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#he's so soft
countingstars-17 · 1 month
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Charles arriving at the Melbourne Airport
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cheekylittlepupp · 4 months
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I swear the moment he pulls out the sad puppy eyes, all sense and logic flies out of the window.
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pixlerelish · 7 months
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If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
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there are not sufficient words in any language to describe how fiercely i would protect this goat
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chronosh0t · 27 days
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I'm here because there's an important point I need to talk about and is: Gray Raven's logo in Lee's frame.
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Is he proud or not? does he loves his Gray Raven or not? I think there's no doubt. It makes me think, because, come on, a dog tag is enough, right? I'm pretty sure maybe the G.R in his arm is also more than enough because they need it anyway, it's like their frame designation (BPN-06, in his case)
but his weapons? the inside of his coat? it's not just the letter but the entire logo. so, again, does he loves them? you fucking bet he does. there's something so soft about that, so incredibly heartbreaking about that as well. because, if you know, he is someone who doesn't trust easily and that's normal considering his past, but Gray Raven proved to him that they were safe, they were worth enough to put himself into a vulnerable state (and I'm talking about that time when Tifa hurt him and he had to check his M.I.N.D, he had to lowkey shut down and trust his teammates so he could do what he needed to do and eradicate that "bug")...
... that day he learned he could. he wasn't even sure if, by the time he wake up, he would be left alone, but to his surprise, he was going back to Babylonia with his teammates. Because they didn't leave him alone, they took care of him, they protected him, because he was part of Gray Raven, he was one of Gray Raven's members, he was Lee from Gray Raven. So, of course he wasn't left alone. And I think that was the day everything changed for him.
He's proud of being part of a team that protects each other, a team that loves each other so much, a team that feels so much like a home, like a family.
So, of course he would carry that name and logo everywhere.
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dramashii · 10 months
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For the third confession, let me do it.
SEE YOU IN MY 19TH LIFE (2023) | Ep 7
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ksketch731 · 9 months
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DH: did you take it out?
JY: hmm?... Just a little longer
Jing Yuan then proceeds to stare at Dan Heng's face longer than he had intended
Still continuing to heal from the angst by giving Jing Yuan all the love he deserves😌🫶
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cypressketch · 20 days
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thiziri · 3 months
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Grandpa Tim and Mia 💕
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This is gyu during the movie scene with oc 😣
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moodysullie · 1 year
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The Countess
Dir. Julie Delpy
István Thurzó (played by Daniel Brühl)
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feral-pansexual · 2 years
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Waking up with Asahi is so.. soft. So many people see him as this large, intimidating person, but the poor man is anything but.. when he's not on the court, at least. Even if he wasn't riddled with anxiety, the ace was a gentle man.
He doesn't stir as you sit up next to him, watching his chest rise and fall with gentle, deep breaths. His hair lays loose around his face, the sun casting it's golden rays, creating the illusion of a halo with his hair. The holy imagery was rather fitting for the Jesus lookalike.
The only indication of Asahi's waking was a soft mumble before he blindly reached for you across the bed. You grabbed his hand softly, running your fingers across his knuckles as you helped gently pulled the beautiful man from his slumber.
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sga-owns-my-soul · 2 months
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Is it just me or does John Sheppard look different in season one compared to the rest of the seasons? I can always pick out if a gif is from s1 because of this. It’s like Joe Flanigan gave him a softer look. He almost looks wide eyed or puppy-dog eyed in s1. I wonder why this is. Or why I even noticed it.
oh he ABSOLUTELY does. rodney too i think. i mean characters usually look different in the first season bc filming reasons or whatever but john looks SO DIFFERENT in season 1!!! idk what it is but him and rodney especially look so young and soft comparatively to the rest of the show
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swampstew · 5 months
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The horrors persist, but so do the treats
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metamorphesque · 1 year
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Now the story of the trip and then you can go ahead and say you’re not an angel: I knew for ages that my Austrian visa had actually (and figuratively) run out two months back, but in Meran I was told it wasn’t required for transit and indeed I had no troubles when I crossed the Austrian border. Because of that I completely forgot about this omission while I was in Vienna. In Gmünd, however, the official at the passport control—a young man, hard—discovered it immediately. The passport was set aside, everyone else allowed to pass through to customs control, everyone except me. That was bad enough (I am constantly being interrupted, after all it’s my first day back, I don’t have to listen to the office gossip, not yet anyway, and people are coming in all the time and wanting to drive me away from you, that is, you away from me, but they won’t succeed, will they, Milena? Nobody will, ever.) So that’s the way it was, but then you started working. A border guard comes—friendly, open, Austrian, interested, cordial—and leads me through stairs and corridors to the headquarters of the chief inspector. A Rumanian-Jewish woman was standing there with a similarly defective passport, strangely enough also one of your friendly emissaries, you angel of Jews. But the opposing forces are still much stronger. The large inspector and his small adjudant (both yellow, emaciated, sullen, at least for the moment) take possession of the passport. The inspector is finished in no time: “Return to Vienna and obtain the visa at police headquarters!” I can do nothing but repeat several times: “That is terrible for me.” The inspector also repeats his answer several times, ironically and angrily: “You only think it is.” “Can’t the visa be obtained by wire?” “No.” “Even if I pay all costs?” “No.” “Isn’t there a higher authority here?” “No.” The woman, seeing my distress, remains magnificently calm and asks the inspector to let at least me pass. Your means are too weak, Milena. You won’t get me through that way. I have to walk all the way back to passport control and fetch my luggage, there’s no question of my leaving today. And now we’re setting together in the chief inspector’s headquarters, the guard has little consolation to offer except that the train tickets may be extended etc., the inspector has said his last word and retreated into his private office, only the small adjutant is still there. I calculate: the next train to Vienna departs at 10 P.M., arrives in Vienna at 2:30 A.M. I’m still covered with bites from the Riva-vermin, what will my room at the Franz Josefs Bahnhof look like? But since I don’t get a room, I go to the Lerchenfelder Strasse (that’s right, at 2:30 A.M.) and ask for a room (that’s right, at 3 A.M.). Anyway, whatever happens, I must obtain the visa Monday morning (will I get it right away or will I have to wait until Tuesday?), then go to your house and surprise you at the door, which you open. Good heavens. Here my thinking takes a break, but then continues: But what shape will I be in after such a night and the journey, and in the evening I’ll still have to leave on the train that takes 16 hours, what will I look like when I arrive in Prague and what will the director say, whom I’ll have to ask for sick leave once again? Certainly you don’t want all that, but what do you really want? There’s no way out. It occurs to me the only slight relief would be to spend the night in Gmünd and wait until morning before traveling to Vienna and so, already exhausted, I ask the quiet adjutant about a morning train bound for Vienna. There’s one at 5:30 which arrives at 11 A.M. Good, I’ll take that train and so will the Rumanian woman. But suddenly the conversation takes a turn, I don’t know how, at any rate in a flash it’s clear that the little adjutant wants to help us. If we spend the night in Gmünd then the next morning, when he’s alone in the office, he’ll secretly let us through onto the local train to Prague, where we would arrive at 4:00 P.M. But we’re supposed to tell the inspector that we’re taking the morning train to Vienna. Wonderful! Although just relatively wonderful, since I’ll still have to wire Prague. But even so. The inspector arrives, we act out a small comedy about the morning train to Vienna, the adjutant then sends us off, we’re supposed to pay him a secret visit later in the evening to discuss the remaining details. In my blindness I think that all this is your doing, whereas in reality it’s merely the last attack of the opposing forces. So now we slowly leave the station, the woman and myself (the express train which was supposed to have taken us on is still standing there, customs control is taking a long time). How far is it into town? An hour. That too. But it turns out there are 2 hotels at the station, we’ll go to one of them. There’s a track running right next to the hotel, we still have to cross it, a freight train is coming. I want to hurry across the tracks, but the woman holds me back and we have to wait. A minor contribution to our misfortune, we think. But precisely this moment of waiting, without which I would not have made it to Prague on Sunday, is the turning point. It’s as if you had run up and down knocking on all the gates of heaven to plead for me, just as you ran up and down knocking at all the hotels of the Westbahnhof, for now your guard comes running after us down the long path from the station, out of breath, shouting: “Hurry up, come back, the inspector is letting you through!” Is it possible? Moments like that make one choke with emotion. We have to beg the guard ten times before he’ll take any money. But now we have to run back, fetch our luggage from the inspector’s headquarters, run with it to the passport control, and on to customs. But now you’ve already set everything aright; I cannot carry my luggage any further—by chance there’s a porter next to me; at passport control I run into a crowd—the guard clears the way for me; at customs without realizing it I lose the little case with the gold cufflinks—an official finds it and hands it to me. We’re aboard the train and leave at once, at last I’m able to wipe the perspiration off my face and chest. Stay with me always!
a fragment from Kafka’s letter to Milena (Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka) 
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mothytheghost · 5 months
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Here the body pillow there y'all wanted it.
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