#technically part of

[starmieknight]

He’s finally here! Turned out nicer than I thought he would… and then I realize I forgot the body hair. Oh well, layers are all merged now 🤷‍♀️

[axolotlatorinc]

Nintendo,,, please I’m begging you let me have this

[mysunfreckle]

Love you for yourself alone

…and not your yellow hair

Enjoltaire fluff, modern AU, trans Enjolras | 1k

Happy Birthday James! Your prompt reminded me that I still had ideas about the Enjolras and Grantaire in my Faerie AU. No background knowledge needed though, as these two are both human.

Enjolras’ apartment is a nice place to be. Grantaire has always thought so, but nowadays that is extra true. There’s still a little nervousness in his chest though. Luckily he’s not the only one, at least judging from the rather sudden way Enjolras says:

“Do you want something to drink? Or…something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Grantaire grins.

“Okay,” Enjolras smiles. He grabs the coat he just shrugged off to put it away. “Why do you never wear a coat?” he asks, shaking his head as he ducks into the little hallway.

“Sarcasm keeps me warm,” Grantaire quips. He strolls over to Enjolras’ photo wall. It’s the defining feature of the living room. The pinboard basically covers the whole wall. It looks even more crowded than it did last time. Grantaire glances past the glossy pictures and his eye falls on a photo that is unmistakeably Combeferre and Enjolras…only with braces and backpacks. Grantaire lets out a surprised sound, he has seen a few pictures of Enjolras as a kid, but not many. He always figured Enjolras didn’t want to share them.

“Dad came by with a box of old photos,” Enjolras explains, appearing in the doorway.

Grantaire looks back at him over his shoulder.

The nerves in Enjolras’ eyes are much more obvious now.

“Cute braces,” he smirks. Whatever Enjolras is worried about, Grantaire hopes a little teasing will do away with it.

Enjolras’ eyes flash, apprehension fading. “Shut up,” he huffs, coming to stand beside him. “Everyone had braces.”

“I didn’t,” Grantaire snickers.

“Urgh,” Enjolras grunts, but he’s smiling.

They both look at the pictures. Normally Grantaire would be looking for the ones of them together. Most of them brand new. Together at the café. Together in the university garden. Together wherever they can find a moment. They have to make up for lost time. But right now he’s looking for the old ones. He really wants to see what-

“You used to dye your hair!” Grantaire splutters.

“Yes…” Enjolras sighs, turning his gaze skyward.

“Oh my god,” Grantaire laughs. “What is that?” He points at a picture where Enjolras must have been about fifteen. “It looks like you accidentally dipped the ends of your hair in neon pink.”

“It was a thing,” Enjolras grimaces. “I think every single girl in my class had hair like that at the time.”

“Oh I like the red,” Grantaire grins, graciously moving on to a picture where Enjolras’ hair is cropped short and dyed dark red. He looks more like Grantaire knows him there, shoulders squared and laughing at the camera.

“Thanks,” Enjolras laughs. “I did too at the time.”

Grantaire glances sideways at his boyfriend. Boyfriend. Even thinking it still makes a burst of happy nerves shoot through his stomach. “Was that the first time you cut it short?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Enjolras hums, eyes passing along his childhood memories.

When Grantaire met Enjolras he has short blonde curls. Now they are nearly down to his shoulders, longer than Grantaire’s hair at least. Only Enjolras’ hair is fine, it doesn’t turn into a wild mane like Grantaire’s, but the curls frizz when he doesn’t take care of them. Grantaire blinks. Yup, he’s staring. Enjolras’ eyes laugh silently at him. He gives him an apologetic grin.

“This is the first time I’m growing it out again,” Enjolras says, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” Grantaire says with a comically thoughtful expression. “I can’t say I ever put that much thought into my hair. I’m too lazy.”

“Liar,” Enjolras grins. “You’re proud of your hair. If you were lazy you’d shave it off every once in a while.”

Grantaire just manages to keep his face straight. “That’s a pretty good idea actually.”

The horror sparking in Enjolras’ blue eyes makes him burst out laughing.

“I won’t,” he chuckles. “Promise.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Enjolras protests. “You should do whatever you want with your hair.”

“So should you,” Grantaire says, turning away from the photo wall with a crooked smile. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t secretly hope you’ll keep your golden curls. Doesn’t make a damn difference for how I feel about you…but I do like them.”

A faint blush passes across Enjolras’ cheeks. “I like your hair too,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Really?” Grantaire hums amusedly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Enjolras huffs, but Grantaire quickly leans forward to press a kiss on his cheek. The blush comes back and he laughs.

Grantaire can practically feel the world glowing. He can make Enjolras blush and laugh with a kiss. How preposterously wonderful is that?

“Does that mean I make the long hair worth your while?” Enjolras teases.

“You definitely do,” Grantaire grins. “Besides,” he grimaces, remembering his last year of high school. “I do not look good with short hair.”

“Oh, you should not have told me that,” Enjolras says delightedly. “You saw my pictures, now you have to show me yours.”

“Who says there are pictures?” Grantaire protests. There are so many pictures. He has a hard time imagining his aunt and mother without a camera in their hands.

“There’s always pictures,” Enjolras says, thoroughly enjoying the half-hearted embarrassment on Grantaire’s face.

“Damn,” Grantaire mutters, trying to look pained. “Will you forget about it if I kiss you?”

“No,” Enjolras laughs.

“What if I make it a really good one?” Grantaire coaxes, leaning towards him.

Enjolras nearly bites his lip.

A moment later Grantaire’s mouth is on his, hands cupping his face. Another moment and Enjolras’ fingers are tangled firmly in Grantaire’s hair as he’s being leant back against the wall.

This is going to turn into a valuable lesson in a minute or three: making out against photo walls means putting photo’s back up afterwards. But right now neither of them cares.

“Still haven’t forgotten about the pictures,” Enjolras laughs breathily when Grantaire pulls away for a moment.

“Well I have,” Grantaire grunts and he buries his face in Enjolras’ neck.

Enjolras’ laughter rings out warmly and the first picture slides to the floor.

[grumpyzutara]

The Path of Least Resistance

Most soulmate AUs in the ATLA universe have all been done, I just hope you enjoy this unoriginal take. Part 1 of 4 for the Soulmate Series.

(1) (2) (3) (4)

It was a searing pain unlike anything Katara ever knew. She bolted up from her sleeping roll in the family hut, screaming. Her family quickly woke up to find her curled in on herself. When her mother unwrapped her, they gasped at the burn that had formed on her face. Fresh and colored, they expected to smell burnt flesh but oddly didn't.

This was how her family knew she had a soulmate somewhere in the world.

Not everyone was born with a soulmate. It was debatable whether having a soulmate was a good thing or not, when you took on every wound the other had. The older couples enjoyed knowing that they would die together, but the young kids always had trouble coming to terms with the process.

Katara thought she didn't have a soulmate. In over 10 years, she hadn't obtained anything that wasn't of her own doing. There might have been a few bruises or small cuts that she didn't remember, but they were easy to dismiss.

This was not easy to dismiss. It wasn't even easy to stomach. The raw pain – what could be happening to the other person then? What situation were they in?

They slipped Katara a sedative and she started to dose off, that or pass out from the pain.

"We need to find her soulmate, they need to be protected too." Kya said while wrapped in Hakoda's arms. "Let's say they're an Earth Kingdom boy and the Fire Nation just attacked his town. Or even a Northern Water Tribe girl who got too close to the fire out of negligence. But what if it was something worse...I can't help but think it is something worse."

Hakoda rubbed her shoulders, "But where would we start? The colonies? It could be a kid in the Fire Nation for all we know. All we can do right now is care for Katara."

"I had really hoped that she had lucked out and didn't have a soulmate like Sokka. I know they say it's not linked to being a bender, but I think it must. We both fell in love on our own. No destiny but our own." Kya sighed, sinking back into his warmth, wishing for a simpler time. The war was closer to their doorstep every summer and now Katara was the last waterbender of the whole tribe.

"Yes, I'm thankful that you found me. And whoever is her soulmate will probably be just as thankful when Katara finds them."

Katara's family helped her recovery, but a scar lasted on her face. Her left eyesight wasn't as good as her right and her left eyebrow was completely gone. The only good thing about the scar was that she didn't have to think about looking good for a future suitor; her soulmate would have the matching scar. What a pair they would look like.

But then a series of events changed everything. The Fire Nation attacked, killing her mother. She found the Avatar in the ice. She felt this urge to leave the Southern Water Tribe.

So Katara left the only place she had ever lived.  

Sokka and Aang were chatting on top of Appa when something in the corner of her good eye caught her attention.  

"Is that a Fire Nation ship?" She asked, moving to get a better angle.

"Ya, and it looks like it's headed toward the village. We need to turn back, now!" Sokka yelled, clamoring for the reins in Aang's hands.

"They'll be looking for me. What should I do?"

Katara evaluated the situation. She couldn't resist the urge pulling her away from home. It was telling her to run, sprint, swim, anything to get toward their destination faster. It wasn't hard to convince Aang to make an airbending display, taunting whoever was searching them to follow but they outpaced the ship easily.

When they made landfall in the Air Nomad Islands, Katara figured the draw of the horizon would settled down, but if anything it was stronger. This is how it was for weeks. They traveled through all sorts of lands and islands, meeting hundreds of new faces – none with scars like hers and a constant drive to something in the distance. Though they never caught wind of who was following them, word kept making it to them that a Fire Nation ship was in the distance, following their path.

It was a weird type of pull. It would be like taking 5 steps forward and 1 step right, only to turn and go 12 steps in the other direction. She couldn't get a handle on where she needed to be. It wasn't a specific location.

Now a year after leaving the Southern Water Tribe, months after the victory in the Northern Water Tribe, after seeing Ba Sing Se fall, Katara no longer felt the pull. She almost sat down on the packed dirt floor of the Western Air Temple, she didn't want to move a muscle. So she waited.

The banished Fire Prince Zuko had a different handle on this whole soulmate business, he liked to call it. He wasn't sure that it was real. If it was he felt extremely sorry for the person who had to endure his burn with him. At least he had a warning before the burn. Then he had to ignore the subtle desire in the pit of his stomach to drop everything and search for his soulmate.

But the search for the Avatar was more important.

Some days, he wondered if the Avatar was his soulmate. The clues to where the Avatar was and the need to chase someone aligned more often than not. It would be an ironic twist of fate. But none of the whispers of Aang's name mentioned a scar, only a bald head and arrow tattoos.

He chased both the Avatar and his soulmate all over the globe, always missing the group by a day. He gave up for a time in the Earth Kingdom, went where his Uncle wanted instead. But he had an epiphany in Ba Sing Se. If his soulmate was working with the Avatar, would he join or keep with his mission of capturing the Avatar?

There was only one way to find out. This time, focusing on where he was pulled, he found the group in a few days. It was tricky figuring out how to get under the cliff and once he reached the main level he didn't know what to do. His entrance sure caught everyone's attention though.

"Hi, uh, Zuko here. I've kind of been following you guys?" He shuffled his feet, feeling awkward until his eyes locked on a girl with a familiar scar.

"You!" Shouted everyone. Katara was shocked to see someone with a matching scar, to finally see her soulmate. Sokka was upset that the rumors were true and the Fire Nation Prince following them was also Katara's soulmate. Most others were just upset to see that he had found them at last.

"Alright, everyone quiet down. What's all the hollering about?" A small girl stomped her foot, shaking the whole temple.

After hashing out motives and future goals as a team, Katara and Zuko sat alone on the edge of the floor, looking out at the canyon. What was there to say? It was obvious that they were supposed to be soulmates, but it's not something you can just jump into.  

"I thought you hated us. Our group. Our mission to stop your father." Katara said in a hushed tone.

Zuko didn't look at her when he replied. "At first, I did. I wanted to end everything you wanted to achieve...but I didn't realize it was you. Then I – well, in the years since you got your burn, how did you think I got mine? What are your guesses?"

"Sometimes I would think it was a careless mistake. Other times you had been tortured. I could never figure it out." She slid over, bumping her thigh with his. "Want to tell me the truth?"

"My father," he started to say, falling short on his words. "When I was young, all I ever wanted was my father's approval. But then I said the wrong thing at the wrong time and it went down from there...In the Fire Nation we have duals for our honor called Agni Kai. And I had to go up against my father who decided a just punishment was to burn me instead.” Zuko couldn’t stop the flinch when Katara's hand softly touched his scar. He noticed that she was touching her face as well. Their physical connection.

“It’s weird. They feel so similar, but because I can’t feel my hand, it’s off.”

Zuko's hand slid under hers, feeling her burn for the first time. She was right. Familiar but different. That’s what Katara was. They had felt the same physical incidents that had shaped their lives, but had taken two very different paths.

“Do you think we can make this work?” his voice was quiet and unsure, he felt so bare before her.

“Yes Zuko, I think we can make this work.” She leaned up and kissed his burn before getting up. “Now, let’s see how good you are in sparing. I’ve heard quite a few rumors.”

Zuko popped up, “The same goes for tales of the last Waterbender from the South.”

[lizardsarecute]

found a cute lil coloring style online that I wanted to try out on something i could quickly draw :)

[darrenchris]

okay

Jehan comes back from his first year of college, and he's worse than ever. Courfeyrac reacts. (trigger warning for eating disorder stuff and a little bit of self harm.)

It takes three long sets of knocks before Jehan’s face finally appears at the window beside the door. He unlocks the door, and gives a small smile when he sees Courfeyrac. Try as he might, Courfeyrac cannot return it.

Jehan is smaller than he’s ever seen him. He’s pale and tiny, his cheek bones prominent.  His hair is still long, but it’s lost something about it—Courfeyrac can’t say what, but what used to be beautiful looks a little bit dead.

Just like Jehan.

“Hi,” Jehan says with a small smile. Courfeyrac forces one of his own. 

“Hey,” he replies. “It’s good to see you.” Jehan moves out of the doorway and lets him in; Courfeyrac closes it behind him.

“How have you been?” Jehan’s voice is still bright, and though there are dark circles under his eyes, he sounds very awake.

“Okay,” Courfeyrac says, because things have been going mostly well for him. He’s still distracted by Jehan, how the sweater that hides half of his bony hands is clearly not the only one he’s wearing. “How are you?”

“Great,” Jehan says. It’s disgustingly, forcefully cheery, and does not reach his eyes. Courfeyrac already wants to shake him. “Everything’s going great. Can I get you anything, something to drink?”

Jehan reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. The layers slide back, and Courfeyrac can see burn marks, some scarred, some open, all jagged little circles from the cigarettes he’s apparently still smoking. Courfeyrac’s voice catches in his throat.

“No, I…” He can’t tear his eyes away. Jehan notices and tugs his sleeve down until it’s nearly covering his thumb. “How are you?” he asks again. He hopes, in some part of his heart, Jehan will answer truthfully.

“Great,” he says again. The smile wavers.

“No, you’re not.” Courfeyrac doesn’t care he’s being combative. Jehan is clearly the last thing from fine. “Christ, when was the last time you ate something?”

Jehan crosses his arms over his chest. He’s dropped all pretenses of a smile. “This morning,” he says firmly. His voice shakes when he says it; Courfeyrac notices his hair is damp.

“Let me rephrase,” he says, “when was the last time you ate something and didn’t immediately puke it back up?”

“Are you here for a reason?” Jehan shoots back. It’s so icy, so unfriendly, that Courfeyrac can barely believe this is their Jehan. His Jehan.

“I just wanted to see you,” Courfeyrac admits. His voice sounds small to his ears. Jehan just stares at him, so he mutters, “I’m sorry.”

“Please leave.” Jehan’s voice is a shaky whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac repeats. He reaches out a hand to touch Jehan’s arm, or something, something to show he is sorry, but Jehan flinches away. He looks down at his feet.

“Please, Courfeyrac,” he says, though he does not look up at him. “Please, don’t do this. N-not today.”

Courfeyrac swallows. “Okay.” He feels like he’s admitting defeat, but the part of him that drove over that morning, desperate just to see Jehan, gives in. “But… can you be honest?” Jehan goes to protest; Courfeyrac continues. “I’ll… I’m sorry, I won’t push you but please, please be honest.” He reaches out and touches Jehan’s face. His friend looks up into his eyes and does not flinch away. “For me.”

They just look at each other for a long moment. Then, Jehan’s grasps the hand Courfeyrac’s resting on his face and curls his fingers around it.

“Okay.” It’s gentle. It sounds like Jehan again. “I’ll… try.”

Courfeyrac smiles. Jehan tries, but it looks painful. Courfeyrac squeezes Jehan’s hand.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Jehan asks again. Courfeyrac hesitates.

“Something to drink that’s not water,” he says after a moment. “And yourself one too.”

Jehan does not drop his hand as they walk toward the kitchen.