#back on my fucking bullshit

[dirtytransmasc]

screaming and crying over Spider and Neteyam and Fable;

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned" I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn? Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I Look into the open sky Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like his eyes Like his eyes I dream of eternal life

Spider grieving the death of the baby brother he failed. he never pushed him away, he clung to him, he clung so hard, even if he did so quietly, because that was his first brother, his baby brother, in a way that Lo'ak was not (because first and younger are different. they matter the exact same, he could never have a favorite, but it's different in a way there are no words for). Neteyam could push and push and he'd still watch over him and love him and worry over him.

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned"

Spider holding his baby brother one last time, even if he just sneaks into the mauri holding the dead, because he otherwise does not belong, scooping his head into his hands to kiss his forehead and whisper a goodbye and tell him he always loved him no matter what and that he's sorry. he's so sorry.

in that moment he realizes that their fate has come to end. they were always doomed. to be brothers. to fall apart. to never get a second chance. that no amount of goodness— because his baby brother was good. flawed. that's not even the right word, too harsh. he could call him flawed. no. no he was a child stumbling through life, a hard life, blindly. but he was good. always. always —could have given them a better fate.

I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn?

a flashback to Neteyam. maybe a memory in Eywa, when the soul of a boy who died too young with too many regrets and dreams and things to fix breaks through the idea of paradise, of peace and rest, of closure, and instead falls onto his brother.

the one he abandoned.

onto whispers— demon. he should be with his own kind. it is unbecoming of you. you need to be a warrior, Neteyam, not running of with him. he will only become his father. his blood bears his sins —that plagued him.

shame blisters his skin. it hurts. it aches. he turned his brother away over whispers? he hurt him over whispers? he put them both through so much pain over whispers?

it had always burned. the feeling was familiar. so familiar. every time he looked back to him and considered taking his hand or curling into his arms or falling into his lap, like old times, questioning why he had ever left this behind... it burned.

why did it burn? he used to think. and now he knows. shame. it was shame.

Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought

death. death and blood. death and blood and pain and...

words left unsaid.

clinging apologies.

pleading— take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. please I'm begging you —words wanting to spill out at freely as the blood on the rocks

none of it was worth it.

love should have always come before hate.

hate was taught.

they only fell apart when they were old enough to understand what hate was.

when Neteyam was old enough to understand he should— according to his mother and his people and his clan and all the weight on his shoulders —hate his brother.

when Spider was old enough to realize no one but his brothers- brother and sisters liked him. liked him enough to fight for him. in their childish ways.

none of it should have been.

had there been love, maybe Neteyam would still be living and breathing. maybe it would have changed their fate.

Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

another flash. the final fall out. a blow up.

desperate pleading once more.

Neteyam begging his brother to leave him alone, because he cannot keep pushing. it is breaking him. but he can't— he is not allowed to have him.

Spider finally breaking under the weight. he cannot keep doing this.

but as they walk away, nausea eats them away.

Neteyam will cling to each second he can pretend things were as they used to be.

Spider will watch silently.

they are dying.

long before their deaths; the death of a body, the death of a heart and mind.

they are dying.

they are rotting.

fading away

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand

Spider seeking out the Great Mother. offering himself a sacrifice. forever the lamb.

he did it long before now. before Neteyam was gone. when the war came. when the war parties went out. when Neteyam joined them. when he came back bloodied and bruised.

What is your plan? do you see blood? will take my blood instead of his? I will bare my neck, just leave my brother unharmed. please I beg. I beg.

he asked again when he was taken.

take mine, not his.

because Neteyam might have been a warrior, but he was also his baby brother, and he would always bleed first. he would bleed the blood that tore them apart to begin with.

and now he asks again, still trying to scrape his brother's blood from his nails.

why couldn't you do this one thing for me? why couldn't you let him live? why couldn't you take this hated blood? why could I be your lamb?

I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I look into the open sky

Spider holding his baby brother's hand. again and again and again. growjng older, larger, wider, tougher each time.

holding it one last time.

tracing where stars should be.

they aren't there.

neither are the answers.

he looks up.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

he wishes his brother would just open his eyes. that he would see that childish brightness—

hope and love and light and blissful naivety. unknowing of hate

—once more. just one last time.

the stars hold that light.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

tears prick his eyes once more.

there are more stars in the sky than there ever were on his skin.

more light than there was in a lifetime of watching his eyes.

they had gone so cold and tired so fast, just like his shoulders.

Stars blink like his eyes

he stares up at the stars and cries.

Like his eyes

he wants his baby brother back.

he just wants him back.

he'd give anything.

I dream of eternal life

Spider prays for his brother's peace in Eywa.

Neteyam plays in the creek with his brother, a wide smile on his face.

[assassinnumber9]

Okay, listen. This is important.

But, were Loid and Yor going to get a couple's massage on their date???

[antidotesprout]

[marc-is-kinda-gay]

It is obvious to say that I am obsessed with TimKon again, I have fallen into my DC phase once more and I don't think I'll resurface for a while.

I am stuck rereading Teen Titans and overanalysing every TimKon interaction. I might need help 😩

[nookstheprince]

[bword-aword]

imagine if we pronounced device like ceviche

[mahggie]

[thefandomsareallcrazy]

The Sims games attract those of us who got immersed in playing with dolls houses, barbies, action figures and 'House' etc and imagining the most fucked up shit happening to our characters or is it just me?😳😳

[agender-simping]

Coming back to Tumblr is like being home for the first time after your whole life has changed, and you’ve become somebody different. And you have a genital piercing now.

[prettypettyprincesssworld]

Me when I drop outta college

sorry mom, i got a small unpopular blog to run

[assassinnumber9]

Reminder that Twilight consistently tells himself that being a father is just for the mission, yet he still gets disappointed with himself as a parent and appreciates when someone tells him he's doing a good job.

Side note: There's a detail in the second picture that I plan to go over in another post at some point.

[voiceswithcircus]

bangs table

Are we all doomed to this fucking rock? Cursed to float through space, conscious enough to want more but not enough to seize it? There has to be more than this.

I want to feel happy.

I want to feel secure.

I want to feel loved and wanted everyday without fear of replacement, of not being good enough, of not having done enough.

I can't tell if it's the late stage capitalism or the episodic depression hitting again but someone throw me a fUCKING LINE that isn't another European waxing bullshit about how nothing matters

[sansaissteel]

Just a reminder Sansa likes cock.

[thegirlintheshadows101]

Nah because the way I would just literally start creating in-depth scenes for my WIP and be kicking my feet and giggling 😂

For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.

[thefandomsareallcrazy]

Are you even friends with them if you haven't had at least a tiny crush on them at some point 🤣🤣🤣