#mustelids are so fucking weird too. you can have so much fun with it

[otto-doctavius]

not to be animal autistic on main but guyyyyssss wolverines are mustelids not wolves 😭😭 they’re in the same family as ferrets and badgers !! otters even !!! stop comparing Logan to canines and start comparing him to weasels !!!!

do it for them^

[sovinly]

For your ficlet prompts: Could I have something with R and Combeferre, maybe for "I... Im surprised you knew that. No one else can wax pedantic quite so poetically." Please and thank you and you're wonderful and I hope life is being good to you.

(Thank you so much for your long bout of patience! You’re always the loveliest and wonderful, and I hope life is treating you well! Life has been rather absurdly busy lately, but I’ve finally gotten to this prompt and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

There’s a heavy silence, growing the awkward the longer itsits unanswered.

“I... I’m surprised you knew that,” Grantaire finally says,when the wait becomes too much. He clears his throat nervously, fidgets with aloose thread on his shirt hem, tries for a grin. “No one else can wax pedanticquite so poetically.”

Combeferre smiles back, gentle and maybe a little anxious atthe same time. “You pick up quite a bit, practicing for my line of work.”

“No, I know that,” Grantaire agrees, and sighs deeply,slumping in his chair. “It’s just the difference, between, y’know, knowing thatyou and Joly can give me clinical rundowns of statistics of having a fucked upbrain, and you peeling me apart like an onion.”

“If I’ve overstepped…” Combeferre starts, with a prodigious frowndigging furrows in his brows.

Yes, Grantaire wants to say, and yes. But he did, after all,ask for it. Has shared things, because he’s trying to open up a little more,these days. Especially with Combeferre, who has a sharp mind and a soft heartworn on his sleeve.

Grantaire’s heart is an apple left in the sun, and histongue is a scalpel’s honed edge. He’s not sure how they meet, but he’s trying.

“No,” Grantaire says, inches his hand closer to brush theedge of his pinky against Combeferre’s. “You’re right, those are all thingsthat are… true. How the fuck you understand my family better than me is deeplyironic. I’d ask if you wanted to swap places, but wow, I would not inflict thaton you.”

He’s thought a thousand times he’d shove anyone into hisplace, like a drowning man flailing for a breath. It’s made him guilty andbitter and angry, but it’s hard to be any of those things around Combeferre.

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Combeferre points out,with remarkable gentleness and a dry edge that eases any sting of it. “As itturns out, I have a lot of feelings about seeing my friends upset. Familydynamics are always a touchy subject, but, uh-”

“A hot button issue?” Grantaire asks, drier still. SoCombeferre waxes as eloquent on familial dysfunction as on governmentalpolicies and renewable energy. It makes it easier to swallow, that Combeferrejust cares in general, and in the specific because they’re friends, rather thanthe opposite. It’s easier to be cared about on principle. Grantaire’s still notsure he has principles, when people are looking at him. “Do you want to pretendthis conversation never happened?”

And Combeferre’s eyes are still intent, a little apologetic,much too kind, but Grantaire is weirdly fond of it. Combeferre smiles again,though he clearly doesn’t expect either of them to actually dismiss this weirdwhole conversation, and taps his knuckles against Grantaire’s forearm, aglancing touch. “Would you rather hold some rats and we can trade fun rat factsinstead?”

“I,” Grantaire proclaims, relieved and grateful andawkwardly a little touched, “would love that. D’you know much about thesymbolism of mustelids in art?”

“No, but go on,” Combeferre says, and grins shamelessly atGrantaire. “No one else can wax pedantic quite so poetically, after all.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes heavily, but snorts in laughter allthe same.