Straights: Those two guys from Rogue One can’t be gay! They just work together. What’s wrong with two guys just being friends. They kept arguing. Actually they don’t even act like they even like each other that much until one of them died.
This is sort of rsp but not exactly, just characters from Wen and Donnie’s other movies: Cao Cao/曹操 x Guan Yu/关羽 (The Lost Bladesman) Zhang Muzhi/张牧之 (Let The bullets fly) x Chen Zhen 陈真(Legend of the Fist) Baze Malbus x Chirrut Imwe (Rogue One)
Rogue One will finally be released in China tomorrow (in four hours to be exact). I can imagine how the Chinese social medias go insane about Baze and Chirrut like tumblr and twitter and all of us did.
I have to post this video about what i just reblogged, translations are as the follow:
Q: Many viewers said that there are lots of chemical reactions going on between Chirrut and Baze, what do you think?
Jiang Wen: I’ve got chemical reactions with all the characters, what kind of “reaction” are you suggesting?
Donnie Yen: Friendship is a thing that both men and women can have, there doesn’t have to be a romantic relationship between every pair of man and woman. Same for the relationship between two men, it’s not always friendship, it could be…
Gone through many posts and see that most of them refer Jiang Wen as…quiet? Probably because he didn’t get a chance to be in a lot of interviews and all this time (btw that was due to his new movie shooting, not thrown to spoiler jail), Jiang Wen is actually a guy with great senses of humor and a talented director. I am no professional reviewers but I can guarantee that his movies (well, the most) are works of genius. Go ask your Chinese friends what they think of him, even those who’s not really into movies has surely heard of the name Jiang Wen. The man is great, you see how I’ve been fangirling.
Let’s start with some photos of last night’s Rogue One premiere in Beijing! (21/12/16) P5 is Donnie’s family, his son showed up in little Chirrut costume.
I went to see the movie with my friend and I’m so excited! How could I resist to draw this fabulous warriors. Thank you Rouge One, you made my holidays even better.
They had been lying on the roof of the temple for hours, watching the slow wheel of stars and passing ships drift by. Their conversation had slowly petered out into a comfortable silence, a shared moment where words were no longer necessary. Baze closed his eyes, hands folded across his middle as the night breeze played with his hair. It was starting to get shaggy, unruly even; it might be time to cut it.
Beside him, Chirrut was sprawled across the stone, arms under his head. Baze could practically feel him vibrating with energy. He knew him well enough to know that his eyes were constantly roaming the heavens; he would track the ships as they approached the city, following the lights until they were gone; he would seek out constellations and spin tales which he would share with Baze later, after the silence finally grew deafening and he could contain it no more; he would anxiously wait for the rise of Na Jedha, for its appearance meant that they had come to an end of their free time, those stolen moments that they treasured in their busy lives.
It was one of Baze’s favorite moments and in his mind it never lasted as long as he wished.
Tonight was no exception.
“Hey, Baze? You fall asleep over there?”
“When have I ever fallen asleep up here?”
He felt Chirrut wiggling around before sitting up. “Your eyes are closed,” he accused.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
Baze wanted to tease him, maybe say he was thinking about how he never shut up for long, but he wanted this moment to last. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the sight of his best friend, and more recently, his love. As usual, Chirrut seemed to glow in the reflected light of the city, eyes bright and piercing. Baze made a vague gesture toward his hair, large hand circling about. “I was thinking about cutting my hair. It’s getting too long.”
“Don’t cut it,” Chirrut cried, reaching for his hands. He pulled at Baze in an attempt to get him to sit up as well. Baze knew he wasn’t trying; if Chirrut really wanted him to move he would have made him, for while Baze was strong, Chirrut possessed a strength that defied all others. Baze stayed down until Chirrut let out a little whine, lips pressed into an exaggerated pout. Laughing, he sat up, smiling Chirrut cheered and celebrated his victory. Chirrut jumped up and circled behind him. “Don’t cut it. Here, let me see.”
Baze sighed as Chirrut’s hands wound into the strands, gently combing through the tangles that had formed. His eyes drifted shut again, breathing evening out as Chirrut hummed softly behind him. “Are you braiding it?”
“I like your hair long. It makes you look distinguished.” Chirrut pulled a cord off his belt and tied the plait off, dropping his head against Baze’s shoulder. His hand snaked around to caress his cheek. “You’d look good with a beard too.”
Baze snorted, slapping lightly at the other hand resting on his thigh. “You have horrible taste.”
“How can you say that? I love you, don’t I?”
Baze leaned his head against Chirrut’s, blushing softly. No matter how many times he had heard it, how often Chirrut said it, he still had a hard time believing his words. He covered Chirrut’s hand with his own, watching as the first sliver of planet rose over the horizon. “It’s time to head in.”
“Not yet. I want to show you something.” Chirrut pulled away slightly, pointing ahead of them. “See those two stars? The bright ones near the horizon?”
Baze frowned. “The ones over the colossi?”
“Exactly! I’ve decided that those two are us.”
“How so?”
Chirrut leaned forward in excitement, bouncing as he spoke. “Because they’re always together! Every time I look, I see them close together, as if one can’t exist without the other. So, they’re us.”
Baze turned his head to study Chirrut. He was grinning, proud of himself. Baze smiled softly, huffing a laugh. “Chirrut…one of those is a planet.”
Chirrut blinked, smile frozen in place.
Baze shook his head. “You really need to paying attention in astronomy class.”
Chirrut turned back to his “stars”. He shrugged. “Technicality. They’re both so bright that we see them as stars. But even if one is a planet, it doesn’t change anything. They still need each other. Just like a planet orbits it’s star, I orbit you. You’re my star.”
Baze’s blush grew to cover his face. He ducked his head, voice breaking as he said, “I think you made a mistake. I’m no sun.”
“To me you are. You make the days brighter and better.”
“For me too,” Baze whispered.
Chirrut lay his head back on his shoulder, humming. “I’m never wrong. You shine brighter than you know.”
Baze rolled Chirrut’s words over in his mind. “I feel the same way about you. I think I always have. But you are wrong. I’m no star. You are. I’m the one orbiting you. I’d follow you wherever you go; use you to guide me back if I was lost. You are my star, Chirrut, and I want to worship you forever, if you’ll let me.”
“Forever might not be long enough. I’m very possessive.”
“And I love that about you,” Baze whispered.
They sat there watching the stars until long after the planet rose, refusing to let the moment fade. In the cold clear night, for a brief time, they were the only ones that existed in the galaxy, a star and a planet enamored with each other. They would both be tired come the morning, but neither cared. This was the only moment that mattered for now.
The Force was as magnificent as it was terrifying. It was stepping from the city into the desert. One moment everything is bright, familiar. The walls are just where they are remembered to be and there is safety within them. Then as soon as you move away from them, once you can no longer hear the bustle of the hover vehicles and the hawkers’ shouts, there is nothing except the feeling of expansiveness and the sound of the wind in your ears. It is terrifying. It is exhilarating. Chirrut would never be able to wrap his head wholly around what the Force was, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he meditated, but he would attempt every time to understand it just a little bit better, just a little bit more clearly.
(Quick, before work drabble. Should be pretty sfw.)
“Stay,” Chirrut’s hands curled into Baze’s robes, pulling him in closer for another kiss, searing, lingering, the type of thing that Baze hadn’t even dreamed possible.
“What about prayers?”
The bells are ringing, echoing, a call for guardians and masters, acolytes and pilgrims, for all the faithful or just the interested, the searching, to come and listen to the chants, to join in with the sutras, to find themselves inside and outside of themselves. Baze has always loved the prayers, reciting the words lowly, under his breath so no one would hear him, the way his voice shuddered and shook at the emotions their mantras woke in him. Chirrut’s fingers twisted into the fabric of his clothes are stirring other emotions, new ones that seemed to unfurl like flowers in his veins, burst like overripe fruits. Intoxicating and frightening like standing on the edge of the temple walls that overlooked the drop from the mesa to the sand far below, fingers laced into Chirrut’s who was always walking just a little closer, daring just a little more.
One day he will totter over an edge. One day he will fall.
Baze will follow. He knows. Oh, he knows. If Chirrut went, he would follow with no hesitation at all.
“The prayers,” he says again, soft, slow, and Chirrut’s lips are pressed to the rise of his collarbone like some treasure lingers there, and Baze’s hands are splayed across his back.
“Stay.” Chirrut never sounds like this, Baze thinks, slightly concerned, tender, just on the edge of worry, as though what is in his hands will flicker out, sputter to nothing like a candle in the breeze.
“There will be prayers another night, Baze.”
Baze swears he dies and is reborn in the instant that Chirrut says his name, a way he has never said his name before, itself like one of their prayers. The fingers in his robes have loosened, moved, snaking down to brush across his skin. Baze is reborn in flames, his own hands curling into the fabric of Chirrut’s robes, a low moan issuing forth from his mouth.
“No one will miss us for one night.”
Baze rolls his hips as Chirrut moves, kissing up his neck, and then he is tracing his fingers across Chirrut’s face, mapping his chin and cheekbones as though this is the last time he will ever touch him, ever see him
He had not been expecting this series of events. When Chirrut ducked into the archives all big eyes and big grin and big personality spilling everywhere, when Chirrut had held his hand out, eyebrows arched in a challenge, Baze had not expected this to be the outcome. Adventure, he had surmised. Danger. Climbing the trees in the garden. Running full tilt through the alleys in the marketplace. Not sitting in the archive storage closet, knee to knee, laughing while Chirrut read passages from filthy books to him, giggling and blushing and trying not to think how some of those things sounded enticing, especially if they were with Chirrut. And then Chirrut licking his lips and pushing the books aside and scrambling onto his lap.
“Baze, look at me.” Chirrut’s voice a frantic, tangled, strange thing. Something he could not ignore
He had looked. And then, slowly, like an eclipse, Chirrut leaning forward, Chirrut kissing him, and Baze’s hands snaked around his waist to hold him closer. To hold him forever.
Everything had changed.
“The prayers will wait another night,” Chirrut’s voice shakes.
Baze has never heard him falter before, moves a hand over his short hair and back to cup the back of his neck. This will too, he thinks, and then startles because. Because what if this is not an everything has changed moment but just a fleeting, flickering dream. Chirrut moves like the wind, cannot be contained. Perhaps this is a momentary diversion, some experiment, a trifle.
“Won’t this?” he asks, too soft to be heard. Baze clears his throat and lifts Chirrut’s head so he can meet his eyes and tries again. “Chirrut, is this a one time thing?” If he says yes, Baze thinks he’ll die.
The answer is a rush of air against Baze’s cheek, but he can hear the word, stretched out, pulled, “No.” Chirrut’s eyes focus on him, and Baze can see that they are dilated, interested, captivated, held. “No,” again and then, like a broken thing, “unless you want it to be.”
Now it is Baze’s turn to sigh, it is Baze’s turn to move, pressing their foreheads together, lacing their fingers, and he breathes in what Chirrut breathes out. Stay in my lungs, he thinks, stay in my blood. I want my heart to pump you through my body. I want you suffused in my soul. When they cut me, I want them to see you.
“No,” Baze says, turns his head slightly so he can barely brush their lips together. “No. Stay. Prayers can wait.”
His ears are full of the bells, his ears are full of the sound of his blood rushing through his body as Chirrut pulls him closer and kisses him again.
The thing that was hard to explain about the rain was what it meant. Chirrut had tried to explain it to Bodhi and Jyn once, but he knew that, while they claimed to understand, they failed to grasp the meaning. They only saw the rain; they couldn’t feel it like he could.
The way the air smelled right before a storm–full of anticipation, a heaviness that seemed to vibrate in waiting. The sound–full of chimes and rolling notes, creating a music unique and special with each storm. The feel–clean and crisp, cool as it rolled off a surface. When he was younger, he would often run outside to try and catch the rain–water from the tap, he said, was never as sweet or refreshing. There were times where he missed being able to see the rain; the way the drops traced the shapes of the leaves; the reflections that gathered light and color, creating newly minted worlds; the way it jumped and scattered as it fell. No, the others only saw the nuisance side of it. Bodhi fretted everytime he had to drive in it. Jyn complained whenever it interrupted her plans. Cassian would grow quiet, often disappearing into the solitude of his room until it passed and memories were left behind. Kay ignored it as he ignored all things that he deemed beneath him.
Only Baze knew what it meant to Chirrut. Baze, who would make sure to bring him an umbrella on the days he went outside to stand in a downpour. Baze, who would open the windows so he could listen no matter where he was in the house. Baze, who would meet him with a hot drink, who would silently sit beside him and just be. His Baze, who knew everything about him. Who could read his mind and moods. Who loved him unconditionally.
He was curled up in the window seat in their old apartment, eyes closed as he took in the sounds of the raindrops hitting the awning below them. His hands were tucked into the old blue sweater he wore, the one Baze said was the same color as his eyes. He stretched his toes closer to the screen.
“You’re going to catch a cold,” Baze rumbled as he walked up. Chirrut grinned and wiggled his toes, laughing as Baze sighed as he settled in beside him, handing him his favorite tea. “What do you see today?”
It was a question he always asked, curious and light; he would not be upset if he decided not to answer. He pondered the words, sipping slowly.
“It’s a spring rain. It’ll be good for the flowers the landlady planted last month. There will probably be a rainbow later. Oh, and that jerk downstairs left his car windows open again.” He sensed Baze’s eye roll. “What? If it bother you, you go tell him. I’m not going down there, he clearly doesn’t like me.”
“That’s because he caught you making faces at him.”
Chirrut shrugged, setting the mug aside and sitting up. He settled close to Baze, resting his head on his shoulder. “I do see one other thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“I see a handsome man telling me he loves me.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Well, he is quite handsome.”
Baze hummed and pulled him closer. “And does this man do anything else?”
“That depends on how brave he is.”
Chirrut grinned as Baze pulled him into a kiss, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. It was gentle and filled with the promise of many more to come. When he tried to pull away, Chirrut reached for his face, drawing him back in.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, providing a steady background song for the couple. This was Chirrut’s favorite part of the rain and the magic it invariably created.
This is what love was all about.
((So I wrote a thing. It’s not beta’d, and it’s also the first thing I’ve ever had the courage to share. Please enjoy.))
