#So I'll ignore any pacing issue and not colored objects

[paula-donas]

SO! Here is what i've given my heart and soul to this year (apart from uni entrance exams).

A short comic about masculinity, and not being enough and some other little things.

Well, it was for a contest with "thieves" as a subject. Which i totally ignored. I mean, not totally but i metaphorised it as i pleased.

Idk who will see this but, hope you like it!

(I know the comic is in Spanish, I'll translate it beneath the images but I'm not home and won't be for a while jajajaj so, not editing the images. Apologies)

Also! Here is a link to a 3D version of it!! With backcover and all!!! I. Am. Obsessed. Please check it out (i dont get anything out of it just. Im proud of it. It looks like a read book. So pretty jsjsjdh)

Cry

Well, shall we continue?

My boy is turning into a man

Perhaps that is why his tears have been stolen

And, nonetheless, he is set on retrieving them.

I don't get it.

But, could you explain to me why this obsession?

They're mine, I don't want to have them taken away

Yeah, but soon you'll be a men, Nico. Men don't cry.

Shut it, we gotta keep searching!

Men don't do anything fun.

They don't chit-chat

or laugh

Men also don't fear.

And i fear.

And isn't that bad?

Hey!

But is it true that men don't feel scared? Or sad?

I don't know

And me?

Will i be a bad man then?

Perhaps being a man is more complex than all of that. And, in any case, i think you'll be a good one.

Nico is getting older.

Perhaps that is why his tears have been stolen, but he is set on getting them back.

A story by Paula Donas.

[longinglook]

Hi! First I hope you're doing well! I'd like to start watching Enchante, but I saw a lot of bad reviews on different websites so I'd love to know your opinion about the serie since you like it? Honestly, most of the reviews I read seem very harsh so I'd like a more... nuanced opinion? If it doesn't bother you of course. Thank you! :)

Hello! I am doing really well thank you 😊😊 Thank you for asking about this, I am always happy to talk about Enchanté (and I am so sorry about how long this got!)

I disagree with most of the bad reviews because I feel like a lot of people simply didn't bother to get into the characters to understand their motivations. Despite the fact that the show has a plot which makes sense, I'd say Enchanté is mostly a character driven show, so if that's not your cup of tea you might not find it interesting.

Personally I tend to prefer character driven shows over plot driven ones so I really really loved it. Both Akk and Theo are extremely relatable and complex characters and their childhood friends to lovers relationship is very well done. The actors did an incredible job portraying the longing and repressed feelings for each other and the fears and doubts about trying to take a step forward. I guess a big reason why I loved the show is that I could completely understand their feelings since I've been in a similar position myself, so I was very happy to see them portrayed in such a realistic way.

I started the show expecting nothing, just to fill the bad buddy friday slot, and it caught my attention right away. It was very comforting to me because there's no bad angst or unnecessarily complicated misunderstandings which tend to frustrate me and put me off. Watching Akk and Theo grow closer and closer and be more and more obvious about their mutual feelings for each other was a delight. It was technically slow burn but it didn't feel like it because there was so much tension and closeness and domesticity right from the start that I never felt like things needed to hurry up between them.

That was the very biased part of the answer, now I'll try to be slightly more objective. I think it's hard to say whether a show is good or bad because we all like different things, but there's a few things that I'd like to highlight about Enchanté: the direction and photography are excellet, it is a very beautiful show to watch and a lot of care has been put in even the smallest details. There's no bl tropes, it feels like a light fun romantic comedy and the leads have incredible chemistry.

I had AkkTheo tunnel vision which means I sort of ignored most of the plot and side characters (which probably make up just a 10/20% of the show so it's not a big deal). The plot isn't the most creative or innovative, but I found it cute and fun. I get bored easily and it managed to keep me entertained the whole time.

I think the show handled the plot and pacing fine, it didn't feel like there were densely packed episodes or filler episodes with the exception of the finale. After watching the whole show I felt like a few important conversations were still missing and had been skipped but it might have been an issue with the number of episodes.

The reason why some people didn't enjoy this show is Theo, who I personally believe doesn't deserve any of the awful things people have been saying about him. Theo is a romantic dreamer who has probably read too many novels and sees life through rose colored glasses. He's a bit naive and silly and stubborn also due to the fact that he's been treated like a prince his whole life. He makes mistakes like we all do but they're not big mistakes and he apologizes for them. I really struggled with trying to understand why people hated on him so much since to me he seemed like a perfectly decent human who sometimes lets his feelings take over and messes up.

I strongly believe you should give it a chance because there is absolutely nothing wrong with the show itself and I'd rank AkkTheo in the top 5 of my favorite couples. It's mostly a matter of preferences and what you look for in a show/how much are you willing to try to understand characters that might make different choices from yours.

[land-of-frogs-and-dragons]

This is the fic for the Reverse Hunk Bang at @hunkbigbang !!!

My artist is the very talented @artbymaryc and a link to their art is at the bottom of the post!!! @ze-zir was also a partner for the bang. I'm on mobile so I can't put this fic under a readmore, so I'll fix that once I'm on a computer.

Hunk padded through the hallway, bayard at the ready. He heard his blood pumping in his ears, unease slipping down his spine like water droplets sliding down a window pane during a storm.

He thought back, remembering the looks on the faces of the little ones, the children who were stolen from their home. He knew they were here somewhere, knew that it would be hard to find them, but he had hope that he’d find them before getting found.

Determination clear in his stance, he continued further into the belly of the base. Harsh metal swapped for rock, then back to metal. He descended into lower levels of the base, unease growing the further he went. Where were the guards? Where were the other Galra? Why did this feel so much like a horror movie waiting to happen?

The deeper he got, the more the soft purple lighting shifted, changing, becoming closer and closer to a harsh red. He knew that he was running out of time, but he kept his pace slow. He didn’t need to run into any Galra, and the faster he moved the more likely it was that he’d be seen and heard.

His skin crawled, unease shifting to fear, then to concern, then to anger, and back to unease. It was the lighting, he realized, that was so off-putting. It was close to a blood-red now, a color that was abnormal for any sort of normal lighting scheme. Except that the Jharrot were a species that lived underground. It was designed so that the Galra would be able to see and fight with ease, but the Jharrot would be at a disadvantage.

A soft noise pulled him from his thoughts, making him pause. It was coming from in front of him, but he didn’t know exactly where it came from; the Galra base was laid out like a maze. He waited, praying that the sound would happen again.

A soft whimper echoed through the hallways, a sound so quiet he’d have missed it if he’d been moving. It was definitely coming from in front of him, but off to the left. He made his way forward again, doing his best to remain quiet. He headed towards the sound, praying that the children were okay.

He made his way down a few more hallways, careful to listen for Galra footsteps ad for the noise he’d heard. Slowly, he made his way closer to what he hoped was the missing children.

He noticed the floor changing the further her went, splotches of what he hoped were dirt and scuff marks becoming more and more frequent. There was an odd scent in the air, the iron tang of what he pretended was rusty metal. The whimpering was louder and more frequent now; the sound tore his heart into two. He followed the noise, heart growing heavier the farther he went.

He passed a doorway and stopped. The whimpering seemed to be coming from inside the room, but he didn’t know for sure. He’d just have to look.

The door didn’t have a window, so he had no idea what he’d be walking into. But he needed to look, needed to find the children and bring them home. Hesitantly, he placed his palm on the door.

With a soft woosh, it opened.

He was greeted by the strong scent of sulfur, lights in the room dim. Horror filled his soul and his heart, tears filling and spilling from his eyes. His disgust at the sight so strong that he had to fight back the urge to vomit, to cry for his mother, to do anything except save the children.

Dull, crusty yellow coated the room, covered the floor and the walls and every flat surface. Knives of various sizes were scattered throughout the room, placed as if Easter eggs for the children on Earth. The opposite side of the room had chains hanging from the wall, placed as if designed for the Jharrot. Currently, there were none trapped there.

What horrified him the most, what shook him to his core and made him re-evaluate his stance on many issues, was the machine in the middle of the room.

It was the only object not splattered with Jharrot blood like it was paint. Instead, it was kept pristinely clean, its purpose clear from the knives and scalpels and needles and spatula-like objects attached to it. Its purpose was made clear from the dying Jharrot child currently attached to the machine, bleeding out as its innards were scooped out and stored within the machine for some sort of odd purpose. Its legs had been  removed entirely, pinned down solely by gravity and its forearms.

Now it made sense. It made sense why he’d thought of the Galra armor when he’d first seen this species. Why he’d instinctively never touched the fancy fish egg-like food that Allura had offered him. The Galra, they were harvesting the Jharrot. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d been trying to breed them.

The Jharrot child whimpered softly, empty sockets where eyes should be pointing feebly towards the door. The machine whirred softly, even as the sickening squelches of its purpose filled the room. Absently, he noted that the insides of the Jharrot were littered with the fish-egg-like stuff.

“Shhh, little one. I’m here.” He murmured softly, closing the distance between himself and the machine. “I’m gonna get you our of there, okay?”

He got a whimper in response. A pained whine, one that expressed more raw emotion than could ever be properly expressed.

Later on, he’d remember that he’d been so scared for the child. That he’d been scared that the child would die unfreed, that he wouldn’t shut the machine off, that he’d get caught and made to watch more and more Jharrot die as a result of his faults. Now, though, there was only what needed to be done.

He studied the machine, gears turning as he figured out how to turn it off without harming the child. Shooting it would stop it, but the child would die…

That’s it.

He pried a panel off the side, exposing wiring. He eyed it, praying that what he was about to do would work. And began cutting the wires.

The machine slowed, then creaked to a halt. The cuffs released, impaling the child on the spatula; the only indication of the new and unfamiliar pain was a loud whimper.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. It’s okay now.” He murmured softly, kneeling as he set his bayard to the side to gently lift the child from the machine. He cradled what was left in his arms, ignoring the way the blood coated his arms, his legs, his everything. “I’m gonna get you home, I promise.”

He gently shifted how he held the child, a new sense of determination filling his bones and his soul. It was as if every fiber of his being, every atom and iota of what made him who he was, knew what had to be done.

He held the child one-handed, grabbing his bayard and shifting it to its usual form. He noticed that it modified itself for his situation, allowing him to hold and shoot it with one hand instead of two. Slowly, he rose to his feet, jaw set.

He moved to leave the room, but turned to face the horrendous machine before doing so.

“Little one, what is your name?” He asked softly, gently, so as not to startle the slowly dying child.

“It…” He was surprised that the child could still speak; it showed exactly how determined this little one was. “It’s Anter.”

He fired his bayard at the machine, setting it ablaze and destroying it for good. Anter twitched at the sound, but relaxed; they had guessed correctly at what the noise had been.

“I’m going to get you out of here safely, but you might hear some things you won’t like.” He spoke calmly, leaving his room and making is way to the exit. He pointedly ignored the way his boots squelched with Anter’s blood, the way it seeped into his armor and onto his skin and made everything small like sulfur.

The duo ran into Galra rather quickly. A soldier on patrol, blasted and killed before they could make a sound. Soldiers laughing and joking before looking at them in horror, killed before an alarm went off. Perhaps it was the blood, perhaps it was the determination of his features, perhaps it was Anter clinging to life the way the last leaves cling to the trees in winter, but the Galra always needed a moment to take in his appearance.

But he had to leave quickly if Anter was going to get to see their family again.

He carefully made his way to where he entered,  moving faster as Anter’s whimpers became softer and softer. He refused to accept an alternative, he was going to save at least one Jharrot. He would, even if it killed him.

He emerged from the hole he’d made in the Galra base, stepping foot from the eery quiet and into what could only be described as a war-torn hellscape.

The others had been busy in his absence. They had torn down the Galra defenses, fought off their enemies, and were in the middle of an aerial battle. But that didn’t matter to him; he had to get to the ship. To the healing pods. Anter whined, a sound so quiet he could have missed it, and his determination soared to new and previously undiscovered heights.

“Allura.” He spoke into the comms. Silence echoed his words; he hadn’t realized he’d been tuning out the teams chatter until it was gone. “Get the medbay ready. I don’t know if it can handle this.”

It was the Red Lion that spotted him first; Keith’s shocked sharp inhale spoke volumes for how horrifying he appeared.

Pidge followed next; he pretended not to hear her throwing up in her lion.

Shiro saw, but said nothing. He knew; the Black Lion wouldn’t get faster and more deadly for no reason.

It was Lance who broke the silence, sent the noises of the battle back into his head and became something he needed to register.

“Dude—what the hell happened to it?!?”

He didn’t answer.

The blue lion landed before him, scooping him and his charge into its maw before flying as quickly as possible to the Castle. Allura was ready when he arrived, sparing some of her magic to make them get to the medbay faster. A pod was ready for Anter, though he knew their survival was unlikely. Still, he had to try.

“Hunk,” Allura began, voice quivering with emotions unspoken. “I don’t normally say this, but… Kill them. Leave the leader for the rest of us.”

“Of course.” He knew that Allura knew that he would kill as many Galra as he could. That he’d scour the base for surviving Galra and kill them for even thinking to harvest another sentient species in this way. He knew that she knew that he’d be expressing kindness by killing the leader, and he’d run out of patience for it when he’d entered the room.

They would be successful. They had to be.