#firstchosen

[burntmartyr]

today’s a special day! i’d like to welcome everyone to this occasion, the two year anniversary of an ongoing celebration. yes, we’re talking about wrenella day! two years ago on this day i messaged wren about wanting to interact with their sabine and received a formal response back. today, i greet them on skype calls with “i don’t like your fuckin’ attitude” and / or other loving profane-filled greetings.

with that said, to @weaponexpert / @firstchosen / @lothrat + more !

it’s been an extraordinary two years that have past. i honestly cannot look back and remember a time in my life where i was without you, and believe it or not, it was quite dull  --  well, the skype life was. you know enough about me, as i do about you, to know that spontaneous shit would’ve kept going on in my life regardless. but i wouldn’t have had anyone to share it with, were it not for you. we stay up late and fall asleep to our ongoing conversations, exhaustion laced in our laughter, only to recall the memories in the morning and laugh once more.

wren  --  you are phenomenally talented. everything you’ve said about me just now in your earlier post, i can safely say the same regarding you; except it’s tenfold. it was your promo for sabine way back in the day that caught my attention, that ignited a desire to want to take part in the star wars fandom. essentially, i joined because of you. i came, and i never left. it’s with great sincerity i say that i am glad of this as well. i don’t think you write great characters, i think you embody them. i believe you are them, you become them in your writing, as your love bleeds into the effort of establishing and developing them in your own unique way. you are devoted and versatile, passionate and innovative, mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. 

i have seen you at your worst. i have seen on the verge of tears and heard sobs, i’ve seen your rage and watched you dealt with the worst of bad days. and i have seen your best, your phenomenal best; your joy, your smile, your laugh. there’s a variety of laughs you have that i love though i’ve told you which one is my favorite. i have felt nothing but proud of you no matter the day simply for the fact that you got through it. 

we share just about everything to unusual families to emotional shit we don’t really talk about with anyone else. we talk issues and spill salt. we’ve got a mutual love in wwe and an unironic, unashamed one for twilight simutaneously. incredible, isn’t it?

no offense, but we’re the ideal meme dream team here. we’ve got pearl harbor and slapping titties. you gave my y’all while i gave you deadass. as we nyoom our way through times -- including the incident where i almost choked on rice and died on a live call -- we finally come to the realization that indeed, everyone in this neighborhood is a fucking homo. 

so overall, a giant thank you for putting up with me and all the times i’ve drunk called. or all the times i fucked up in english or cried in greek. thank you for getting me into fmab and making me love a minor lizard character, you fucking asshole, because jokes on you: we’re gonna adopt five hundred lizards to compensate for that. thank you for the laughter, thank you for the sincerity and trust, thank you for the memories. and above all else, thank you for the love.

i love you, wren. you’re one of my best friends and biggest inspirations on tungle dot hell. through thick and thin, at least we have each other. happy wrenella day, with all my love always.  ♥♥♥♥♥

[secondheir]

         ❛  so  ----   ❜    complacent tone is simply dripping in his voice  --  laced with pseudo charm, a completed frame with a grin etched on his face belonging to a woman who echoed his actions of this predicament once long ago  --  somewhat aware he’s being a bit of a nuisance. only ten percent or so by his calculations  ( surely the environment is enough of a distraction ; how does one concentrate so keenly as she? )   and he’s got a one in four chance of being struck yet again.

                                       if it does not cost him teeth, it’s a consequence he’s willing to take.

    arms crossed, violet eyes blatant studying her from where she is seated on the presumably cold floor.    ❛    you uh -- you some kinda jedi?    ❜

┊ ˚˖↷  @firstchosen

[unfavoredheir]

places a series of happy little kisses all over her tío's face!! - firstchosen

without any warning, he finds himself caught in a bombardment of physical affection. had this come from anyone else, his reaction probably would have gone differently  –  resistance, repulsion, recoil all drawn from turmoil and trauma. ironic, for someone who used to crave it in his youth and even now is starved for it ; he does not mean to wince, really. and he has managed to learn to blink back needless tears. it’s all over now. & they will be alright.

thankfully, on this occasion he reacts normally ( as normal as one gets ) with laughter, unable to do anything aside from uselessly turning his face away for her to press kisses at his side, at his scars. she has no fear, no care. frankly, he’s surprised she’s never asked  –  perhaps she is too little, or perhaps it will go unspoken  –  and sometimes in times like these the silence is preferable. silence, aside from her mischievous giggles as chubby toddler hands grasp ahold of his shoulders to keep balance.

❛  sobrina  –  ❜  he tries to say at first. he’s been told that’s the response to tío but finds himself preferring, amidst choked up laughter,  ❛  –  ‘mia, mia, mia baby! i surrender!  ❜ 

( unconsciously, he weeps ; though the tears, warm and silent, are brought about from joy – her love unconditional & innocent, a reminiscent of himself. )  

[secondheir]

     BEWILDERMENT ETCHED IN A VIOLET GAZE.  mere moments, seconds almost too late  --  time counting against him ; his head turned. arms crossed. posture straightened and stiff, conscious and on guard even in solitude and sanctuary  (  that which feels temporary, that which he won’t say )   but distracted by nonexistent dangers. is it imaginative or a faraway thought when he thinks of echoing thunders, of rumbling ominous storms above his head somewhere in this compound. or is he truly hearing things? he happens to turn when the bone chilling gasp escapes her, as though an otherworldly force snatched her breath. and she’s halfway to the floor as he, instinctively but rather clumsily, dives after to break the fall.  

         ❛  mia?   ❜   a rather unorthodox nickname that had yet to gain her approval. it’s better than swears or panicking when his hands fumble, shaking ever so lightly. not dead not dead but what  ----  ?  he should be screaming for a med droid, he should be screaming. yet his voice is constraint, limited to only her hearing. if she is still listening, that is. his voice, utterly lost and rather childish sounding makes a hapless plea  -- practically the first words that come to mind, stumbling about.     ❛   mia? mia ... mia. wake up. wake up. please.   ❜

┊ ˚˖↷  @firstchosen