#things will be better

[cirkkaa]

my roman empire

[wambsgansshoelaces]

it’s almost new years for me, and maybe it is for you, so happy new year! I hope this year is full of love for you 🩷 you’re worthy, I love you, and you deserve the world 🫶🏽

[lordviridis]

People, never ever do a PhD unless you wish to suffer. It is past midnight and I'm still at work. The results might be pretty but my mental health certainly isn't.

[anotherpapercut]

so many of y'all need to learn how to behave. in public lmao. I know we're online and it feels like we're home but this is a public forum. you should be conducting yourself as you would in any other place. were y'all just not given the "treat people on the internet how you would in real life" speech in school? or is this how y'all are out there interacting with people???

[mirandaputsherbestbuttforward]

Well, it’s my last night here at the farm I grew up on.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Azir vs Azir

Yes, really.

CW: su1c1dal thoughts, mention of CA and dark thoughts.

During his imprisonment, Azir has a recurring dream where he walks down a corridor leading to his old childhood room. It always stops right outside, sometimes gaining the strength to open the door, but he never succeeds.

He doesn’t think much of it, dreams are complicated things and he’d rather relish in the sleep he can get until he’s pushed back into the cave.

But alas, after months on end of suffering and with help nowhere in sight, Azir is slowly burning out. Perhaps the only way to put an end to that ordeal is…

No, he’d tell himself. Be proud. You’re an emperor. But he’s not, Xerath would tell him, and so do the facts. He’s nothing. His life is pain and it will always be this way.

If it is to end, he’s the one that will have to do it. And so, one night after Xerath forces him to knock down a long section of the temple, he decides he will not take it anymore. That cave will be his tomb. The afterlife will judge him the next day.

But as he curls up in his cage, almost eager for the end, a thought creeps in.

If this is to end, I want to know what’s behind that door.

So, next time he has that dream, he marches to the end of the corridor and opens the door, heart beating and hands numb.

And there he sees himself on his old imperial bed – his adorable child self, still dressed regally, curled to the side, eyes red and damp, softly puffing on his battered hands after yet another caning.

They don’t even speak, for a long while. Baby Azir shifts to the side, allowing the older one to lay down and stare at the familiar space. For a while, they just exist side by side. But when Azir’s eyes fall on his younger self’s poor palms once more, he can’t hold back a wince.

“Don’t worry”, baby Azir says. “It passes soon. You know it, don’t you?”

That didn’t make it less painful.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you, dearest?” older Azir says.

“And so have you”, baby Azir says. “I can hardly recognize you.”

Neither can I, child. “I’ve been dealt a hard hand. This is the end of the line, for me. I’m glad I saw you one last time. You gave me a lot.”

“But what about us? Didn’t we want to live?”

The child’s eyes are wide, his whole body shakes. Older Azir touches his shoulders with his soft hands.

“It’s just you and me.” Not even Nasus cares for him enough to get him back. Thinking about him hurts him into wrath. “I’m tired, dearest. We reap what we sow.” It’s a very Xerath thing to say.

The child sits up, removes the hand from his shoulder, clenched his little lips. He looks as defiant as innocence itself.

“Can I hold you?”

Azir takes his child self into his arms and holds him tight, allowing him to snuggle in between the feathers. He almost burrows in there, showing fondness for his form.

“You must fight. Please.” Tears fall into the feathers. “Do it for me, if not for you. Things will go better, I promise.”

“You don’t know, child. My sweet, sweet child…”

“I know. I am you”, the kid holds him tighter. It’s as if he didn’t want him to let go, for he feared he’d get hurt. “I don’t want to see you hurt. I love you so much.”

You’re the only one left.

“Someone will come for you… or he will let you go.” A tear runs down older Azir’s feathery face, and soft baby hands come to wipe it. That’s all he’s want in his ordeal, some kindness. “It was love that brought you back. It can happen again”

Sivir, my sweet. Azir doesn’t want to think of her. Even she’s forgotten about him. How come nobody – at all – has come to help? That’s what bites him the most. The fact that, even after all he’s done and endured, he left no love to be found.

“But I’m hurting too much. What could bring me back, even if I stayed?”

“This is why you should stay, alright?” The child’s face is blurred. He doesn’t want to cry even in his dreams, but these thoughts are too heavy.

“Someone will need you once more. And you will be there. You will be happy. And seeing you smile at last would make me happy too.”

Azir clings to it. Those are childish, naive words… but so sweet to hear. He clutches the child closer, ruffling his hair.

He wants it to stop – but most of all, he wants his chance to start anew. He was made to bear things, because he’s of Imperial blood. And there’ll be more to do once it’s all done.

Azir feels his grasp get lighter, the child slipping into dust. The dream will end soon, and the pain will start once more.

But I must be strong. I can’t lose my second chance. I can’t stop wanting – that’s my fault.

“Promise me you’ll come back. I love you.” The child says.

I love you more, dearest, Azir thinks as he wakes up.

~ ~ ~

“Sometimes I don’t even know myself how I survived”, Azir would tell Taliyah one night. She’s grown accustomed to him sitting by her side, having conversation with a side of warm tea. He likes talking to her – Nasus is kind, but he always blames himself for everything, and he can’t take it for long doses.

He almost looks approachable. But Taliyah mustn’t forget it’s because of torture, and as much as she likes what he’s now… there’s always a sense of sadness to it all.

“I had thoughts I’m ashamed of. Thoughts that… pushed me to the brink.”

“I’m sorry, my lord”, she says clutching his hand. “But you mustn’t feel shame for these thoughts. We see things differently, nowadays. When someone feels lost, or out of place, or even sad…”

She can feel his eyes on him. He’s clinging to her. He truly has no pride left. She can give him something at last.

“We give them time to breathe. It’s not everybody’s thought, but it’s mine. I think it can help you.”

The idea of not being shamed – publically even – for thoughts that don’t align to requested pomp is outright alien to Azir. He wasn’t alone in this: his siblings would also have moments where they felt down, inadequate, even barely alive. And like he, even more so, they were told the same thing: suck it up. Don’t stain your blood with hapless winging.

Yet this gentle lowly weaver girl, who has no reason to like him at all, simply tells him that it’s fine. Feeling this way is fine, and help is accepted. For no reason at all except…

“It’s strange, dear child.”

“What is strange, if I may?”

“When I was at my lowest, clinging to life, trying my best to find one reason to keep trying, I promised myself I’d be loved once again.” He won’t tell her about that dream, she’s not an interpreter of dreams and it’s not up to her to decide what that meant.

He just ruffles Taliyah’s hair, causing her to laugh. “I just now see: it came true.”

[soulmusicsongs]

Things Will Be Better - Watts Community Choir (We Need More Love, 1970)

[its-all-coming-back-to-meme-now]

[lucidloving]

@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

[lesbianralzarek]

"life doesnt get better, you just get stronger" does NOT include ages 11-17. life does in fact just get better from there. those years are dogshit. like, you do get stronger but its mostly just a factor of not being 11-17 anymore. positive thinking helps but it doesnt fix whatevers going on at 15, you have to brute force through that one raw

[mpekamitzii]

[bloodybellycomb]

One massive, legitimate way to improve as a writer or artist or in any creative endeavor really, is to become absolutely obsessed with something and to allow yourself to be weird about it. Genuinely mean this btw.

[trudlejack]

(+part 2)

[moncuries]

guess what i watched on new years (a redraw kind of)

[qiinamii]

we'll do fine.

[corviiids]

my top bit of advice going into the new year: compliment people. especially strangers. literally everyone you interact with if you can. when you buy coffee in the morning compliment the barista's tattoos. when you're chatting with a coworker tell them that by the way you like their outfit. always find something they've chosen to do on purpose. nail polish, jewellery, tattoos, hair colour/style, statement accessory, outfit, etc are all good bets. things people hope will be noticed. things that aren't too personal so it doesn't make them uncomfortable (eg probably not their physical features). i've gotten into the habit of scanning everyone i talk to for something about them that i think is cool so i can tell them. it's a great habit because it makes me notice people and realise just how many neat little details there are in people's presentation of themselves that might pass me by if i wasn't paying attention. and it brings out so much joy. you'd be surprised how much it disarms people to receive an unexpected compliment from someone they don't know. it is the most sincere smile you will see all day long. it feels nice to make people happy but it also means you win the social interaction. establish dominance by complimenting a stranger's earrings and disappearing into the fog