#emotional journey

[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.

[olvanne]

When Igor tells her the car was his grandmother’s, she sees someone who is, and has been, kind to her - unlike most of the men in her life: the men at the club, the ones who use and take. Ivan, with his deception and abandonment. Toros, speaking of her like she was nothing. The henchmen, treating her like property. Galina, though she’s not a man, and her demeaning dismissals.

She feels some sort of sadness in that moment, but also, and more strongly, gratitude. She doesn’t transactionally repay him for the ring, but wants to genuinely thank him. She uses the only thing she’s been made to believe she has to offer - her beauty, her body, her sexuality - to thank him.

(This turning point occurs when he mentions that the car was his grandmother’s. Earlier, we see interactions that highlight how the men she’s met disregard their family. The client in the beginning that hopes his family doesn’t find out he’s with her, and her friend talks about a client who compares her to his 18-year-old daughter; Ivan marrying a “hooker” just to piss his family off. When Ivan mentions meeting her family, Anora only mentions her mother and sister—no mention of her father.

Perhaps Igor is just too poor to have afforded his own car. But the way he said it was his grandmother’s, you sense the affection he holds for his grandmothers and that he misses her. These interactions contrast with Igor, who isn’t like the others. His gentleness stands out, and Anora recognizes it. She admires this about him deeply. So she doesn’t just want to thank him (although this is the main reason); she also wants to do something for someone whose gentleness and kindness she deeply appreciates.)

But when Igor tries to kiss her, something shifts. He doesn’t just want to enjoy some sex with a pretty woman. In that moment, Anora sees someone who truly wants her, someone who feels something for her. Whether that something is genuine care, a recognition of what she’s been forced to endure, or sorrow at the humiliation and pain she has suffered. Maybe, from the kiss, there’s something else too—maybe he feels for her in a way that’s deeper, something close to tenderness.

After everything, after the relentless sexualization and dehumanization—not just in the past day by Ivan, the family, the family’s henchmen, but throughout her entire career—having someone who sees her as more than that, who cares, who sees her pain and feel sorry for her - is overwhelming. She breaks down.

But in that breaking, there’s also something else—comfort. The safety to let herself unravel, to let her emotions spill out, to exist beyond the role she has always been forced to play. Not to smile, not to move and speak seductively, but to cry. To finally express the hopelessness and pain in her soul in front of someone who isn’t expecting her to perform.

- my own interpretation of the ending

[nakedtherapy]

[luvinaeverdene]

Almost Famous (2000) Directed by Cameron Crowe

[glennriley49]

Through the Storms

We began as fireworks in the night,

Lighting shadows with a dazzling sight.

Each word, sweet honey on the tongue,

Moments cherished, songs unsung.

But as twilight stretched, we lost our way,

Whispers sharpened, turned to fray.

When sparks grew dim, and warmth withdrew,

Lonely winds of silence blew.

Are we ready for the storms ahead,

The stinging rain, the paths we dread?

Love’s no tale of endless cheer,

It’s both the laughter and the tear.

Through deserts vast, forests deep,

We’ll seek the home our hearts would keep.

To touch that distant, sunlit shore,

We face the storm, endure once more.

Insecurity, a silent shade,

Jealousy, a thief well-played.

When joy falters, silence reigns,

Drowning echoes, unvoiced pains.

Promises once carved in gold,

Now crack under the strain they hold.

Yet still I rise, to fight, to mend,

To brave what’s broken, to defend.

Are we ready for the storms to come,

When voices falter, hearts go numb?

Love’s no tale spun from ease,

It’s the tempest and the breeze.

Through barren sands, tangled trees,

We’ll chase our hope, though on our knees.

To reach that paradise unknown,

We face the storm, and face it alone.

Each scar a testament, each tear a verse,

In pain we grow, for better or worse.

When arms entwine, when blame recedes,

We find the strength our story needs.

Let’s sit, let’s speak, and dare to trust,

For love demands, not gold but dust.

If we desire to watch it bloom,

We must brave the storm, clear the gloom.

Are we ready for the storms we fear,

The bitter truths, the falling tear?

Love’s no fable, dressed in light,

It’s the daybreak and the night.

Through paths unknown, we’ll chart our course,

Through doubt, through hope, through pure remorse.

To find the peace, the dream reborn,

We stand together, weather-worn.

Take my hand, through torrents fierce,

Hearts as armor, words to pierce.

Nothing treasured comes with ease,

But it's worth the fight, through storm, through peace.

Are we ready, battle-bound,

For love that bends but stays profound?

Through every high and every low,

This love, our anchor, will only grow.

@raceyrhymes @samcrosfaith

@ladyeckland28 @solesofwonder

[the-kh-files]

The Xehanort Problem

One of the most brilliant feats in the series so far is the way it leaves the player to deal with their unresolved feelings after Xehanort's defeat.

I remember finishing the game and being so angry that Xehanort was allowed to simply ascend into the heavens with his best friend without so much as a freaking apology to Sora & Co.

Actually, I was livid about it, even months afterward. The unfairness of it all! The lack of closure, of justice! It was wrong! It was cruel to Sora and all the others Xehanort hurt that he should get off scott-free and just seamlessly pass into the afterlife without any punishment whatsoever.

I told my husband about my frustrations, and how I wished Nomura at least gave you the option to curb stomp the guy real good, just once, before his ascension, when my husband said something admittedly profound:

If you did that, you would become Xehanort.

And suddenly, my anger evaporated, and I realized the story-telling trap I'd fallen into: The way the game allowed me to feel what Xehanort himself may have felt at the end of Dark Road and to realize the inevitable outcome of such feelings. By wanting revenge, one becomes the enemy, and perhaps that's why the Nomura didn't allow for a violent end. Perhaps that's why he made Sora, in his character's typical goodness and innocence, willing to just let his enemy go. Because otherwise, he would become the evil he'd just defeated.

It was then I realized that, while I was playing a game, I myself had been played by a master storyteller.

[yellowmanula]

Turning away from the light

Becoming adult

Turning into myself

I wanted to bite not destroy

To feel her underneath

Turning into the light

[indiestar]

I hear a song I used to love, and suddenly, I’m back there, back in a room that doesn't exist anymore, back with people who have turned into memories. Funny how a few notes can fold time like paper. But if I went back, would it ever feel the same?

[captaingimpy]

Clannad: An Emotional Journey Through Connection and Loss

When I first encountered Clannad, I was transported emotionally in a way that few shows have managed to achieve. The series begins with Tomoya Okazaki, a character who embodies the too-cool-for-school attitude common in the late 90s and early 2000s. He’s standoffish, seemingly indifferent to those around him. Initially, I found him annoying, tuning in more for the drama than any particular…

[blumoonfiction-blog]

#ShowsWeLove: Love Again – A Heartfelt Romance Wrapped in Grief and Music

“If you just send a message, someone will listen.” – Love Again (2023) Once again, I’m diving into uncharted territory. As much as I’m not traditionally a romance fan, this month has been all about embracing the complexity of love in its different forms. Love Again is an adorable and deeply moving film that caught my attention in the most unexpected way. Netflix’s Love Again is a beautiful,…

[xinthislonelyhourx]

I’ve been feeling really down lately. Sometimes, life throws us curveballs, and it’s hard to keep going when things don’t turn out the way we hoped. It’s been tough to process everything, and my heart feels heavy with a lot of things. I’m trying to stay strong and take it one day at a time, but it’s not easy.

[luvinaeverdene]

The Red Turtle (2016) Directed by Michaël Dudok de Wit

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

When I gaze into your eyes, the world fades away, leaving nothing but the moment between us. I know it may sound like a cliché, but being with you takes me back to a time when life was simple, when I was a child, untouched by the weight of the world, and everything was pure.

[filmfanaticfables1990]

The Silent Struggles In What's Eating Gilbert Grape

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, directed by Lasse Hallström, is not just a movie; it’s a poignant exploration of family, responsibility, and the quest for personal identity. Released in 1993, this film, based on the novel by Peter Hedges, delves into the complexities of small-town life and the burdens that often go unseen.

The Weight Of Responsibility

At the heart of the film is Gilbert Grape, portrayed by Johnny Depp, a young man carrying the weight of his family on his shoulders. Gilbert’s life in the small town of Endora is defined by his responsibilities: taking care of his intellectually disabled brother, Arnie (played by a young Leonardo DiCaprio in an Oscar-nominated role), and dealing with his morbidly obese mother, Bonnie (Darlene Cates). These responsibilities are not just physical but emotional, creating an invisible burden that shapes Gilbert’s every decision.

Family Dynamics And Unspoken Bonds

The Grape family is a tapestry of unspoken bonds and silent struggles. The film brilliantly captures the unvoiced sacrifices that each family member makes. Bonnie’s obesity and her confinement to the house symbolize the crushing weight of past traumas and unfulfilled dreams. Arnie’s innocence and unpredictability bring both joy and chaos into Gilbert’s life, showcasing the duality of care—how it can be both a blessing and a source of immense pressure.

The Quest For Personal Freedom

Gilbert’s yearning for freedom and a life of his own is palpable throughout the film. His fleeting romance with Becky (Juliette Lewis), a free-spirited young woman passing through town, represents a glimpse of the life he could have—one unencumbered by familial obligations. Yet, Gilbert’s sense of duty and love for his family keeps him tethered to Endora, highlighting the often painful balance between personal desires and familial responsibilities.

Themes Of Acceptance And Forgiveness

One of the most profound themes in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape is acceptance—of oneself, of others, and of the circumstances we cannot change. The film doesn’t offer easy answers or neat resolutions. Instead, it presents a raw, honest portrayal of life’s complexities. The characters’ struggles and imperfections are laid bare, inviting viewers to empathize and reflect on their own relationships and responsibilities.

The Power Of Silent Performance

The performances in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape are nothing short of extraordinary. Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Gilbert is subdued yet powerful, conveying a world of emotion through his eyes and gestures. Leonardo DiCaprio’s performance as Arnie is a revelation, capturing the character’s innocence and unpredictability with remarkable authenticity. Darlene Cates’ portrayal of Bonnie is heartbreaking, embodying the physical and emotional weight of her character’s struggles.

Conclusion

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape is a film that lingers long after the credits roll. It’s a reminder of the silent struggles that many face, the unspoken bonds that hold families together, and the delicate balance between duty and personal freedom. It’s a story that speaks to the heart, inviting viewers to look beyond the surface and understand the deeper complexities of life and relationships. In the quiet moments of Endora, we find reflections of our own lives, our own struggles, and our own quests for meaning and belonging.

[vastingedachten]

[frank-olivier]

Echoes of Longing: The Endless Road to Healing

The song "Far Rider" by Still Corners is a poignant exploration of the human experience, delving into themes of love, loss, and the relentless pursuit of healing. The narrative is set against the backdrop of a desolate yet beautiful landscape, where the protagonist awaits the promise of change, symbolized by the "rain" that contrasts with the harsh reality of the "baking sun". This juxtaposition effectively captures the emotional turmoil that often accompanies the healing process, where the desire for solace and the pain of the present coexist.

The "caravan" and "season wheel" are skillfully employed as metaphors for the journey of healing, highlighting the cyclical nature of human experience and the inevitability of change. However, the song's true emotional depth is revealed in its nuanced exploration of time and its role in healing. The acknowledgment that "visions of you, time didn't heal" is a powerful commentary on the persistence of memories, tempering the expectation of closure with the complexity of human emotions. This perspective could be further enriched by a more explicit exploration of the emotional weight of these enduring memories, adding depth to the narrative.

The "Far Rider" metaphor, while evocative, sometimes feels slightly disconnected from the song's thematic core. A more seamless integration of this element, perhaps by more explicitly linking the act of movement to the process of healing, could enhance the song's narrative cohesion. Additionally, the refrain of "Keep on going" and "I'm still alive" effectively conveys a message of resilience, but the emotional impact could be amplified by a more nuanced exploration of the protagonist's emotional state, providing a more satisfying emotional arc.

The natural world is subtly yet effectively woven into the narrative, with the "sun rays" and "wind" serving as poignant reminders of the transformative power of change. This element could be further leveraged to create a more immersive experience, perhaps by more explicitly linking the environmental changes to the protagonist's emotional journey. By doing so, the song could more effectively convey the interconnectedness of human experience with the environment, enriching its thematic resonance.

Still Corners - Far Rider

Monday, November 18, 2024