#fuckin.. knees

[chewablepebbles]

(is in excruciating pain for hours after squatting or sitting with crossed legs for maybe 15 minutes) yeah I just don't think I can take the recovery time off

[hurrakka]

This 'big freakin zombie' means nothing in the RE verse lol

[ghuleh-recs]

“let’s go!”

[mymreaderlibrary]

Could always go for some old man yaoi between Price and an older veteran reader so here are some ramblings.

[Old friends, pre relationship, yearning, beard buddies, ramblings/ no coherency].

[Length: 739 words]

|

|

|

The 141's mission calls for a specialization that they don't meet (at least not well enough to risk failure), but what would you know Price has an old buddy who can help. The thing is he's a veteran who's not all that interested in exiting his retirement especially considering he lost a limb. However he's not one to abandon those in need and with a little convincing he decides to assist, offering his expertise mostly off of the field.

In their downtime y/n and Price get to catch up and spend some time together over drinks. It's been a while since they've seen each other considering how differently they now lead their lives. Y/n is embarrassed to admit he's already getting grey hairs as Price questions his brutally short buzzcut. He never used to cut his hair like that even in his younger years. Price jokes that he's disappointed that y/n is trying to hide his new silver fox look. Y/n says he'll get to see it when it starts growing into his beard. Maybe it's the alcohol but the teasing lingers in both of their minds, feeling more sincere than joking.

Even if they've spent a lot of time apart there's still things they know about each other by heart. Particularly how apprehensive y/n is to being assisted with anything. There's no fragility allowed as he'd rather grin and bare it than accept help, especially with his new(ish) disability. Price doesn't speak on the matter, but he does get frustrated at the other man's stubbornness, a subtle crinkle to his eye as he watches his friend struggle.

Speaking of stubbornness, the 141 get to "enjoy" having two hardheaded older men on the same team. Double the scolding and double the exasperated sighing, somehow it's like being together has combined them into the ultimate grumpy old man. Laswell wouldn't admit it but once their voices start to layer over each other she tunes them out. They're gonna be going in circles for a while and it's near impossible to stop them. It would be almost comedic if it didn't happen all the damn time. ( Worst of all is that most of their arguments are them agreeing on something, but thinking the other misunderstood due to how they phrased their response).

Night times are often nostalgic, neither of them are heavy sleepers so if one wakes up so does the other. They try to get as much sleep in when they can, but if they feel like reminiscing over times long gone then who's to stop them. Stories about Price's younger years in training and y/n's experience with that one damn drill instructor who seemed to hate his guts. Stories about how shitty their first long range shots were and how they could barely even hit the target. Stories about all the times they found themselves in some form of trouble be it on the field or in base. Y/n remembers the time they had to share one shitty cot that they almost punched each other over. Price remembers when they were stuck in a tundra for over a month and were so excited to have a hot shower again they just went at the same time. Neither of them mention how much they actually enjoyed that closeness and how both of them were too cowardly to initiate anything. But they do mention the day they got split up, sent to entirely different countries. Y/n admits to being disappointed he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye... Price says he's glad they didn't, sometimes goodbye's like those are bad luck.

They take a moment to look at each other, see scars old and new, wrinkles forming in places that used to be so smooth. Price can't help but look at y/n's eyes, seeing that familiar color that never seemed to fade despite all its seen. He thinks back to that warm shower over a decade ago and how they looked then too. The steam that rose from y/n's chest, the subtle brush of skin they shared as they tried to dance around each other. He remembers that expectation of something more that never came.

They squeeze each other's hands, but the moment passes in silence and neither of them move. Eventually they break eye contact and drift back to sleep.

It seems even now they’re still too cowardly.

[duffyduffles]

I have SEVERAL very sexual and inappropriate things to say

[messrmoonyy]

She deserved more screen time!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[norrisleclercf1]

Excuse me…..I just woke up dammit

[m1d-45]

Okay last little idea and I'll leave you be for a bit

Xiao actually responding to the names the creator gives him. Little Friend, Pretty Bird, ect. No matter how far away you are, if you call those names, he has to stop himself from turning into a bird and flying away at that very moment. Those pet names are as much his name as any other he's kept.

-sibling anon

me when xiao

in his time with you in his adeptal form, xiao has never told you his name.

and yet, he still hears you.

if he’s in the area and the wind brings him the softest call of “you here, little friend?” he morphs in an instant, instinct taking over as he flies to your summons. he ducks through the trees, landing gracefully in your outstretched hand, meeting your wide smile with a chirp.

“there you are,” you mumble, and he ruffles his wings in an approximation of standing straighter. he is here. for you.

he’s commonly perched on your index finger, or your thumb if he’s eating from your palm. you only feed him simple almonds, yet it tastes of a delightful meal, energy coursing through his body. he’s careful not to nick your skin in his eagerness, but nobody could blame his enthusiasm if they knew what he felt.

by sitting in your hand, he is rested. by staying at your side, he is healed. he still upkeeps his duties, ever vigilant, but he’s quicker now, spurred on by something—someone—to return to. his place is at your side, and he hates keeping you waiting.

even when he has to.

xiao crossed his arms over his chest, staring off at liyue’s plains while he waited for the traveller to finish talking with… whoever. he honestly wasn’t paying attention. all he was there for was the lost adeptal artifact that the commissioner had promised he had, and then he would be on his way.

the man said something with a tilt to his tone. the traveller laughed. xiao grit his teeth.

“friend? little buddy? where are you?”

the call pulled at his soul as every other name he held, and he itched to answer.

paimon made a comment, an ooh! tossed somewhere in the middle, and xiao snapped.

“can we wrap it up? this is not a proper use of an adeptus’ time.”

the man swiftly apologized, handing over the totem, and xiao all but snatched it from his hand. a ‘farewell’ may or may not have slipped from him in time for the traveller to hear, he wasn’t sure. all he knew was that one moment he was dropping the totem off at his room at the inn, and the next he was leaping off the balcony, shifting mid-air to fly towards you.

he let out a loud cry when he spotted you, tucking in his wings to dive. you saw him and held out your hand, a motion so familiar that the actions to land were muscle memory.

he flared his wings, slowing his fall, flapping once, twice, before settling on your index finger. your thumb reached up, as it always did, and he leaned into it, repressing a coo at the feeling of it smoothing over his back.

“there you are, my pretty bird. where were you?”

a shiver rolls down his small body at your words, and he hides behind your thumb. you had many names for him—little friend, blue bird, simply blue—but pretty bird?

your pretty bird?

he’s hot in a way he can’t identify, a melting mix of emotions filling his chest. pride, admiration, adoration, even, all blurring into a messy film that covered his mind.

you turned towards your camp, keeping the hand with him perched close to you. “doesn’t matter. you’re here now, pretty bird. i missed you, you know.”

and you missed him?

xiao’s known for a while that the one on the throne wasn’t truly his god, but now he’s wondering if you were. the swell of confusing feelings was proof enough; were you anybody else, mortal or immortal, god or adepti, he’d have surely struck you down for your behavior long ago. cooing over him as if he were a mere household pet, feeding him scraps of crushed fruit, calling him such names as ‘pretty bird’- he’d have morphed back the second he was strong enough, held his blade to your throat and called you insolent and ungrateful. he’d leave you with a scar, and yet here he was, apologizing for the one he did leave in any way he could.

you carefully poured some almonds pieces in your palm, and he shifted to your thumb as you sat. were you anybody else, you would be dead. but your eyes are still open, carefully watching him, and your heart still beats blood. he can feel your pulse through his claws, sometimes, and often finds his own slowing down to match it.

you had an adeptus eating from the palm of your hand, and yet you were none the wiser. you simply propped your head in your free hand, a gentle smile on your face.

“my pretty bird,” you said quietly, and xiao’s eyes closed of their own volition.

yours.

[l3viat8an]

beel, 6'8, limbs the size and strength of tree trunks, built like a damn brick wall, known for being just absolutely intimidating... with a completely red face and smiling like an idiot after mc calls him"baby boy"

Yesyesyes!!

And he’s still blushing like a damn fool when he whispers asking MC to, “Please, say it again…just once?”

[nethnad]

doctor who christmas special where the doctor and the master swordfight in a church aisle WHEN

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

BTS Suga 140830 We Love Gangwon Kpop Concert by Caffeine Suga

https://x.com/caffeinesuga/status/509362894253731841?s=46&t=asovF49c920I4kV74_an0Q

https://x.com/caffeinesuga/status/505671109031641090?s=46&t=asovF49c920I4kV74_an0Q

https://x.com/caffeinesuga/status/513317202045325312?s=46&t=asovF49c920I4kV74_an0Q

https://x.com/caffeinesuga/status/509362319860563968?s=46&t=asovF49c920I4kV74_an0Q

[pollyna]

Even after he has to put on glasses Ice doesn't stop recognising when Mav is around. He maybe can't see him all that clearly when he doesn't have them on but if Mav is around, moving or being still (and that's something extremely rare), Ice knows he's there. It's the way Mav walks, the sound his horrible boots do and the way his steps are always a little slower after a day of work but they almost sound excited to be almost home. Mav thinks he should stop drinking everything Slider offers him and Ice laughs, takes away his glasses and enjoys the sound of Mav moving, breathing, living, around him.

[trustworthycinnamon]

Feeding my sick as fuck baby bro some dope milk

[wormsdyke]

nobody is doing it like ms. lucy liu as joan watson. on my hands and fuckin knees

[frnkiebby]

his stupid SMILE~🎃

[m1d-45]

adorned

summary: you have a gift for zhongli

word count: ~800

-> warnings: i guess… microscopic spoilers for liyue archon quest? sagau things

-> gender neutral reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily

< masterlist >

when zhongli received notice you had called for him, he’d dropped everything. any papers were tucked away in an instant, the thought of keeping you waiting spurring him to action. he walked swiftly to your temple, some of the tension (but not the urgency) slipping from his shoulders at the familiar warmth that washed over him. he moved down a memorized route, barely acknowledging the others in the temple or the greetings they gave him.

you had called him, and he would not hesitate to answer.

his hand shook lightly as he reached to knock upon the golden door of your throne room, the cool metal hot with your presence. his breath had long since picked up, accounting for the quickened thud of his heart and the thick air, but he barely noticed. zhongli was familiar with how you affected him, the unnatural dilation of his pupils a recognized symptom of your voice allowing him entry.

the door swung inwards and his eyes automatically found you, fiddling with a small box. you looked up as the door clicked closed and his breath hitched at your eyes on his. even here, across the room, he felt it as a physical weight, the stars hidden within them glittering in the light flowing from the windows.

the embedded jewels and precious metals along the walls hummed as he walked closer to you, geo resonating beneath his skin and adding to the already heady buzz in the air. your throne looked wrong without you, the gold and silver pulsing in distaste, but he still stood a few feet away from it, waiting.

you walked quietly, and it would be a surprise to see you at his side had he not been carefully aware of your presence in the room. one of your hands was closed gently in front of you, and a careful smile crossed your face.

your lips part, and he feels your words more than he hears him them, his soul responding rather than his ears.

‘i’ve brought you something, zhongli.’

his mouth goes dry and he swallows harshly, reaching desperately for a response. his own thoughts are slippery, unseeable through the haze, only able to think about how honored he is that you chose to get him something.

you laugh, and he doesn’t mind that the cost is his dignity.

at your prompt, he unhooks his earring from his ear, gloves slipping slightly on the back. he offers it to you—do you like it? he could get you one of much better quality in the same style, if you only ask—but you shake your head softly, unfurling your palm.

a bright red ruby hangs on a silver chain, small strings of cor lapis dripping down in a glittering curtain. he can feel from here—how could he not before?—how the jewels’ hum is sated, basking in your light, and can’t help but feel the same way. his ribs clink with resonance, the small glimpse of divine power in his soul barely tempering the thunder of his heart.

your hand raises and he falls on instinct, unwilling to allow you to reach for anything, even him. especially him. not while he has a say in it.

the carpet is plush beneath his knees, softening his weight, and he curls his fingers into it for stability. he doesn’t doubt his balance, no, he’s lived too long to he thrown off by something as simple and practiced as kneeling, but as you tip his chin up, he feels lightheaded.

his eyes slip closed and he lets himself sit before you, focusing only on the ghost of your hand tucking away a strand of his hair. it’s easy to be like this, easy to sink into the carpet before you. thinking comes secondary, as everything else does when he’s on his knees for you.

your nail barely skims the skin behind his ear as you fit on the back, and a shudder rolls down his spine.

your hand settles on his jaw and he drags his eyes back open, seeing yours flick over the accessory. the ends of the strings brush the base of his neck, barely, the jewels soaked with your presence. they’re pure, of priceless quality, geo reflecting perfectly through the stones. he almost wonders where you got it, but the thought is so unimportant that it only stays for a split second.

you straighten, and he wonders if you lingered intentionally. “you look beautiful.”

praises and thanks rush up his throat, filling his mouth and nearly spilling from his lips, but he swallows them down. still, he’s certain you can here the reverence in his words, hidden in the barely-there tremble.

“only for you, your grace.”