#I just loooooove him

[jeres-red-g-string]

ILOVEHIMILOVEHIMILOVEHIMLOOKATHISFACE😭😭😭😭🥹🥹🥹

[sevinite]

i cast spell of beautiful woman on kabru dungeon meshi

[plagalkey]

ENERGETIC ⚡️

you make me feel so high

[thatsonehellofahabit]

using these big dummies to help practice ma sketching

[conspicuous-clown-car]

here’s smth i made for Halloween but completely forgot to post

halloween party yay!!!

[reineydraws]

renkaza sketches based off the opening scene of the bear 2x09 bc the shots were nice :') less nice was me squinting at the low-lit scenes trying to make out their features and getting mad at my screen's glare but i digress 😂

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

Tord and Mat shower for pride month ? 🙏🙏

OMG YOURE SO RIGHT

(prev)

CW: suggestive content

...what? no i totally didnt lose this sketch and then spend 45 minutes desperately organizing my procreate files. thatd be stupid.

[primal-con]

Shape practice ✨2✨

This one’s for @blitzwingtittiemagnets you have kept me Alive during con weekend skdksk

[samarecharm]

tw disordered eating (not in explicit detail)

Whenever i write Yusuke and his relationship w the thieves, i try to emphasize that Yusuke was in a really really Really bad space not only mentally (like the others) but physically; hes bone-stick thin and you can feel his ribs jutting out if you go for a hug. Hes a bit gaunt in the face and hes got next to no muscle mass. He tires easily and hes kind of a shit fighter bc of it. The metaverse fills in the gaps a little bit, but his body is still very frail and unprepared to transition to an active lifestyle after years of surviving off of such a bare bones calorie diet. For my Akira, it is the driving force behind wanting to takedown Madarame; hes a sucker for a pretty face but hes also unable to look away from someone actively wasting away because of the actions of their guardian.

If any of them try to mention Yusukes physical state or diet, he often deflects, angrily, reminding them that he is abnormally tall, and that that obviously contributes to his thin (frail) stature. Its very hard to get him to eat while theyre in saferooms, and he often lags behind while exploring the museum. He cant stay in combat for too long, and at some point, Akira debates if he should even allow Yusuke to stay on the team; if he passed out or Worse under Akiras watch, hed never forgive himself.

BUT. As the thieves gain his trust, Yusukes a bit more willing to indulge them. He learns quickly that they arent pitying him like he initially assumed (he is far too aware of how much he feels like hes neglected his own body; and how others can easily see that neglect). They routinely eat and hang together bc thats just how they bond, and theyre just trying to invite him into their circle properly. Akira has zero experience w this kind of thing, but Ryuji and Ann are athletes and models respectively; theyre both in fields that encourage that kind of self destructive behavior, and they have some kind of insight into how to avoid falling for those same traps, and helping people who Do end up in those scenarios.

(Anns parents, despite their absence, do their best to prepare her for how cutthroat the modeling world is; to keep her from developing the kind of habits and mindsets that let young men and women destroy themselves. ESPECIALLY bc my Ann is a plus sized model. And Ryuji, as a promising track star, would know how bad it can get for professional athletes, the lengths at which theyd go to maintain their positions and ability to compete. Hes a gym rat who loves food and nutrition and knows what he needs to keep himself fit, and thats all he really needs)

They cant feed Yusuke the way they WANT to bc hes already so thin, so they just let him take from their plates to sample things and let him feel included. He starts taking up Ryujis offers to go get meals together, even is Ryuji ends up taking almost an entire extra serving home as takeout. He lets Ann drag him away to the crepe shop and her other little snack havens, even if he only leaves w a small chocolate of sorts to take home. He lets Akira make coffee and curry for them to split when he comes to Leblanc. And maybe he lets Sojiro cook a full plate for him to take back home to eat at his leisure and away from prying eyes. Yusuke goes from bitter to extraordinarily fond rather quick, and he finds himself angry that this is yet another thing Madarame has stolen from him.

By Futabas palace, hes filled out enough that Akira doesnt immediately panic when Yusuke gets tossed onto the floor by some brute of a shadow, worried that hed shattered every goddamn bone in his body on impact. He doesnt have any real muscle by any means but his face has the faintest bit of cheek fat that Ann is able to pinch w her evil little hands, and when he looks in the mirror, the ribs peek out but they dont jut out. His breathing is better, his skin is just Pale and not Ghostly white, hes got a healthy flush when he laughs at Akiras stupid puns, and he finds himself allocating a bit more of his budget towards stocking his fridge. Sometimes, Akira can even convince him to people-watch out in the sun instead of in the subway tunnels.

At some point, Yusuke becomes very vocal about things he wants, but importantly, about Food he wants. He will eagerly allow his friends to treat him if they ask, and he picks whatever sounds nice to his ears or whatever Ann and Ryuji recommend him. Part of it is due to him feeling safe enough to ask for such things; the thieves kinda laugh about his eccentricity and forwardness, but Akira, Ann and Ryuji know how different and comfortable this Yusuke is compared to the one they met. Its silly but its good; he gets to act like this bc the thieves let him be forward- they let him voice his wants and needs without a fight.

By post game, hes got the barest hint of a tummy pouch, and Ann will attack it relentless with a firm poke whenever hes foolish enough to stretch and lift his shirt to expose it. She thinks its cute 😭 Shes really happy to see it, bc she thinks of Yusuke all skin and bones and angry and scared like a feral dog barking mad, lashing out at any help they offered and working himself sick (figuratively and literally) trying to help make things right. It makes her so sad recalling it, so she likes to remind herself that hes okay now, even if hes a little embarrassed by it. She knows Akira and Ryuji do the same, inviting Yusuke to hang and just see him w their Own eyes that hes better, and that they did the right thing by insisting he join their little ragtag group.

[revelingrexan]

"...not very clever!"

and then Alastor cusses for the first time in the show :D

[ifyoucandaniel]

anyways just tianshan in the new chapter <3 the way he tian didn’t stop holding/touching him the entire chapter and took care of him😭 “he doesn’t feel well” he’s so good to mo i’m upset.

and once again: they’ve come so far bruh. like the casual touches and leaning on each other without mo trying to bite his head off? that’s love your honor

[timoswerner]

relatable

[spacedlexi]

Hi Lexi

What do you think of partially blinded Vi? You never seem to draw her that way, and I kind of just wanted to know what do you think of it as a certified Vi lover.

I personally think that while something like this can be "cool" (as in, being beneficial to the character design), it's handled quite poor for Vi and it just looks a bit... ungrateful. Simply doesn't look good, doesn't fit her personality or character (am I missing something?) and it doesn't seem to fit or suit her...unlike Kenny's iconic eyepatch. To me, it has become a pivotal thing in his design to a degree in which Kenny with both eyes seems a bit odd looking. I see it as a symbol which stands for Ken being a martyr and all he's lost and sacrificed. He is all about family and helping those he loved, his loved ones truly were the "apple of his eye". It all makes sense, doesn't it?

But for Vi, it's excatly the opposite. I'm just so sorry to see her like this. 😭😭😭 I don't think it makes sense in any way. Louis losing his tongue because he's so talkative and "won't shut up" does kind of make sense, but I cant help but see Violet losing sight as kind of lazy writing. "We need something bad happening to her!!! suffer the children!!!'- the writers exclaimed.

i think vi losing her eyesight is incredibly impactful on her character and i honestly dont understand why some people say its lazy writing. especially since it was foreshadowed multiple times. vi losing her eyesight i think is even more impactful on her character than louis losing his tongue because at least louis still has his music to express himself and uplift spirits through (and its not like he cant communicate At All. his note still makes clem laugh). the reason i dont draw blind vi very often is because of how sad it is to me. for multiple reasons

violets whole thing is wanting to be able to protect the people she cares about, and feels immense grief and guilt about the times she feels shes failed them (thinks if she had been there with the twins that day that she couldve done something to save them. feels she failed everyone taken by the raiders. is scared of failing clem too "if something happened to you because of me? i cant lose you too. i wont". its why she cant leave minnie after shooting her. and a kidnapped vi attacks clem because she doesnt want anyone else to get hurt. hell it even ties back to her grandma and feeling guilty about not doing anything for her)

so for her to lose her eyesight? she took pride in her ability to fight and now she cant do that anymore. cant protect the people she loves. and as someone who started the season as an isolated loner, it forces her to rely on those around her for help, stripping her of her independence (and her independence is what allowed her to stand up against the group for clem when it came to the marlon situation in ep2). a blinded vi is forced into accepting community, whereas a saved violet accepts it on her own. her and clem turn ericsons into the home violet could never see it as

the other reason blind vi makes me so sad is that it is Directly a result of clems actions. kidnapped vi had nothing and wanted nothing to do with the bomb, and yet shes the ONLY ONE who gets hurt by it. clem choosing to let vi be taken means clem both breaks her heart, and then burns out her eyes. louis and his tongue is between him and lilly and was a choice THEY each made outside of clems direct influence (even if it was clem who inspired him to speak up, it is ultimately his choice to keep talking, and lilly hurts him for it. its sad he gets punished for a character moment, but clem had no direct hand in him losing his tongue. its why hes not angry to see her in the cell. he doesnt blame clem for what happened), but the way vi is feeling in that cell is DIRECTLY due to clems actions. vi feels like clem abandoned her after she had put herself on the line for her multiple times. she always had clems back but clem didnt have hers. clem is the one who planted the bomb and vi gets caught in the blast. clem hurts her emotionally And physically. and vi apologizes for getting upset (she tries to apologize on the beach too before theyre forced out in the cart, so she felt wrong for those actions immediately even tho they were understandable. lilly and minnie used her moment of weakness to get in her head. she just wanted everyone to be safe)

kidnapped blinded vi is just so incredibly sad to me, especially when you compare her to a fully realized violet. a violet who has come into herself, has confidence, has opened up, has stopped pushing people away out of fear and lets herself love again. shes a leader. a fighter. a protector. and those are all things a blinded violet loses

neither vi losing her eyes or louis losing his tongue is supposed to add anything to their characters. its about what theyve lost. both of them have important parts of their identity stripped away from them after being taken by the delta. its supposed to be sad. heartbreaking. regrettable. unfortunate. they have not gained anything by their time at the delta, only lost important parts of themselves to it

[youngpettyqueen]

Thanks! In that case I'd like to request Bashir and Worf with a kiss on the cheek :)

oh this is so choice anon I could kiss you myself

LOVE that yall have been giving me so many excuses to write Worf lately. especially love the excuse to write Julian and Worf, because I love them, and I will never stop spreading the Julian and Worf (and Julian/Worf) agenda. thank you for allowing me another excuse to force people to consider Them

hope you enjoy <333

Things happen way too fast.

One second, Julian is coaxing a bottle away from a very intoxicated Nausicaan, and passing it behind his back to Quark, who swoops in to take it with practiced quickness. Except, the Nausicaan towers over the both of them, and he sees exactly what they do.

And this makes him very, very angry.

The next thing Julian knows, he's on the ground, his head spinning and his cheek smarting. He doesn't get to be on the ground for very long, however, as the Nausicaan grabs him by his collar and hauls him clear off his feet.

The Nausicaan growls something, but Julian's ears are still ringing a bit too much for him to make it out clearly, and he's a bit preoccupied with trying to squirm his way out of the iron grip on his collar. Then the Nausicaan is reaching back for something at his hip, and Julian's eyes widen as he realizes that he's going to do a whole lot worse than just punch him in the face.

And then Worf comes roaring in like a lion.

At first all Julian sees is the hand that clamps down on the Nausicaan's shoulder. Then he's being dropped on his ass, and from the ground he watches as Worf hauls the Nausicaan up into the air like he weighs nothing at all, and slams him down into the nearest table with such force that he puts him through it.

Worf hunkers down over the Nausicaan, his hands still fisted in his jacket. His eyes are burning with rage, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a display of ferocity. "If you harm the doctor again," He snarls, "I will kill you where you stand." He doesn't say it like a threat, he says it like a vow. It's backed up by his posture- coiled tight, ready to strike should the Nausicaan so much as breathe wrong.

The Nausicaan, of course, is too dazed to respond.

Worf drops him, letting him flop back against the broken remains of the table. He draws himself up to his full height, then steps off the Nausicaan and moves over to where Julian is still sitting on the ground. He holds a hand out to him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his tone significantly softer.

Julian stares up at him for a moment, starstruck. Then he nods, takes Worf's hand, and lets himself be pulled up to his feet. It never stops being unfair, just how easily Worf lifts him.

He stumbles as he stands. Worf is quick to steady him. "'M alright, 'm alright," Julian assures him, wincing as he gingerly touches his cheek, which hurts like hell, "Just... had my bell rung, is all. I'm alright." He'll probably have a wicked shiner, but it's nothing a quick stop at the infirmary won't fix. Still, it smarts when he talks.

Worf leans down, examining the injury for himself. "You are bleeding," He observes, "I will take you to the infirmary." He decides.

"Oh, that isn't necessary," Julian says, even as Worf takes him by the arm and guides him away from the scene of the fight, "I can get there just fine. Beside, I'm sure Odo's going to want to talk to you about..." He glances back to see a couple of Starfleet Security officers moving in to deal with the fallen Nausicaan, "That."

"The Constable will wait." Worf replies curtly. Clearly, he's not going anywhere.

Julian can't help but chuckle. "You're being awfully protective." He remarks, his tone light, bordering on teasing.

Worf huffs, an irritated sound. "There are few things as dishonourable as striking a healer," He gruffs. Then, softer, almost hesitant, he adds, "And I... do not enjoy seeing you hurt."

Julian softens at the admission, his smile going from teasing to warm and genuine. "That's very sweet, Mr. Worf," He hums, and he bites back a laugh as Worf pointedly averts his eyes, "I'm alright, really. A regenerator will have this fixed before you can blink. But..." He tries to catch Worf's eye again, "Thanks. For the rescue, I mean. Usually I'd insist I can fight my own battles, but I suspect our Nausicaan friend was about to turn me into a kebab, so your intervention is much appreciated." He rambles a bit, but the sincerity is there all the same.

"That is precisely why I intervened when I did," Worf tells him, confirming Julian's suspicions, "I would have intervened regardless, but when he reached for his blade, I was compelled to act... quickly." He admits.

Julian doesn't really want to think about how close he got to being run through. He remembers the Academy courses on artificial and biosynthetic organs, and he remembers the case study his class did on Captain Jean-Luc Picard's artificial heart, which he got after a Nausicaan stabbed him. In a bar fight. Much as he admires Captain Picard, he has no desire to also have an artificial heart.

So, he breezes right past all those thoughts, and goes right back to teasing. "It almost sounds like you were worried about me." He comments, saturating his voice with charm.

"I was not worried," Worf refutes, again, without making eye contact, "I merely did not desire to see you stabbed in a... bar fight. It would be... unbecoming." He grumbles.

"Oh, yes, unbecoming," Julian nods, mock serious, "As opposed to, say, being stabbed in a proper battle."

"Yes," Worf agrees, not catching Julian's sarcasm, "That would be a far more worthy death."

From literally any other person, that would be an insane sentence. From Worf, however, Julian recognizes the compliment. His grin broadens. "Are you saying I'm worthy of a grand and glorious death on the battlefield?" He asks, leaning into Worf's arm, "Mr. Worf, that's positively romantic."

Worf looks like he might genuinely combust, his face flushing a deep, dark shade as he grumbles under his breath. Julian chuckles, rich and warm, continuing to cling to his arm as Worf, despite the teasing, continues to walk him to the infirmary. Such a gentleman.

When they do arrive, Worf turns to him, still obviously flushed. "I will go speak to the Constable," He says, all serious, as he tends to be, "I suggest you do the same once you are released."

Julian snaps a two-finger salute. "I'll be there in a jiffy," He agrees, "I'm sure Odo will want my statement." He's not looking forward to that. Dealing with all the statements and questions is more of a pain than being punched in the face. But if he doesn't go tonight, Odo will just hound him tomorrow, so he might as well bite the metaphorical bullet and do it sooner rather than later.

"Be sure to tell him the Nausicaan was going to make an attempt on your life." Worf instructs.

Julian still really doesn't want to think about that. "How could I forget," He sighs, "Don't let me keep you. You've been the perfect gentleman, but I can take it from here. Like I said, this won't take long. You'll probably still be in Odo's office when I get there." It's probably going to be a long night for both of them. Joy of joys.

"In that case, perhaps I should wait," Worf suggests, "It may be... safer, if I escort you." He adds, somewhat awkwardly.

Julian raises a brow at him. "You really are being protective," He observes. He chuckles, and gives his head a shake, "I'm a big boy, Worf. I can handle myself. But I'll tell you what," He says, "If I think I need an escort, I'll ask Nurse T'Strei." He offers as a compromise. He has absolutely no intention of actually asking for an escort, he just knows Worf won't back down from this. Worf's protective tendencies are endearing, to be sure, but he has a lot of pride, and he can only take so much.

Worf considers this for a moment. Then he nods. "Very well," He agrees, "I will see you in the Constable's office." He turns to leave.

"Hold on," Julian catches him by the sleeve. Worf looks back at him, and Julian steps closer, smiling fondly as he looks up at him, "There's an old Earth custom that comes with walking me home, you know." He hums, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Worf just looks confused. "This is not your home." He points out.

Julian chuckles. "I practically live here," He reminds him, "So it's close enough for me to do this." Bold as brass, he tugs Worf even closer, and goes up on his tiptoes so that he can give him a sweet little peck on the cheek.

Worf's entire body goes rigid. He freezes in place like a statue, like he's a part of the computer that's just shut down. Any of the blush he'd managed to shake off roars right back to his face, across his nose, he's probably blushing right to his ears under all that hair.

Julian lowers himself back down with a grin. "See you soon, Mr. Worf." He purrs.

Worf blinks. Then he blinks again, and clears his throat. "Yes," He jerks a nod, "See you. Soon." And then he turns on his heel and takes off at a brisk march.

Julian watches him go, lingering until he's out of sight. Barely aware of the sting in his cheek, he ducks into the infirmary, humming cheerfully and much, much too pleased with himself.

[mirkwood-trash]

Here comes dat boi (Chief Puddles)

[honeydots]

Because I love you~Xanlow

"Because I love you." xanlow | 1.4k | rated T ask game

Laslow's been left in a heap of mud.

Not long ago, he and a small army of Xander’s personal guard were in the midst of fighting. Only against some bandits and ruffians, but they were facing off in a mucky marsh. That was trouble all by itself, it was hard to move around without worrying you were going to lose a shoe.

But Xander's father provided them with a battalion of faceless for protection during their travels. And as creatures that are notoriously hard to control, one of them carelessly thwacked Laslow in the chest as they fought. It knocked the wind out of him, and he actually flew backwards and straight out of the battle.

At that moment, Laslow was profoundly grateful for the squishy mud that broke his fall. It could've been a lot worse, and a lot more deadly, had he landed on something hard or sharp. The mud acted as a nice and slimy pillow, and he was promptly smothered in it.

Dazed, Laslow couldn't pull himself up right away. Then he started sinking, fantastically, and he had to use every muscle in his body to try and keep himself steady. With a dull ache in his chest, Laslow resigned himself to his fate of needing some help to get up.

Everyone left him behind, though. Smartly, the battle moved out of the swamp and onto the more solid ground of the forest. So now Laslow's stuck, alone, mind jumbled and chest sore, in a smelly bog. Perhaps the mud was more of a curse than he imagined.

Thick drops of rain begin flicking down onto Laslow's face. Ah, not good. He might actually drown if this place begins to fill up. He decides to stop mucking around (ha-ha) and give an honest attempt to get up. It isn’t exactly fun to be lazy in the mud, but he’s tired, and he wanted to wait out as much as he could.

And he tries to escape! He really, really does! He just realizes that he's still sinking more than he's making progress and stops quite quickly afterwards.

So that's horrible. Laslow’s senses don't sharpen exactly, rather he begins to panic. Wait, is he really stuck? He tries to struggle less aggressively, but he can't find any sort of solid ground, and he really regrets letting himself sink down this far. Oh, it feels gross, and the rain is still coming down. He’s going to be devastated if anything gets in his mouth.

Which makes Xander’s sudden voice all the more heaven sent.

“Laslow!”

Laslow tries to lift his head enough to see where Xander is—and he eventually spots him, only his blond hair standing out against the dark. But he’s looking around quite aimlessly, Laslow realizes.

“Milord?” Laslow calls, and Xander snaps to attention, eyes finally on Laslow in his personal mud bath. He comes running over, and Laslow kind of awkwardly plops his head back down. “I’ll have you know I was just thinking about getting up, but somehow my limbs aren’t entirely cooperating—”

“Are you hurt?” Xander asks, kneeling next to Laslow while safely out of any gooey spots. He’s looking him over, and also absolutely staring at the mess of muck Laslow’s gotten himself into.

“Oh—I think so. But I’m not bleeding.” At least he’s pretty sure he isn’t. He feels oddly moist, but he’s certain that’s because of the frequently aforementioned mud. “I think it’s my ribs? I’m achy.”

Xander frowns down at Laslow. Then, in what seems to be a quick decision, Xander grabs the top of Laslow’s vest in a hard grip, and begins to lift him out of his muddy heap. It’s weird, even more so because it works, and Laslow stumbles onto solid ground on his hands and knees.

An exhaust comes over Laslow in the moment. It was hard work, seriously, to keep himself from sinking, lazy as he looked. He slips a bit, rolls over to sit down, and looks over at Xander quite pathetically.

It should be noted that pathetic looks work enormously rarely on Xander. So when he sighs and begins to turn, at first Laslow thinks he’s actually leaving him to his own grubby devices.

But, a cautious “Climb on my back,” from Xander speaks a different truth which Laslow readily accepts.

“Ah, my savior,” Laslow says as Xander stands, holding Laslow’s weight very well. But he always does, despite the many burdens Laslow brings along with him. “I was worried I’d drown for a moment there. Someone once said to me that it’s not a bad way to go, but how could they possibly know that? I’m not convinced, I'm really not.”

“You’re awfully talkative.”

Laslow sighs. “I’m very lightheaded.”

“We’ll find a proper place for you to rest soon.” Xander continues walking, carefully avoiding the deepest mud pits in the bog. “You were quite a ways, you know.”

“Because you all ran off and left! Abandoning me in a literal pile of goop.” Laslow flings a slop of mud off of his hand for good measure, and Xander shakes his head with a scoff. It gets a laugh out of Laslow, which makes also his chest hurt. So he just rests his chin on Xander’s shoulder. All cold and metal, of course.

“…You came back and found me, though,” Laslow says. He’s teasing a bit, too.

“I did.”

“What made you?”

Xander scowls, eyes still ahead and looking at the thicket of trees they’re slowly approaching. “What made me? You disappeared.”

“I suppose so.” Laslow tilts his head back and forth, chin still planted on Xander’s armor. “Any better reasons?”

Very often, Laslow fails to amuse Xander. Unfortunately, there isn’t a happy ending to this. “I will grant you the mercy of not assuming that you were hoping to be praised for having been trapped in mire.”

“Well thank you, because I wasn’t. I’ll admit, however, that I’m always open to my ego being stroked.” Laslow tilts his head a little far, and manages to bonk the side of Xander’s head lightly. Xander doesn’t shake him off—he doesn’t really do that anymore. Laslow has been gracefully granted the right of toleration. “My heart needs an extra beat or two, or I’ll die right here.”

“Quite the exaggeration,” Xander says plainly. Laslow scrunches his nose.

“Won’t you indulge me? Savior?” He earns a huff from Xander for that.

“Was there something noxious in that mud?”

“You wound me!” Laslow kicks his feet about, until Xander readjusts and makes Laslow nervous to fall. “I’ll be quiet if you tell me something good.”

Xander seems annoyed, but not nearly enough so that Laslow will stop being playful. There’s always some room for this, he thinks. Unless Xander gets actually mad. But lately, many things have changed, and… He doesn’t, as much.

“Why did I rescue you,” Xander repeats, not quite muttering. “Am I correct that you wouldn’t be satisfied with my saying that you’re my valuable retainer?”

Laslow grins, feeling a small warmth radiate in his chest. It’s just beneath the pain, settling in soundly. “It would’ve been enough, though you’re welcome to go on.”

Because Xander is fundamentally a kind man, he doesn’t just drop Laslow for the comment. But there’s long enough of a pause before Xander speaks that Laslow’s sure he considers it. “What would you like me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Laslow presses his lips together. “Because I’m invaluable and not an idiot for getting knocked into a pit of mud and almost dying very stupidly?”

…Laslow is kind of embarrassed, actually.

“Hm.” Laslow waits, but that’s all Xander provides.

“Hm?”

Xander looks around. Though the army isn’t in sight even still. The two of them are very much in their lonesome, unless this muck and gunk all over Laslow is sentient.

“May I say because I love you?” Xander asks.

Laslow feels himself blush. He grunts a little, and he stuffs his head into Xander’s cloth collar, digging his nose into his neck. For a moment, he rests there.

“That works, I think,” Laslow says, still nestled in. He pauses. “…May I say I love you back?”

Xander slows his pace a bit, and he rests his head against Laslow’s. “Will you always be so needy with me?’

“Only a little.” Despite how he can’t find any exposed skin, Laslow still kisses Xander’s neck. “Thank you for saving me.”

Xander exhales. And he keeps walking through the forest while Laslow pecks his neck and bumps his jaw.

“It was only some mud.”