#and you warned us that it would be emotionally rougher than if he died then

[liaredacteddnd]

and here we have drawing #4 of last weeks session. it’s only wednesday. also this made me realize i don’t actually know how big sage is

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Please could you do angsty James comes back to life and finds out Sirius has been in Azkaban and feels really guilty about it. Thanks!

((A/N: Warning for trauma both for Azkaban reasons and coming back to life reasons))

James loved Sirius. He loved him so much that sometimes it felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the words to explain how much he loved him, but that hadn't stopped him from trying-- a dozen poorly written poems that were probably long since lost to the elements had been proof of those attempts. 

Loving Sirius was always good. Being in love with him wasn't always good, though. It was hard. They couldn't have all the good things from a relationship without also having a few bad things. It meant figuring out how to comfort him because sometimes a really nice hug wasn't enough. There were nightmares and long nights, and a hundred different misunderstandings that James hadn't known to expect and had difficulty patching up-- and all of that had been before the war started. After the war, it was hard to be in love with him because he never knew which time would be the last time they got to see each other or which kiss would be the last one for the night. 

Sometimes Sirius would tell him that he loved him, and it didn't make him feel better. He loved Sirius so much, and the chance for losing him was too damn high. If Sirius died, James wouldn't know what to do with himself; he wouldn't know how to live. Worrying about it nearly made him sick some days. He'd never felt better than when he was with Sirius, and he'd also never felt worse. It was a trade-off, he supposed, and it was one he would choose to make each and every day because it was worth it. 

Then James died. 

And he came back. 

Loving Sirius was as easy and wonderful and amazing as it had always been. Being in love with him was harder than it used to be. It's not like Sirius had gotten more difficult or summat, but... Azkaban. Sirius had been in Azkaban. The nightmares weren't actually worse to deal with than the ones he'd used to have from Grimmauld Place, but these felt different to James. Grimmauld Place had been horrible for Sirius because of his parents; he'd only been in Azkaban because of James. Sirius had gotten locked up there because of him. It was his fault that that had happened. Sirius tried to say that it had nothing to do with him, but if James had just carried his bloody wand, he would've been able to apparate away in time, and they all would've survived it. It was his fault that Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years, and he was horribly aware of that fact. 

It was his fault. 

*

James's eyes were stuck on the pan, watching the eggs cook. It looked like he was very interested in seeing the egg whites cook through at the edges, but his mind was a million miles away. Sirius had a dozen new scars interspersed with tattoos James had never seen before. He'd asked Sirius about it last night, fingers trailing along his ribs. He'd thought that it would make for a good story, but Sirius had gotten all sad and mumbled that he'd gotten the scar on his collarbone from another dog after he broke out of Azkaban-- that's how he'd phrased it: 'another dog', not 'a dog'. 

"Dad?" Harry asked, his voice coming from somewhere near the doorway. 

James pulled on an automatic smile and turned to face him. "Hey sprog." Sprog that was like six years younger than him. Seven, at most. "You're up early." 

"It's seven," Harry said as he got closer, like that wasn't plenty early. 

James chuckled. "When I was your age, you couldn't pry me out of bed before nine." 

Right after he started talking, Sirius came into the room too. "That's funny," Sirius said. "All I had to do was ask, and you bounced right up." 

"Well that was different," James said, turning back to the stove. "Anyone want eggs?" He wasn't actually hungry. He'd needed something to do, some sort of excuse so that people didn't (rightly) accuse him of brooding. He hoped someone said yes so that he could offload them. 

"I'll take some," Harry said. 

"Great. Sirius?" 

"Nah, I'm not hungry yet," Sirius said, coming up behind James and wrapping his arms around his waist. He hooked his chin over James's shoulder. 

James didn't relax against him. He didn't deserve that comfort. In the war, he should've insisted that Sirius stay the secret keeper. He'd let them switch to Peter because Sirius had looked so desperate, but he hadn't wanted to. Sirius had held his life in his hands, and that's exactly where James had wanted it. He shouldn't have let Sirius change his mind. If he'd stuck to what he wanted, none of this would've happened. Sirius wouldn't have that haunted look in his eyes any time he stopped laughing; Sirius wouldn't be so thin that James could count each and every rib when he laid down. 

He did like that Sirius was comfortable enough to do this with him again, though. When he'd first gotten back, Sirius hadn't initiated anything. Not a single touch, let alone kisses or hugs. This was a good thing for Sirius. He'd come a long way in a very short amount of time, and James was happy for him. He was happy for him in a small, specific way that sort of paled in comparison for what he was being forced to get over. 

*

James wasn't used to hating himself. He used to be a pretty great bloke, all things considered, and he generally liked himself. What wasn't to like? He was amazing. Based on Quidditch prowess alone, he was one of the better people he'd ever met. That Sirius loved him bumped him rather solidly up to the top, with his handsome face an added bonus like the cherry on top of a sundae. 

The problem now was that he was buggering horrible. Not bad enough to be at the bottom of the list, but he was so fucking low he might as well be on the floor. It was a crock of shite. How had this happened? Life wasn't fair, he knew that, but it was quite another thing to say that Lily was still dead and Harry had grown up around people that hated and feared him and Sirius had spent twelve years locked in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, and James was the one that managed to skip all the terrible shite. He died sure, but he came back. He was given the love of his life, their son, a new wand... everything. He'd been given back everything. And he didn't deserve any of it. 

He sodding hated this. 

Harry was okay-- mostly-- and that was good! It was great, even. But half the time when James looked at him, he didn't recognise him. He looked like family, sure, but he wasn't the baby that James had held a year ago. He would recognise that baby if he saw him again, but it had been years. It had been years since James had been alive, and that meant that Harry had went and grown up. He was his own person, with opinions and mates of his own, and James had missed out on all the time where he got those things. 

To everyone else, James had been gone/dead for fourteen years. To James, he'd been knocked out with an injury and woke up to find that everyone was different to what he'd known. Some things were incredibly similar. His father's house, for example, looked exactly the way that it had when he'd last seen it. Sirius looked different, but he was ultimately the same. Some of his edges were rougher-- both physically and emotionally-- but the base was the same as it had always been. 

It was easier with everyone else than it was with Harry. James was supposed to have been there for him for each and every step he took, and he'd missed all of it. Lily would know what to do if she was here. It's not that she always made the right decisions, but she didn't like not having a plan. When she was uncertain, she would make a plan. She used to tell him that everything was better with a plan, even if the plan was 'wait and think more', because at least then he would have something to work towards. 

James didn't have a plan, here. People had been asking him what he planned on doing-- about Harry, about Sirius, about the war-- and he never had an answer. He didn't even have the plan to wait and think more. He was just... focusing on Sirius. Pretending that everything was fine because if he tried to think about everything else, he couldn't get himself to stand. 

*

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked. 

James turned to him, a smile coming automatically to his face. "'Course. Why, what's up?" 

"That smile, for one." 

"Er, okay?" James said, his expression turning into something more like a frown. "I can be miserable if that's what you want, but I gotta say that it's a little weird." 

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment, but he looked worried. 

"Are you okay?" 

He raised one hand and rubbed his thumb over James's cheek. Not the cheekbone, but the round, middle part where it would plump up when he smiled. "You keep smiling when you're not happy. You want to explain that to me?" 

James's smile came back automatically. "What are you talking about? I'm fine." 

"Like that," Sirius said, looking more worried than before. "Right now you're smiling, but you're not feeling it. You're allowed to be sad." 

He imagined that, were his calm emotions a marble counter, there would be a massive crack in it. It was jarring. He'd thought he was hiding it pretty well. Smile, and no one would notice that he wasn't feeling as great as he pretended. He should've known that Sirius would realise it, but he'd hoped that he wasn't looking that closely. After all, Sirius had enough to deal with without worrying about what James was doing now that he was alive again. "I'm fine," James said again. "Stop worrying." 

"Don't lie to me," Sirius said quietly. James swallowed. He didn't like lying to Sirius, but it had been over something so small this time that he didn't think it really counted. Evidently, Sirius did not feel the same way about it. "If you're not upset, then you're covering something else up. So what is it? You can't keep on like you have been." When James didn't say anything, he said, "Talk to me. Whatever it is, I promise I can deal with it." 

"It's nothing," James said, but it was weak. 

Sirius didn't even have to say anything else. All he had to do was keep looking at him, and James broke. The crack in his calm deepened until it fell into two separate pieces, and he started to cry. He didn't even feel like he needed to cry; he just started to, and he couldn't make himself stop. Sirius held him the entire time. He didn't tell him that it was okay or that he was safe or any of the things that James normally said to Sirius when their positions were reversed; it made James feel a little better because there wasn't a fix to this. The world had changed when he wasn't around, and now he had to deal with that. Making it better meant that he had to adapt, not that the world needed to change back to the way it had been before. 

When James's sobs tapered off into sniffles, Sirius said, "If it- if it's about us or me, you can tell me that." 

James immediately shook his head. "It's not." His voice sounded small and croaky to his ears from crying, but maybe that was just in his head and not anything that Sirius could hear. "Not really." 

Sirius was quiet for a moment, smoothing his hand up and down James's back. James could straighten, could get his face out of Sirius's shirt now that he wasn't really crying anymore, but he didn't want to. Not looking at him made it easier. "Not really?" Sirius repeated. 

"You were in Azkaban." 

"So?" 

"So? So? What the hell do you mean by that?" James asked, shooting up to stare at him, dumbfounded. His initial idea to not look him in the face went right out the window. How could he be so flippant about it? 

Sirius squirmed a little at the sudden scrutiny. "It happened. There's nothing we can do about it. I don't want to think about it because it makes me feel worse. I just want to focus on what we have now." 

"Just like that? It's that easy for you?" 

"James..." Sirius reached over, putting a hand on the back of James's neck. "I thought I'd lost you. Forever. I never thought I'd see you again, but you're here. You're back. I don't care about the other shite. I would've done anything to see you again. Twelve years in Azkaban was worth it now that you're here." 

James started to tear up again. He shook his head. "Nothing's worth that," he choked out. 

"I disagree," Sirius said softly, and it was that simple for him. 

*

James curled up against Sirius's side. Sirius always slept on his back, so it was easy for James to sleep cuddled up to him. He looked worlds better than he had when James had first gotten back. He still wasn't up to his normal weight, but he didn't look quite so emaciated anymore. 

He got to know Harry. It was weird to be more like his older brother than a father, but at least he had the chance to know him. 

He didn't feel like he'd been awake for very long, but it must have been because when Sirius shifted and James lifted his head, he could feel that the half of his face that had been on Sirius's shoulder was imprinted with red. 

"How long have you been awake?" Sirius asked sleepily, his words slurring together. 

"I dunno." 

"You okay?" 

James thought about it before answering since Sirius didn't like when he said yes automatically. He put his head back down where it had been before. It wasn't quite as comfortable as it had been ten seconds ago. "I think so. Things are... getting better." 

Sirius nodded, then yawned. "You gonna get back to sleep?" 

"Are you getting up?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then no. I'll just get up with you." 

Sirius nodded again, turning his head so that he had a face full of James's hair. "Love you," he breathed. 

"Yeah." Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that for a few weeks. It had taken Sirius saying it a couple dozen times before he properly remembered. "Yeah, I love you too." He knew that the way his hand tightened on Sirius was slightly uncomfortable, but he eased up after a moment. He needed the constant reminder that Sirius was there; the same way that he knew Sirius liked constant reminders that James was still there. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 46)

“Wheeee!” Tom-Tom whooped happily. “Higher, Mai, higher!”

She gave the swing another push and his delighted giggles increase in volume and amount. Despite the trouble he has caused her, he was the only thing she had left to cling onto. Especially now that Zuko has moved on. She supposed that it was her own fault. She had broken things off with him, what right did she have to complain?

She gave the swing another push.

Her focus was waning. She had asked him how he was doing and he had told her that he was a month clean. That news had been a thrill, the only good news she had heard in the past few months. Good until it wasn’t. Good until she offered to take him back when he came back to Wan High. Good until he told her that he would be going for a GED instead of returning to Wan High. Good until he told her that he had a new boyfriend.

There he was sorthing his life out. Overcoming an addiction and years of abuse.

And there she was with a tattoo and shredded arms.

Not that she had the will to make any changes. She told him that it was fine when he texted, ‘I don’t think that we’re healthy for each other, Mai’. She even agreed. But she had a fresh slash on her left forearm. She said that it sounded fine to her when he suggested, ‘we can still talk, I just think that we should find people we don’t have so much history with.’ Perhaps they weren’t abusive to each other, not on purpose anyways, but they were about as close as they could have gotten to it without being there. And so she had a second fresh slash.

An ‘X’ she had cut into her skin.

Tom-Tom squealed sharply and for one horrible moment she thought that he had fallen while her mind had wandered. “Again, Mai, again! Start pushing again!” It would seem that she had let the swing come to a stop entirely, she muttered an apology and initiated the motion again.

Her arm had a third slash that morning. She drew it out upon concluding that she was a fair weather friend. Whoever the hell this Hahn guy was, he had taken Zuko through heroine hell and rode it out with him. She had dropped Zuko the moment he suggested drugs. Even when they were in their on and off again state, she had made a point of dodging and refusing to acknowledge his mentions of heroine.

She had done his sister the same. The girl got into one of her moods and Mai had cut her out, in no mood herself to deal with that. She couldn’t have just been an adult and told Azula that she was in an introverted mood. No, she had ignore the problem until it grew. And then she found out about the accident and she didn’t have the guts to apologize for making assumptions. She had cut her friend out entirely, when she needed someone the most.

At least she could say that she didn’t play favorites when it came to the Kasai siblings, they both got the same cold shoulder. The same absent attitude. The same lack of sympathy.

She wanted to believe that there was at least one person she took up a ride or die mentality for. But she had cut TyLee out when the girl stopped acting bubbly and fun.

In retrospect she didn’t know how she was demanding joy and pep from TyLee when her own mood resembled a thick chilly mist. And, compared to TyLee, compared to Azula and Zuko and Katara, were her problems really so deep?

They had so much more to deal with. Much steeper battles, and they didn’t go emotionally blank. They still had fight and spunk, even if that spark had been momentarily dulled, they got it back.

She zoned in on Tom-Tom’s joyful babbles, trying to force herself into happiness. Really, it was a perfect day.  Sunny but enchantingly snow. Winter had always been her favorite season. The snow fell in thick flakes, the kind whose shape one could discern. Tom-Tom was a bundle of excitement, this was the happiest she’d seen him since his accident. The last of the birds chirped pleasantly.

By all means, she should be happy.

But she wasn’t. She would have enjoyed this and she knew that she would look back on this day and hate herself for not being able to appreciate such a perfect day in full. That even this small moment of happiness was tainted by an undertone of somber. And  that

made her miserable tenfold.

“I wanna go slide.” Tom-Tom pointed.

“That’s all wet, Tom.”

“I wanna go slide, Mai.” He was tugging at her arm. She winced as the fabric rubbed over her cuts. She took him to the slid just to get it to stop.

She let him play until his nose turned red. “Alright Tom, time to go home.”

“Not yet.” He sniffled.

“It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold.” But the snot running freely down his face told her otherwise.

“You’re getting all, snotty, that’s gross and it means it’s time to go home.” She lifted him up, ignoring his protests and the sharp pangs in her arms.

.oOo.

“I watched Tom-Tom good this time.” She tried. “He had a lot of fun.”

“And you’ll be watching him that closely until the day you move out of this house.” Michi screeched. “Watching Tom-Tom is the only way we can make sure that you don’t go out and get tattoos.”

She wished she had a good pair of headphones, anything to drown the woman out. She was tired of hearing about the tattoo. Tired of hearing about every little thing she did wrong and nothing of what she did right. Has she ever done anything right?

She was beginning to wonder.

She yanked Tom-Tom’s hand much rougher than she had intended. “It’s bath time Tom, and don’t give me a hard time. She let the tub warm before plopping him into the water.

“Are you mad at me? I’s sorry.”

Mai sighed. “I’m not mad at you Tom, I’m mad at mommy and daddy.”

“Why?”

How was she supposed to explain that to a toddler. “You know how mommy sometimes makes you pick up your blocks and it makes you angry.”

He nodded.

“Mommy makes me pick up my blocks and her blocks.” Mai explained. “I didn’t even play with them, does that sound very fair, Tom.”

“Mmm mmm, no fair.” He folded his arms over his chest.

Mai began shampooing his hair. “That’s why I’m mad at mommy.”

“Ouchies.” At first she thought that she had snagged his hair. It took her a moment to realize that his finger was pointing at her arm. “Why, ouchies?”

That was something she wouldn’t even try to explain, so she lied. “I get ouchies from art class, that’s why daddy doesn’t let you play with scissors yet.”

.oOo.

What an example she was setting for Tom-Tom.

She eyed her phone, lucky to have it back in her hands, but at the same time she didn’t have much use for it. Her conversation with Zuko had died away, she welcomed that though. She didn’t have anyone else to talk to. This time she had done a very good job at isolating herself.

For a moment she thought of calling that poser Moo-Chee.

She wasn’t that desperate.

But she was feeling rather macostistic. So she texted Azula, simple and to the point. ‘How are you?’

‘Perfect, Mai. Just perfect’. She knew Azula’s texting style well enough to know that it was oozing with sarcasm.

‘What’s wrong?’

She replied with a picture of Chan jumping her car, probably sniveling away.  Compared to that man, Mai looked like a true and die hard friend. ‘Why didn’t you just text me?’ Mai asked. She regretted it as soon as the delivered notification popped up.

‘I was under the impression that you didn’t want to talk to me.’ Azula replied. ‘You made that perfectly clear. So why are you talking now?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to anyone’, wouldn’t have sufficed; she knew that Azula had seen her chatting it up with TyLee. Truth be told, Azula took a lot of energy to be around, more than TyLee or her lunchmates. She didn’t have an adequate response so she simply didn’t reply.

Thirty or so minutes came and went before her phone buzzes again. ‘Really, Mai?’

It was a fair question. She had opened the conversation and let it drop with no warning whatsoever.

‘What did you want me to say?’ Mai responded.

Another thirty minutes and she knew that Azula was returning what she had received.

An hour after that her mother called her downstairs and she braced herself for another lecture and a list of things to do.

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to have friends over.” Michi hissed.

“I didn’t invite anyone.”

“I invite myself to places.” Azula stepped inside. “Have you forgotten that?”

Mai groaned to herself. That was exactly why her mother had no love for Azula.

“Forgive me,” she feigned politeness. “It has been a while since you’ve come to visit.”

Azula shrugged. The girl had a lot of nerve. “Yes, Mai and I are going to talk about that while I’m still in town.”

“Glad to see you’re you again.” Mai commented when they were safely in her room and away from Michi’s overbearing ears.

“I am, more or less.” She seated herself on the foot of Mai’s bed.

Something about her tone indicated that she leaned more towards ‘less.’ “What are you doing here?”

“I was dropping Teo off at home and then Chan wanted to talk about his potential court date so I stuck around.”

“No, what are you doing here?”

“Your text was practically a cry for help.” She rolled her eyes. “I hope you’re better at ass kissing than Chan.”

“You know that I’m not even going to try. If you care about me then you do. I’m not going to beg for it.”

“Take a joke, Mai.”

“Have some compassion.” She returned.

“Not my strong suit.” Azula muttered.

“You seemed to have it for Teo and TyLee...and Katara. Zuko too, probably?”

Azula sprawled herself out on the bed. “Unfortunately, Chan has me in a very…”

“Sassy and sarcastic mood.” Mai filled in nonchalantly.

“Yes.” She admitted. “But I thought I’d drop by anyways. People don’t just start talking to people again unless they’re trying to say something. What are you trying to say?”

She had a feeling that Azula already knew exactly what she was trying to say. She held her arm out anyways.

“You’re doing that again?” Azula’s expression softened. “I thought you stopped doing that in middle school.”

“Yeah. And then your brother happened. And you happened. And my mother…”

“A lot happened.” Azula agreed.

“Why does it matter to you?” She asked. Though she didn’t really think that there was anything Azula could say.  As soon as she left, Mai would be leaving too.

She scrolled through her camera roll, taking it to the very beginning. She, Azula, and TyLee stared boldly into the camera looking for all the world like nothing could knock them from the top. How very wrong they had been.

“That was a long time ago.”

“It was maybe two years ago. That’s not that long.” Azula remarked, unhelpfully. She wasn’t very good at this comforting thing. But at least she was trying, that was more than anyone else, save for Tom-Tom and TyLee, could say. But Tom was just a kid and TyLee had been putting more focus on Katara and her trial these days.

“Don’t you have a long drive or something?” Mai asked.

“Two hours.”

“Then maybe you should get on top of that.”

“And what are you going to do when I leave?” Azula asked. Mai’s stomach crawled. “It isn’t fun you know. It’s not as powerful and glorious as they make it seem. You’re a mess and you can’t breathe. It hurts and it isn’t as quick as they make it out to be. You have time to think about it. To really think about it. And suddenly you want to take it back.”

Mai gripped the bedspread.

“And that’s with pills. I don’t know much about slit wrists but I can imagine that it’ll leave you with just as much time to think about just what it’ll do to your brother.” She stood and headed for the door, knowing very well that Mai would pull her back into the room.

“Are you making the call or am I?”

She didn’t leave any room for arguing. “I’ll call myself.”

“Your mother better learn to accept me inviting myself over.”

“Nobody is ever going to like or accept that, Azula. Especially not my mom. You can save me every single night and she’d still be pissed that you show up announced.”

“That’s probably true.”

“You’ll stay until they get here?”

“I’ll drive you, if you’d rather do that than call.” Azula replied. “It’s along my way.”

.oOo.

The look on her mother’s face when she rolled up her sleeves haunted her. It kept her hushed for most of the drive. It had been a look of complete horror. And her father, she was lucky that he wasn’t home. She was lucky that she wouldn’t be home as her mother struggled to think of how to tell Tom-Tom why the lady was taking his sister away.

“Tom-Tom is probably going to hate you for a while.”

“I had an entire school of people doing that. I think I can handle the scorn of a two year old.”

“He’s four.” Mai noted.

“He’ll get it one day.” Azula replied stoically.

Mai hoped that he would never get it in the way that she and Azula did. Azula up to the institution and found a parking spot. There was nothing Mai wanted less than to go into that building. Azula waited for her to open the door first before opening her own. Apparently she wasn’t going to leave an oppertuinty for Mai to skip out.

That was probably better for her.

“Thanks, Azula.” She mumbled. “I don’t know why you came back for me.”

“Because Katara came back for me.” This time her attempts at keeping a flat tone fall incredibly short. It occurred to Mai, only then, that she had put Azula back in a moment that she’d rather forget.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize.”

She still felt like she should.

She had a lot to apologize for.

“Not everything is your fault all the time.”

She always knew that Azula would be the one to make her cry.

[delicrieux]

RIVALS  [ peter quill x reader ] 0.2

a/n; seriously this chapter is one of my favs EVER from anything i have ever written idk i just like it alot. also! keep in mind that the chapters of this story are written in two different POV’s, and they dive deep into what the character is thinking, so that’s why some info may differ from chapter to chapter

P.S. wrote this listening to sad 80s music smh

summary: Some things are just obvious from an early age: you and Peter were meant to get along no better than a cat and a dog. And not the modern spin on a cat’s and a dog’s relationship either (none of that Disney fun-loving BS). No, we’re talking about that good old fashioned thirst for blood, spite and rivalry.Only that your situation really was Disney like. Which is ironic, since you’ve been raised to spit in anyone’s face that even mentions the name ‘Starlord’.

words;  2,502

warnings: a bit of swearing

0.1   MASTERLIST KO-FI. WRITTING CHALLENGE! 0.3

spacestorms.

“My mom died. I want to say goodbye.”

Your words ring in his ears like a catchy pop song, but without a cheerful note or even a pleasant one. His bed feels rougher than usual: the mattress is cold and the spirals dig into his back, the pillow, no matter how many times he fluffs it, refuses to lay softly under his head and he can already tell that when a new dawn rises he is going to have the mother of neck pains. He crosses his arms under his head, as if that would somehow make his position more comfortable, and stares into the dark ceiling of his private bedroom. He can hear Rocket and Groot playing from somewhere in the spaceship. The clanking and screeching and smacking pierce the air every two to three seconds. Or maybe it’s the storm raging outside.

“My mom died. I want to say goodbye.”

It was ’89 when he met you…Or was it ’88? ’92? He frowns and irritated he shut his eyes to block out the stormy ‘weather’ and Rocket’s excited ‘Woohoo! Check this out, Groot!’. Whatever, not like it matters when he first laid his eyes on you. You were just a kid then, he was too, scared out of your wits but brave enough to show some backbone when one of the other taken kids pulled on your hair. Peter included. He can see it clear as day, your two (color) pigtails and as his small hand wraps around your bright pink hairband and yanks with all of his force. He grins at the memory. Then releases a soft groan when he recalls just how hard your fist crashed into his nose.

You never talked about your mother, though. Not that he can recall. Shadows play on the ceiling, making strange figures and shapes in varying sizes. It almost feels like watching a black and white silent movie consisting of all of his memories. He knew you carried a picture of her in your locket – one of those heart-shaped knock-off silver or golden bedazzles one could get at Macy’s for 55ct. He knew this because all the girls in school used to have one, and each had a secret note: mainly the name of the girls’ crush. He had cracked open your locket numerous times just to see if there was anything inside he could blackmail you with, but each time he did the only thing that would meet him was  a small cut out picture of a smiling woman with the same color eyes as you. How disappointing, younger Peter thought, carefully putting the locket back into an empty bullet box he had taken it from. An eerie wheeze creeps through the cracks in his room and he is distracted from his memories once more. The storm outside continues to rage.

Why him? Why did you come to him? If you need to be sneaked into Terra, he can name at least fifteen people, who can do it better and with enthusiasm. No, is it something personal?

The Carnic incident. It clicks in him and his jaw tenses. The two of you were raised as rivals – where Peter lacked, you prevailed and never failed to shove it in his face and vice versa. So he wasn’t as crafty, big deal, you couldn’t shoot a target for the life of you and he never did figure out was it just a lack of skill or a strict morale code. He had no trouble breaking a few bones, you on the other hand… Again, those shadows form a strange dark figure that greatly resembles that slick black model spaceship that caused your permanent ban from Terra. Yeah, so you were rivals. Peter didn’t want to physically hurt you, make you as emotionally unstable as he was – yes- but no actual bodily harm. A bright red box with three strings skillfully wired and a small microchip in between them. To anyone that knew a thing or two about engineering that core would’ve looked like a Michelangelo painting. Rivals. Rivals. He cut one of the strings so you’d fail to make an impression. He never thought the consequences would be so severe.

“My mom died. I want to say goodbye.”

Great, now he feels like shit. It happened a long time ago, he reminds himself, shutting his eyes again as if to get rid of that horrid look on your faces as the playful colors of fire reflect on your pale cheeks and dance inside your eyes. But to be fair, you never once said you felt bad about being banned. Annoyed, maybe, but it’s not like you wanted to go back, right?…Right?

The spaceship rattles violently and the hissing of a nearby pipe makes Peter jump lightly. It’s almost like a thunderstorm, except more dangerous. Their safety is completely out of his control though, so he focuses his worry on you instead and the growing guilt he’s feeling. He’s Starlord, The STARLORD, he isn’t supposed to feel shitty over a thing he did more than fifteen years ago! And also, who knew you’d lose someone and even WANT to go back to Terra? From what you had told him, your old life sucked. Earth was lame anyway, the people in it too. First of all, there were thunderstorms and you were absolutely terrified of those—

Wait a minute. Where the hell are you?

A soft knocking on his door draws him out his thoughts once again and he doesn’t even have to wonder who stands behind it – it’s you. His voice comes out gravely and tired, but it reaches you on the other side and before long the door slides open, flooding the dark room with dim flickering light and your distorted shadow. His body stiffens almost painfully as his ears catch a faint sniffle and you stumble into his room holding your breath. He’s almost scared to move. Where will you sit? What should he say? His brain is frying and he’s suddenly terrified. His tongue twists in his mouth and he can’t find the energy to open his lips, only to panic silently.

You dunk heavily next to him, your body like a furnace spiking heat through the thin fabric of the sheet he’s tangled in. Your shoulders shake softly and again he has no idea what to do. What did he do when you were upset back in the good old days, before his playboyish ways ruined any and all chances he may have possibly had with you, before you really started to hate him for being so out there and attracting danger, before you wanted to quit this outlaw life so badly you nearly blew up the whole station (without his meddling this time)? He doesn’t quite recall, and silently he curses, coming to sit.

When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you don’t notice them.

“Ever seen a man so beautiful you started crying?” His words come out gentle, playful but confident, just as he had hoped and you crack a teary smile, wiping a few pesky tears away from your cheeks as you glance at him: through the dark he can see your eyes glister like scarabs, tracing every line of his face and the loopy grin he has fixed to mask just how unsure he is. It’s not exactly awkward; he wouldn’t specifically use that word. It’s just strange. You here. You being here, in general, not only in his room though it is a nice plus. You are friends. Were friends. The echoes of the big argument the two of you had had such a long time ago cling to his skin, and he knows you well enough by now that you remember it too: the look on your face betrays you, the stiffness of your shoulders and the slight quiver of your lip as if you want to say something but can’t or simply won’t.

Distance. It’s distance.

“I have, actually. In my dreams.” You reply, trying to sound nonchalant but it falls a bit flat. Peter raises a brow with a smirk pulling on the corner of his lips.

“Did he look like me?”

“Dear God, no.” You finish with a shaky laugh that has just a bit of life in it.

He gasps, “I’m hurt. You come into my room, disturb my beauty sleep and insult me.” He shakes a finger at you, “Do you really hate me that much?”

An eerie silence settles, it seems like even the storm calmed whatever it’s brewing. Peter didn’t expect the question to slip him and by the look on your face you didn’t either. Despite laced with humor it had more truth to it than either of you are willing to admit. Peter releases a dry chuckle and runs a hand through his hair, his mind shrilling through every corner of his brain to dig up something lighter, yet he ends up with nothing. The question hangs in the air. You gaze at him for a long while –his figure is a bit blurry from the bad lighting and, well, tears – but after a while that seems to last an eternity you avert your eyes to your feet.

“I don’t…” You rasp, “I never…” You don’t quite seem to know how to finish, but it’s enough for him. He visibly relaxes, though it’s a bit frightening how happy your answer makes him feel.

“Oh, lighten up, (Title).” He huffs, falling back into his pillows, “You have less spark in you than today’s pop music. Don’t tell me it’s the horrid rattle of death from the spacestorm that’s messing with your head.”

“Does your ship even have the safety th—“

“Nope.”

You raise a brow. He sounds almost proud. “I cant believe I expected you to follow basic protocol.”

“Hey, I’m an outlaw. A famous outlaw. I don’t follow protocol. The protocol follows m—

“It really doesn’t.”

He grins. He successfully distracted you from whatever the hell was going through your head when you appeared next to his door. This playful back and forth continued for a while, the quietness from outside almost uneasy, but entirely forgotten by the two of you. You even managed to laugh a little, though it was weak and clogged by dry tears, it was still better than nothing.

All hell breaks loose when the alarms flare and dye the whole spaceship red. The spacestorm hits hard and the whole ship shakes. Your hairs stand on end, from the impact you are nearly thrown to the other side of the room but Peter’s strong hands latch onto your waist and yank you close to his chest. You suck in a breath. The alarms stop. All fall’s still.

“Sorry!” Gamora’s voice rings out followed by Rocket’s cussing.

Your shoulders tremble, still struck from the sudden hit you stare blankly into the contours of his room, trying not to fall into the vortex of fear that’s slowly clouding all sane judgement you can make. Your fingers grip the sheet tightly and you don’t move, your head resting on Peter’s chest as his arm is still safely around you. It’s hot. Your cheeks burn, but you hardly feel it – it’s more of a subconscious reaction. Peter’s thumb draws circles on your side, as a way to soothe you, and after a while it actually works. It feels pleasant. Right. The ship rattles again dangerously, and you shut your eyes to block out that squeaky sound and the potential danger it warms of.

Peter’s having a much harder time focusing on anything that doesn’t involve you being so close to him. Your presence takes up all and any room in his mind and he gulps, unsure of what to do next. Thankfully his body has a mind of his own – his hand squeezes your side and you nuzzle your head into his chest as if trying to hide away from every bad thing in the world. He really should’ve worm a shirt because having you touch his bare skin is way more distracting than he imagined. What would young Peter had done to cheer you up? Certainly not hold you close, his hormones couldn’t have taken that. They still barely can.

“Shhh…Shhh now, Starlord’s gonna protect ya.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Peter I have yet to hear a lamer name.”

“Do you want to sleep outside?” Silence. “That’s what I thought…”

That quick thud thud thud of a blaring motor or a start of a motorcycle engine – his heart almost mimics the jumps. He wonders if you can hear it, with your head resting directly on the place of his heart that is. Fuck, can you hear it? That’s pretty embarrassing, but seeing as you’re still trying to occupy your thoughts with anything but the storm, you probably don’t even care. That or just holding your mouth shut because you don’t want to embarrass him. Which you would never do.

“Comfortable?” He asks, absentminded.

“Your skin is sweaty.”

“Are you sure it’s not you? I took a shower—Okay, okay, stop glaring, I was joking…Joking! Jeez, you look like a baby Krylorian when you puff up like that.”

“I will twist your nipple if you continue talking.”

“You’re assuming I’m not into that.”

“Issues. You have them. I’m leaving.” You barely make it two inches away from him when his arm tightens around you and he pushes you back down.

“No, no, stay. Just…forget I said anything.” He closes his eyes, “Or…whatever.” You silently oblige, finding a comfortable position. The trip, the talk, the storm – it tires you out and you are fairly quick asleep. Peter stay’s wide awake through most of the night, his fingers still playing patterns on the soft fabric of your shirt as he stares into the depths of his ceiling again. The crew must’ve ‘fallen asleep as well since he misses the never ending clanking and Groot’s occasional exclamation, as if a reminder – he’s here, in this ship and don’t you dare forget it.

You feel nice. So fucking nice that he has trouble resting because of it. He can smell your shampoo, that’s probably one of the reasons he can’t exactly fall into dream land like you had no trouble doing. His mind races. He really should get some rest if he wants to annoy you in the morning, but he simply can’t. Plus, laying on his back isn’t exactly the most comfortable of positions and his right leg had fallen asleep a long time ago. He won’t move though. You look so peaceful he doesn’t want to ruin this for you. But just this once. And maybe next time if you really want to show up at his room again.

TBH

[renzywenzy]

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story Review

*Spoiler Warning*

Holy shit. That was a damn good movie and a fine addition to Lucas Arts Disney’s Star Wars film series. Allow me to preface my review by saying that I have started writing this just a few short hours after watching the film but who knows when I’ll finish? I’ve digested it as much as I can and I’ve taken down notes of all the important things I wanted to talk about and now I believe I’m ready to start this review. That out of the way, here is my review of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

So to start with this movie, I’d actually like to point out all the stuff that I did not enjoy first and then go to the positives. I don’t have much criticism so I wanted to get that out of my plate first. So here are the negatives.

Cons:

1.) The lack of compelling characters. This is probably my biggest gripe with the film. I was never able to fully invest in these characters emotionally. That’s not to say that these people have bad characterizations or that their dull. It’s just that they lack the emotional depth of other main characters before them. This is most likely because the movie itself doesn’t give them enough time to fully develop. Let’s take a look at some of these characters.

Felicity Jones plays the main protagonist, Jyn Erso. Jyn is the daughter of the former Imperial scientist and now kidnapped farmer Galen Erso (the mastermind of the Death Star) and her initial actions are motivated by the chance to meet her father again. Problem is I didn’t really care and that’s because the plot didn’t give enough time (or any time at all) to strengthen that father-daughter bond. That’s why when they finally meet each other again and Galen is killed, it unfortunately doesn’t evoke any emotion and it actually felt a bit flat. I really really wanted to care about her journey on being with her father again but I realized if I had to try so hard then the movie isn’t executing that aspect right. One of the main issues with Jyn is that her problems with the Rebellion aren’t explored enough. It’s just one of those aspects about her that’s mentioned in one or 2 scenes but not expanded upon in any sort of meaningful way. She reminded me a lot of Han Solo. Like Han in his initial scenes in A New Hope, Jyn is someone with a criminal background who does not side with anybody and only does things for her own benefit. That is until she becomes part of much bigger cause. This was an awesome aspect of her. However, even though she is bad ass (really bad ass by the way), she just lacks the charm of Han Solo and she doesn’t go through the same carefully handled character progression that Han goes through which is a huge shame. 

And then there’s Cassian Andor played by Diego Luna. Now with Cassian, I liked his inner struggle a bit more. His problem was that he kept doing bad things for the Rebellion and that he felt as if these actions are not justified. This could have made for some really good character progression but it’s just that his inner problems were solved just as quickly as they were introduced. Again, if the film had highlighted this aspect of him more than it did then Cassian would be a better character overall. 

Honestly, I would’ve given these issues a pass IF we would see more of these 2 in future films but seeing as how they died in the end (like I said, spoilers) then their characters’ potential growth is pretty much over and done with. 

2.) The story is nothing to talk about. Or at least nothing really exciting to talk about. After watching this film, all I could really say about it was that it was about finding the plans to the Death Star. That particular aspect of the narrative is strong but nearly (key word) everything around it feels pretty flat. There was just not enough life or any of that “wow” moment in the story. Any scene where I’m supposed to show emotion just does not work. It’s never given any weight so sadly it’s never earned. For example:

In that scene where Jyn is listening to a holocommunicator message from her father and she starts breaking down. Yeah that scene. I didn’t really care, it didn’t emotionally affect me in any sort of way, it didn’t make me want to see her reunite with her father and I found that scene pretty manipulative. Before you say I’m some sort of insensitive asshole, I have genuinely cried in films before but for those emotional scenes that had a lot of build-up and where the emotional payoff was earned. Same can not be said for most of the “sad” scenes in this film. Yes, there were characters here who I did like (and even love) but I still didn’t care for their deaths and we’ll get to those characters in a little while.

3.) The first act of the film is choppy. This is more or less piggy-backing off of what I just said about the characters not being given enough time to develop. 30 minutes into the film and I felt like it was all over the place. Introduce a character, skip, introduce another character, skip, sprinkles of exposition here, skip, introduce another character, and skip. There was a lack of focus that hurts the pacing. With issues #1 and #2 mixing together, I found myself asking “Are we supposed to give a shit?” a bunch of times at least in the preceding half. Thankfully, the focus is finally set and established by the latter part of the 2nd act and nearly, if not all of the 3rd act. Which bring us to the positives.

Pros:

1.) Now, going into a Star Wars film means that I had certain expectations. After watching the great Force Awakens, there was a certain magic that I was looking for that’s very hard to explain. What I will say is this: Rogue One offers the same kind of magic but presented differently. What I mean by that it has a darker and rougher tone than previous films. Probably the darkest that it has ever been. There was an image in the beginning that I’ll never forget that I wish I could show. I hope my description can suffice. The main character, Jyn, was being escorted (to prison, most likely) and the Stormtroopers escorting her had dirty armor. If memory serves me correctly, I don’t remember any Clone trooper or Stormtrooper from the originals, prequels, and even Force Awakens look so untidy. They’re usually in mint condition even during battle. But in here, they look like they’ve been through a lot of shit and are just tired. This was an image that showed me that this is going to be a Star Wars film with a dash of grit and for this film, it worked overall. The best part of the story is how the Rebellion/Republic aren’t presented as the heroic bunch of do-gooders that have an unwavering sense of morality. No no no in here they are willing to get their hands dirty and kill people who may not even deserve it. The character of Forest Whitaker, Saw Gerrera (Nice job in tying in this story with Rebels), represents what a radical extremist in the side of the Republic looks like. He’s not necessarily a good person. In fact, the people Jyn associates with aren’t clean cut themselves. They just happen to be a side that’s the lesser of two evils. 

2.) Speaking of the other evil, the Empire subplot that focused on the tension between main villain the Orson Krennic (who is a solid bad guy) and the CGI-laden Moff Tarkin (we’ll get to the CGI eventually) was pretty cool. The confrontations between the two men of the Empire were honestly some of the best scenes and it made me care about the villain a bit more. Yeah, Orson is an asshole who throws hissy fits and unfairly kills scientists who did nothing wrong and but seeing him be bullied and taken out by an even bigger asshole - who also takes Krennic’s credit - made me root for him a little bit (at least against Tarkin). Oh and that final scene where Krennic looked at the Death Star as it was about to obliterate the planet along with him was marvelous.

3.) That brings me to my next positive point: The action-packed and thrilling third act of the film. There really is not much to say here except that it’s where shit hits the fan and the glorious blasting and dogfighting begins. The action sequences in these final minutes are so well-done. The rebel wings taking out the 2 Star Destroyers was a thing of beauty and the Darth Vader fight scene (if you can even call it a fight because it was extremely one-sided) was just plain bad-ass. One tiny negative I can point out is the continuity issue with the AT-T walkers. I thought Empire Strikes Back has taught us that tying them up was the only way of taking them down. I first thought that maybe the Empire upgraded their AT-T walkers because of how they were taken out in this battle BUT I remembered since everyone was destroyed by the Death Star, who’d be alive to tell them about the walker weakness? Just a small gripe in an otherwise massive positive.

4.) Donnie Yen as Chirrut Imwe and Aland Tudyk as the voice of K2SO. These two were the highlights of the supporting cast. Yen provides his usual martial-arts badassery as the blind but force-sensitive monk. In fact, his character adds more to the idea of the “Force”. It’s honestly refreshing to see (no pun intended) that this intangible power is present even with someone without the ability to see. This means that there is much more to learn and hopefully, Chirrut Imwe marks the beginning of more characters like him to appear in future movies. Maybe we’ll get a character with no arms at all and yet, still can kick ass just with his/her mastery of the Force. That would be a little silly at first but I believe it will work. 

Tudyk delivers a sarcastic brand of comedy that adds layers to droid characters. Although his jokes can sometimes be unnecessary, when they do hit, they hit hard. What I loved most about his character is that he really didn’t have that much character development. Now, I know development is important but the reason I didn’t need it from K2SO is that he is basically an expendable, comedy-relief character. Besides, because Jyn didn’t go through much character progression herself, I’d find it improbable for K2SO to become completely open and warm to her so his ongoing mild surliness was appropriate and consistently entertaining. 

5.) The fan service. Now there’s not a whole lot of fan service here like in the Force Awakens but there are just enough to put a smile on anyone’s face if they get the references. Some of them may have felt more forced than others (*cough* R2-D2 and C-3PO *cough*) but at the end of the day, I’d rather have them in than not at all. My personal favorite reference was seeing Cornelius Evazan and his buddy again. For those who don’t remember him, he’s the dude who has the death sentence in 12 systems. It was just awesome seeing him and his deformed face again and with his arm still intact. The biggest fan service here is arguably seeing Darth Vader and his daughter, Princess Leia, again. Speaking of which. 

5.)  I was a bit iffy about the CGI in this film. Particularly Moff and Leia but after thinking about it and after looking at their digitized selves again, I honestly didn’t mind it. It’s nowhere near as bad as the work done on Han’s head when Greedo shot first and it’s much better than I had initially expected. I honestly didn’t care if it was CGI, it was nice seeing Princess Leia again.

Ok, this part’s gonna get a bit serious. There was something a bit poetic about all this. About me watching this film on the precise day that I did. I had seen Rogue One just a few days after Carrie Fisher’s death (God rest her soul) and seeing Princess Leia at the time of watching meant much more than ever. When I saw her, it hit me and it really dawned on me that she was gone. She was a huge part of my childhood because I had the biggest crush on her when I first watched her in “A New Hope”. There was just an air of magnetism in her eyes and in her voice that attracted me. Not only that, she was really the first badass heroine that I had ever seen in movies. She was a strong woman who spoke to and for generations and for that, I’ll miss her badly. Damn, can you imagine how people will feel watching her in Episode 8? 

Overall, Rogue One is a strong entry in the Star Wars mythos. Solid performance from the cast even if the film doesn’t have the engaging characters like a Luke, Han, Leia, Rey, or Finn. It falters somewhat in the beginning but quickly picks itself up and goes all out in most of the 2nd act and in the entirety of the 3rd. While it may lack some of the personality and magic of previous films, it has its own unique depth by adding some grit to its more grounded tone.