“Zoe loves the movies. So I knew if I was going to propose, it had to involve the movies. But I can’t make a movie myself because I don’t work in film. So I had to get creative. I ordered a black-and-white Italian film from a vintage film dealer. It seemed vaguely romantic. I spent four months editing it on my computer. I changed all the subtitles. I cut out the harem scene. I completely changed the plot so that it resembled our lives. I wrote some dialogue about picture frames because Zoe’s family owns a frame shop. And I love trains. So I made the main character a train enthusiast. When I finished the editing, I rented out a small theater with sixty seats. I invited all of Zoe’s friends and family. I made sure everyone sat in the front and didn’t turn around. The weather was beautiful that day. Zoe didn’t want to go to a movie. We got in a big fight about it, but I finally convinced her. I was so nervous that I laughed during the whole film. I’d seen all the jokes 1000 times but I laughed at them anyway. Then during the final scene, the main characters started speaking to the audience, and one of them asked: ‘Does anyone here want to get married?’ So I stood up. The lights came on. All her friends and family turned around. And I gave a speech that I prepared. I was so nervous that I forgot to ask the actual question. But Zoe bailed me out and said ‘yes’ anyway.”
I just got
home from seeing Wonder Woman. I was in tears for half the movie: Diana was
never once presented as a sex object, she was never sidelined, her thighs shook,
and she is a fighter. Not just a girl
who can be dressed up in a sexy catsuit and fight sexily, but a fighter. Not
one of those fight scenes was choreographed so she could land in an awkward
pose that showed off her ass. She is gorgeous but not once was her worth
correlated to her beauty.
All of that, and she was still able to express a full
range of human emotion – she didn’t have to be a hardass bitch who could only
be angry or disappointed. She got to show joy, and wonder, and confusion, and
horror, and sadness, and love – and anger, yes, real deep anger that comes from
the pit of the soul. She is a whole, dynamic person who also happens to be a
bad ass warrior. AND she could be this bad ass warrior without having a father or mother to hate, or trauma to catapult her into the world. Diana grew up loved and happy, and she stepped out into the world because it was the right thing to do, not because she had a personal ax to grind.
was with me, and I remember coming to the realization part-way through that he
was born into this. He has had this
his entire life. It makes me so angry, and it also makes me so happy that there
are little girls right now who will grow up with what I didn’t, and little boys
who will grow up with this as well, who will be awed by Diana and see how Steve treats
As someone who saw the movie, I can confirm LeFou is not stereotyped or abused or ridiculed in regards to his sexuality and SPOILERS he does get a happy ending. The whole theater clapped and cheered in response to the scene that has been discussed. So please don’t shit on Disney or the director for this, I was very pleasantly surprised.
That feeling when you’re reading a book and maybe it’s a love scene, or maybe it’s a character learning something about him or herself, or maybe it’s something that you’ve always thought but never knew anyone else thought or felt that way too, and your whole body grows warm and tingly and there are tears in your eyes… that. That’s why I read. To feel. To connect. To understand. To have my whole body warmed while I forget to breathe.
Not even ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby over this ending. Man, that was life-affirming. We had Bojack “I was born with a leak” Horseman thinking he blew it again, lost another good thing in his life. Then Hollyhock chooses him, she invites him to still have a part in her life. This whole season was centred around the toxicity of Bojack’s dysfunctional family tree, this was the one member of his family he seemed to really bond with and want to be around. We just saw how crushed Bojack was by Hollyhock reaffirming that she never needed another father-figure. So to see that acceptance, after a season full of abusive family dynamics, that was beautiful
“Hanzo -” His voice was strangled, his lips drier than the desert.
“That’s better,” Hanzo murmured as he rose up on his toes and brushed his nose against Jesse’s once, twice, three times. “Eskimo kiss,” he explained. “You looked sad and I’ve been told that kisses fix stuff.”
I’m so glad you’ve commissioned me to draw this scene, @mariejacquelyn. It’s beautiful. The whole fic is. You’re an awesome writer; please, keep gracing us with your stuff <3
I legit cried the whole duration of the video, I’m still a bit shaken up. It’s so beautiful and overwhelming to see them all back together after so many years!!! I see them and see the characters and I’m reminded of everything that they’ve made me feel and it’s just too much but in such a good way!
It is summer. Outside the inn, the cicadas have quieted and it’s the crickets that take over, white noise, white music, lulling the boys to sleep. The breaths of heavy sleep can be heard alongside the whir of the fan passing over the room. It smells of tatami mats and Kaminari’s feet, one foot poking Bakugou’s upper arm. His snores sound like whines, just irritating enough that Bakugou’s resting face is that of a scowl.
He considers shoving Kaminari, or more likely, kicking him, but that would require moving, and all four limbs are distant from Bakugou, heavy as concrete and unmovable as the komainu guards that stood outside the inn. He should be sleeping. He needs to be sleeping. Tomorrow, the training camp begins.
Still, there’s the expectant air of something about to happen–the moment before a match is lit, a breath held in until lungs burst, a pause of silence between songs. The room is scattered with pillows and blankets from a pillow fight two hours ago, and the room is heavy with a sense of contentment, apparent in the way Tokoyami cocoons himself in his blanket and Midoriya rests a hand on Iida’s chest. Shouji’s arms splayed out wide and Aoyama with his eyemask on.
Bakugou is wired–restless energy from the pillow fight? Fresh, summer air? Or the tension of training camps past, of being stolen away by villains in the dark.
Bakugou sits up, cards his fingers through his hair.
There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re awake?”
Todoroki’s voice is barely above a whisper, dream-like and soft, volume concealed by the sound of the fan. A breeze passes over Bakugou, making his hair flutter. Two sleepers over, Todoroki’s hair ruffles, too. He sits up.
“Go to sleep, idiot,” Bakugou hisses. “I’m not staying up.”
“You feel it, too.”
Bakugou holds his breath. He lets out a louder sigh than he intends. Lying back down, he turns his back on Todoroki. “Doesn’t matter. Night.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He hears the telltale sound of a comforter being pushed back and the gentle thumping of movement across the mats.
If I close my eyes and go to sleep, he will go away, Bakugou thinks.
He manages to ignore Todoroki for a grand total of three minutes before he shoves back his own comforter and sits up, teeth pulled away from his gums. “What.”
Todoroki is sitting seiza at the foot of his bed. “You’re awake,” he says.
“‘Cause I can feel you breathing down my neck, shitstick. Take a hike and get out of my bed.”
“We should welcome in summer together,” Todoroki says.
“Do you actually ever listen to people?” Bakugou asks.
“I used to do it with my sister,” he says. “I’m too restless to go to sleep. So are you.”
“I’ll have you know I love sleeping,” Bakugou says. “Get tucked in real fucking tight, snug as bug in his own fucking rug, away from creepy sleep-watchers and their weird-ass ideas.”
“You feel it,” Todoroki says. “Katsuki.”
Bakugou’s breath catches. “I told you not to–even if it’s dire–”
Todoroki holds up one finger, and a tiny flame lights from the end of it. Bakugou flinches. The candlelight reflects in Todoroki’s odd-colored eyes, shiny as glass. It lights a dull glow across molten, scarred skin, bumpy and rough-around-the-edges as the scar’s owner. It casts a shadow across the shape of Todoroki’s mouth, just too close to not-not-smiling to make it hard to look at him.
“Fine,” Bakugou says.
“Repeat after me,” Todoroki says. “Welcome, cicadas.”
“Welcome, cicadas,” Bakugou mutters.
“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”
“Just do it.”
A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”
“Welcome, sunb–you’re fucking with me. You’re actually just fucking with me. Is this even a family tradition?”
Todoroki really smiles now, one edge of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling. Bakugou moves his glare from Todoroki’s face to the fire at the tip of his finger.
Suddenly, the light goes out.
“Wh–” Bakugou starts.
“We have to seal it,” Todoroki says. “Seal the welcome.” His voice is much, much softer. Bakugou leans forward a little to catch his words.
“Seal it? How? Wait, why the fuck do I care? It’s bull–” Todoroki’s fingers feather along Bakugou’s jaw and he jerks away upon contact, heart racing. Todoroki’s hands hover in the no man’s land between their bodies for a moment. When he moves forward again, leaning forward on his knees, Bakugou doesn’t move. His fingers settle along Bakugou’s cheekbones, pinkies curling under his chin. The callouses on his fingers make Bakugou’s skin tingle. They’re not soft hands, but the hands of a hero and a hard-worker–someone who poured blood, sweat, and tears into his craft.
Through the moonlight that seeps into the room, Bakugou can make out the smile on Todoroki’s face. “We seal it with a kiss.”
Bakugou’s heart stutters. He scowls. He didn’t remember giving it permission to do that.
He feels Todoroki’s exhale as he breathes out. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” Todoroki says.
Bakugou’s hand has found its way to his shirt, clutching at the material over his chest. He doesn’t remember telling it to do that, either. “This is stupid,” he mutters. “This is stupid, you’re stupid, this whole thing is,” he takes a breath, “fucking stupid.”
Todoroki presses his forehead to Bakugou’s, their noses brushing. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” he says again. And then, “Please.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up, Bakugou thinks, and he pecks Todoroki on the mouth lightning quick.
“There,” he says. “Sealed.”
“Okay,” Todoroki says.
“It’s just for your stupid summer tradition,” Bakugou says. “That’s all.”
“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”
“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”
“And–” Bakugou says, but the words are slipping from his mind because Todoroki’s thumb is on his bottom lip and he can feel the puff of Todoroki’s breath not even an inch from his mouth and Todoroki’s eyes are half-lidded, and it’s all just very warm, and without really giving it much thought, he’s kissing Todoroki.
Todoroki’s fingers are rough but his mouth is soft, none of the sharp words he wields when he picks fights with Bakugou, a choice insult thrown in like a dagger to the side, no, this–this is the smile he wears when he’s helpful to a classmate, the brush of his hair against Bakugou’s palm when he swipes at him while dueling, the press of his cheek on Bakugou’s shoulder when he falls asleep on him on the train.
This is I know you and I have yet to know you and I want to know you, the questioning tilt of Todoroki’s head and the suggestion of tongue. They don’t French but they do kiss, the sound sweet as a cricket’s song when they part. Bakugou thinks he’s in a fever dream, even though the height of summer has yet to arrive and the fan still blows cool air across them every now and then. He feels that if he stops kissing Todoroki he will wake up and it will have never happened.
When Todoroki parts from him, he whispers, “Welcome, summer.”
During Patty Jenkins’ Reddit AMA, a fascinating interpretation was brought up regarding this scene:
“My interpretation of the revisit was that it actually wasn’t necessarily what he said. She (and the audience) has no way of knowing what he said. But the whole lesson of the film is about faith. Believing in something for the sake of hope. So she thinks back to that moment and chooses to believe that he said something beautiful and moving. Because that’s what she needs to believe in order to have hope.” - Leagle_Eagl
I don’t sleep very well. Not at all, really. I lie in bed and I stare at the canopy and imagine ways of killing my enemies. How to destroy Ellaria Sand, the woman who murdered my only daughter. I thought about having Ser Gregor crush your skull the way he did Oberyn’s. It would be poetic, I suppose, but fast, too fast. I thought about having him crush your daughter’s skull. She’s so beautiful.