#streaming impacts on movies

[ulkaralakbarova]

Exploring the Biggest Movies Coming to Screens in 2025

Disney Exploring the Biggest Movies Coming to Screens in 2025 You’re in for a cinematic treat in 2025, with a diverse lineup of films spanning genres from horror to action, promising to captivate audiences with their unique storytelling and star-studded casts.  January kicks off with Leigh Whannell’s reimagined “Wolf Man” and Soderbergh’s psychological thriller “Presence.” February brings the…

[blueskittlesart]

deeply refreshing to see someone critical of Swift who also like, genuinely likes her. Like i'm neutral to positive on her, but the online discourse has been absolutely rancid. flipping between "Taylor Swift has never done anything wrong ever and she's a fucking genius" and "Taylor Swift is the worst lyricist of all time and also a bad person" is exhausting, so thank you for like. nuance or something lmao

not to make it serious for a sec but i genuinely think that being able to like things that are bad is really important. like I think that it's an important skill to be able to look at something and see what you personally enjoy about it and then take a step back and acknowledge that objectively it's flawed. and to also be able to acknowledge that liking something isn't necessarily an identity or a moral stance. and i think that fandom space in general could really benefit from more people taking the time to learn how to do that. it's okay to like things that are bad

[luulapants]

25 ways to be a little more punk in 2025

Cut fast fashion - buy used, learn to mend and/or make your own clothes, buy fewer clothes less often so you can save up for ethically made quality

Cancel subscriptions - relearn how to pirate media, spend $10/month buying a digital album from a small artist instead of on Spotify, stream on free services since the paid ones make you watch ads anyway

Green your community - there's lots of ways to do this, like seedbombing or joining a community garden or organizing neighborhood trash pickups

Be kind - stop to give directions, check on stopped cars, smile at kids, let people cut you in line, offer to get stuff off the high shelf, hold the door, ask people if they're okay

Intervene - learn bystander intervention techniques and be prepared to use them, even if it feels awkward

Get closer to your food - grow it yourself, can and preserve it, buy from a farmstand, learn where it's from, go fishing, make it from scratch, learn a new ingredient

Use opensource software - try LibreOffice, try Reaper, learn Linux, use a free Photoshop clone. The next time an app tries to force you to pay, look to see if there's an opensource alternative

Make less trash - start a compost, be mindful of packaging, find another use for that plastic, make it a challenge for yourself!

Get involved in local politics - show up at meetings for city council, the zoning commission, the park district, school boards; fight the NIMBYs that always show up and force them to focus on the things impacting the most vulnerable folks in your community

DIY > fashion - shake off the obsession with pristine presentation that you've been taught! Cut your own hair, use homemade cosmetics, exchange mani/pedis with friends, make your own jewelry, duct tape those broken headphones!

Ditch Google - Chromium browsers (which is almost all of them) are now bloated spyware, and Google search sucks now, so why not finally make the jump to Firefox and another search like DuckDuckGo? Or put the Wikipedia app on your phone and look things up there?

Forage - learn about local edible plants and how to safely and sustainably harvest them or go find fruit trees and such accessible to the public.

Volunteer - every week tutoring at the library or once a month at the humane society or twice a year serving food at the soup kitchen, you can find something that matches your availability

Help your neighbors - which means you have to meet them first and find out how you can help (including your unhoused neighbors), like elderly or disabled folks that might need help with yardwork or who that escape artist dog belongs to or whether the police have been hassling people sleeping rough

Fix stuff - the next time something breaks (a small appliance, an electronic, a piece of furniture, etc.), see if you can figure out what's wrong with it, if there are tutorials on fixing it, or if you can order a replacement part from the manufacturer instead of trashing the whole thing

Mix up your transit - find out what's walkable, try biking instead of driving, try public transit and complain to the city if it sucks, take a train instead of a plane, start a carpool at work

Engage in the arts - go see a local play, check out an art gallery or a small museum, buy art from the farmer's market

Go to the library - to check out a book or a movie or a CD, to use the computers or the printer, to find out if they have other weird rentals like a seed library or luggage, to use meeting space, to file your taxes, to take a class, to ask question

Listen local - see what's happening at local music venues or other events where local musicians will be performing, stop for buskers, find a favorite artist, and support them

Buy local - it's less convenient than online shopping or going to a big box store that sells everything, but try buying what you can from small local shops in your area

Become unmarketable - there are a lot of ways you can disrupt your online marketing surveillance, including buying less, using decoy emails, deleting or removing permissions from apps that spy on you, checking your privacy settings, not clicking advertising links, and...

Use cash - go to the bank and take out cash instead of using your credit card or e-payment for everything! It's better on small businesses and it's untraceable

Give what you can - as capitalism churns on, normal shmucks have less and less, so think about what you can give (time, money, skills, space, stuff) and how it will make the most impact

Talk about wages - with your coworkers, with your friends, while unionizing! Stop thinking about wages as a measure of your worth and talk about whether or not the bosses are paying fairly for the labor they receive

Think about wealthflow - there are a thousand little mechanisms that corporations and billionaires use to capture wealth from the lower class: fees for transactions, interest, vendor platforms, subscriptions, and more. Start thinking about where your money goes, how and where it's getting captured and removed from our class, and where you have the ability to cut off the flow and pass cash directly to your fellow working class people

[lisasmithblogs]

SDmoviespoint2 – A Comprehensive Guide to the Popular Movie Download Site

In the ever-evolving digital landscape of movie and TV show streaming, SDmoviespoint2 has emerged as a notable player. This article delves into the key features, content offerings, user experience, legal implications, and the broader impact of SDmoviespoint2 on the entertainment industry. Additionally, we will explore legal alternatives for viewers seeking quality and secure streaming options.

What is SDmoviespoint2?

SDmoviespoint2 is an online platform that offers a vast collection of downloadable films and TV shows. It caters to a diverse audience with a substantial library spanning various film industries, including Bollywood, Hollywood, Tollywood, and more. The site provides options to download content in different resolutions, such as 720p and 1080p, to accommodate various internet speeds and user preferences.

Key Features of SDmoviespoint2

Extensive Library

SDmoviespoint2 boasts a comprehensive library of films and TV shows. The platform covers:

Latest Releases: The site features the most recent blockbuster hits across various genres.

Classics: Users can also find timeless classics from different eras.

Diverse Genres: The platform includes action, drama, comedy, horror, romance, and more.

User-Friendly Interface

The website is designed with simplicity in mind, offering an intuitive user experience:

Search Functionality: A robust search bar allows users to quickly locate specific films or TV shows.

Categorization: Content is organized into clear categories, making navigation straightforward.

Multiple Download Options

SDmoviespoint2 offers various download links and quality options, including:

Resolution Choices: Options such as 480p, 720p, and 1080p cater to different internet speeds and device capabilities.

Dual Audio: For multilingual viewers, dual audio options are available, enabling films to be enjoyed in multiple languages.

Regular Updates

The platform frequently updates its library with the latest releases and trending TV shows. This ensures that users have access to new content shortly after its official release.

Content Offerings

SDmoviespoint2 is known for its diverse content offerings, including:

Bollywood Movies

Extensive Collection: The site hosts a wide array of Bollywood films, from recent hits to classic favorites.

Regional Preferences: Bollywood content caters to a broad audience with varied tastes.

Hollywood Movies

Latest Hits and Classics: Hollywood enthusiasts can find both current blockbuster films and beloved classics.

Dual Audio Options: The site provides films dubbed in various regional languages.

Regional Films

Tollywood, Kollywood, and Mollywood: SDmoviespoint2 includes films from Telugu, Tamil, and Malayalam cinema industries, catering to regional audiences.

TV Shows and Web Series

Popular Series: Users can access a range of TV shows and web series, making SDmoviespoint2 a comprehensive entertainment hub.

User Experience

The user experience on SDmoviespoint2 is designed for ease of use:

Clean Layout: The site features an organized layout that facilitates easy navigation.

Home Page: New and trending content is prominently displayed on the homepage.

Search and Filters: The search bar and category filters help users quickly find desired content.

However, users should be aware of potential interruptions, such as ads and pop-ups, which are common on free streaming sites.

Legal Implications

SDmoviespoint2 operates in a legal gray area by providing access to pirated content:

Copyright Infringement: The site’s offerings are illegal and violate copyright laws, leading to potential legal consequences for users.

Security Risks: Downloading from such sites poses significant security risks, including exposure to malware and other cyber threats.

Using SDmoviespoint2 or similar sites can result in fines or legal action. It is always advisable to use legitimate streaming services to ensure safety and legality.

Impact on the Entertainment Industry

Piracy sites like SDmoviespoint2 significantly impact the entertainment industry:

Revenue Loss: Film producers, distributors, and streaming platforms suffer substantial financial losses due to piracy.

Content Creation: The availability of free pirated content undermines the financial viability of content creation and distribution.

Despite legal actions and awareness campaigns, piracy remains a persistent challenge, affecting the overall ecosystem of entertainment.

Alternatives to SDmoviespoint2

For those seeking legal and secure alternatives to SDmoviespoint2, several reputable streaming platforms offer extensive content libraries:

Netflix

Content Variety: Netflix provides a vast selection of movies, TV shows, and original content across genres and languages.

Amazon Prime Video

Diverse Offerings: This platform features a wide range of films, TV series, and exclusive programming.

Disney+ Hotstar

Mixed Content: Disney+ Hotstar offers a combination of Disney content, Bollywood films, and live sports.

Conclusion

SDmoviespoint2 has gained popularity for its extensive library and user-friendly interface. However, the site’s reliance on pirated content presents significant legal and security risks. To enjoy a worry-free viewing experience, it is essential to opt for legitimate streaming services that support content creators and ensure legal compliance.

By choosing legal alternatives, viewers can enjoy high-quality content while contributing to a sustainable and ethical entertainment industry.

[inkskinned]

the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.

capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.

now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.

and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.

and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.

and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".

it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"

[ri-afan]

Okay, you know those inconsequential moments in movies and shows where something is done or said but it doesn’t matter until the Protagonist connects things/uses the info later?

Enter Danny.

This is a small job that he does while working with Clockwork. Danny walks around doing or saying things that might move the time stream to the ‘ideal’ outcome. Does he know how it helps? Nah, just that it does since he knows the slightest change can have big impacts. He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been doing it in this universe, but it’s something to do.

Tim, the Connector of Dots, has recently caught onto a pattern of things, but he’s not sure what he’s looking at.

[imastoryteller]

Write Like a Director: Crafting a Cinematic Novel (With Examples)

Writing a novel like a movie means propelling your reader through scenes with relentless momentum, slashing through fluff, and ensuring each word drives the plot forward. Trust your readers to connect the dots through dialogue and action, immersing them in vivid, immediate experiences without drowning them in verbose descriptions. Every chapter should feel like a high-octane scene, keeping readers on the edge of their seats, hungry for the next twist, the next revelation. Keep it tight, keep it thrilling. Here are some examples to illustrate each aspect of this dynamic storytelling approach:

Fast Pacing

Chase Through the Alley: Jake sprinted down the narrow alley, the thud of heavy boots echoing behind him. A sharp left, then a right��no time to think, just run. This example thrusts the reader directly into a high-speed chase, emphasizing immediate action and urgency.

Heist in Progress: The vault door creaked open. "Thirty seconds," Maria whispered, stuffing bonds into her bag. The alarm blared. "Move!" The scene conveys a sense of time running out and rapid movement, maintaining a brisk pace with no room for delays.

Dynamic, Fast-Going Plot

Kidnapping Twist: Laura opened her front door to find an empty stroller on her porch. A note inside read: "If you want to see her again, come alone." The unexpected discovery of a kidnapping sets up an immediate and compelling conflict, driving the plot forward swiftly.

Escape Plan: The prison lights flickered. "Now!" whispered Tom. They climbed through the hole, hearing guards’ shouts in the distance. The urgent breakout from prison keeps the plot dynamic and intense, with characters constantly on the move.

Show, Don't Tell

Fight in the Ring: Blood trickled down Max’s face. He clenched his fists, dodged a punch, and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent his opponent to the mat. The physicality and immediate consequences of the fight are shown through actions rather than explained through exposition.

Silent Farewell: Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks as she handed Jack the letter. Without a word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped. The emotional impact of the farewell is conveyed through the characters' actions and expressions, not through internal monologue or narrative explanation.

No Tedious Descriptions

Quick Change: Sam grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans, pulling them on as he ran out the door, glancing at the clock—he had five minutes to reach the station. The scene moves quickly from one action to the next, providing only essential details to maintain momentum.

Sudden Revelation: In the dim light, Sophie saw the glint of a ring on the thief’s finger. Her father's ring. She gasped, stepping back. The revelation is made through a brief visual detail, keeping the description succinct and impactful.

No Infodump

Mid-Battle Realization: Amidst the chaos, Sarah recognized the tattoo on the enemy soldier’s arm. Her brother. She hesitated, the war raging around her. The revelation about the brother is integrated into the action, avoiding lengthy explanations and keeping the focus on the immediate situation.

Urgent Discovery: Ethan flipped through the ancient book, stopping at a page with a familiar symbol. "It's the same as the pendant," he muttered, pocketing the book and running out. The discovery is brief and directly tied to the plot's urgency, with no extensive background information provided.

Avoid Fluff

Straight to Action: Ben didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We’re out of time,” he said, throwing the bag into the car. “Get in.” The scene cuts straight to the critical moment, avoiding unnecessary dialogue or description.

No Idle Chatter: Emma answered the phone, cutting off the caller's introduction. “What’s the plan?” she demanded, glancing at the clock. The character immediately seeks vital information, eliminating small talk and focusing on the plot's progression.

Tight, Immersive Narrative

Immediate Danger: As the elevator doors slid open, Mark saw the bomb timer: 00:10. He dived for the wires, heart pounding. The imminent threat and the character's swift reaction immerse the reader in the tension of the moment.

Critical Decision: The bridge was collapsing. Anna had seconds to decide—jump or try to save her friends. She took a deep breath and ran back. The character's quick decision-making in a life-or-death situation keeps the narrative focused and engaging.

By applying these principles, you can craft a novel that feels as dynamic and engaging as a blockbuster movie, keeping your readers hooked from the first page to the last.

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[jadeharleyinc]

the scale of AI's ecological footprint

standalone version of my response to the following:

"you need soulless art? [...] why should you get to use all that computing power and electricity to produce some shitty AI art? i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources." "i think we all deserve nice things. [...] AI art is not a nice thing. it doesn’t meaningfully contribute to us thriving and the cost in terms of energy use [...] is too fucking much. none of us can afford to foot the bill." "go watch some tv show or consume some art that already exists. […] you know what’s more environmentally and economically sustainable […]? museums. galleries. being in nature."

you can run free and open source AI art programs on your personal computer, with no internet connection. this doesn't require much more electricity than running a resource-intensive video game on that same computer. i think it's important to consume less. but if you make these arguments about AI, do you apply them to video games too? do you tell Fortnite players to play board games and go to museums instead?

speaking of museums: if you drive 3 miles total to a museum and back home, you have consumed more energy and created more pollution than generating AI images for 24 hours straight (this comes out to roughly 1400 AI images). "being in nature" also involves at least this much driving, usually. i don't think these are more environmentally-conscious alternatives.

obviously, an AI image model costs energy to train in the first place, but take Stable Diffusion v2 as an example: it took 40,000 to 60,000 kWh to train. let's go with the upper bound. if you assume ~125g of CO2 per kWh, that's ~7.5 tons of CO2. to put this into perspective, a single person driving a single car for 12 months emits 4.6 tons of CO2. meanwhile, for example, the creation of a high-budget movie emits 2840 tons of CO2.

is the carbon cost of a single car being driven for 20 months, or 1/378th of a Marvel movie, worth letting anyone with a mid-end computer, anywhere, run free offline software that consumes a gaming session's worth of electricity to produce hundreds of images? i would say yes. in a heartbeat.

even if you see creating AI images as "less soulful" than consuming Marvel/Fortnite content, it's undeniably "more useful" to humanity as a tool. not to mention this usefulness includes reducing the footprint of creating media. AI is more environment-friendly than human labor on digital creative tasks, since it can get a task done with much less computer usage, doesn't commute to work, and doesn't eat.

and speaking of eating, another comparison: if you made an AI image program generate images non-stop for every second of every day for an entire year, you could offset your carbon footprint by… eating 30% less beef and lamb. not pork. not even meat in general. just beef and lamb.

the tech industry is guilty of plenty of horrendous stuff. but when it comes to the individual impact of AI, saying "i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources. do you need this? is this making you thrive?" to an individual running an AI program for 45 minutes a day per month is equivalent to questioning whether that person is entitled to a single 3 mile car drive once per month or a single meatball's worth of beef once per month. because all of these have the same CO2 footprint.

so yeah. i agree, i think we should drive less, eat less beef, stream less video, consume less. but i don't think we should tell people "stop using AI programs, just watch a TV show, go to a museum, go hiking, etc", for the same reason i wouldn't tell someone "stop playing video games and play board games instead". i don't think this is a productive angle.

(sources and number-crunching under the cut.)

good general resource: GiovanH's article "Is AI eating all the energy?", which highlights the negligible costs of running an AI program, the moderate costs of creating an AI model, and the actual indefensible energy waste coming from specific companies deploying AI irresponsibly.

CO2 emissions from running AI art programs: a) one AI image takes 3 Wh of electricity. b) one AI image takes 1mn in, for example, Midjourney. c) so if you create 1 AI image per minute for 24 hours straight, or for 45 minutes per day for a month, you've consumed 4.3 kWh. d) using the UK electric grid through 2024 as an example, the production of 1 kWh releases 124g of CO2. therefore the production of 4.3 kWh releases 533g (~0.5 kg) of CO2.

CO2 emissions from driving your car: cars in the EU emit 106.4g of CO2 per km. that's 171.19g for 1 mile, or 513g (~0.5 kg) for 3 miles.

costs of training the Stable Diffusion v2 model: quoting GiovanH's article linked in 1. "Generative models go through the same process of training. The Stable Diffusion v2 model was trained on A100 PCIe 40 GB cards running for a combined 200,000 hours, which is a specialized AI GPU that can pull a maximum of 300 W. 300 W for 200,000 hours gives a total energy consumption of 60,000 kWh. This is a high bound that assumes full usage of every chip for the entire period; SD2’s own carbon emission report indicates it likely used significantly less power than this, and other research has shown it can be done for less." at 124g of CO2 per kWh, this comes out to 7440 kg.

CO2 emissions from red meat: a) carbon footprint of eating plenty of red meat, some red meat, only white meat, no meat, and no animal products the difference between a beef/lamb diet and a no-beef-or-lamb diet comes down to 600 kg of CO2 per year. b) Americans consume 42g of beef per day. this doesn't really account for lamb (egads! my math is ruined!) but that's about 1.2 kg per month or 15 kg per year. that single piece of 42g has a 1.65kg CO2 footprint. so our 3 mile drive/4.3 kWh of AI usage have the same carbon footprint as a 12g piece of beef. roughly the size of a meatball [citation needed].

[lilmisssona]

꥟˚｡Love Unexpected ꥟˚｡

꥟˚｡Pairing - Lee Know × Fem Reader

꥟˚｡Plot - Two years after a horrible accident, YN is left paralyzed but secretly finds purpose in a quiet job. The stranger who saved her life reappears unexpectedly at her workplace, stirring emotions and memories she thought were buried. Their fateful encounter raises questions about second chances and unspoken connections.

꥟˚｡Genre - Angst, Trauma, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff

꥟˚｡Warnings - Mention of accident, blood, trauma, paralysis, anxiety, insecurities of yn, mention of the word gore, hurt to comfort, au, non idol au, Strangers to lovers au

꥟˚｡Word Count - 10.8 K ꥟˚｡Screenshot Count - 4

꥟˚｡A/N - Staymas Episode 2 is here! Dive into Y/N’s emotional journey of healing and rediscovery after life-altering events, and witness how Minho’s unwavering love and support become her guiding light. A story of resilience, love, and finding hope again. ( Inspired by Japan's Dawn Robo Cafe for disabled workers ) It's just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️

꥟˚｡SKZ Masterlist ꥟˚｡Staymas Masterlist

The neon lights of Tokyo stretched endlessly, their vibrant colors blending together in the misty evening air. As you hurried down the crowded sidewalk, your breath formed small clouds, visible in the crisp chill of early winter. The rain from earlier had left the pavement slick, creating mirrors that reflected the glow of countless shop signs, vending machines, and the steady stream of passing cars. The city felt alive, buzzing with energy, but all you could focus on was the time ticking away. You were late…again.

“They’re going to kill me,” you muttered under your breath, gripping the straps of your bag like a lifeline. You had promised to be on time for the movie night, yet here you were, rushing through the streets twenty minutes after it had already started. The culprit? A last-minute customer at the café, who wanted all of the last stock left for the puddings.

Your phone vibrated incessantly in your pocket, no doubt another flurry of teasing texts from your friends. They loved to give you a hard time for always being late, and this would only add to their ammunition. You didn’t dare check the messages yet; it would only slow you down.

The crosswalk ahead blinked green just as you reached it. A small blessing. Without hesitation, you broke into a jog, your footsteps echoing faintly against the damp asphalt. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on your chest as your mind scrambled to come up with a plan.

"Should I bring snacks to make up for it?" you thought, already considering a detour to the nearest convenience store. "Maybe that’ll soften the blow. But what if they’re already too annoyed to let me in?"

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you quickly typed out a message to your friends, asking if they wanted anything specific. Your thumb hovered over the send button when a sharp, blaring horn shattered your concentration.

The world seemed to freeze.

Your head snapped up, and your eyes locked onto a truck barreling toward you, its headlights glaring like twin suns cutting through the darkness. Time moved in slow motion as panic gripped your entire body. Instinctively, your legs pushed you forward, trying desperately to cross the street, but it was too late.

This can’t be happening.

The impact came like a thunderclap, a brutal force that knocked the air from your lungs. Pain exploded through your body as you were flung backward. The world spun wildly,a chaotic blur of neon lights, muffled screams, and the distant screech of tires. When your body finally hit the ground, the cold, unforgiving pavement sent a jolt through you.

You tried to breathe, but each inhale was shallow and sharp, like your ribs were made of glass. Every part of you ached, your arms, your chest, your head. But what terrified you most was the eerie numbness in your lower body.

Your legs.

You tried to move them, but they wouldn’t respond. Panic clawed at your throat as the realization sank in. Something was horribly wrong.

Before your mind could spiral further, you felt a pair of strong arms scoop you up from the pavement. Warmth flooded over you as your cheek pressed against someone’s chest.

His scent-woodsy, clean, and faintly familiar,calmed you in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice deep and steady, cutting through the haze of pain and confusion.

You squinted, trying to focus on his face, but the pounding in your skull blurred your vision. All you could make out was the faint outline of his jaw and the shadows of his features against the streetlights. It seemed like you've seen him before, but where ?

“Who… who are you?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with pain and fear.

“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentle but urgent. He shifted you slightly in his arms, cradling you as if you were made of glass.

“My… my legs,” you stammered, tears spilling over as you struggled to get the words out. “I can’t… feel them.”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, a quiet curse escaping under his breath. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, his voice firm yet soothing. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

The sound of approaching sirens grew louder, mingling with the distant hum of the city. Each step he took was deliberate and steady, as if he was determined to keep you safe no matter what.

Your vision blurred as the voices of the paramedics grew louder, their words a distant hum against the roaring chaos of your mind. The relentless pain and exhaustion finally overwhelmed you, lulling you into a deep, heavy sleep. The darkness took hold, pulling you further away from reality.

The last sensation you felt before slipping into unconsciousness was his hand,warm, firm, and undeniably reassuring, gently squeezing yours. His voice followed, low and steady, like a lifeline in the storm.

"You're going to be okay."

------------------------------------------------------

Two years had passed since that fateful evening.

Minho stepped off the bustling train platform in Tokyo, the city’s vibrant energy hitting him like a wave. It was a stark contrast to the quieter streets of Seoul, where he'd spent the last couple of years, working tirelessly to climb the ranks at his job. And now, he was back in Tokyo, taking on a new position. Not even two weeks into the job, and already, he found himself buried in meetings and overwhelmed by tight deadlines, leaving him exhausted.

One evening, with no work to occupy his mind, Minho decided to take a stroll around the city to clear his thoughts. The cold December air hit him sharply as he stepped out of his apartment, but there was something in the atmosphere that urged him to walk. Whistling a soft tune, he wandered through his neighborhood, which, to his surprise, was unusually quiet even in the early evening hues of 6 pm. Of course, people were likely busy, either shopping for the holidays, nestled in the warmth of their homes, or working, just as he had done for most of his days.

After hours of aimless walking, he found himself on a street that seemed strangely familiar. At first, he couldn’t place the memory, but as the traffic light turned green and he crossed the street, it hit him like a truck. This was the same street where the accident had occurred,the one where he had saved that woman….

-------------------------------------------------------

Two years ago, Minho's friends were having a get-together, and he had one simple task: bring dessert. Yet, as always, he had forgotten. Panic set in as he rushed through the streets, desperately searching for any café or restaurant still open that evening. Unfortunately, the city seemed to have shut down after 8 PM. He ran through neighborhood after neighborhood, street after street, but every café he passed was dark and locked up tight.

Finally, in the last neighborhood, feeling defeated, he was about to turn back when a soft glow from an establishment caught the corner of his eye. It looked like a café from a distance. His legs moved automatically in that direction, hoping, praying they still had any desserts left. Huffing and puffing, he pushed through the door, the sudden entrance startling the woman who was packing up some boxes for closing.

"Sorry," Minho said, breathless as he approached the counter.

"We’re about to close, sir," she replied, her voice distant, her attention still on the boxes.

"I’m so sorry for barging in last minute," he blurted out in a rush. "I completely forgot to bring dessert to a get-together with my friends, and every café in the neighborhood seems to be closed. If it’s possible, could you sell me any puddings you have left? I’ll take them all and be on my way."

He spoke so quickly that he almost didn’t pause for a breath, but still, she didn’t look up. The sincerity in his voice, however, seemed to reach her, and she paused her work, glancing up at him. She walked over to the counter, her gaze softening as she met his eyes.

"We’re closing, sir. I don’t think it’s possible," she said gently, though there was a hint of regret in her voice.

Minho felt a pang of disappointment but couldn’t help but notice how sweet her voice was, like honey. He blushed, and the warmth spread across his cheeks as he looked back at her. "I’m so sorry, I humbly request just a couple. I’ll pay, and I’ll be out of your way, I promise. It won’t take long."

------------------------------------------------------

From the woman’s perspective:

The man in front of her looked to be about the same age, his face a perfect mix of soft features and a sharp jawline. Even in a basic hoodie, sweat dripping from his face from his rush, there was an undeniable handsomeness about him. She felt a sudden catch in her throat, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words.

"Is that okay?" he asked again, his voice pulling her out of her daze.

"Y... yeah," she stammered, shaking herself from the shock. "We have a couple of puddings left. How many do you need?"

"Thank you," Minho replied, a grateful smile lighting up his face. "Could you pack 20, please?"

She nodded, quickly starting to pack a box full of puddings. Under her breath, she cursed as she glanced at the clock, she was running late.

End of her POV.

-------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour had since passed and Minho was rushing back to his friend's apartment when the scene unfolded in front of him. A truck barreled down the street, and there she was-the same woman from the café-standing frozen in its path. His heart dropped as he realized what was about to happen. Panic set in as he scrambled to help her, dropping the box of puddings he was carrying. But it was already too late. The truck struck her with full force, throwing her into the air. Her body slammed into the cold pavement with a sickening thud, and a pool of blood began to spread from beneath her head.

Minho didn't hesitate. He ran to her side, desperately trying to scoop her up. His phone was in his hand, but when he tried to call an ambulance, no one picked up. The nearest hospital was ten minutes away, and he knew carrying her was the only chance he had to save her. Adrenaline surged through him as he lifted her into his arms and began running, each step feeling like a race against time.

He spoke soothingly to her, trying to keep her awake. " Stay with me! She stirred beneath his touch, murmuring softly, "Who are you?"

Minho felt a rush of relief when he saw that she was still conscious. His voice, though gentle, carried a trace of urgency as he asked, “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” His words, meant to comfort, felt hollow, as if they couldn’t reach the depth of his fear. Panic surged through him once more when she whispered that she couldn’t feel her legs.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an underlying tension. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

Even as fear twisted in his chest, Minho forced himself to believe in the calm he was trying to project. He spoke with more confidence, hoping that the reassurance would reach her, and that it would somehow settle his own racing heart.

When Minho reached the hospital, the building seemed eerily quiet, almost deserted. Panic clung to him like a second skin as he rushed inside. Before he could make it to the emergency room, the paramedics arrived and took over. They moved quickly, whisking her through the double doors, their voices urgent but steady. Minho stood frozen at the entrance, unable to do more than hold her hand one last time. Giving it a soft squeeze, he whispered, “You’re going to be okay,” his voice trembling with determination, even as fear gnawed at him.

As the paramedics disappeared into the depths of the hospital with her, Minho finally released a shaky breath. His hands were still trembling, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he stared at the now-empty hallway. Moments later, the quiet was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and frantic voices. A group of people burst through the hospital doors, their faces etched with panic and fear.

“Y/N! Y/N, please wake up! You’re going to be okay! Just stay with us!” a young woman cried, her voice breaking as she rushed toward the direction the stretcher had gone. Her desperation was palpable, raw, and it hit Minho like a wave.

Minho, still standing at the door, desperate to be of any help, quickly picked up on her name. Y/N. It echoed in his mind, anchoring him in the chaos. “Y/N, hang in there,” he whispered softly, as if somehow his words could reach her through the walls.

Turning to the young woman, her sister, he realized.Minho tried to offer what little comfort he could. “I was there,” he said gently, his voice low but steady. “I saw the truck coming. It swerved out of nowhere. I… I got her out of the way just in time.” His voice faltered as the memory replayed in his mind. “But the impact… I’m so sorry.”

Her sister’s tears streamed freely as she listened, clinging to every word. She nodded, her voice trembling as she whispered, “You saved her. You saved my sister.”

When Y/N was finally wheeled into the operating theater, her sister turned to Minho, her face streaked with tears, her eyes glistening with gratitude and heartbreak. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re her guardian angel. I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Minho nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the weight of her words. He couldn’t find the right response, couldn’t process the mix of emotions swirling inside him,the relief of knowing he’d done what he could, the fear of what might come next, and the raw ache of seeing a family on the verge of losing someone they loved.

As the night stretched on, Minho stood outside the hospital, his figure silhouetted against the dim glow of the streetlights. A strange mixture of hope and helplessness washed over him. Her name, Y/N, echoed in his mind, repeated like a lifeline, tethering him to the present moment

Even after the chaos subsided and he returned home...

-------------------------------------------------------

Minho's throat ran dry as he recalled the scene unfolding in front of him that day.Her face remained etched in his mind. He often wondered if she had fully recovered, if her life had returned to normal after the tragedy…

"Focus," Minho murmured to himself. The past was just that, the past. He couldn’t change it, and now, his craving for something sweet tugged at him. Even though he had tried to forget her, a persistent voice in his head urged him to seek out the café she once worked at. He never had the chance to taste her desserts after he’d accidentally dropped them to save her. The memory lingered, but he couldn’t quite shake the need to return to that place, to experience what he missed.

As he wandered through the winding backstreets, he found himself standing at the corner where the café had stood two years ago. But instead of the familiar cozy spot, there was only a pharmacy now. The café was gone,nothing more than a distant memory. His heart sank in disappointment, and he sighed, deciding to head home. The chill in the air was becoming sharper by the minute.

Taking a shortcut through a narrow alley, he walked into a quieter street, the contrast to the bustling lanes he had passed earlier striking. It was much calmer here, with the glow of a few lit shops casting soft, warm lights onto the pavement. As he neared the corner, a café sign caught his attention. The bold letters “Open” gleamed back at him, and curiosity bubbled inside him.

He approached and stepped inside, greeted by a rush of warmth. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the air, the soft hum of machinery a backdrop to the quiet atmosphere. A curious name adorned the café’s front: Twilight Robo Café. Minho raised an eyebrow. The name intrigued him.

The interior of the café was unlike any he had seen before. Robots, sleek and small, glided around with surprising grace. They served drinks, delivered snacks, and interacted with customers in a way that blurred the lines between technology and humanity. Their screens displayed animated avatars, mimicking emotions with perfect accuracy. It was futuristic, yet oddly comforting.

Minho chose a seat by the window, gazing out at the winter landscape as snowflakes began to fall, casting a soft veil over the world outside. He could feel the warmth of the café against the chill creeping into his bones. He exhaled, content for the moment.

Moments later, a small robot wheeled up to his table and stopped in front of him.

"Welcome to Twilight Robo Café!" the voice chirped brightly, warm and inviting. "What can I get for you today?"

Minho froze. There was something about the voice, something unnervingly familiar. His mind raced, but he couldn’t place where he had heard it before.

"Sir?" The robot’s voice broke his train of thought.

Minho blinked, shaking himself from his stupor. "Uh, I’ll take a pudding... and a black coffee, please."

“May I know whose name it’s going for?” the robot voice asked.

“Minho,” he replied.

“A pudding and a black coffee for Minho, coming right up!” The screen flashed a wide smile before the robot zipped away.

Minho stared at the empty space where the robot had been, confusion clouding his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the voice belonged to someone he knew, or at least someone he had once met.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, the robot returned, carefully placing his coffee and pudding on the table. "There you go! Anything else I can do for you?" it asked, the screen flashing another bright, animated grin.

Minho leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Um, this might sound strange, but your voice... do you choose it yourself?”

The robot's head tilted in a quizzical way, that made it seem almost human. Behind the screen, you were controlling it, your fingers hesitating on the joystick as your heart skipped a beat. There he was, he was here. The man who had rushed to your aid that night, the one you had tried to forget, yet never could. The same man who had been by your side when everything had fallen apart. You hadn’t expected to see him again, let alone hear his voice now.

Sitting in your dimly lit apartment, you blinked twice, your eyes wide in disbelief. Was this really happening? It couldn’t be him... but it was. The man from that day. The one you had barely spoken to but had thought about constantly since then. How was it possible that he remembered your voice? That day, your words had been barely audible, lost in the chaos of the accident. Your voice had been raw and broken. You had been a mess…scattered emotions and fear. And after everything, after your accident, your life had changed so drastically.

You had become a shadow of the person you once were, paralyzed from the waist down, the scars marking your body and face a constant reminder of everything you had lost. The woman you once were, vibrant, full of life, running the café you owned, with ease and a warm smile, was no longer. Now, you hid behind the screen of a robot, controlling its every movement, its every expression from the confines of your small apartment. It was the only way you could still interact with the world, without the fear of frightening people with your appearance. The very face that had once greeted customers with warmth now carried the weight of painful memories, and you couldn't bear to see the looks of pity or fear in the eyes of those who might recognize you. So, you stayed behind the safety of the screen, crafting your persona through the robotic avatar, a small semblance of the woman you used to be, but never fully seen.

But there he was, still as handsome as you remembered. His smile hadn’t changed, and it made your heart ache. You hadn’t expected him to recognize your voice, yet here he was, doing just that.

Minho knocked gently on the screen, as though checking if the robot was malfunctioning. The action snapped you back to the present, your palms suddenly clammy. You quickly moved the controls, realizing you’d left the robot on idle for too long.

"I certainly do," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, keeping your voice light. "It just... your voice sounds oddly familiar. Like I’ve heard it before."

Minho’s brows furrowed as he tried to place the voice. "Maybe I just have one of those voices," you deflected, not wanting to reveal too much.

"Maybe?" Minho murmured, taking a sip of his coffee and watching the world outside with a contemplative look on his face.

For the next several minutes, Minho continued asking questions, trying to get to know the person behind the robot. Each answer you gave was carefully measured, trying your best to keep your emotions in check. You couldn’t risk revealing your identity, not yet.

"So," Minho asked, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, "how does this work? Are you controlling it remotely?"

"Yes," you replied, trying to keep your tone even. "I control it from home. Everything you see, the movements, the voice, the expressions, it’s all me, just through a robot."

"That’s amazing," Minho said, his lips curling into an impressed smile. "Does it feel weird... interacting with customers like this?"

"Not really," you answered. "At first, it was awkward. But after a while, you get used to it. And maybe it’s a nice way to interact with people in ways I couldn’t before."

Minho nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "Do customers ever forget there’s a person behind the robot?"

You laughed softly, a genuine chuckle that escaped without you meaning to.

"Of course! You’d be surprised how many people forget and just say things like, ‘This robot has great customer service.’ Like it’s some kind of AI program," you giggled. "It’s fun, though."

"Yeah, seems like you enjoy your workplace," Minho replied with a grin, taking a bite of the pudding. His eyes lit up as the sweetness of the caramel and the creamy texture hit him. It was the perfect balance of flavors, nothing too overwhelming. He closed his eyes for a moment in pure satisfaction. Behind the screen, you couldn’t help but smile, warmed by his enjoyment.

"Miss, may I know who made this?" he asked eagerly.

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest. "It’s my family’s recipe. I just control the robot to make it perfect here. After a couple of trial and errors, we finally got it just right."

"It’s delicious!" Minho exclaimed, his smile widening.

"Thank you," you said, pleased to see him enjoying it.

The conversation continued to flow naturally, the lighthearted exchanges easing some of the tension you’d felt earlier. But then Minho asked a question that made your heart stutter.

"Did your family own a café?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost said too much. You froze, but then tried to cover up the slip.

"Yes... they did, but I did, too. It was just around the... " You stopped yourself mid-sentence. The words you almost let out were too dangerous.

Minho looked at you, confused. You quickly recovered, the warmth on your face barely hiding the panic you felt. "I mean, yes, it was a family recipe turned into a business... but not anymore," you added awkwardly, forcing a smile.

Minho nodded, his attention returning to the pudding. "That explains the taste."

Minho leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on the robot, as though he were studying it for answers. "So, do you get a lot of people like me? The ones who ask too many questions?"

You laughed more genuinely this time, the sound like music in the quiet café. "You’d be surprised. So many of them treat me like a therapist, venting about their day and asking for advice. Others just make small talk about the weather."

Minho chuckled at one of your stories, the conversation feeling more relaxed. It almost felt like you could breathe again.

But then he asked something that made your heart race once more.

"Do you think we’ve met before? I can’t help but think your voice reminds me of someone."

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze, not sure how to respond.

"Maybe I just have one of those voices?" you said, your voice light and carefully measured.

"Maybe?" Minho replied, though his tone carried a hint of doubt. "But I can't shake the feeling that that's not it... The way you talk, it's just too personal."

Minho tilted his head slightly, studying the robot as though the answer might be hidden there, etched into its smooth surface.

Your grip on the controls tightened, and your pulse raced in your ears. A wave of heat flushed over you, making it feel like you were trapped in a sauna. Every part of you screamed to deny it all, to retreat, but your heart, oh, your heart, yearned for him to remember you.

"Well," you said, forcing a light smile, "It's a small world. Maybe we've crossed paths before?"

Minho’s gaze narrowed, his expression thoughtful. "You think so? Tokyo's a big city. Anything's possible."

Your voice softened as you responded, "Maybe."

Minho’s next question caught you completely off guard. "Do you ever wish you could meet the person you're talking to? In person, I mean?"

You hesitated, fingers trembling slightly as you processed his words. "Sometimes," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But it's complicated."

Minho didn’t interrupt. He just kept looking at you with that same, unwavering curiosity, as though he could see beyond the surface, searching for the truth that you had buried deep within.

"I believe it's easier for people to connect when they don’t see the messier parts of someone's life," you said quietly. "The robots, they make things simple. No judgment. No awkwardness. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Minho frowned. "That's not fair, though. Everyone has a messy past. That's what makes us human."

You were left at a loss for words once again. How could he say such things so easily? The very reason you applied for this job was to avoid letting anyone see who you really were. They couldn’t see you like this, not when you were too broke to even afford to hide the scars on your face. Not when going outside felt more like a monumental task. It was exhausting, living without the use of your legs.

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. You had no answer for him. The silence between you felt deafening.

"It’s just..." you finally managed to croak, "Not everyone thinks like you."

Minho tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Maybe they should..."

He smiled gently. "I’d like to meet the wonderful lady behind this voice as well."

-------------------------------------------------------

It was almost 10 p.m., closing time for the café. Minho was disappointed when another robot politely told him it was time to leave. The robot he'd spent so much time talking to was now busy attending to another customer. Maybe it was his questions. Maybe he had overstepped or overwhelmed her.

She had excused herself to tend to others, and Minho was left standing there, contemplating the conversation. As the clock ticked closer to 10, a thought struck him,one that seemed silly but lingered in his mind. He wasn’t sure if anything would come of it, but he wanted to know more. It had felt nice talking to her.

Before he left, he handed the next robot worker a note addressed to the wonderful robo Missy.

‘It was nice talking to you. I’m really sorry if I overstepped. Call or text me if you ever need to vent.”

-------------------------------------------------------

"It was nice talking to you. I'm really sorry if I overstepped. Call or text me if you ever need someone to talk to or vent."

You stared at the note for what seemed like an eternity, the words dancing in front of your eyes but never quite sinking in. Weeks had passed since your last encounter with Minho, yet you couldn’t stop replaying that moment over and over. He had wanted to meet you, to know you, but you had been frozen in place, unable to say a word. You had scrambled for an exit, seizing the first opportunity; A last-minute customer ordering takeout. You had apologized to him, your voice a strained whisper, as you quickly steered your robot towards the new customer. You avoided his gaze, his eyes, still burning into your back, full of something you couldn’t quite read.

And now, you were holding this in your hand, a simple note with his number scrawled across the bottom, an apology for something Minho didn’t even know he had done. He had respected your boundaries, your silence, even when everything in you had screamed for him to see you, to understand you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak up, to make it clear that you were not just the voice behind the screen.

Yesterday had been one of those days, the kind that chipped away at you slowly, piece by piece, until you were left wondering how much more you could take. The café was bustling as usual, but the warmth that typically filled the air had been replaced with an unsettling, tense energy.

A group of rude customers had strolled in, their voices cutting through the usual hum of the café like a razor. At first, it was subtle. They made snide remarks about the novelty of the robot café, their laughter sharp and mocking. But soon, their jabs became more pointed, their words carrying an edge that sliced deeper than you wanted to admit.

One of them leaned in close to your screen, his sneer almost palpable. "Oh, how lucky you are to be working from home," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as if your reality were some kind of twisted privilege.

Another chimed in, her tone laced with venom. "Really? Don’t you think you’re being ungrateful? Life handed you a golden opportunity, and you’re complaining?"

Their words stung far more than they should have. Because they didn’t see you. Not truly. They didn’t know the reality behind the screen. The daily battles you fought, the pain of waking up in a body that no longer obeyed your will. They didn’t know how exhausting it was to perform even the smallest tasks, how something as simple as getting dressed could feel like scaling a mountain. They didn’t know the humiliation of needing help for the most basic functions, or the way the world seemed so much larger, harsher, and more inaccessible now.

They didn’t know about your sister, your fiercely loyal, stubborn sister, who had taken on the role of caregiver without hesitation, even when you begged her not to. You had pleaded with her to chase her dreams, to live her life without the shadow of your limitations hanging over her. But she refused. And every time you saw her push her own happiness aside for your sake, guilt gnawed at you, sharp and unrelenting.

Life before the accident felt like another lifetime, a fleeting memory of who you used to be. Back when you were independent, whole, and full of possibilities. That person felt like a stranger now, someone you’d never quite find your way back to. And days like today only widened the chasm between who you were and who you had become.

Their cruel words echoed long after they had left, bouncing around in your head like a relentless reminder of everything you had lost. You had kept your voice steady, your responses professional, but inside, you were crumbling. The mask you wore was cracking, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it together.

Later that night, as the silence of your apartment pressed down on you, your eyes landed on the letter Minho had left at the café. His handwriting was neat and careful, but the words… they were like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of a storm. An invitation, a chance to connect, to be seen. You had read it over and over, the lines blurring as doubt crept in.

What if he didn’t mean it? What if he had only written it out of politeness or guilt? The idea clawed at you, feeding the insecurities that always lingered just below the surface. But another thought followed, quieter and far more dangerous. What if he truly meant it? What if he actually wanted to know you, not out of pity, but because he cared? Because he saw something in you worth knowing?

That thought scared you more than anything. Because you weren’t the same person he had saved two years ago. That version of you had been whole, bright, and full of potential. Now, you were a patchwork of scars and insecurities, trying desperately to hold yourself together. Would he even recognize you? Would he still care if he knew how much you had changed?

You stared at the letter for what felt like hours, caught between fear and hope. The weight of the day pressed heavily on your chest, and the idea of reaching out felt impossibly daunting. But something in Minho’s words lingered, a warmth, a sincerity that made you want to believe, even just for a moment, that someone might see you for who you were now, not who you used to be.

Finally, you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room,

"What if?”

You wiped a tear from your cheek, your hand trembling as you stared at the number Minho had written at the bottom of the page. It had been days of battling conflicting thoughts, of wondering whether you should even try to reach out.

Part of you wanted to hear his voice again, to feel that connection, but another part of you warned against it. What if you burdened him with your pain? What if he thought you were just being dramatic, that you were too much to handle?

The weight of yesterday pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless. Every word, every sneer from the café replayed in your mind like a broken record. Tonight, the walls of your apartment felt closer than ever, the silence too loud to bear.

With trembling fingers, you found yourself reaching for your phone. You hadn’t planned this, hadn’t even allowed yourself to consider it. But now, your hand moved as if it had a will of its own. You scrolled through your contacts until you found his name. For a moment, your thumb hovered over the call button, doubt creeping in. What if this was a mistake? But before you could overthink it, you pressed down, the ringing filling the void.

It felt endless. Each tone seemed to stretch on for an eternity, echoing in your ears and amplifying the pounding of your heart. With every ring, a fresh wave of nerves rolled over you, making you question what you’d even say if he picked up.

And then…voicemail.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, a mix of disappointment and relief. The automated message played, his voice absent, replaced by a mechanical tone inviting you to leave a message. You hesitated, the silence on the other end daring you to speak. But the words you wanted to say felt caught in your throat, tangled with fear and uncertainty

"Of course," you whispered to yourself. "He’s probably busy. Why would he want to hear from me?"

You set the phone down, shaking your head at your foolishness. He had saved your life that day, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about the mess your life had become. Slowly, you changed into your pajamas, ready to crawl into bed and let the darkness of sleep take over.

Just as you settled beneath the covers, your phone buzzed in your hand. The soft vibration startled you, and when you glanced at the screen, your heart skipped a beat. Minho. His name, glowing in the dim light of your room, sent a wave of panic and excitement through you.

For a moment, you froze, staring at the screen as if it might disappear. Should you answer? Could you? What if he didn’t remember you? What if this was just a courtesy call, and he’d forgotten everything? Doubts swirled in your mind, threatening to paralyze you. But before you could overthink any further, your fingers moved on their own, and you pressed the green button.

“H-Hello?” you stammered, your voice shaky with nerves.

There was a pause on the other end, one that felt like an eternity, before a familiar voice filled the line. “Who is this?”

The breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. “I… I’m the robot voice you talked to the other day,” you finally managed to say.

“Oh, yes, Robo Café Missy!” he said with a soft chuckle, the warmth in his tone instantly melting some of your anxiety. “You really rushed off that day. I barely got a chance to say goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “My manager was giving me this concerned look for talking to a customer so long.”

“Sorry about that,” Minho said, a note of humor in his voice. “Didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“It’s alright,” you said quickly, your nerves easing slightly. “I just… I got your letter, and I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but I was having a bad day, and… I thought I’d call. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

His tone softened immediately. “You’re not bothering me, Robo Missy,” he said gently. “But before we dive into your day, how about we properly introduce ourselves?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. Sharing more of yourself felt terrifying, like peeling back a layer of armor you’d grown so used to. But there was something about Minho’s voice, its warmth, its sincerity,that made you want to take the leap.

“I’m… Y/N L/N,” you whispered, barely audible.

There was a brief silence on the other end, as if he was processing the name. Then, he let out a soft laugh, tinged with disbelief. “Y/N? That’s a crazy coincidence. Someone I used to know had the same name as you.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the phone.

This was it

“Minho… it’s not a coincidence.”

The silence that followed was heavier this time, charged with anticipation. You could almost feel the shock on the other end of the line.

“I… I’m Y/N,” you said, your voice trembling. “It’s me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a stunned, “Wait… what? Y/N? That Y/N?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a hesitant laugh. “That’s me.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Minho exclaimed, “Oh my God, Y/N! It’s you! I can’t believe this!”

You chuckled nervously, the sound more of a release of tension than amusement. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for saving me that day, Minho. I never got the chance to properly thank you.”

“I’m just relieved you’re alright,” he said earnestly. “You made a full recovery, right? Everything’s fine now?”

Your smile faltered, and you took a shaky breath. “Umm… about that…”

Minho’s voice softened instantly, his concern palpable. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But then, with a deep breath, you began telling him everything. You told him about the accident, the surgeries, the endless therapy, and the long, grueling days of learning to live in a body that no longer worked the way it once did. You told him about the guilt you felt watching your sister sacrifice so much to help you, about the nights spent crying in frustration and pain, and about the fear that you’d never be seen as anything but broken.

Through it all, Minho listened silently, not once interrupting. His quiet attention was steady, grounding, as though every word you said mattered deeply to him.

When you finally finished, your voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. “I… I didn’t want to tell you all this. I didn’t want to bother you or make you feel sorry for me. But today was just….”

“Y/N,” Minho cut in, his voice firm yet impossibly gentle. “You’re not bothering me. And I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m just… I’m glad you called. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

“No, thank you,” Minho said softly. “For calling me. And for being honest. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You smiled faintly, clutching the phone tightly to your ear. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to.

And thus began your connection with Minho...

----------------------------------------------------

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Your fingers hovered over the video call button, trembling slightly. Since that phone call last Christmas eve, Minho had become an undeniable presence in your life. Whether it was his casual phone calls, random texts checking in on you, or the silly messages that always made you laugh, he was there, ensuring you never felt completely alone.

But last week, something changed.

“Why don’t we have a movie night?” he had texted casually. “We can video call while watching.”

You froze at the suggestion, your immediate response a firm, resounding no.

"Come on,” he coaxed gently. “It’ll be fun. I want to see you.”

And that was the problem. You didn’t want him to see you.

The thought of showing your face made your stomach churn. What if he was disappointed? What if he looked at you differently after seeing what the accident had done? You tried every excuse you could think of, but Minho’s quiet persistence was hard to ignore.

“I won’t push you,” he finally said, his tone soft yet resolute. “But I don’t care what you think you look like. You’re Y/N, and nothing will ever change that for me.”

His words lingered all week, pulling at the corners of your mind whenever your insecurities screamed louder than your hope.

And now, here you were, sitting in front of your phone, staring at the glowing call notification. Your heart raced, your palms damp as you adjusted your hair for the fifth time. Every buried doubt clawed its way to the surface.

Don’t do this. He’ll regret staying in touch, your mind hissed.

But another voice, softer yet stronger, whispered, He cares. He won’t leave.

With a shaky breath, you pressed the button. The camera flickered on, and you quickly angled it so only the top of your head was visible.

“Y/N?” Minho’s voice came through, soft and cheerful.

“Y-Yeah, it’s me,” you stammered, still too afraid to tilt the camera lower.

“I can’t see you,” he teased lightly. “What, are you hiding from me?”

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the "end call" button. But something in his tone....so patient, so warm...nudged you forward. Slowly, you lowered the camera, revealing your face.

“There you are,” Minho said softly, a smile spreading across his face.

You braced yourself for disgust, disappointment, anything that would confirm your worst fears. But his reaction wasn’t what you expected. His expression didn’t falter, his smile didn’t waver, and his eyes held nothing but warmth.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were a fact, not a compliment.

Tears stung your eyes as you looked away. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I mean it,” he replied firmly. “I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. You’re Y/N, and you’re beautiful to me. Always have been, always will be.”

His words chipped away at the walls you had built around yourself. He wasn’t looking at you with pity or discomfort, he was just looking at you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you, Minho,” you murmured.

“Now,” he said, his tone shifting to playful. “Are we watching this movie, or are you going to keep hiding from me?”

You chuckled softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Alright, alright. Let’s watch.”

As the movie began, the tension in your chest slowly eased. Minho’s occasional sarcastic comments or soft laughter warmed you in ways you didn’t fully understand. The awkwardness that had gripped you at the start of the call melted away, replaced by a rhythm that felt natural.

During a quieter part of the movie, Minho spoke, his voice cutting through the momentary silence. “This feels nice.”

“What does?” you asked, glancing at the screen.

“Being able to see you while we talk. It feels... more real.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and you fiddled with the edge of your blanket. “I guess,” you mumbled.

“Don’t downplay it,” he chided gently. “You don’t realize how much I’ve missed this, just spending time with you.”

Your heart thudded at his words. “Minho, you barely knew me before the accident…”

“And yet,” he interrupted, his tone soft but unwavering, “I’ve always felt like I knew you. The way you smiled at the hospital, even through the pain. The way your sister shared pieces of your life with me that day, the struggles you faced, in the hospital. You left an impression, Y/N. And no matter how much time passed, I couldn’t forget you.”

His confession left you speechless. You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

Minho smiled faintly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

The movie ended, but neither of you hung up. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, your favorite foods, places you’d love to visit, funny childhood stories. You found yourself laughing, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, how intently he listened to every little thing you said.

When the clock struck midnight, you yawned, trying to stifle it.

“Am I keeping you up?” Minho teased.

“No, I’m fine,” you lied, but your sleepy tone betrayed you.

“You need to rest,” he said with a soft laugh. “But… can I call you again tomorrow? Or, you know, whenever you’re free?”

The warmth in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. “I’d like that,” you admitted quietly.

“Good,” he said, his smile evident even through the screen. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Minho,” you replied, ending the call and setting your phone aside.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the night replayed in your mind. For the first time in years, you felt a little lighter. A little less alone.

You didn’t know where this connection with Minho would lead, but tonight, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he saw you, not just your struggles, but you.

And for the first time, that felt like enough.

-------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few months, Minho became your lifeline. What started as casual conversations and video calls grew into something deeper. He was patient, funny, and warm,someone who made you feel seen, heard, and cherished. For the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe again. It wasn’t something you could pinpoint, a singular moment where your feelings for Minho shifted from gratitude to something deeper. It happened slowly, quietly, like the way the first hints of dawn creep into the night sky.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing more than admiration. Minho had saved your life, after all. When you woke up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented, the nurses told you about the stranger who stayed by your side, ensuring you received the care you needed. That alone had been enough to etch his name into your mind.

Months later, when you heard his voice again at the robot café, your heart stumbled. It was almost embarrassing how much his presence, even through the robot’s camera and speakers, stirred something inside you. He spoke to you with such warmth, such genuine interest, that it felt like you were more than just a disembodied voice behind a screen.

But it wasn’t until the letter he left for you that the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart began to crack.

You read it so many times that the edges were worn from your fingertips. His words weren’t overly flowery or poetic, but they were sincere, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t just write about how thankful he was bout the customer service, he wrote about you. That you can call or text him anytime you wanted to vent.

From that point on, every phone call, every text, chipped away at the fears you’d held so tightly. At first, you were careful, guarded. You kept your responses light, your conversations surface-level. But Minho had a way of disarming you without even trying. He’d slip in questions about your favorite childhood memories or tease you until you laughed. And before you realized it, you were sharing pieces of yourself you hadn’t shown anyone in years.

And then came the video call.

You almost didn’t do it. The idea of letting him see your face, the scars that made you feel like a stranger every time you looked in the mirror, was too much. But Minho had been gentle in his persistence, assuring you that he just wanted to watch a movie with you, nothing more.

When you finally turned on the camera, your hands were trembling, and you could barely meet his eyes on the screen. You braced yourself for the shift, for the flicker of discomfort or pity that you were so used to seeing.

But it never came.

Instead, Minho smiled, his gaze soft as if he were looking at something beautiful. “Hi,” he said, his tone light and full of warmth, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

And in that moment, something inside you shifted. The fear that had kept you isolated for so long began to loosen its grip, replaced by something warmer, brighter.

He made you feel normal. He made you feel seen. And over time, you realized it wasn’t just gratitude or admiration anymore.

You were falling for him.

You tried to fight it at first, convincing yourself it was foolish. Someone like Minho...a man who could light up a room with just his presence....could have anyone. Why would he choose someone like you, with your scars and limitations?

But then he’d call you late at night, just to ask how your day went. Or he’d send you pictures of stray cats he’d found, knowing how much you loved them, just like he did. Or he’d make you laugh so hard you’d forget, even for a moment, about all the things you thought made you unworthy.

And then, over the course of the next few weeks, something unexpected started to take root inside you. At first, you brushed it off as fleeting, an echo of loneliness mistaken for something else. But it grew, steady and undeniable, a strange, fluttering feeling in your chest every time Minho’s name lit up your phone.

You found yourself lingering on his texts longer than you should, re-reading them late at night when the world was silent. His words, simple and casual, had a way of making your heart race. And those calls? They were becoming the best part of your day. It wasn’t just his voice....it was the way he laughed, the way he said your name, like it held a special place in his vocabulary.

He looked different to you now, too. Or maybe you were just seeing him for the first time. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe it. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that made him seem untouchable, yet he was so real with you. So patient, so kind.

And that’s when the panic set in.

Because how could you fall for him?

It wasn’t fair. Not to him. Minho was everything you weren’t: free, whole, untethered. He could have anyone he wanted, someone who could walk beside him in the park without needing a wheelchair, someone who could dance with him instead of watching from the sidelines.

You hadn’t left the house in years. The thought of facing the world outside, with its prying eyes and unspoken judgments, made your stomach churn. How could you expect someone like Minho to accept that? To accept you, when even you struggled to accept yourself?

Your scars felt like barriers, visible proof of the life you used to have and the one you were forced to live now. You’d lost the power in your legs, and sometimes it felt like you’d lost the power to dream, to hope for something better.

And yet, Minho made you hope.

It terrified you, this fragile thing blooming in your chest. Because if you allowed yourself to fall for him, truly fall, what would happen if he didn’t catch you? Could you handle the heartbreak? Could you bear to see pity in his eyes where kindness now shone?

You tried to push the feelings down, bury them beneath the weight of your fears. But they wouldn’t stay hidden. Every text, every call, every laugh chipped away at your resolve until you were left raw and vulnerable, clinging to a question you were too afraid to answer. Will Minho even accept you?

------------------------------------------------------

-------------------------------------------------------

That evening during the video call, Minho dropped a bombshell.

“Y/N, let’s meet,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You froze, blinking at the screen. “What?”

“I want to see you,” he repeated, smiling. “In person. How about a café date and a stroll in the park? I know a quiet spot, not too crowded.”

Panic surged through you. You hadn’t left your house in years....not since the accident. The thought of people staring at you, noticing your scars, filled you with dread. You opened your mouth to protest, but Minho’s gentle expression stopped you.

“Take your time,” he said softly. “You don’t have to decide now. But I’d really like to spend time with you, Y/N. No pressure.”

Minho ended the call with a hopeful smile on his end when you told him you'd think about it.

For the next few days, you agonized over his request. Part of you wanted to see him, to feel the sun on your face and experience the world outside your walls again. But the fear of judgment and rejection was overwhelming. Finally, with a shaky breath, you agreed.

------------------------------------------------------

Minho had never been the type to hesitate when it came to the people he cared about. But with Y/N, everything felt different....delicate, like holding something precious in his hands that could shatter if he pushed too hard. The past month of video calls and late-night texts had been like a breath of fresh air for him. He loved how she spoke, how her voice softened when she was relaxed or brightened when she talked about something that brought her joy. But he could also sense the walls she’d built around herself, her hesitations woven into every interaction. It didn’t matter to him, though. He’d seen enough in her to know she was worth the patience. The idea to meet her in person had been bubbling in his mind for weeks. He missed being able to see her face beyond the tiny camera frame, to hear her laugh without the digital lag of a call. And more than anything, he wanted her to know she didn’t have to hide anymore...not from him, not from anyone.

When she’d finally agreed, he’d been careful not to show just how thrilled he was. He knew it wasn’t an easy decision for her, and he didn’t want to add to the weight she was carrying. Instead, he spent the days leading up to their meeting planning every detail, choosing a quiet café and a serene park where she wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

The day of the date, he arrived early, checking his reflection in the café window to make sure he looked okay. Not that it mattered much to him, he just wanted Y/N to feel comfortable.

---------------------------------------------------

Whereas you, on the other hand, were on a completely different wavelength altogether.

The days leading up to this moment had been an emotional tug-of-war within yourself. A part of you longed to experience something new, something outside the prison of your four walls. But the other part...the one that whispered cruel reminders of your scars, your limitations, and the judgment of others...fought to hold you back.

The night before the date, you barely slept. You paced your room, questioning everything. Why would Minho even want to be seen with me? He’s kind, patient, and could easily find someone who isn’t a mess like me. What if people stare? What if I embarrass him?

You looked at yourself in the mirror that morning, pulling your favourite hoodie over your head and adjusting it. The scars that stretched across your temple and cheekbone felt like they screamed at the world, a constant reminder of the accident and how different you were now. You sighed deeply, pushing down the lump in your throat. You can’t back out now. He’ll think you don’t trust him.

When your sister wheeled you to the café and you saw Minho waiting, his face lighting up the second he spotted you, something in your chest softened. You weren’t used to people looking at you like that...as if you weren’t just enough, but more than enough.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice full of warmth, “you look beautiful.”

Beautiful? The word echoed in your mind, foreign and almost laughable. You glanced away, unable to accept the compliment, but his sincerity made it impossible to dismiss.

The café was quiet, the conversation light and easy. Yet, no matter how much you tried to relax, the anxiety simmered under your skin. Every time someone walked by or glanced your way, your fingers twitched, wanting to pull your hood further down. They’re staring. They’re judging. They’re wondering why someone like him would bother with someone like me. Minho noticed the anxiety in your face. He squeezed your trembling hand, comforting you. Nodding silently, as if to tell you it’s okay.

You calmed down a little and asked him if you could leave early. He agreed and suggested a walk in the park. You hesitated but eventually agreed. The park was peaceful, the fresh air soothing, but the nagging voice in your head wouldn’t let you rest. You kept your hood pulled tight, your eyes darting to every person who passed. They’re all looking. They can see right through me.

And then, it happened.

A strong gust of wind swept through the park, catching your hood and pulling it back. You gasped, immediately reaching to fix it, but your trembling hands froze as you noticed the stares. Strangers’ eyes lingered, their expressions unreadable, but in your mind, you could hear their judgment loud and clear.

Hide. Cover your face. Run. You don’t belong here.

Your breathing quickened, panic rising in your chest. Your vision blurred as tears welled up, and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“I....I can’t do this,” you choked out, barely able to form the words.

Before you could spiral further, Minho was by your side. His hands rested gently on your shoulders, grounding you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise in your head. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but his calm, steady presence drew your eyes to his. The world seemed to fade, leaving only his warm gaze and the reassurance in his expression.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice firm yet soothing. “I’m here. Forget about them. Just focus on me.”

“But they’re staring,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They’re looking at my face… at my scars…”

“Let them stare,” Minho said firmly, his hands squeezing your shoulders gently. “What they think doesn’t matter. What matters is you. And you’re perfect just the way you are.”

His words pierced through the storm in your mind, and for a moment, you could breathe again. He guided you to a nearby bench, sitting beside you and giving you time to calm down.

As your breathing steadied, Minho knelt in front of you, his gaze unwavering.

“Y/N,” he began, taking your hands in his. His touch was warm, steady, and grounding. “I know this is hard for you. I know you’re scared, and I know you think you’re not enough. But you need to hear this.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with an unshakable sincerity that made your chest tighten.

“It’s always been you,” he said softly. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special.”

“Min, what are you...?” you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Let me finish, Ynnie,” he interrupted, a small smile tugging at his lips. The tenderness in his tone silenced your protest, and your breath hitched as he continued, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Your strength, your kindness, your heart....those are the things that matter to me. Not your scars, not your disability. Just you. And I still can’t believe it… how someone so intelligent, so beautiful, and so powerful came into my life. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

He paused, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly as if grounding himself.

“You brought color to my mundane life, Ynnie,” he said, his voice trembling now. “And I love you. I love you so much.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as his words settled into your heart, breaking through every wall you had built. But once again, a part of you wanted to retreat from this. Minho deserved someone better. Not you.

And so, with a heavy heart, you asked, “Why me?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “You could have someone better. Someone who isn’t… disabled or disfigured. Someone who could give you more.”

His grip on your hands tightened as he shook his head. “No one could ever be better than you. No one else is you. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Scars, fears, everything. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You were at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice and the love in his eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, “will you let me stay by your side? Will you be my girlfriend?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the insecurities tried to creep back in. But then you looked at him...truly looked...and saw nothing but love and acceptance.

With a shaky breath, you nodded. “Yes.��

“I love you too, Min!”

“So much!” Happy tears spilled down your cheeks.

A bright, almost boyish smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with affection. He kissed you softly, a tender, lingering touch that made your heart flutter. The moment was quiet, but it felt like the world had paused, leaving only the two of you in this space of peace and understanding. As he pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapped around you, warm and steady...like a shield that protected you from everything outside of this moment.

For the first time in years, you let go of the fears and doubts that had held you captive. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were worthy of love. His embrace was a reminder that you didn’t have to hide or be afraid anymore. In Minho’s arms, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving only the soft warmth of his love surrounding you, filling you with hope that, no matter what, you were never alone again.

As he held you, you realized that this moment was everything you had been longing for. It wasn’t just the comfort of his touch, but the genuine care in his heart, the way he made you feel beautiful...scars and all. It was a love that didn’t ask for perfection, only for you to be yourself. And in that truth, you found the strength to believe in the future, to believe in the love that was growing between you.

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꥟˚｡ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[leandra-kinard]

You know, while this is and should be at the very bottom of concerns arising from the results of the US elections, there's one thing that I've been thinking about for weeks and we all should be aware of, imho.

All the queer representation we've had in recent years in movies and TV shows, all the big victories and groundbreaking depictions of queer love - that is likely going to be over.

Project 2025 lays out a very strict agenda to focus on "traditional Christian values"; things like pornography are explicitly named as something to be outlawed, but if you read between the lines it goes far beyond that. They could deem everything that doesn't correspond with traditional "family values" and traditional gender roles as worthy of censorship and worse. Russia has done it; you technically can be gay but you can't talk about it, show it, promote it. Many other nations have the same approach.

This may be the worst case scenario, because the American entertainment industry is global and influential and might not easily give in to extreme censorship, but it's far from unlikely to happen.

So what exactly could that mean? It could mean that any depictions of queer characters and queer relationships would have to be either be reduced to hinted at background characters, or going back to subtextual queer coding like under the Hays code. Or it could even mean that no such portrayal, even hinted at, is allowed in future.

In any case, getting something like Agatha All Along again, or Bucktommy, or movies like Love Simon etc. would no longer be allowed to be produced and broadcast/streamed in the US. And since the US and the US market dominate the Western-based entertainment industry, studios would likely refrain from producing such shows and movies in Canada or Europe because the huge American market would no longer buy these works.

And while, yes, this is not nearly as bad as women being sentenced to life for murdering their child just because they had a miscarriage, or gay marriages being dissolved across the country, or Palestine having no chance of surviving at all any longer, it still is something that concerns and impacts me greatly.

Entertainment is something that keeps many of us afloat in difficult times. And since many of us are queer, queer representation is very important to us. If we can no longer have it, it'll be a drastic impairment of our quality of life - worldwide, even if we're not Americans and live in (mostly) stable democracies in the West.

Maybe I'm being fatalist, but I think it's time we count our blessings. It's time we're happy for what we got and what we're still going to get in the next few months - what has already been filmed and produced and can still be published before such restrictive censorship laws are implemented. It's not a time for ship wars and shitting on existing queer representation, or fighting amongst ourselves.

We may never get again what we got this year, unless we look to British shows or other non-American productions and broadcasts. This is an option, of course, but it'll still be a tremendous loss for all of us who enjoy TV and cinema.

[no-passaran]

what are your favourite catalan movies?

I'm going to be very mainstream here but I loved Casa en flames (A House On Fire) so much. I think it's the best movie I've seen this year 2024 (not best Catalan movie, I meant best movie of any nationality). Btw, this movie is now available on Netflix with English subtitles! It's a comedy-drama about a family that meets in their holiday home before selling it and all the problems and secrets are brought up, revealing the character's insecurities. It's very well written and shows again how Emma Vilarasau is such an amazing actress.

Another movie I absolutely adored was El mestre que va prometre el mar (The Teacher Who Promised the Sea). I doubted on including this one as Catalan movie or not because it's a Catalan production with a Catalan actor as main character representing a real Catalan man, but the movie is mostly in Spanish since most of the events take part in Spain and not in Catalonia, but I think it still counts. Either way, it's a beautiful movie and definitely my favourite movie of 2023. It's explained from the view of a woman who wants to find out what happened to her grandfather's family and ends up visiting a mass grave being dug up in central Spain (context note: the state of Spain is the 2nd country in the world —after Cambodia— with a highest number of disappeared people because of all the people in mass graves during the civil war and the early years of the dictatorship, thousands of families are still looking for their relatives). It leads her to uncover the real story of Antoni Benaiges, a teacher from Catalonia who was sent to teach in the landlocked Spanish countryside in the early 1930s (pre-Civil War). It's a very heartwarming antifascist story about what a teacher can be, about children's freedom, and a reminder of the importance of historical memory. I really recommend everyone to watch it. (The movie can be streamed in Movistar+ and rented in many other international platforms.)

Other Catalan movies that I liked a lot are La Vampira de Barcelona and Salvador.

La Vampira de Barcelona (The Barcelona Vampiress) (2020) is a thriller with drama and some horror based on the real story of a woman who lived in Raval (poor quarter in Barcelona) who was accused of being a serial killer kidnapping children to use their blood in the early 1900s. I really liked this movie because I think we've all heard the legend but here the filmmakers went for a more historically-accurate version of what happened and how she was used, with a strong social critique, so it was a very interesting take on the story. It talks about very heavy topics though including children kidnapped to be forced to prostitution. (It looks like in some countries it's on Prime Video but I don't know what subtitles or dubbing it has been.)

Salvador (2006) is a biopic showing the events that led the 25-year-old Catalan anarchist Salvador Puig Antich to be sentenced to death in 1974. It's been years since I watched it now, but I remember when I saw it as a teenager it impacted me greatly even though I already knew the story. (The whole movie is on YouTube but without English subtitles, for streaming platforms it's on Filmin but it looks like it doesn't have English subtitles either, but there are downloadable subtitles online.)

[whatifitis]

♡ I See You - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is under immense stress due to his career and he can't drag down his love with him. Will their relationship survive a horror movie?

Author's Note: This was requested and as soon as I saw it, I was excited to start it and I had so many ideas for this so I hope y'all enjoy it!

WC: 6k+ with some instagram posts

CW: poor mental health, a bit of angst, a kiss here and there, happy ending

-=+=-

479,271 likes

f1 Just one lap could’ve made all the difference for Lando’s race 😣

View all comments

User32 Lando needs to stop thinking he ‘should’ve won’ it’s starting to seem a little entitled.. The two ahead of him have 165 wins between them

User33 They completely ruined Oscar’s race

User34 the only thing he brings to McLaren and F1 is shame

User35 Geez people in the comments are so quick to say hateful things but don’t think about how their words hurt, lando is pressuring himself into doing good and yall just wanna hate on him at any chance you get

-=+=-

Liked by bestieusername and others

f1gossip sources close to the couple are saying that Lando Norris and Y/n L/n have split after just 7 months together

View all comments

User22 she was just one of the girls he’ll date for like a summer then leave when he’s bored. Can’t wait to see who the next slut is

User67 she lost color in her face since she’s been with him, glad she finally knows her worth

User54 she looked so bored recently, and i mean it’s her right since he practically love bombed her

-=+=-

“I can’t break you when I’m breaking.” - was all you heard before everything went silent. 

You and Lando had been together for about 7 months, not all of which was rainbows and daisies. 

When you first met, it was like stepping into the sun again after having spent so long in the dark. You had your fair share of heartaches before Lando. It was hard for you to give in to him at first, but after a few weeks, you gave in and you’re grateful for giving not only him, but yourself a chance. 

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating him. You knew he was a driver in F1 and that his fanbase could be quite protective of him. You also were aware of his crazy schedule with the races and meetings and training. Lando also told you about how he and his ex had to break up due to the invasion of privacy that was experienced, and how his ex simply couldn’t do it anymore, which is more than understandable. But even with every warning he gave you, you still stayed. 

These past few weeks have been chaotic though. Lando is a strong contender for the WDC this year against Max and there’s pressure and eyes all around him. You’ve watched as the media berated him for weeks and weeks, never letting up. Everyone has high expectations of him and it’s slowly destroying him, even if he can’t see it yet. 

You won’t lie, it has indeed had an impact on your guys’ relationship. Not only is distance and time difference straining you two, but the constant analysis and comments from the media have taken a toll. 

It was obvious to you that Lando would be gone for most weeks out of the year, but now, even when he is home, he’s not fully there. It’s like he’s a ghost in his own home, his own body. 

“You’re not breaking me” - you tell him. But you both know you’re lying. As much as you may love him, his distance has been something that has destroyed you. You started to wonder what you were doing wrong, how could you fix this? 

“I am, and it’s hurting me so much that I’m doing this to you when you don’t deserve all this shit. You deserve so much more. You deserve all the good things in life, like seeing your partner for more than a week, going to the grocery store without being stalked by fans, having someone who can be there for you, someone who won’t drag you down.” he says, tears streaming down his face. His hands are shaking at the thought of losing you, but he knows he loves you too much to let you down. He’s completely broken now. His heart aches and sinks every time he thinks about how you’re being treated. He doesn’t want to be the person who takes your sparkle, who makes you feel less of a person. 

“You’re not. I’m fine. We’re fine, love. I can handle it, all the shit that’s getting thrown at us. We can survive this horror movie.” you try to convince him… convince yourself, as tears are now streaming down your face as well. 

“We can’t. I’m not the way I was, I’m not the same person I was when we met.” you watch as he takes a shaky breath in, trying to compose himself, “All I ever wanted was to drive and race in Formula 1. But now that I have it, it doesn’t feel enough. As soon as I joined, so much pressure was put on me to be the best. When I started, the car was shit, so I helped make it better, and I did. I feel like all I’m doing is trying and trying to please everyone and to be who they want me to be, but it’s so hard. And this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to race and have fun, not drive myself to the point of destruction. I don’t want to be the machine that the team, media, and fans want me, and expect me to be. I feel like I’m giving my all to the team and to the sport but it’s not enough and it’ll never be enough. I feel like I’m stuck and I can’t get out no matter what I do. The one thing I wanted all my life, and now it’s mine. But it feels like I’m theirs.” he lets out an ironic laugh. 

You slowly walk to him, moving to hold his hands in yours. Without missing a beat, one of your hands gently lifts his chin, making his eyes connect with yours. 

“They’re feeding you to the wolves and it’s unfair. They cheer your name until the lights go out, then they throw you to the side and disregard you till the next time they need you. They’re not fair to you and it’s draining you. You have a look that I can’t recognize. You used to love this sport with all your heart but now it’s the thing that’s killing you.”

“But I need to keep going. I need to prove that I can be what they want. I need to prove that I’m not just some spoiled, ignorant kid who paid his way to this place. I need to show that I earned my right to be here and to have this seat.” he tries to explain. 

“I understand that, Lan. But we need to find a better way to handle all this. It’s clearly taking a toll on you and your health. It’s been a long year. You’re constantly watched and analyzed, with people documenting your every move to create sickening plots for their stories of you, of us. They expect so much, so you’re expected to follow, but that’s not how it’s supposed to work.” He pulls back from you, removing his hands from yours and taking steps back. You watch as he begins to pace the room, shaking his head as he speaks. 

“To know me is to hate me, and to hate what I’ve become. It’s to watch me fail over and over again, and I can’t keep doing this to you. I can’t let you hold my hand in yours anymore.” he says as he stops in front of you, trying his best to refrain from spilling more tears but it’s merely impossible. His biggest fear is coming into fruition, he’s losing you. He’s letting you go. He wanted to let you out of this mess before it was too far gone for you to come back to life. You gave him all of your best self and your endless empathy. 

“What are you saying, Lan?” you barely let out as a whisper, afraid of the answer. 

“I’m letting you go. I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole but I have to do this. All this shit is just gonna hurt you more. You can’t do this to yourself. It’s killing me to know I’m just bringing you down with me.” he practically pleads. 

“I stay because I want to, not because I feel forced to or like I have to. I do it because I love you.” your voice cracks with the last bit. 

“I’m sorry for all this. I care about you a lot and I hope everything goes well. I hope you get everything you could ever want. I’m sorry for all the mess.”

“Don’t be sorry. You are worth all of the shit. But can you please let me stay?” you beg through tears.

His lips are quivering, tear stains paint his face as he breaks himself in two. Cause truthfully, you will always hold a part of him. Through all the obstacles and shit, you stuck by him. 

“Goodbye, y/n.” is all he says before he turns his back on you, walking out the door. 

He didn’t even wait for your response, leaving as soon as he could because he knew if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t have followed through with the breakup. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, in the middle of your living room. You had to watch the person you thought you would marry, walk out the door. You thought he was your forever. You shared your dreams with each other, planned out the house you two would grow old in. The house where you would have rocking chairs on the front porch where the two of you would watch the neighborhood kids run by, yelling at them to stay off the lawn. What dreams those were, dreams that would remain just that, dreams. 

For a while after the breakup, all you did was lie in bed either sleeping the days away or doom scrolling on social media. It got so bad that your roommate/best friend had to physically drag you out of bed after a week of letting you rot in it.

The first day of what your best friend liked to call “post breakup, glow up”, you guys decided to just have a self care day where you took it easy and ordered in food and did face masks while coloring in some books. 

It was fun and a nice distraction until your phone dinged. The look on your face scared your best friend so she looked over your shoulder to see who it was. Lando’s name was displayed along with a message, “Hey, how you been?”. 

Was this how exes interacted after a breakup? Typically after the breakups you’ve experienced, there was no contact. What’s Lando up to? You knew he didn’t keep in contact with any of his exes after their break ups, so why was he texting you? 

When you snap back to reality, your friend is giving you a concerned look, wanting to know what was going through your head so she could help in the best way possible. 

“Should I text him back?” You asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, babe. He still hurt you towards the end of the relationship, although not intentionally, but it still fucked you up a bit. I don’t want you to lose the progress you’ve made.”

“Yeah, I understand. I won’t text him back then.” You tell her as you turn off your phone and throw it to the side, picking up your marker and starting coloring again. 

You lied. You ended up texting him back later that night once you were back in bed, ready to end the night with what hopefully would be a decent sleep. 

You and Lando exchanged a few texts, mainly just catching up and seeing how the other was. You weren’t gonna lie, it felt nice to talk to him again. But what was this gonna lead to? Hopefully getting back together, but what are the odds? 

The occasional text conversations took place over the course of a few weeks. Lando knew he shouldn’t have been texting you, but he couldn’t help himself. The weeks following the break up, he went back and forth on whether he regretted it or not. He wondered if it was the best thing to do. 

Every day, he saw you in everything he saw or did. When he goes to get coffee, he swears he can still hear you laughing at the mustache of foam that would appear on his face after his first sip of coffee. 

When he’s outside in the park for a run, he’s reminded of you when he sees the rabbits hiding in the bushes. You always used to squeal out of joy and cuteness from the rabbits, even if you’d already seen them about 20 times prior. 

Every song, every film, every color reminded him of you. He thought about you every single day, wondering what you were doing and how you were. He even went as far as stalking your Spotify profile. He knew you made playlists for everything and he would watch your listening activity to see what mood you were in. 

He wasn’t surprised when he saw you listening to Taylor Swift and Gracie Abrams for hours on end. Those two were your go to sad girls. But he was surprised when none of the songs were about how shit the guy was. All the songs you were listening to were about regretting breakups and just missing someone. 

The night he texted you for the first time since the breakup, he had been gaming with Max and a few of his other friends, trying to take his mind off things. 

He didn't know what he texted you, he just did. He didn’t even have a plan for what he wanted to say. It turned out all right in the end though. You guys had a peaceful conversation and shared a laugh or two, for which he was grateful. 

Maybe you guys could remain friends? 

-=+=-

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and others

y/n_l/n i’m on my knees at the altar, baby

Asking God to wash you from my soul

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User4 he’s a waste of running mascara, you’re on to greater things 

alexandrasaintmeux the most beautiful girl in the world

User97 ummm, what’s lando doing in the likes?! Didn’t they break up…

User23 she was a fool for thinking she could be enough for him

User10 lando leave the poor girl alone, you’ve done enough damage 

-=+=-

Everytime he texted you, you came back. He’d ask to try again and you’d say yes. You’d come back to his place and spend nights there, only for him to break things off again. He keeps saying he can fix it and do better. But then he sends you on your own again. He keeps telling you how much he loves you, only to tell you he’s not good enough for you and that you should break up, again. 

For two months, the two of you went back and forth. You would break up one week then get back together the next. It felt like a game that you kept losing and you were tired of it. 

It felt like you were always taking one step forward and two steps back. Now you know, none of this is fair to you. You keep trying to give him your all, trying to be there for him when he needs it but he still doesn’t change. 

You know you’re not falling out of love for him. But you think you have to fully let him go now. Do what he did to you to protect you, but actually block him out after. Instead of stringing him along like he did to you. 

It’s a week before the Belgium GP so it’s now or never. 

You asked Lando to meet you in your shared hotel room as the Hungarian GP just ended earlier. He’d gotten P2 which is amazing. But he still wasn’t entirely happy with his performance as he thinks he could’ve done better. The team thinks he should’ve gotten P1 and that it would’ve helped gain more points for the championship. 

You would’ve preferred to pick a better time to do this, but there is no other time, at least anytime soon. But you don’t want to be stuck here forever, in this loop of false hope. 

When Lando gets back to your shared room, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, picking at the skin on your fingers. 

“Hey, stop doing that. It’s not good for you.” He gives you a smile as he takes off his shoes and meets you in the bed. As he sits next to you, he lands a kiss on the top of your head and then a kiss on your cheek before finally connecting your lips with his in a sweet, warm kiss. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something? What’s up? Everything alright?” He asks, a bit of concern laces his words. 

You take a deep breath and sit up straight, trying to gain the courage to follow through with your plan.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You say. Lando’s heart drops at your words. 

“What’d you mean?” He stutters a bit.

It takes everything in you to look him in the eye as you say “I’m breaking up with you, for good.”

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of his mouth. He’s turned his body forward, staring blankly at the wall as he processes this.

“I’m sorry, Lando. But it’s not fair to either of us. We keep stringing each other along. Hoping for something that’ll never happen. I’m tired. It feels like I’m the only one fighting for us.” 

Lando suddenly sucks in a breath of air, furrowing his eyebrows and turning his body to you before telling you “no”

“No? Lando, what do you mean no?”

“No, we’re not breaking up again.”

“You can’t just say no. I’m- I’m making this decision for the both of us. For our best interest, we have to break up.”

“No, I’m not having it. I’m not doing it. It’s you and me til the end.”

“Lando, please can we ju-“

“Nope.”

You sit there dumbfounded at what’s happening. Is he refusing a breakup like it’s a piece of fish? 

You sit there and stare at him for a hot minute before crossing your arms and asking “why?”

“Cause”, is all he says before he stands up and goes to take a shower. 

Ain’t no way. 

You’re so confused and amazed at what just happened. He really just denied a breakup. 

As Lando took his shower, you took this time to process what happened and how to go about this conversation again once he comes back. 

After about 15 minutes, Lando leaves the bathroom in fresh clothes and stands in front of you, “what’d you want for dinner?” 

“Did you disregard my breakup speech?” You stand and ask.

“Yes. Now, where’s the room service menu?” He asks as he pads around the room, genuinely looking for the room service menu. 

You bring your hands to your face and roughly rub your eyes to try and approach this correctly. 

“Lando, stop thinking about the menu for 5 seconds and look at me.”

He’s stopped dead in his tracks and looks at you innocently. 

This guy. 

His bottom lip begins to quiver and his eyes become glossed with tears. 

With a bit of rasp in his voice he tells you “We’re not breaking up. I can’t lose you again, I won’t do it. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had and pushing you away was awful. I missed your laugh, I missed your jokes, I missed your loose hairs all around the flat, I missed your snoring when I tried to sleep, I missed you. Please don’t go again.” 

Tears are streaming down his face as he begs you to stay. 

“Lando, we can’t keep doing the same shit over and over again. We break up one week then get back together the next. You tell me you’ll do better and you’ll fix things but nothing changes. You’re still under immense stress and letting people walk all over you. I don’t know how we can survive this anymore if you don’t try to change that.” 

You start to wonder if breaking up really is the best solution. You would still be sad about losing him and you would still constantly worry about him. He would still be stuck in this toxic place where everyone puts all their expectations on him. Everyone would still harass him and analyze his every move. What would breaking up really fix? 

“Please. I’m standing here trying to be honest. We’re a thousand miles away from the day that we started, and I’m still in love with you. I just wanna forget everything that’s come and gone cause I hate not being with you. The stars don’t shine as bright when you’re not here.”

Slowly, you walk up to him, reaching for the sides of his face and using your thumbs to wipe away some of his tears. He instinctively moves his hands to your hips, holding you as tight as he can, as if you’re water in his hands. You look him in the eyes and realize you love him too much to let him go. You two love each other too much to leave it like this. 

“Hey,” you say softly, “why don’t we do this? The Belgian GP is next week, right? You’ll go do that and I’ll go home for a bit. After the Belgian GP, I’ll meet you in Glastonbury, yeah? We’ll spend your break there and we’ll try and sort out whatever’s going on up here?” You ask as you gently tap the side of his head. 

All he can do is smile, grateful for you and your patience with his shit. He nods his head yes before pulling you closer and holding you tight, burying his face into your neck. 

With a deep breath, you feel Lando relax in your arms. 

“Thank you.” He whispers in your neck. He can’t believe he’s able to keep someone as special as you in his life, even with the war in his head. 

“We’ll be alright. We’re okay”, you don’t say anything else, just holding him closer, knowing it’s enough for him right now. Maybe you two could try to go back where you started. 

Lando booked a flight from Belgium to go back to his hometown almost immediately after the race. He just couldn’t bear being away from you for so long, especially after all the shit you guys have been through, especially after all the shit he put you through. 

You decided that since he’ll be landing quite late, the two of you would spend the night watching movies and eating some home cooked food. The beginning of the healing journey could start tomorrow. 

When he landed at the airport, he was greeted by you with a massive sign that said “Lando Norris - STD clinic emergency shuttle”. 

The amount of laughs that the sign got was a joy to you. Especially the laugh Lando had let out upon reading the sign. He knew you were gonna pull some shit like this, although he was surprised you didn’t wear scrubs to add to the bit. 

With a big warm hug, Lando finally felt like he could start to relax and let go, at least until the next race. 

The two of you made your way to your car, then headed back to a secluded airbnb that you had rented for the next few weeks. Although the two of you were more than welcome to stay with Lando’s family, the pair of you thought it would be best if Lando had a place with some real peace and quiet to be able to sort through his mind. 

During the drive to the airbnb, you put on a playlist that you had made for drives with Lando at the beginning of your relationship. It had been a while since you’d played it, so it was a pleasant surprise for him when he realized what playlist was playing after a few songs. 

“I forgot about this playlist. Missed it." He gives a soft smile. The one he used to have before all the chaos had been inflicted. You can tell this little break will definitely bring back at least a small piece of your Lando. 

“I did too. Found it the other day when I was clearing my playlists. I added a few more songs as well. I know we usually pick the songs for this playlist together but I thought it’d be nice. Hope you don’t mind.” you tell him, wondering if maybe he’d be upset that you messed with the playlist without him. 

“Nah. I like it. Like a bit of a surprise for me.” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. You smile as you look at him for a moment. Your boy is coming back to you, slowly but surely. 

“Oh, don’t speed here. There’s always this one fucking guy sitting in a corner, ready to give anyone and everyone a ticket.” he tells you as you turn onto a certain street. 

“You know every road in this county, don't you?” you tease, watching as he gets a bit shy. 

“Yeah, let’s just say he may or may not love to see me coming. He used to catch me speeding all the time and he gave me too many fucking tickets.” 

You just sit there and laugh at him. Of course the Formula 1 driver always gets caught speeding. 

Once you pull into the driveway for the airbnb, Lando is smiling, already getting out of the car and closing his eyes, breathing in the fresh air and taking it all in. He’s excited and grateful for this break from the races. As much as he does enjoy the actual racing, all the other factors were pushing him to his breaking point. The sun was collapsing but he didn’t realize until everything came crashing down all at once. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you close the car door. He starts moving to the trunk of the car to pull out his luggage. You wait by the front of the car, watching him roll his way to you and taking your hand in his as he leads you to the door of the house. 

The second you unlocked the door and opened it, Lando ran in like a kid and immediately dropped all his belongings before flopping onto the couch. 

Yup, that’s my man. 

“You like it? Out of all the rentals available, I thought this one was the best. It’s a bit far from everything and there’s a hiking trail not far.” you tell him, walking to the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

Lando is rolling on the couch as if he were a dog trying to get into a comfortable position. His head pops over the back of the couch to look at you, “Yeah, seems quite cozy. Thanks for this, darling. I know I don’t really deserve you but I’m really grateful that you’ve given me so many chances.”

“Don’t thank me, love. I love you and I want you to be okay,” his cheeks blush at your words. It’s been a while since you’ve called him ‘love’, “Put something on the tv and lie down for a bit while I prepare dinner, yeah?” 

“You sure I can’t help you? I can peel a potato or something… okay maybe nothing as advanced as peeling a potato but I can boil noodles or something.” he chuckles a bit. 

“Gorgeous, last time you tried to boil noodles, you burnt the water. I still don’t know how you managed that.” you couldn’t contain your laugh at the memory. It was one of your first dates with Lan and he’d wanted to make you a home cooked meal. Take out ended up being delivered. 

“Yeah, alright. We’re watching Hannah Montana.” he said as he flopped his back against the couch. 

When dinner was cooked, you and Lando plated the food before moving to sit on the floor in the living area, using the coffee table to eat off. 

The two of you continued watching Hannah Montana until the episode where Blue Jeans became ill. Lan immediately changed the show to play the movie rather than the tv series.

“Lan, you do know Blue Jeans recovers at the end of the episode, right?” 

“Yeah but he still has to go through the traumatic experience of being bitten by that snake and I just can’t. We’re gonna watch the Hannah Montana movie now and slow dance to ‘Crazier', cry to ‘Butterfly Fly Away’, and dance to ‘You Can Always Find Your Way Back Home’.” he tells you sternly. He's made up his mind and nothings gonna change that. So that’s just what you do. 

When Taylor Swift appears on the screen and starts singing ‘Crazier’, Lando jumps up off the floor and leans his body towards you, holding his hand out for you to take. Once you place your hand in his, he pulls you swiftly off the floor, pulling your body close to his. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands are secured on your waist. The two of you swing your bodies slowly and effortlessly to the melody that’s playing in the background. 

When the lyric “you lift my feet off the ground.” Lando does exactly that. He’s gripped your waist and lifted you in the air, bringing a squeal out of you as you were not expecting that. He keeps you above him as you let out a fit of giggles. Once your feet land back on the ground, you fall into Lando, trying to catch your breath. You listen to his heartbeat and hold him tight. He really is your favorite person. 

In true Lando fashion, he knows all the words to this song. As he should since he decided it was one of your songs a while ago. You watch as he sings the words to you, and you realize just how truly in love you are with the person in front of you. You would wait forever for him. He’s the closest to heaven you’ll ever be. 

Once the song ends, the two of you sit back down and continue watching the movie. You were cuddled up to Lando, wrapping yourself around his arm as he rested his head on yours, occasionally leaving soft kisses. 

The beginning chords of ‘Butterfly Fly Away’ play and Lando is already in tears. He’s already buried his head into your shoulder as he sobs about how emotional the song is. “He was always there for her. He tucked her in and turned out the light. He had to do it all alone!” 

All you could do to comfort him was hold him close to you and rub his back. You hummed along to the song, Lando loved it when you did that. You never sang in front of him, but when you did, it was like God's greatest gift to him.  

The end of the movie was near as the opening chords of ‘You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home’. The two of you were already on your feet, ready to dance and sing along. Lando had even pushed some of the furniture out so that there was more room for dancing. 

With some crazy moves and a whole lot of jumping around, you and your love had the time of your lives. 

Lando is pointing at you when he sings the lines “‘Cause, when I’m feeling down, and I’m all alone, whoa, oh. I’ve always got a place where I can go.” singing completely off key but who cares, he’s having fun, and so are you. 

When the song comes to an end, you’re in Lando’s arms, trying to catch your breath again. But it feels impossible when everytime you look at him, he takes your breath away. The most beautiful man ever is yours? Crazy, really. 

You stay in his arms for a moment, looking into those eyes that looked like sunlight was filtering through leaves. 

“Home.” he breaks the silence, smiling down at you wholeheartedly. He cocks his head to the side before continuing, “You’re my home.” 

It took everything in you not to break down into a puddle of tears at that moment. 

Instead, you bring your lips to his, connecting them in a sweet, soft exchange. 

After putting the furniture back in place and cleaning the dishes from dinner, you lead Lando to the room you’ll be sharing during this little vacation. 

After a quick shower, Lando meets you on the bed, almost collapsing onto it due to the exhaustion he’s been in. 

There’s no need to exchange any words at this moment. You just pull Lando into you, watching as he rests his head on your chest and wraps his arm around your waist. You scratch the back of his neck, messing with his curls a bit as your other hand draws patterns on his bare back. 

After a minute, you feel Lan relax into you, watching as his breathing becomes shallow and steady. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and you're thankful. He truly does need sleep, especially for the talk you two will have in the morning. 

You follow suit with Lando and fall asleep soon after him. It was the best sleep you’d had in ages. 

The sun shines through the thin, cotton curtains that cover the windows. Lando’s chest is warm against your back, his arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you close to him. The steady breathing lets you know he’s still sound asleep. You check the time, reading 7:24 am. It’s still a bit early so you decide to get some breakfast prepared for when Lando wakes up. 

You slowly and quietly move out of his arms, careful not to wake him as you know he won’t stay in bed if he knows you aren’t next to him. Once you’re out of bed, you brush your teeth and 

make your way to the kitchen. 

Breakfast is kept simple, just some overnight oats with some fruit and honey. After a few minutes of washing and cutting some fruit, you watch as Lando emerges from the bedroom, sleep lacing his features. 

“I didn’t hear you leave the bed.” he frowns at you. 

“Sorry, darling. I knew you were tired and I didn’t want to wake you so soon. But your timing is perfect! I've just finished preparing breakfast.” you smile gleefully, presenting him with a beautiful bowl of fruits and oats. 

The smile on his face is enough to brighten the whole room. “Thanks, baby. Looks amazing, as always.”, he walks around the kitchen counter to kiss you. 

Once he’s sat down and begun eating, you tell him your plan for the day, or his plan. 

“I was thinking we could go on that hiking trail I told you about. Getting some fresh air and some sun could be good for you. We could also talk a bit? About everything?”

You can tell he’s a bit uncomfortable from the way he stiffens when you mention wanting to talk. He was never really one for talking about himself and the things he’s struggling with. He much prefers listening but he knows he has to let you in a bit. 

Without looking up at you, he responds, “Yeah. Sounds good.” continuing to stuff his face with his oats. 

Once you two had finished breakfast, you put on your shoes and made your way to the hiking trail. 

During the beginning of your walk, you decided it would be best to get Lando to feel comfortable before jumping into the whole discussion of him and his mental health. So you begin by asking, “So, Tarkov, how have you been doing in it?”

He looks at you with genuine surprise, wondering why the fuck you’re asking about Tarkov when he knows it’s not your type of game. But, he answers anyway, “Erm, it’s turned into more shit and giggles if anything. A lot of messing with Max and them. Oh, the other day I stabbed Max’s character in the leg cause he stabbed my foot. And then I stabbed him again but his game was glitching so he couldn’t heal. He was actively dying and couldn’t stop it so I shot his guy. Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly joyful about that. But in my defense, he would’ve died anyway. It was a mercy kill.” he laughs to himself. 

After almost 45 minutes of walking, you guys stumbled upon a nice lake that was surrounded by trees. There was a shore with some large boulders so you led Lando there for a bit of a break from walking. 

You two sat there for a moment before you broke the silence to try and talk to him. 

“You know I love you right?” you ask him, watching him look down at his hands and start to fiddle them. 

“Yeah.” he responds quietly. 

“I want you to be okay, Lan. I can see you being torn apart by everyone and everything. I don’t want to watch you fall because you don’t deserve that.” “It’s hard, being me. I know I should be happy for everything that I have. I mean, I have money, a house, so many fucking cars that I don’t need, a loving family, and the most amazing and beautiful girlfriend. But, it feels like I’m drowning in everything with racing.” - he confesses, his tone is low, matching the way his reality makes him feel so small.

You scooch closer to him, taking his hand in yours, “I know it’s been hard. And you have the right to feel the way you do. You’re the person who gets the most shit right now with the media. They’re all twisting shit to fit their narrative. But you need to keep pushing back, don’t let them walk over you anymore.” “My mind is complicated. But when you’re here, next to me, it quiets a bit. I know that when I’m with you, everything is easy, like a million things can be thrown at me, but at the end of the day, if you’re here, I’ll be okay. I know I sort of broke you, someone I love so much. It’s all me, in my head. I burned us down and I’m sorry I did that to you. I don’t wanna lose you.” “You’ll never lose me, Lan. I’ll keep your hand in mine, until we’re food for the worms to eat, til our fingers decompose. This love of ours isn’t temporary. So I’m not gonna give up on us, on you.” - your hand touches the side of his face, bringing him to meet your eyes before you continue, “I’m still yours, even when you lose your mind and try breaking up with me a million times. None of this is your fault. You’re all I want.”

Tears begin to stream down his face as he leans his forehead against yours, “I just want you to know who I am, outside of the racing and the drama. I don’t want them to see me, just you, cause you’re the only one who understands me.”

You lift his chin so he can look in your eyes again as you say, “I know who you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, and I’m never letting you go again.”

-=+=-

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Tagged: y/n_l/n

landonorris baby, you showed me what living is for and i dont wanna hide anymore

Thank you for everything, my love. I wouldn’t be where I am without you 🧡

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User23 now wait a min ✋ how many chapters did i miss?

User54 i told y’all they were fine! No way a couple as in love as them would ever break up

User75 alexa, play ‘that should be me’ by justin bieber 🫠 User13 omg, and the taylor lyrics 😭 she loves taylor swift and he dedicated it to her 😭😭😭😭😭

[springtyme]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 ♡

Spencer Reid x reader || Main masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: You spend a lazy sunday with Spencer.

word count: 765

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕) 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

You stretch out on the couch, snuggled in a soft blanket, letting the warmth engulf you. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden glow across the living room. It’s a lazy Sunday, and the world outside seems to slow down, matching the rhythm of your day.

As you glance over at Spencer, who’s sprawled in the armchair, you can’t help but smile. He’s buried in a book—one of those dense, scholarly tomes that only he could find leisurely. His hair is tousled, and there’s a forgotten mug of coffee on the table nearby, steam still curling lazily into the air.

“Spence,” you call softly, your voice almost a whisper.

He looks up, his brown hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Yes?” he replies, shifting in his chair, his attention torn between you and the captivating pages.

“What’s the topic today?”

He beams, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “It’s about the psychological impact of color on human behavior. Did you know that studies show blue can create a sense of calm?”

“No, I didn’t know that, but it’s interesting.” You chuckle, shaking your head playfully. “Only you would spend a Sunday learning about the psychology of colors, Spence.”

“Do you want to know more?” he asks, his voice animated, and you can’t help but love how passionate he is when he talks about his interests.

You sit up, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Sure, but first, there’s something we can do to test out that ‘sense of calm’ theory.” You gesture to the blanket, the soft blue fuss of fabric draped around you, inviting him over to join you.

He hesitates for a moment, torn between his book and you, but your smile is irresistible. With a small laugh, he sets the book down and pads over to the couch, slipping in beside you. You nestle against him, resting your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you.

“This is much nicer,” he muses, leaning his head against yours.

You close your eyes, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, inhaling the comforting scent of his shampoo. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this cozy bubble. “So, tell me more about how colors affect our mood,” you say, nudging him gently to continue.

Spencer goes on, the words spilling out with delightful enthusiasm, but you find yourself drifting in and out of his explanations, comforted by the cadence of his voice. His talk evolves into a blend of colors, emotions, and the psychological associations various hues evoke. He mentions how warm colors, like red and orange, can elicit feelings of excitement and energy, while cooler colors, such as green and blue, promote relaxation and calmness. You listen, occasionally catching snippets of data and studies, but even more so, you’re enchanted by the sound of his voice and the way he lights up when he discusses his passions.

“Did you know,” he continues, his fingers gently stroking your back, “that yellow is often associated with happiness and optimism? But too much of it can actually lead to frustration and anxiety. It’s a delicate balance.”

You nod, slightly drowsy, but still invested in his words. “Sounds like colors are more complicated than I thought,” you murmur, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips.

As the afternoon rolls on, you both decide to take a break from deep discussions, opting instead for a movie. Spencer adeptly picks one from your collection, and you laugh when he chooses a quirky classic rom-com, probably unaware of the irony.

As the film plays, you snuggle deeper into the blanket, resting your head against Spencer’s shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate between you. The opening credits roll, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar soundtrack—the kind of feel-good music that reminds you of lazy  afternoons spent on the couch together.

Spencer’s hand finds yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as the movie unfolds. The lighthearted banter on-screen makes you chuckle, and you steal glances at Spencer, whose eyes twinkle with amusement. You appreciate these moments, finding joy not just in the film, but in the shared experience, the little moments of connection that weave your lives together.

As the credits roll, you find yourself wondering how you got so lucky. The day has been simple yet perfect, filled with laughter, warmth, and a sense of easy intimacy. You turn to him, brushing a stray hair from his forehead, and he looks at you with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the afternoon light.

[johnbrand]

Screen Froze

Podcasting had become inescapable in recent years. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on...well everything. Politics, world sports, cooking, an obscure movie from 1978 only released in a now-extinct language. If it could be covered, it would be. And one could find this content anywhere across the internet. Youtube, social media, even streaming services promoted their podcasters. Everyone was watching everyone talking. 

Of course, with so many different podcasters flying about, it was difficult to actually spot out talent. And from a sociologically micro perspective, it was even harder for individuals to find podcasters discussing the content they actually wanted to hear about. The more unique the niche, the less people one could happen upon to be talking about it during their recorded stream of consciousness. It was a simple formula, but it forced individuals to browse for hours or even days to find what they were searching for.

Sometimes though, people could not hold such patience. They would not wait for their new hero, a disciple preaching their values and morals to audiences around the globe. They would skip past one livestream discussing the economics of green villages in Switzerland to the next debating the potential existence between a minor character in two separate fandom universes. They could even perhaps land into a podcast like Sean’s.

“Most people just don’t understand the Soviet Union’s impact on architecture,” the measly, pale nerd innocently commented. A little shy in front of the camera, he was only able to relax a bit when discussing his favorite topics. Sean dressed in theme too, wearing a brutalist-like business casual outfit, a trait his small but dedicated fanbase adored.

“There were a lot of architects that really shaped this movement from all around the world,” Sean continued. “But today, we are just going to focus on those from the USSR.”

So what happened when one’s patience dried up? Well, everything was brought to a halt.

DragonHeart49: anyone else’s screen freeze? superduperloverboy: mine too <3bitsandmore: sean, I think ur glitching out

With the screen frozen, our impatient soul could now get to work. If one could not find the podcast they were looking for, then why not just create their own? Obviously, this did not mean constructing a podcast themselves, but rather alter the fabric of reality and completely realign another’s being to their preferred state. That was much easier.

Physical modifications were made first. A much larger body was necessary, something that demanded confidence and respect from others. Juicy pecs, rippling abs, sturdy legs. There was always something unreasonably fun in bloating the podcaster’s feet up a few sizes. An imposing frame to be craved by others, even when hidden underneath clothes, was priority. And speaking of clothes, those were quickly stripped down to less formal articles. Expensive branded tee, athletic shorts so small that boxer-briefs were visible, classic white Nike socks, all of it much more respectable than a button-up and tie.

This was not the impatient soul’s first time altering a podcaster to their liking, nor would it be their last. Physically at least, each of the end products were a little different. All alpha males, but just enough variation to not warrant any unnecessary rumors. This particular podcaster had his pre-American heritage redirected from France to India, the features in the screenshot tanning accordingly as a dark stubble acquainted itself along the sharper jawline. Of course, the bulge was accurately enlarged for geographical standards too.

Mentally however, all the podcasters could be considered copies. They each spoke of the same rhetoric, theories, and ideologies that our impatient soul wanted to hear. No matter how “backwards” or “hateful” their discussions were deemed as, nearly anything could be said by hulking bodies with undeniable charisma.

“These homos have no idea what they’re talking about!” Sanjay raged as the podcast restarted, his deep voice cocky and assertive. "Sure bro, I was just thinkin’ about a girl’s rack I saw earlier today but there's more to a girl than big tits. There's a tight pussy too!”

The chat section lit off with encouragement, their fates too having been altered.

MassiveFART69: you tell them fags bro! LOL XD crassmassschlongnator: we want to BREED THEM TOO!!!! <3TITSGALORE: JUST TALKIN ABOUT IT ALREADY GOT SANJAY GRABBIN HIMSELF AGAIN

Sanjay vacantly looked down, finding himself already subconsciously scratching at the thick bush within his shorts. He let out a hot protein fart followed by a laugh, his scratching slowly extending into groping his fat 8 inch babymaker.

“God, that was WET bros!” Sanjay applauded himself, his free massive hand swallowing the mic. “Anyway, I’ll catch you on the flip side dudes, gotta go hit the gym. Bros for life!”

There was a reason the traditional masculine movement was becoming stronger. Maybe it was because men were slowly aspiring to become the alphas’ equals, or because fags were beginning to submit to their nature. Or possibly, it could have been because each time a screen froze, reality was altered one click closer to traditional, normal masculinity.

[ckret2]

Do you think Alex is ever going to give us the full context of Bill's past? It's not really up to interpretation, it was written, there is a canonical story and it's just sitting there.

The mere fact that TBOB got publish throws out a lot of "do you think we'll ever get—?" assumptions I would've made a year ago. But even so, I still don't think so.

At this point I think we don't know because he, specifically, doesn't want us to know—as opposed to "wants us to find out later." This feels, to me, not like a "ooOOooh big mystery! Wonder what it is ;) wonder if we'll ever find out ;) ;)" secret but like a "knowing would be less satisfying than the mystique of wondering" secret—like, not knowing the full details is a part of the story. The movie monster is always scarier when you can't see it—and I think that's the goal with the Euclidean Massacre. We're only allowed to see enough of its outline to imagine the horror.

We know what we're supposed to know about Bill: that he was a freak who saw a truth no one else did, and he was so desperate to be believed and admired that he did something stupid that cost him—and his world—everything.

The mechanics of how he did it are minor in comparison. Did he summon an eldritch god that set Euclydia on fire, did he cast a spell that was supposed to peel everyone off their dimension like stickers off of paper, did he smack the dimension with a really big hammer and break it? Did he get his powers by absorbing sunlight from the nearest 3D star like superman, did he make a deal with the Axolotl, did he get his strength by cannibalizing his entire planet?

As fans, we want to know, sure. But from a storytelling perspective, the magical macguffin invented to justify how he burned his world/got his powers isn't as important as the character arc. Who cares if he waved a magic rainbow fairy wand and cracked Euclydia in two?? The real story is his apocalyptic desperation to be accepted.

So, if we were building up to a big reveal, it would make a lot more sense to give away the smaller secret (how he did it) before the bigger and more emotionally important secret (why he did it).

Like how in canon, we learn Stan's working on the portal first before we learn the far more important secret about why: to save his brother. If we'd found out Stan is trying to rescue his secret twin and then half a season later learned about the portal... well, that would've been kinda lame in comparison, wouldn't it? Not nearly as emotionally impactful.

Now that we know why Bill did it... finding out how would be kinda lame in comparison. If there were anything of deep emotional significance in the method of how he destroyed his dimension, I think it woulda been in the book.

If we ever do find out, I suspect it'd be for some brand new project thought up in the future that wasn't in the works during TBOB, and it'll be in service to that story. (Like how we got the Axolotl and his connection to Bill years ago, but it wasn't until Alex started working on TBOB that he actually thought up the Theraprism and finally came up with a way to use the Ax.) Either that or it'll be like during a charity stream where some filthy rich fan pays $10k for Alex to spill the beans.

[sporesgalaxy]

Pacific Rim isn't anti-nuclear in the same way Kaiju movies usually are. The resolution is facilitated by the detonation of a nuclear warhead and a nuclear reactor power core. So........what's up with that?

I mean, it's deeply American, obviously, but what else? Why does it not feel particularly pro-war in the same way, say, a typical MCU does? What does it mean that the Kaiju are prompted by human activity (carbon pollution "practically terraformed" Earth for the invading aliens), but are ultimately not a true manifestation of Nature's Wrath (not even from Earth)?

What arguments is Pacific Rim making in the place of the typical kaiju movie anti-nuclear-pollution, wrath-of-nature fare?

I stream-of-consciousness rambled about this for multiple paragraphs and don't feel like cleaning it up much. Basically: I think Pacific Rim is a commentary on the myriad problems with political responses to climate change over the years.

•••

So, in the Great American Kaiju Movie, two nuclear blasts save the day rather than creating all the problems. Despite the fact that at least one of those nuclear blasts still probably did a lot of collateral.... I do wish Pacific Rim had focused a bit more on collateral, and the environmental damage caused by both the Kaiju and, inevitably, the Jaeger project AND Wall of Peace. Food rations are mentioned once-- but surely metal and construction equiptment rationing must also be in place to allow for wall construction! I want my environmental messages shoved violently down the audience's throat, damnit! But I digress

I think an important detail to consider in the Kaiju/Nuclear discussion is how Mako and Raleigh's Jaeger's nuclear power generator is what really allowed them to save the world, multiple times.

The history of politics around nuclear power plants vs nuclear warhead production is interesting, especially in the typical kaiju movie thematic context of man carelessly abusing nature. The argument in defense of nuclear power plants is that, despite the need for extremely rigerous and long-term nuclear waste disposal considerations, there is a lower volume of waste created by nuclear power plants in relation to the energy provided by them, when compared to other modern methods of energy generation like coal power. So, in theory, nuclear energy could be a beneficial power source for minimizing environmental impact.

In the Kaiju movies I've seen, nuclear power is only ever addressed as an extension of the inherently unnatural and harmful abomination of the invention of.the nuclear warhead. It's understandable, the environmental devastation caused by radioactive pollution is massive, and its something a nuclear power plant is very capable of doing if enough goes wrong.

So, what do the Jaegers represent within this conversation? what does the Wall of Peace represent? Here's my thought: they represent (more) active versus passive solutions to the growing threat of climate change. Jaegers represent the way that active work against climate change is only funded as far as it is beneficial to the image of the government.

Yes, the Rift was found to be impossible to blow up with nukes, but it's pretty clear that the world governmemts were putting more money into the publically popular and flashy Jaeger program than they were putting into researching the increase in Kaiju frequency and a permanent solution to the issue. Because of the complicity the world fell into once Kaiju and Jaegers were Rock Stars, the root of the issue with Kaiju goes unadressed for an entire generation, in favor of defeating each Kaiju in impressive and propogand-izable ways.

Only once the problem becomes too big for the propoganda-friendly Jaegers to manage do the world governments start looking for alternate solutions, and the Wall is immediately shown to be too little too late. As soon as it stops being useful for propoganda, the government loses interest in truly solving the problem, and begins investing in moving itself inland and leaving poor coastal populations to die.

The kaiju are only able to be defeated in Pacific Rim because a group of people separate from the government comes together and searches for a solution to the root of the issue-- the Rift being open in the Pacific at all.

Nuclear power is therefore not posed as a solution to war against fellow humans, but is used as a solution to a collective human effort to fight the exponentially speeding destruction of the Earth. The Jaeger pilots and everyone else working in the resistance HAVE to be willing to do anything, willing to take drastic active measures, in order to stop the destruction of the Earth's climate. Yay :)