#vulnerability and growth

[aventurineswife]

Hello, if your requests are still open, could you write a headcanon for WuWa about how the character would react upon discovering they are in love with someone?

“I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be your lover”

Tags: Calcharo x Reader, Jiyan x Reader, Xiangli Yao x Reader, Emotional Conflict, Unspoken Affection, Subtle Romance, Vulnerability and Growth, Self-Discovery and Emotional Conflict.

Warnings: Slow Burn Romance, Emotional Turmoil, Internal Struggles with Feelings, Intense Confessions, Conflicted Feelings.

A/N: since they were technically the same requests, i decided to write them in one 🧍‍♀️💖

At first, he would be in denial, refusing to acknowledge any romantic feelings due to his hardened nature.

He would become increasingly protective of the person, though he hides it under the guise of pragmatism.

His stoic exterior would crack only in private moments, when he’s alone and unable to control his thoughts.

Calcharo would likely struggle to express his emotions verbally, instead showing affection through actions, like keeping them safe or providing for them.

If he were to admit his feelings, it would likely come as a quiet, yet intense confession, showing a rare vulnerability.

Initially, he would be unaware of his feelings, focusing too much on his duties and responsibilities.

Upon realization, he’d struggle with the conflict between his sense of duty and the emotions that might distract him.

Jiyan would act subtly, trying to care for the person in small, unnoticed ways (like ensuring they have everything they need).

He’d probably feel conflicted about showing affection, as his public persona is stoic and reserved.

Eventually, he’d admit his feelings in a soft but sincere manner, looking for reassurance that his feelings won't make him less capable as a leader.

Xiangli would analyze his feelings intellectually at first, possibly trying to rationalize them before fully acknowledging them.

His internal conflict would stem from his need for emotional connection versus his focus on his scientific endeavors.

He’d express his feelings through acts of kindness or deep, philosophical conversations, preferring to show affection subtly.

The realization would likely come to him during a quiet moment, possibly while reflecting on his relationship with his father and his own desires.

Xiangli might feel hesitant to openly admit his feelings, unsure how they would fit into his carefully controlled world, but if he did, it would be a thoughtful, perhaps even tentative confession.

Sorry, this is short... My brain isn't braining 🧍‍♀️💔

[wildlocks]

devora wilde honestly deserves the same amount of praise and hype as neil for her portrayal of lae'zel

[carpethedamndiemdejavu]

[t-u-i-t-c]

Sakito Homura in Bakuage Sentai BoonBoomger 01x48 Your Handle

+ bonus

[littlemissemotionalandvalid]

I admire people who can share their vulnerability. It shows that they’re emotionally strong and eager to grow. Many people think that vulnerability is a sign of weakness, but in truth, it’s a sign of strength and resilience.

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

Crying in the club rn

[maxdurden]

the raw power of gorgug and kristen synchronized second hand embarrassment is unspeakable

[aventurineswife]

Can I request Argentine, Sunday, Aventurine (our beautiful man), Dr Ratio, and JingYuan meeting their newborn? Unless you’ve done that already? If you have how about their baby’s first steps? I love Hsr as dads🥺

“Aren't they lovely? Made from love...”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Parental Love, Newborn, Tender Moments, Character Growth, Protective Parents, Family, Emotional Journey, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Light mentions of exhaustion and emotional vulnerability, Heavy emotional themes around parenting and legacy.

A/N: I love HSR men as a dads too ☹️🥺💖 ugh... They make me sick 😔💔

The sterile scent of the hospital filled the air, but to Argenti, it was all a blur. He stood, frozen at the threshold of the hospital room, gazing at the bundle in your arms. His heart swelled, and his breath caught in his chest.

“Is this... truly our child?” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as his gaze lingered on the tiny face that was so delicately nestled within the blankets.

You nodded softly, your tired eyes filled with warmth as you carefully rocked the baby in your arms. The light from the window highlighted the soft glow of the room, casting gentle shadows over the peaceful scene.

Argenti stepped closer, his armor clinking quietly with each measured step, as if the weight of the moment demanded reverence. When he reached your side, his hand gently brushed against your arm. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the baby, whose small, perfect features were barely visible beneath the blanket. His heart swelled with a strange, unfamiliar emotion—a tenderness so deep it almost frightened him.

The baby stirred slightly, a soft whimper breaking the silence.

Argenti’s breath hitched, and without thinking, he reached down, his fingers brushing against the baby’s tiny hand. He froze as the baby grasped his finger in a reflexive hold, a bond formed in an instant. His chest tightened with a profound sense of responsibility, but it was more than that—this was a moment that transcended duty, that spoke to a higher purpose.

“This is our legacy,” Argenti murmured, his green eyes shimmering with something beyond pride. “A new beginning... a new creation of Beauty.”

His voice faltered, the weight of his idealism tempered by the joy of this quiet moment. It was his deepest honor, his most sacred path. He wasn’t just a knight of Beauty now—he was a parent.

You smiled, and without another word, you gently placed the baby in his arms. The warmth of the newborn’s fragile body against his chest made his heart leap. Argenti’s breath was steady but strained as he held them—he was no longer just a knight. He was their protector.

“Welcome,” he whispered softly, his voice a quiet vow. “To a world of beauty, my child.”

The room was still, the gentle hum of hospital machinery in the background as Sunday stood at the threshold, his eyes fixed on the small figure in your arms. His wings fluttered behind him in subtle movements, reflecting a deep sense of awe.

His usual reflective demeanor was replaced with something tender, something uncertain, as he crossed the room slowly. His steps were quiet, measured, as if he were entering a sacred space, a new reality that was no longer just his own.

“Is it... truly happening?” he murmured, his voice barely audible, almost as if he feared disturbing the fragile beauty before him. His gaze fixed on the baby, their tiny face framed by soft blankets. The baby’s peaceful sleep seemed to mirror the calm he had once sought for himself, the tranquility he dreamed could exist in the world.

You smiled, looking up at him with exhaustion, but your eyes sparkled with the joy of the moment. “They’re ours, Sunday. Our child.”

His gaze softened, the golden halo behind his head glowing faintly as he approached you. There was an ethereal stillness in the air, almost as if the very world was holding its breath. As he reached you, his hands hovered hesitantly over the baby, his fingers shaking just slightly. It was rare to see him unsure, but this was no ordinary moment. This was the culmination of a dream, of an idealism he had once longed to protect.

With great care, you placed the baby in his arms. Sunday’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, but it was a strange, unfamiliar rhythm. The baby shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh as they rested against him.

The tenderness he felt overwhelmed him, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the weight of his past fade. This moment, with the baby in his arms, felt like a redemption—a chance to embrace a future untainted by doubt.

“They’re so small,” Sunday whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. “So pure...”

His wings fluttered again, this time with a subtle warmth, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead. His usual philosophical distance melted away in the face of such innocence. In their smallness, he found a quiet hope—a vision for the world he had long sought to create.

“I promise to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, filled with a devotion he had never allowed himself to feel so openly before. “You will never be alone.”

Aventurine leaned against the doorframe of the hospital room, the usual confident smile still on his face, but his eyes... his eyes were soft. His usual bravado faded as he took in the sight of you holding the tiny newborn in your arms. His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself.

“This feels like a game I wasn’t prepared for,” he said, his voice laced with a playful lightness, though there was something else beneath it—something more vulnerable. He stepped into the room, his usual confident stride faltering slightly as he crossed toward you.

You looked up, exhaustion evident in your expression, but there was an unmistakable joy that made the hospital room feel warmer than it should have. “It’s real, Aventurine. Our baby.”

Aventurine’s smile wavered, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. His eyes lingered on the baby, who had barely begun to stir, their tiny fingers curling in a peaceful sleep. There was something about their quiet form that unsettled him, yet at the same time, it soothed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Well, this is a gamble I’m willing to take,” he said with his usual smirk, but his voice was softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Not sure how much I’ve got to offer, but for them...” His hand, adorned with rings and bracelets, reached out hesitantly. He paused just before touching the baby’s tiny hand, his expression shifting for a brief moment, like he was uncertain about the stakes of this particular game.

“Would you like to hold them?” you asked softly, your voice inviting him into the moment.

Aventurine’s gaze flickered to you, a mixture of admiration and fear in his eyes. He took a deep breath, then stepped forward, allowing you to carefully place the baby in his arms. His usual air of indifference disappeared the moment the baby rested against him, their warmth radiating through him in ways he hadn’t expected.

“Never thought I’d find myself like this,” Aventurine admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as if he were speaking to the child and not to you. He adjusted his hold carefully, his usual calculated movements softer now. “But I’m not one to back down from a challenge, especially one like this.”

He smiled again, the carefree facade returning, though now it seemed tinged with something deeper—something more sincere. “You’re a high-stakes gamble, my little one, and I plan to win.”

He looked down at the baby, his sharp, calculating mind shifting toward this new, unpredictable chapter of his life, and for once, the gamble didn’t feel so daunting.

In that moment, he understood something he’d never truly grasped before—there was no strategy in the world that could prepare him for this. And for the first time in a long while, Aventurine found himself willing to bet on something truly precious.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was a sharp contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in Ratio’s mind. He stood by the door, his usual confident stride stilled for the first time in years. The hospital room before him seemed alien, the soft glow of the lights and the warmth of the blankets a world away from his usual studies and experiments. Yet, there you were, cradling the tiny bundle in your arms, and everything else seemed to fade into the background.

“Is this... really our creation?” Ratio’s voice was lower than usual, a rare vulnerability showing beneath his usual sharp tone. His intense eyes were fixed on the baby, and despite his vast intellect, he seemed almost... uncertain.

You smiled softly, exhaustion in your expression, but your eyes sparkled with pride. “Yes, Veritas. This is our child.”

Ratio approached slowly, his mind still whirring with the logical implications of what had just occurred, yet his heart—unexpectedly—began to race. The baby stirred gently in your arms, their tiny hand curling around a corner of the blanket.

He knelt beside you, the brilliant mind now focusing solely on the life before him. His fingers twitched, hesitant at first, before they reached out and brushed against the baby's tiny, delicate hand. The baby’s tiny fingers grasped his in response, and Dr. Ratio froze, his breath catching in his chest.

“This... this is our legacy,” he whispered, the words feeling foreign on his lips but true nonetheless. “Our chance to eradicate ignorance.” His voice held a note of something deeper—an unspoken vow.

You carefully placed the baby in his arms, the weight of their small form bringing a strange sense of peace that Ratio hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. The warmth of the newborn’s body settled against his chest, and for a moment, all the grand theories and academic pursuits seemed distant. This was a different kind of knowledge—one of pure love and responsibility.

“Welcome to the universe, little one,” he murmured softly, his usual air of self-assurance softening. “I’ll ensure you have the tools to understand it, all of it.” His voice was firm, but there was a newfound tenderness there that even he couldn’t deny.

The room felt unusually still as Jing Yuan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the small form you held in your arms. His usually calm and collected demeanor seemed to waver, and for the first time in a long while, a quiet uncertainty flickered across his face. The light of the hospital room reflected in his hair, making him appear even more ethereal, as if the moment was beyond his reach.

“Are they really... ours?” His voice, usually so commanding, was now tinged with awe, almost reverence. His gaze was soft, tracing every tiny feature of the baby nestled in your arms.

You looked up, your exhaustion fading in the presence of this tender moment. “Yes, Jing Yuan. This is our child.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, the usual air of composure replaced by something far more profound. He stood by your side, his large frame somehow looking smaller in the presence of such innocence. You carefully placed the baby in his arms, and for a moment, Jing Yuan seemed to freeze, as though unsure of how to hold this tiny life.

The baby shifted slightly, their soft breath a quiet reminder of the fragility of life. Jing Yuan’s hands, strong and capable from centuries of leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he adjusted his grip. His heart pounded in his chest, not with the rush of battle, but with something gentler, more protective.

“They’re so small,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. The weight of the moment seemed heavier than any military battle he had ever faced.

He looked down at the baby, his eyes reflecting the love and wisdom he had accumulated over centuries. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead, and for once, the world seemed still.

“I will protect you, little one,” he vowed quietly, the soft flutter of his capes the only sound in the room. “You will know peace, just as we do.” His fingers gently stroked their tiny hand, and in that instant, Jing Yuan knew that the battle for this child’s future would be his most important yet.

[ten-thousand-aromantic-bees]

there's something about rochelle feeling like she's drifting up when everything's falling apart and kai feeling like she's sinking down when everything's falling apart. i can't articulate it but there's something really compelling to me about the inverse metaphors. agh.

[g4y-th0ughts]

the fact that even in earlier times when carla was objectively mean, ruthless and overall unpleasant to be around (but extremely hot), you can see glimpses of the fact that at her core she is good, especially to those she perceives as weaker than her/in need of protection. i’m on a 2008 rewatch and she’s clearly always had a soft spot for sean and genuinely cared for rosie when tony involved her and used her for the whole deal with kevin. i love how over the years she showed this trait more and more that it became a core point of her personality because she simply stopped feeling like she had to bark AND bite to be respected and could be more like her true self (saver of bees and wasps and all that)

[serenityquest]

[rebellenotes]

I hate being asked "how are you?"

It doesn't matter if it's just a greeting. It'll always make me look inwards and think, how am I, really?

The answer will always be somewhere on the "not good" side of the spectrum (whatever that spectrum is). I know the appropriate answer is "good," or "fine," because the person asking isn't really wanting to know how I am doing, but it physically pains me to lie and say I'm fine when I'm not. I can't do it.

I am a great liar, but I can't lie when someone asks me how I am. It feels too raw, too exposed, like opening a wound in front of someone who just expected a wave and a smile. But I can’t keep it all inside, either.

When someone asks me how I am, a part of me wants to answer honestly. I want to say, “Actually, I’m not okay.” I want them to know that I’m not coping, that my thoughts feel too heavy, that sometimes I can barely make it through the day without collapsing under the weight of it all. I need to tell someone—someone who isn’t the relentless voice in my head—that I’m struggling.

It’s not about wanting to burden them. That’s the last thing I want. I just need to hear the words out loud. I need to feel like someone else knows, like I’m not carrying this entirely on my own. Because the more I keep it in, the louder it gets in my mind, and the harder it becomes to convince myself that I’m okay.

So when someone asks “how are you?” I hesitate. I want to scream, “I’m not fine!” but I worry about their reaction. What if they don’t care? What if I scare them off? What if my honesty makes them uncomfortable? But then I think: maybe that’s not my problem. Maybe my honesty is exactly what I need, even if it’s messy, even if it makes someone else squirm.

Because sometimes just saying it—just admitting that I’m not okay—feels like a tiny victory. It feels like I’ve broken free of the silence, even if only for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, someone will hear me and say, “I get it. You’re not alone.”

And if they don’t? If they give me a quick “oh, I’m sorry to hear that” and move on? At least I didn’t lie. At least I didn’t pretend. At least I was honest about the fact that, right now, I’m not fine—and that has to count for something.

Why are we as a society so scared to honestly tell people how we're doing? If I'm the recipient of someone honestly answering the question "how are you," (because I am also a culprit of asking it), I don't feel burdened. I think "oh, thank god I'm not alone." We may not carry the same hardships or experiences, but I can empathise with them because I know the weight your thoughts and emotions can have over you.

And maybe that’s the whole point—we’re all carrying something, but we’ve collectively decided to bury it beneath polite smiles and scripted responses. It’s like we’ve created this unspoken rule that vulnerability is too messy for casual conversation. That sharing how we really feel is somehow selfish or inappropriate, as if admitting struggle makes us weak.

But what if it didn’t? What if answering “how are you?” with honesty made us feel seen instead of ashamed? What if it created connection instead of discomfort?

It’s a reminder that the chaos in my own head isn’t unique or isolating. Someone else has been there, is there, and maybe together we can feel a little less trapped in our own silences. When someone shares their truth with me, it feels like an invitation—not to fix them or offer empty platitudes, but just to sit with them in it. To acknowledge that being human is hard and complicated and not something any of us are meant to do entirely on our own.

I think the fear of answering honestly comes from not knowing how the other person will react. What if they dismiss it? What if they pity us? What if they get uncomfortable and change the subject? But maybe the fear goes deeper. Maybe it’s because once we say it out loud—once we admit that we’re struggling—it becomes real. And that’s terrifying.

But the thing is, it’s already real. It’s already there, weighing us down. Speaking it doesn’t create the weight—it lightens it. Even if only by a fraction. Even if only for a moment.

So maybe the next time someone asks me how I’m doing, I’ll take the risk. I’ll choose honesty, not just for myself but for them too. Because maybe they need to hear it. Maybe they need to know they’re not the only one walking through life with invisible battles. And maybe, just maybe, in sharing my truth, I can make space for someone else to share theirs.

[carpethedamndiemdejavu]

"There is a soul within the soul. Seek it out. There is a treasure in your mountain. Seek it out. A mystic in motion, if that's what you are, don't seek out there; seek inside."

- Rumi

[olivexing]

had a dream about turning into a giant robot

I kept changing, but my environment stayed the same.

It was initially strangely euphoric, but quickly became claustrophobic. It’s a recurring dream

[politicalprocrastinator]

cameron's crush on house should've ended in season 1 when she said "so you are capable of love you just couldn't love me" cos after making that realisation her continued obsession just holds any character development back and ik the writers did that cos they can't be bothered to write complicated women so instead they prefer to just hero worship their damaged male protagonist

[pettydiazmybeloved]

Eddie being very confused/ disturbed by Buck not using his key/ asking to come in was straight out of a fanfic

but also Buck was SO gentle the way he purposely ensured no one else was home/ no one would see him so he could have this necessary conversation immediately