made a noise of understanding.

“I guess that makes sense, with your family.” He said.

Todoroki felt a sort of tension settle over the room, and tried to figure out how to break it. 

“You know,” He started, “I don’t even know where I’m ticklish…” He trailed off, unsure if Midoriya would get the bait and unsure of what he was even trying to do. 

Midoriya perked up. “Well… I could help you find out?” 

Todoroki flushed.

“I- I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t mind.” He stammered, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed as he fought to avoid Midoriya’s eyes.

“Sure!” Midoriya said brightly, “Lie down.”

Now feeling suddenly nervous, Todoroki shifted until he was lying on Midoriya’s bed, head resting on his pillows.

“Now…” Midoriya settled next to him, his tone shifting into something more playful, “I already know you’re ticklish on your sides-” He punctuated this by gently wiggling his fingers against Todoroki’s sides, making him gasp, and twitch at the strange sensations. “-but what about your ribs?” He asked, his hands sliding up to gently scratch at the bones. This made Todoroki jerk towards his hands, his breathing going funny. 

“This- ah, this feels weheird.” 

“Hmm, I think you mean ticklish,” Midoriya said, drawing circles on Todoroki’s ribs while he thought about the next spot.

“How about I try your stomach?” He asked, smiling playfully.

“Sure,” Todoroki replied, feeling his face burn. He thought about using his quirk to cool himself down but didn’t trust himself not to freeze Midoriya’s sheets in his flustered state. Midoriya’s hands crawled slowly towards his stomach, and the feeling of anticipation made butterflies dance in his stomach.

“Midoriya!” He said.

“What?” Midoriya replied, his hands freezing in place.

“Just- hurry up,” He huffed, trying not to fidget.

“Oh!” Midoriya said. Then, “Glady.” He dove his fingers against Todoroki’s stomach, wiggling them lightly.

That caused a reaction. A startled laugh worked its way up Todoroki’s throat, and his hands flew up to stifle it, as those electric touches made him want both squirm away and move closer. 

“How does that feel?” Midoriya asked, half teasing, half sincere.

“Tihihicklhllihihish!” He cried, his giggles breaking through his hands. 

Midoriya beamed, scratching a little harder and fully grinning when Todoroki began to squirm, one hand fisting into his sheets and the other clamped over his lips to no avail as he laughed freely.

“Plehehehase!” His laugh was cute, surprisingly high-pitched, and a little desperate. Midoriya fought the urge not to ‘aww’ out loud.

“Please what?” Midoriya asked.

“Ihi dohon’t knohohow!”

Midoriya shot him a bemused look. “If you don’t know then why are you asking?”

He let his hands crawl around, grinning when Todoroki started to thrash as they floated over to his hips.

“Hmm,” Midoirya said, “I wonder if-” 

He jerked his hands down, squeezing Todoroki’s hips and laughing at the shout of laughter that escaped him. Todoroki bucked his hips, kicking his feet as the hand that had been feebly covering his mouth came up to cover his eyes.

“Ihihit’s sohoho bahahad!” He cried, “Mihihdorihiyaha, nohohoho!”

Usually, Midoriya was a merciful person, but today he felt like being a little cruel. He pushed Todoroki’s shirt up with one hand and then latched back onto his hips. Despite not knowing what was about to happen, Todoroki’s laughter became desperate as Midoriya leaned down, his lips touching Todoroki’s stomach. Then, he blew as hard as he could, drilling his thumbs into Todoroki’s hips. The effects were instantaneous. He squealed, his hands shooting down to push at Midoriya’s head as he squirmed uselessly underneath him.

“STOHOHOP! STOPSTOPSTOP PLEHEHEAHASE, IHIHIT’S TOHOHO MUHUHUCH!”

Finally, Midoriya leaned back, watching him with a satisfied grin.

Todoroki was panting, his cheeks flushed as he watched Midoriya through teary eyes. He pulled down his shirt, still giggling, and sat up.

“Thahat- that wahas, um, a lot.” He said.

Midoriya frowned, “Sorry if I got carried away, I’m just not used to seeing you smile or hearing you laugh.”

“It’s okay,” Todoroki replied, “I… didn’t mind. And I might not mind doing it again,” He trailed off into a mumble as he avoided Midoriya’s bright smile.

“Okay!” He said happily, “We can hang out as much as you like!”

Maybe, Todoroki thought, this whole thing wouldn’t be so bad.

[kjack89]

Back to Where We Started (Chapter 4/4)

Final part of the E/R Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU. Read Part 1 here (tumblr | AO3), Part 2 here (tumblr | AO3) and Part 3 here (tumblr | AO3).

Much thanks to @theworldfallsup for the original prompt - hopefully you've enjoyed!

Modern AU, established E/R.

Enjolras stared at him. “You – what?”

“I didn’t kill General Lamarque.”

Grantaire repeating the words didn’t make them any more real to Enjolras, and he shook his head slowly. “But—”

“I couldn’t do it,” Grantaire told him, his voice low. “I was there, I had him in my sight, and…”

And as Grantaire squeezed the trigger, at the last possible moment, he shifted, sending the bullet a few feet to Lamarque’s left.

He could hear Javert shouting in his ear, telling him to take the shot, to fix this, but it was too late – Lamarque was already being rushed out by his security. And even if he still had the shot, Grantaire was done. Taking out terrorists and arms dealers was one thing; taking out someone trying to do right by his country and his people to put more money in billionaires’ pockets was another.

“I don’t care,” he said, interrupting Javert’s increasingly unhinged ranting. “I’m not killing anyone without some kind of compelling reason. Not anymore.”

“A compelling reason?” Javert repeated, in a cold, clipped tone that was infinitely more frightening than his shouting. “The compelling reason is that when I catch up with you, I’m going to put a bullet in your—”

Grantaire pulled the earbud out of his ear, squinting down at it to find the tiny button that controlled the frequency. He switched it to the emergency channel and popped it back in his ear before settling back in to wait.

A few minutes later, there was a faint beep to let him know someone else was on the channel. “Joly?” he said. “Bossuet?”

“We’re here,” Bossuet said, sounding grim. “And you’re—”

“In deep shit, I know,” Grantaire said. “I just need to get out of here. I can deal with the rest of it on my own.”

Joly sighed. “Of course you can’t,” he said resignedly. “And we’re going to do whatever we can to help you, but we have to be careful. Or else we could all three of us end up dead.”

Grantaire frowned. “I’m not asking you to help me—”

“You don’t have to,” Bossuet interrupted. “Look, soonest I can get into Burundi is in 72 hours, and even then I can only take you as far as Kenya. Can you survive on your own for 72 hours?”

“Of course I can,” Grantaire scoffed. “What kind of question—”

“Can you survive for 72 hours without drinking yourself into a coma?”

Grantaire managed a dry, humorless laugh. “Well, only one way to find out.”

“Two days later, someone did what I couldn’t and killed General Lamarque,” Grantaire told Enjolras, his voice low. “And then…well, you know what happened next.”

Enjolras just shook his head again, still trying to process everything Grantaire had told him. “You didn’t kill him.”

Grantaire shook his head as well. “No,” he said. “Only person I killed in Burundi was the person I was pretending to be. And then I met you, and…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras reached out almost automatically, resting his hand lightly against Grantaire’s cheek, smoothing his thumb across the beginnings of a black eye from a right hook he’d managed to land earlier. “And?” he prompted softly.

Grantaire’s eyes met his. “And I didn’t want to pretend to be someone else anymore.”

Enjolras couldn’t stop himself then, closing the space between them to kiss him. It was nothing like their previous kiss that was all fire and teeth and passion. And it was nothing like the many, many kisses they had shared during their marriage, which had always had an edge of calculation, of performance, of expectation.

This kiss was soft, tentative, as if their lips had never touched before, as if Enjolras had never before tasted Grantaire.

Because in a way, he hadn’t.

Grantaire skimmed his hands down Enjolras’s ribs, hesitating when they reached the hem of Enjolras’s shirt. “May I?” he asked, even though he’d never needed to ask for permission.

Perhaps he also realized that something was different, was new, between them.

Enjolras nodded, letting Grantaire pull his shirt off, letting Grantaire lift him up to set him on the kitchen counter, slotting in between his legs as he deepened the kiss, turning it open-mouthed and heady and still so different than any they had shared before.

“I love you,” he whispered in Enjolras’s ear, somewhere between a confession, and a promise.

And Enjolras just kissed him again before asking, “Do you think our bed survived the fire fight?”

Grantaire’s lips curved into a smile against his. “I think we should go find out.”

— — — — —

The knock on the door was increasing in urgency with each successive knock, and Grantaire tightened the sash on the bathrobe he was wearing as he hurried to answer it. He opened the door and glanced from Marius, who looked genuinely worried, to the two police officers standing behind him. “Yeah?” he asked, deliberately casual.

“Is everything ok?” Marius asked, eyes wide. “I heard a, um, bit of a ruckus, and what with what happened to your shed earlier…”

Grantaire had almost forgotten about that. “No, everything’s fine here,” he said disarmingly, flashing the cops a smile. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Neither Marius nor the cops looked convinced. “So you guys are – you’re fine?”

Grantaire took a step back, opening the door a little wider to show Enjolras behind him, wearing nothing but a pair of Grantaire’s boxers, his hair sticking up in every direction. “Yeah, couldn’t be better.”

Marius flushed scarlet. “Oh, um, nice. I mean, you guys, uh…”

Grantaire nodded his goodbye. “Marius, officers.”

“Have a nice night,” Enjolras added pointedly.

“I, uh, I can see you’ve been redecorating,” Marius said, clearly trying to salvage the situation. “Shame about the red oak—”

Grantaire closed the door in his face before turning back to Enjolras. “Now. Where were we?”

— — — — —

“Found something!” Grantaire called from the kitchen a few hours later as the sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon. 

“An unbroken glass?” Enjolras asked.

“Better,” Grantaire said, emerging from the kitchen before sitting down next to Enjolras on the floor beside their now-demolished couch. “Bottle of champagne for our anniversary. Miraculously did not get shot or broken.”

He tore the foil from the top and started twisting the wire basket off. Enjolras just shook his head, amused. “And you suggest we just drink it from the bottle?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras didn’t. He watched with amusement as Grantaire popped the cork and took a swig before handing the bottle over. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Enjolras returned, taking a swig of his own before asking, “So now what?”

Grantaire leaned back against the half-destroyed couch cushion. “I’ve got a pretty radical idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “We give honesty the ol’ college try.”

Enjolras snorted and took another sip of champagne. “Who says I haven’t been honest?” Grantaire just gave him a look and Enjolras laughed lightly. “Ok, fair.” He passed the bottle back to Grantaire before saying, a little hesitantly, “Well, you know how I told you when we met that I was traveling with the Peace Corps and got separated from my team? That was a lie.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah, I sort of put that one together already,” he said, taking a sip of champagne. “Though I’ll be honest, I always liked that about you.”

Enjolras scowled and stole the bottle back. “Maybe this honesty thing isn’t such a good idea.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes affectionately. “I’m kidding,” he said. “Besides, I never went to RISD.”

“Really?” Enjolras said, genuinely surprised, since Grantaire not only had a framed diploma but had also talked about taking him to visit the campus.

“Never even graduated college,” Grantaire said through a mouthful of champagne. He swallowed before adding, “I spent a year at UCLA before dropping out.” He made a face. “I was a math major, believe it or not.”

Enjolras barked a laugh. “Math?”

Grantaire shrugged. “My dad thought it was a good idea,” he muttered.

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Speaking of dads…”

Grantaire glanced at him, half-smiling. “Hell of a segue.”

But Enjolras didn’t smile. “I told you I was an orphan,” he said, “but both of my parents are actually still alive.” He shrugged and looked away. “They live in Zurich. We haven’t spoken in at least a decade.”

Something dark flitted across Grantaire’s expression before he smiled again. “Not supportive of the whole terrorism thing, or…?”

“Very funny,” Enjolras said, snagging the champagne and taking a swig. “Not supportive of the whole sexuality thing. The terrorism is probably just the icing on the cake.”

Grantaire nodded, his expression clouded again. “Speaking of cake—”

“Now who’s the one with the segues,” Enjolras said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Grantaire ignored him. “Look, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but I’ve never liked your cooking.” Enjolras was so startled by the statement that he burst out laughing, and Grantaire grinned. “Just isn’t your gift.”

Enjolras passed the bottle of champagne back to him. “I’ve never cooked a day in my life,” he told Grantaire dryly. “I always just get takeout and throw the containers out in the neighbors’ garbage so you wouldn’t see.”

Grantaire gasped, mock-scandalized. “Web of lies!” he exclaimed, though he was still grinning. He took a sip of champagne before looking at Enjolras as if with new appreciation. “We’re going to have to redo every conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Or just have some new ones,” Enjolras said, before taking a deep breath. “Speaking of which, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Grantaire said immediately.

Enjolras wet his bottom lip with his tongue before blurting, “What’s your body count?”

Grantaire looked surprised by the question. “Oh,” he said, before considering it for a moment. “Um, including you? Uh—”

Enjolras smacked his arm. “Not your sexual body count,” he said impatiently. “Your actual body count.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said again, sniggering. “Right.”

He fell silent, and Enjolras glanced at him. “Tell me,” he said, aiming for playful, though it sounded more like a command. “How many?”

Grantaire took another swig of champagne before rasping, “Does it matter?”

It was a stupid question – they both knew that it did. 

After another moment of silence, Enjolras cleared his throat. “Should I go first?” he offered.

Grantaire shook his head and sighed. “149,” he said, his voice low. “Lamarque would’ve been 150.” Enjolras wasn’t entirely surprised by that, and jerked a nod in response. Grantaire glanced at him. “What about you?”

Enjolras reached for the bottle of champagne. “Directly? Eight.”

Grantaire waited for him to swallow before prompting, “And indirectly?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Enjolras said honestly. “Probably several thousand. At least that I’m responsible for one way or another.”

Grantaire didn’t bother telling him that it wasn’t the same thing, and Enjolras had honestly never appreciated him more for that. “You ever have trouble sleeping after?”

Enjolras squinted into the sun beginning to stream through the bullet-hole ridden front window. “Nope.”

For a moment, Grantaire looked almost relieved. “Yeah, me neither.”

They finished the bottle of champagne in silence before Enjolras turned to face Grantaire. “So now what?”

Grantaire sighed. “Now, I need to call someone from my old team,” he said. “We need to figure out what the damage is so we can figure out our next move.”

Enjolras had thought the same thing and already planned on calling Combeferre, but he was happy to let Grantaire call his side first, especially since Grantaire’s contacts probably had more up to date intelligence than Enjolras’s. One of the few benefits of working for the government rather than against it.

Grantaire grabbed his phone and dialed a number he evidently didn’t have saved, which also made sense. “Joly?” he said, hitting the button on the screen to put the phone on speaker and setting it down between them.

“Grantaire,” Joly said, sounding relieved. “Glad to hear you’re still alive. I’ll take it that means your so-called husband had a bullet or two in his lying skull?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow at Grantaire, who hastily said, “Joly, you’re on speakerphone. Say hello to Enjolras.”

“Hi,” Enjolras said pleasantly.

There was a moment of silence before Joly said, “Uh, hello. Nice to, um, meet you. Grantaire, do you think maybe you could take me off of speakerphone?”

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to him,” Grantaire said evenly. “We’re trying a revolutionary new thing called honesty.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” Joly muttered.

Grantaire ignored him. “Anyway, we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“A situation?” Joly repeated, incredulous, and sounded so much like Enjolras imagined Combeferre would that he had to bite back a smile. “That very well may be the understatement of the century. You two are fucked.”

He said it flatly, with an air of finality, but Grantaire just shrugged. “Maybe.”

Joly took a moment to answer, which Enjolras imagined he used to count to 10 in his head. “You’ve got the entire agency gunning for you,” he said impatiently. “Probably have everyone your husband’s pissed off over the past decade gunning for you, too.”

Grantaire have Enjolras an appraising look, and Enjolras just shrugged, nonchalant. “ So what do you think?”

Again Joly took a moment to answer, but this time, Enjolras suspected it was because he was somewhat more reluctant to tell Grantaire what he thought. “If he’s done even half of what his file says he’s done, you have a responsibility to bring him in, or end him.”

Grantaire half-smiled, reaching out to tangle his fingers with Enjolras’s, lifting his hand to press a kiss to Enjolras’s knuckles. “Tempting.”

“You were set up,” Joly said, his voice low and urgent, and the smile slipped off of Grantaire’s face, replaced by something more serious. “I’m sure you’ve put that together by now. Someone figured out where you were, or where he was, and they realized the cleanest way to end this was to let you destroy each other. Are you following me?” Enjolras certainly was, in no small part because he’d come to same conclusion several hours prior. “The point of this is simple: once you guys decide to get off the reservation, that’s it. Then you’re off the reservation.”

“How bad?” Grantaire asked, his eyes not leaving Enjolras’s.

“How bad would it be?” Joly sucked in a breath. “You’d see intergovernmental cooperation like we haven’t seen since World War II to bring you both down.” He sounded even more grim than before and Enjolras winced. Grantaire squeezed his hand, but Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or not. “Those are the facts: if you two separate from each other, you got a shot. Not a great shot, but you’ve got a shot. You two stay together, you’re dead.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Maybe,” he said again.

Joly snorted. “You become an optimist while you’ve been in hiding?”

“No,” Grantaire said. “And belief doesn’t come any easier to me now than it used to.” He ran his thumb lightly across the back of Enjolras’s hand still laced with his. “But you and I both know I’m not going down without a helluva fight, especially if I have something worth fighting for.”

“Yeah,” Joly said quietly. “I know.” He hesitated, but whatever he clearly wanted to say, he didn’t. Instead all he said to Grantaire was, “Stay in touch through channels when you can.”

“I will,” Grantaire told him before ending the call.

For one long moment, they both just looked at each other. “So that’s it, I guess,” Enjolras said finally.

Grantaire jerked a nod. “I guess,” he echoed.

Enjolras hesitated before saying quietly, “My way out is a boat standing by in Koh Kong.”

A parade of emotions flashed across Grantaire’s face, too quickly for Enjolras to track them all. “Cargo drop,” he said. “Atlas Mountains. So what?”

“So at least apart we know what the odds are,” Enjolras said steadily, far more steadily than he felt. “Let’s just call this what it is, and what it isn’t.”

Grantaire cocked his head. “And what do you think this is, and isn’t?”

Enjolras pulled his hand away from his, which was an answer in and of itself, he supposed. “I think that you and I went into this without an endgame in sight,” he said, not quite meeting Grantaire’s eyes. “We were both running from plans that fell apart.”

Grantaire’s lips twitched. “Those plans were a little flawed.”

“Well, maybe yours were.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression. “90% of this job is instinct. My instincts got me out of there, and got me to you. It just wasn’t how you would’ve done it.”

It was the perfect opportunity, and Enjolras seized it. “No,” he said, with more heat than he even remotely felt, “because it was how you do everything: half-assed and sloppy. You are never the one to go the extra mile or put any effort in.”

Grantaire glowered at him. “You don’t want someone who puts effort in,” he snapped, “you want someone who’s just going to do what you tell them to.”

“I want somebody I can count on,” Enjolras shot back. “Someone who actually stands for something.”

“And that’s never gonna be me, now is it.” Grantaire said it flatly, a statement, not a question. “Not that you’d ever let me if I tried.”

“That if’s doing a lot of heavy lifting for you there.”

Grantaire stood, frustration clear in every line of his body. “Everything’s so fucking black and white with you. There’s no room for nuance or mistakes. Who can live like that?”

“Well, you don’t have to, do you,” Enjolras snapped. “Because this isn’t even a real marriage.”

He meant for that pronouncement to stand as a period at the end of the sentence that had been the mutual lie they’d been living for the past three years, but to his surprise, Grantaire barked a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me,” he said, and Enjolras blinked. 

“I—”

“So it’s a crap marriage,” Grantaire interrupted, with that soft little smile that had convinced Enjolras three years ago that this was a mistake worth making. “I’m a mess, you’re a disaster. We’re both liars.” He gave Enjolras a measured look. “But if you run, you will always be alone.”

Enjolras swallowed, staring up at him. “So what do you suggest?”

Grantaire shrugged. “There’s only one thing we can do: figure out who put this whole thing in motion, take them down, and then go back to doing what we’re actually good at. But together, this time.”

“What, just like that?” Enjolras said skeptically.

“Just like that,” Grantaire affirmed. He hesitated before reaching his hand out to Enjolras. “If you want to go, if you want to get on that boat in Cambodia, you know I won’t stop you. But no matter what lies I’ve told, I meant our wedding vows: til death do us part. Because I fell in love with you before I knew who you were, and I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

Despite himself, despite all the odds stacked against them, despite knowing this was a monumentally terrible idea, Enjolras couldn’t stop his smile, or his hand from closing around Grantaire’s. He let Grantaire pull him to his feet before pulling him close and kissing him once more. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you,” he said. “I love you.”

And for the first time in three years, he meant it.

— — — — —

“Dr. Fauchelevent? This came for you.”

Cosette’s brow furrowed as she took the envelope from her receptionist. It had evidently been hand-delivered, since it didn’t have a return address or stamp.

She nodded her thanks and took it into her office, closing the door after her. Then she cautiously opened it, relaxing when she saw what was inside.

It was part of a strip of pictures like you’d get from a photobooth, the top two judging by the tear. And it was unmistakably Enjolras and Grantaire.

In the top photo they were smiling at the camera, cheeks pressed together, but these were real smiles, nothing like the pained, fake smiles they’d both worn in her office.

In the bottom photo, Grantaire was kissing Enjolras’s cheek, and Enjolras was laughing.

She flipped the photos over to see if they’d written anything on the back, and they had.

For your success album - thanks for everything.

Cosette shook her head slightly, smiling, and she carried the photos over to her desk. Before she could do anything with them, her phone rang.

“Dr. Fauchelevent,” she said cheerfully. Her shoulders straightened and her smile faded when she heard the voice on the other end. “Yes sir.”

She listened for a moment before shaking her head. “No sir, no sign of them. The house fire was extinguished within a few hours, but the fire department hasn’t been able to confirm or deny if there were human remains found. And obviously, neither of them have been in touch.”

She glanced down at the photos still in her hand. “Yes sir, I think the assets most likely terminated each other, just as was planned.”

Shifting slightly, she tucked the phone receiver between her ear and shoulder so that she could feed the photo strip into the shredder next to her desk before adding, “I think we can firmly say that Operation: Lovebirds was a success. Mission accomplished.”

NAME: COSETTE FAUCHELEVENT ALIAS: NONE OCCUPATION: CLINICAL PSYCHOLOGIST EMPLOYER: CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY

[empressumbreon]

ALRIGHT BACK ON MY BULLSHIT

the richiggly aus. we’ve seen them. we love them, we all know the deal.

that. but! the grace/max/richie polycule. are they worshippers? preexisting relationship? who knows! but this is the worst idea I’ve ever had. it needed to be shared.

[im-a-ramblr]

Fics I would like to see for Arcane Ascension, but don't want to have to write myself because I already feel overwhelmed with ideas or unqualified to write them [Edited/Updated as of 10/25/2023]

The Winter Ball Dance Scene from Jin's POV (maybe extended)

Corin actually taking the position as Professor Erzan's TA

Tristan is still a whisper and still part of the Ascension Faction, but he's also not tower-bound bound so he has to keep all his activities secret from his family. Corin and Sera are pretty sure Tristan is trying to run a cult out of the basement, but they hope if they don't say anything he won't get them involved.

A The Joy of Joe like fic where Jin runs an Art YouTube channel and his fans are super interested in the small bits of his personal life that he drops. In the end, it's revealed that he is Dalen Jin, who is a very big deal for several reasons

AA x Addams Family, where Morticia or Gomez are either Magnus or Laura's estranged sibling who, despite not being close with the parents, are very interested and invested in Corin and Sera

Corin gets his Arbiter Attument by helping a disguised visage do something super basic and has to deal with the consequences

That one CorJin idea I posted about here

Kelridge rebellion and liberation

Corin is immune to love and/or lust potions, and can fight off most love spells (they have to be citrine or stronger for him to give have to work to throw them off) He is completely immune to Lust spells (Ace King 👑) Corin learns this the hard way. So do each of his friends/companions.

Vanniv and Researcher are given Mana regenerative items that let them stay summoned for extended periods of time without draining Sera. Shinagines ensue

Corin is kidnapped by Dawn, Reika and Ishyeal, because of the Selys-Lyann having part of Flowbreaker in it. He makes it clear that he had no idea and convinces them to let him tag along on the quest for a little bit. He forgets that Keras, Derek and the others don't know that he is in danger, and it's quite surprised when they crash the party

Corin eventually realizes Tristan isn't all that great and moves on with his life. Tristan has a hard time accepting that, because Corin idolizing him was kind of an important factor of his plan. He's convinced Corin must have been spelled away, and tires multiple times to break it. Obviously it doesn't work because Corian isn't under a spell.

Hartigan Manor becomes infested with Mimics while Keras and the kids are staying there. Shenanigans ensure.

Time Loop. Ara_Mochi has started to do ones with this, and they're great but I kind of want to see one where Corin just keeps getting different attunements every time. Jin isn't affected because he just mesmers himself out of the effect. Slowly they get the rest of the team too.

Attunement swap

[betrayalandbetrayed]

If anyone knows of a crack fic where Jason and Damian are fighting over who has the highest kill count, and it turns into this large thing with like a betting pool. So Oracle takes over and spends like a week determining exactly how many deaths each person has caused.

I think it went Steph and Duke at the bottom with 0, Cass with 1, Dick with 11, then Jason and Damian, and finally Tim in like the 10,000s.

It was funny as far as I remember

[soranker]

DEEP💥SPACE💥PLANET💥FUTURE💥GUN💥ACTION❗️

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking about an estranged childhood friends to lovers story with gojo……

you’re a rowdy kid. during one of your adventures, you end up at the gojo estate; sneaking your way into a vast, beautiful garden, pretty pink roses as far as the eye can see. little gojo is crouched down, watching tiny sprouts grow, and you’re too captivated to look away. bright snowy hair, striking blue eyes, all dolled up in a fancy yukata. he turns to meet your gaze — and all you give him is a sheepish laugh, before strolling over to introduce yourself. he doesn’t seem to mind the company, so you keep coming over to play with him. you bring cool rocks, pretty cicadas you caught, a dusty gameboy. he listens to you speak. he watches the way you move, wave your hands when you’re excited. he grows so, so fond of you.

one day, you stop coming by to see him — and he doesn’t need confirmation to know that one of the maids must have chased you off.

twenty years later, you meet him again, in a crowded little café. he calls out for you by name and you have no idea who you’re looking at. a tall, handsome, cheery man… wearing a blindfold? and shooting you a charming grin. you have no idea who he is, but he remembers you. he remembers you a lot more than he should. he chides you for forgetting your very best friend, but there’s nothing but humour in his voice. you watch as he speaks, as he moves, as he taps his feet under the table after insisting you order something — his treat. you still don’t remember him.

but you’re captivated, all the same.

(from underneath his blindfold, gojo watches you smile. he thinks to himself that some things must truly never change; because he still feels that familiar swarm of butterflies, with every move you make.)

[gunstellations]

its sonics turn! 👅

[megaawkwardhuman]

[chaoflaka]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 266

Back on my Danny & Ras frienemies/rivals/maybe-lovers-nobody-can-tell-their-signals-are-very-mixed train. 

See, Danny has gone through time a lot. Often. It comes with being Clockwork’s charge-son-thing and honestly he finds it fun. And several times he’s used this time travelling to get some training in. Enter Ras, stage left, also a teen at the time and also learning swordsmanship from the same person. 

And they… utterly despise each other. They would kill the other for an apple slice, if the other one would die! But also, only they can kill the other, as it is obviously their right! 

And well, they keep running into each other. It has been a hundred years, surely the other would die by now? But of course their rival would live through utter spite. Probably to spite them specifically. 

The amount of times they have ended up sparring- trying to kill each other or not- the moment they see the other is actually ridiculous. But time is also passing. And… Danny understands, not having another to talk about things people are forgetting, or have already forgotten. 

How they ended up actually talking without a murder attempt was a long story that included a demon, a dragon, a pair of fae, some bandits, and a lot of alcohol, but it happened. And then it happens again. And again, and now it’s just kind of normal to share a drink after their spars, talking about things that no longer exist, and things they miss. 

Sure Danny can go back in time again, but he knows better than to do it willy nilly. He’s matured, he’s been an adult for a hundred years now, he knows there’s consequences for messing with time, even with Clockwork’s blessings. 

The first time they got married was technically for an undercover assassination. Well, Ras was there to assassinate someone, Danny was there to grab an artifact that should Not be in the realm of the living. And they got divorced after, it was fine. 

They just, also got married again when they met a few years later, for another job. And… okay, so maybe they have gotten married over a dozen times now and only divorced like half of those times. Half of those were for the bit or while drunk! 

And even if technically they’re married or shared a bed, it’s not like they're exclusive! As Ras’ daughters’ existences attest to (adopted in one case or not). They don’t exactly have a label for their relationship, despite others asking for one or trying to put a name to it themselves. 

Now Danny knows Ras isn’t exactly a good dude, or at least on the side of ‘good’ as he’s a literal assassin. But he also knows that good? Bad? Rather relative. He had gotten labeled as a villain when he was just trying to help all that time ago after all, and really who was he to tell someone else how to live their life? 

Which brings him to now, where he’s run into his old frienemy-rival and his youngest daughter. Who has a braindead teenager and a small toddler. Which is fine, really- but also, Talia dear, why are you using a brain dead teenager to guard your three year old son? 

…

Okay, Talia dear, Ras (Derogatory), why are you using your brain dead son and grandson to guard your younger son and grandson? Do you not have the Pits, which you were soo proud about Ras? Yes, he will spar with you, but for Realms’ sake, heal, what’s his name? Ah yes, go heal Jason and he’ll actually stick around for a few years, deal? Good.