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spookymultimedia · 1 year

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Laszlo's beauty

Sean finds Laszlo's playing on his harp and confesses something personal to him

Takes place sometime after this fic

CW: the usual amount of sexual innuendos that are connected to Laszlo

Laszlo's harp sat untouched next to his piano gathering dust. The truth was Laszlo had completely forgotten about the thing. He would sit for hours on end strumming the harp with his skilled gentle hands that caused Nadja so much joy in private intimacy. He had found other hobbies to entertain his insatiable mind and had simply forgotten all about it until one night.

Laszlo walked the halls searching for something to distract him from the insolent demons in his mind that reminded him of the strange child he had lost. He had been reunited with his love whom he presumed to be deceased but at the cost of a child who he grew fond and protective over. He was relieved, yes, but tormented by the hurricane of emotions inside him. He found it harder than usual to concentrate and the nightmares became more and more frequent. Colin assured him his emotions were valid and real and the parental bond was very very real but yet he felt stupid. It was then he found himself looking at the harp that brought him comfort centuries ago. He brushed the harp and listened to the hum of noise it brought. He sat down and clumsily attempted to play the strings. The noise wasn't exactly a pretty one. It took him a minute or two to adjust and find the muscle memory his hands once held. Once he found his rhythm he closed his eyes and let his hands strum aimlessly on the strings, allowing it to silence his mind. Unbeknownst to Laszlo, Charmaine and Sean had payed a friendly visit to the mansion, which wasn't uncommon due to Nadja's amorous relationship to Sean's good lady wife. They had known their vampire status for quite awhile now and were quite calm about the information to everyone's surprise. Sean passed through the hallway behind Charmaine and Nadja as they talked and stopped when he heard the sound of a harp. It was quite a unique tune and Sean couldn't help his curiosity. The two ladies didn't even notice Sean had stopped. He followed the noise and found Laszlo seated at his harp. To a lover of music the sound was odd and not the most beautiful symphony but to Sean's amateur ears, it was wonderful. Laszlo was so lost in his own music that he didn't notice Sean stepping closer to him. Sean stood in awe at Laszlo and stared at his hands. He never noticed how nice his hands were. The shape, his rings and his polish was full of character and charm. His hands moved so effortlessly as if he was a wizard conjuring the tune with a spell. Laszlo's face was stern with concentration. Hair fell into his face making him look mysterious. His hair looked so soft. Sean wondered how nice it would feel to run his fingers through that raven hair. He wondered if King David looked this beautiful as he played his holy psalms on his harp as Laszlo did when he played. He felt glued to the spot, as if Laszlo's spell was keeping him grounded there.

"Holy shit," Sean breathed out. The sudden noise startled Laszlo, causing him to let out a short yelp and stiffen his shoulders. Sean backed away, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He let out a soft giggle. Laszlo relaxed and sighed.

"You're something else Laz."

Laszlo blinked up at him, "what?"

Sean stared back, blushing. A flood of words and desires filled his head, it felt impossible to say how he felt.

"You're beautiful," he said with a wistful smile. It was all he could say. Laszlo's jaw fell in shock.

"How- how you move your hands like that- it's fancy stuff," He smiled wider and stood behind Laszlo, close enough that the vampire could feel his breath on his neck which was doing wonders to his penis.

"Th- th- thank you," Laszlo stumbled on his words. It astonished Laszlo how easily he could take his breath away when it had left him centuries ago.

"Laszlo, I need to tell you something," he touched his cheek and moved his chin to face him. Laszlo grew limp and looked up at his best friend. He could hear his pal's heart racing.

"I think I'm in love with you," Sean with each word Sean grew more calm and giddy. Laszlo's jaw fell wider, "Really?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I was just so scared to say anything. I'm so sorry. You're precious to me. You know that don't you?"

Laszlo sat there stunned. Laszlo moved towards his face before becoming coy. He closed the gap and pecked Laszlo's lips. He grinned and looked at Laszlo's face. A huge smile crept on his face, he let out a gay chuckle before he suddenly dashed up into the air becoming a bat. He flew around in circles as Sean laughed at his ecstacy. He landed back in regular form and fell onto the couch. Sean ran up to him and hugged him.

"I love you!" Laszlo cried, "I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you, " he pulled Sean close and Sean ran his hands through his hair while kissing his forehead. Charmaine and Nadja looked at the two.

"FUCKING FINALLY!" they said at the same time and laughed at themselves.

"Wait you knew!!??" Nadja asked wide eyed.

"Obviously. He told me he had a crush. Poor Seanie is so shy about these things," Charmaine giggled.

"You're not upset?"

"No, I want them to date!" Charmaine scoffed. Charmaine walked up Sean and gave the couple a huge hug. Laszlo couldn't stop grinning.

Colin walked into the room, "What's going on in here?"

"Me and Sean are dating now!" Laszlo cried out.

"Well its about damn time," Colin cried back and shook his head and moved along. "Now it's Nandor's turn to confess."

Nadja looked at him, "What?"

"Oh nothing." Colin sang out as he left. Charmaine returned to her beloved's side and kissed her cheek, Nadja smirked down at her. Nadja felt so happy to see Laszlo happy with his favorite little guy. The two left Laszlo and Sean to be alone. Sean was resting over Laszlo's chest, feeling at his hair. "I'm sorry, am I too hands-y? I can stop."

"No, don't stop. "

Sean stroked his hair and breathed in his shoulder. They stayed cuddled like that for hours and once more was Laszlo's harp forgotten.

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits fanfic #wwdits fanfiction #laszlo cravensworth #sean rinaldi #laszlo x sean #seanszlo #sean x charmaine #charmaine rinaldi #nadja x charmaine #nadja of antipaxos #nadja cravensworth #laszlin #colin robinson #nandermo

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gla55t33th · 9 months

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Questions for Lazureus ^^ (If it's okay to ask multiple in one, I hope)

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust? 6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable? 15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first? 29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Feel free to answer as many or as few of these as you like, I feel I may have picked challenging ones but that's what I'm curious about! (as a little extra question, would you consider putting Laz on Artfight for next year? I understand if not, just wanna know, and have a great day <3)

5. Depends whether or not youve earnt Laz's trust in the first place- which is no easy feat! He acts the same towards nigh on everybody regardless of trust but once youve earned it (Which is only his family, one living friend, and a few who have since died) I dont think itd be easy to break? He is an incredibly loyal person after a certain point!

6. Flexible. He is the one put at the helm of the system enforcing them, after all! But he does have his own personal moral laws which are fairly immovable.

15. On the spot! He wouldnt rehearse it at all, the guy gives no thought to what people think or how they might respond to him.

29. No. But ey have since lowered their ideals.

34. You get so used to it that you forget that feeling is guilt! It just becomes a dull undertone you cant put a name or cause to :]

F. I NEED HIM DEAD FOR REAL!!!!!!! I ADORE HIM BUT I WANT TO PUT HIM IN A MEAT GRINDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE IS A NARRATIVE PUNCHING BAG AND IS SO SO FUN TO ROTATE IN MY HEAD!!!!!!!!! i look at a square window and go omg. laz :3 AND THEN I FLINCH!!!!! HE TAKES UP TOO MUCH SPACE IN MY BRAIN

xtra: I would like to say yes but 1. I need to finish an updated ref sheet holy moly. and 2. Im not sure if i will participate!! It was nice for a bit but artfight does not mesh well with my anxiety X[ (its the same reason i dont do DTIYS' anymore)

38.

One, Two, Three, Four archangels lined up in an empty white expanse. We looked worse for wear, an unbefitting visage of deities. Posed like dolls, deadly still, with heads bowed towards a huge figure that blurred into its surroundings. I knew what was about to happen, but not why. Though... who was I to question the reasoning this higher power had? In fact, questioning the creator was likely reason enough in hindsight. We were designed to solely carry out our God's word-- I was to be its right hand, its trusted spear. A proxy for the lower echelon. I knelt at its command, waiting, and my bretheren watched knowing they'd follow soon. The silence broke my nerves. The memory itself degrades thereon under the panic-- and like the way that an animal doesn't think when snared in a trap, nothing was processed bar the pain, the pain and the knowledge that a portion of your very being was being rent from gilded flesh. I would never go back up there, even if they wanted me back, but being tossed aside in such an unexplained and violent manner by such a supposedly perfect being plays with you. Doubly so when you've been cast away from the very reason you were created in the first place. And it couldn't even do the courtesy of rendering me mortal, so I could just live out my days like the rest down here.

#i dont. usually share writing whatsoever but its a fun question. this gets to escape the notes app #it took me so long to get to this because i contemplated drawing the last one but ffFUCK drawing i hate.drawing i hate it #<- is artblocked. i tried

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2offayyo-kzt · 1 year

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wwdits smol fic (energy vampire Sean)

Pretending to be a human when you are an energy vampire is not difficult, Sean had mastered this so well that playing the stupid human was a second skin for him, a breath of fresh air in his monotonous days, probably helped by the fact that he was a pathological liar.

Indeed Sean Rinaldi was a closeted energy vampire, that is to say a vampire who doesn't ostentatiously express his true nature; usually it's a known hunting technique among energetic vampires, initiating contact with a potential prey by pretending to be someone else, however for the man with the fifty-year old appearance, the real reason was quite different : loneliness.

Indeed, when you are an energetic vampire, loneliness is your only companion, you are born one day in a house (if you are lucky a mansion if not a simple residence), you live in your house and you die in it, because you depend on it and you can't afford to be away from it too long and often, at the risk of not having enough energy to drain.

The house, the home, is vital for an energy vampire, it is the source of all the evils, and it is perhaps the only thing that can put in danger, a guy of his kind.

Energy vampires are certainly the most powerful species of vampire, the only one capable of draining other vampires and then walking in the sun without ending up as roast beef, however Sean considered this a small reward for the price paid.

He was lonely, terribly lonely, it was out of desperation that he initiated a marriage with this lovely woman named Charmaine, short-tempered, and thus, an inexhaustible source to drain right under his roof (and maybe he fell madly in love with her in the meantime)

He fed exclusively on exasperation and frustration, which is what led him to initiate contact with his gothic neighbor four years ago :

"Hey Laz !" he shouted at the top of his lungs, distracting the man from his gardening task "Bitch kicked me out again, can you believe it ?"

The bearded vampire sighed with boredom and insulted the man with the cap in return, then hypnotized him, disgusted to have had his peace disturbed.

For Sean on the other hand, it was a real feast, much more nourishing than the beer in his hand, and that day, he understood that Laszlo would be his new ideal target.

Unfortunately in these calculations, he had in no way predicted to get attached to the traditional vampire, he was ready to confess his nature of energetic vampire, but when Laszlo put his arm around his neck, flirting lazily in his ear, Sean never found the courage.

And he was sure he would lose that closeness forever if he stopped his masquerade. So he got stuck in his lie, playing the stupid misogynistic human on the edges, spending his days drinking or complaining.

Every day he was desperate to initiate another contact with the vampire, to find out more about his habits "he considers me his best friend !" and this thought often brought tears to his eyes.

He had finally managed to create a strong bond with another soul, an equal relationship, each lying about their true natures but nevertheless honest with each other.

It was refreshing, him, usually hated, the world convinced that his only purpose in life is to piss off others.

It was nice to be loved, even if it's superficial, but it was enough for him.

An energetic vampire is born alone, lives alone, and dies alone, unless he is acting well.

#wwdits #kztpost

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lady-lazagna · 1 year

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Yooo laz just wanted to thank you again for standing up and reminding everyone in this fandom to be cool. Its really our job as adults to keep in mind this show and fandom are for children and we gotta keep it safe for them. The amount of people willing to be gross to kids is insane, and its nice to have other people, especially adults, around to help push back.

Almost everyone I've met online has a story about looking for stuff related to their favourite show on the internet when they were younger and seeing the most grotesque shit that they couldn't even comprehend at the time. AND YET a lot of those same people will go on to make EVEN MORE gross shit, and then claim that it has no effect on real people.

So more kids will come online looking for cool Beyblade stuff and be met with disgusting things that can change their perception of sex and relationships for the rest of their lives (I would know, being one of those kids). They don't understand the concept of "don't like, don't look" because they don't know any better. I don't want kids today to be on the same internet that I was on as a kid.

It isn't that much of a heavy responsibility, either. Just don't write porn of kids.

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greenieflor · 2 years

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pls share your thoughts on high fashion ^_^

Omg Laz I love you

Okay disclaimer real quick: I have never studied fashion in any academic/professional setting. These opinions are informed by a solid decade of project runway, a childhood best friend who grew up to be a designer, a brief but fruitful stint as costume mistress for my high school drama club, a love for historical fashion, and some obsession over the met gala.

My biggest point that I always start with and I feel like people get stuck on a lot is that high (i.e. Avant garde, haute couture) is not meant to be worn by "normal" people. It is art, designed for the runways and MAYBE a celebrity will wear it to a carpet or opening. These pieces are not meant to be something you could see yourself wearing on a quick trip to the market or even to a nice event. These collections are pieces of art being displayed.

Second: I fucking hate brand name ready to wear/off the rack. And I'm talking like Gucci, LV, Yves Saint Laurent. A lot of it is just the pure horniness over having a "fancy" brand plastered across their chest just because its some big name brand (a la Supreme). Sometimes that luxury is nice!!! I'm not hating on getting a luxury item as a gift for yourself or friends, it's the obsession with having and showing off name brands that gets to me. Anyway, I think we have gotten to a point where some of these ready to wear collections are both kinda ugly and ridiculously expensive ($2,000 for a pair of ripped jeans, $5,000 for a brown sack dress, etc) and the only argument for that price is the name on the tag. (This also translates into my feelings about modern and contemporary art but I'm actually studying art so that opinion is definitively in progress at the moment).

All in all, I think celebrity culture for sure has had an effect on every day fashion but especially high(er) fashion. When it comes to stuff like Haute Couture and avant garde runways I feel like there's a big difference between "oh I think that's pretty" and "shit that's impressive".

(Also, as an aside, microtrends in fashion are destroying the planet and are fueled by tiktok and shein hauls. Fashion is an incredibly important aspect of culture and of the self. Studying historical fashion is so interesting for this reason because we can see the shifts in social values through the change in dress. Wear what makes you comfortable and happy (in the safest way you can) and try not to give too much of a shit what other people think.)

#this is so rambly and makes very little sense #but!!!#here you are #ask the plant

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chocolate-chip-trip · 2 years

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2 (things you said through your teeth) between Damon and Lazarus :)

Awkward silence filled the room, Damon fidgeted, desperately trying to figure out how to make it stop. It wasn't the quiet that was bothering him, he loved the quiet when he was with literally anyone but him.

Lazarus may play as a cold heartless loner, but he wasn't stupid, he could feel how uncomfortable the lich was, despite trying not to care. Without looking up from the book he was reading, he tossed a question out into the room. “Have you ever been in love, Damon?”

He choked a bit, “whu- what?”

“Have you ever been in love?” he said in the same flat tone as before.

“A few times yeah, they never lasted...”

Interesting... “Go on.”

“Well, I went out with plenty of girls, but only really dated three over my lifetime. There was Caren, Lily, and Jessica.” He sighed when he spoke the last name, “Each one was a different kind of extreme, I guess I have a track record now for falling for women way out of my league.”

“I know the feeling.” He mumbled, “I've only ever fallen for the one girl. You're either lucky or cursed to fall more than once.”

Damon chuckled to himself, “I didn't think you were a romantic Laz, always thought you were just a loner your whole damn life.”

Lazarus gave him a sharp side glare, “I loved her with everything I had, and in the end she cheated on me. With my brother.”

His eyes went wide as he tried to hide his grimace, “My uh... condolences.” Laz huffed to himself, the corner of his mouth twitched when he saw the lich turn away in embarrassment. “If it makes you feel better, my first girlfriend hated my guts, so I kinda feel that. She might have even cheated on me, she was a pathological liar so I wouldn't be surprise me if she did.”

“And the other two?”

“One was too much of a pushover and cried when I'd say anything other than constant praise. The other dumped me and moved to the city, though it was only cause I was too tired and depressed to leave with them.”

“The one that got away...” Laz stifled his malice behind the sarcasm. “Lucky bastard.”

“Yeah well, if I did go with I probably wouldn't have treated them how they deserved, it was for the best. I learned my lesson though, I only hope they found someone nice and died before... you know.”

“The complete annihilation of the human race, yes I'm aware.” He slammed his book shut.

“Blunt prick...” He sighed and slumped over “At least I missed it, even just narrowly. That was my real lucky moment.”

“Right because if you had died during the war you probably wouldn't be here today. Lucky you.” Laz mumbled, looking off into space.

“Yeah imagine if I stayed dead, you wouldn't be graced with my presence.” He jabbed back.

He glared over again, seeing the subtle pride on Damon's face, Laz returned with a forced smile and squinted his eyes, “The gods have truly blessed me, well. Just the one I suppose.”

He scoffed, “You're such a classy guy Laz I'm amazed you don't a girl on each arm right now!”

Laz dropped the fake smile and stared forward, “I suppose I'm just too good for them, they're all intimidated by my glory.”

“Intimidated is not the word I would use...” Laz huffed again, “Its more like, psychologically disturbed.”

“That's two words.”

“Am I wrong?”

Lazarus stared at him for a moment, a deep empty stare as Damon watched the gears in his head turn, finally Laz got up and started walking out of the room without another word.

“That went well...”

#lazarus #damon #today on diametrically opposed characters being forced to tolerate each others presence

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suddenlyfantrolls · 5 years

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⚡️ lazzov, on a scale of 1-hot damn how spicy is ark?

I’d give him… ^ good Holy Smokes

Not ^s good ^s me, but no-one

#narcississm to hide imposter syndrome #real nice laz #sunnetrolls #lazzov #ark #organized chaos #muse

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speremint · 2 years

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Reread the midseason finale: nearly tears up

Reads latest update: LAZ WHYYYYYY-

I've found so much comfort in this series and its so nice to go back to some of the chapters (my fave is the midseason finale) and I just adore how you make Laz and Bea feel real. They have their ups and downs but ultimately they're just trying to deal with the hand they were dealt to the best of their ability aaaaa good writing, writing real good-

You're such a sweetheart, thank you so much, this message is genuinely warming my heart! I always get a bit nervous about my writing and whether the characters feel too stagnated, so I'm happy that people can understand and see their growths!

#mei responds #bnr asks

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vimeddiart · 3 years

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Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

#d&d #tuhka turunen #lazarus astrophel #ash & salt #mine #almost forgot to post this

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cotccotc · 3 years

Text

SKZ + a ftm s/o !!

◌ ftm (female-to-male) refers to a transgender person who was assigned female at birth, but identifies as male. these people are awesome, lovely, brave, & valid !! (yes that’s part of the official definition !!!! look it up <3)

part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by @lixsmullet ♡ )

genre/s: fluff, skz x ftm reader

warning/s: mentions of dysphoria, mentions of periods, one very brief implication of transphobia (NOT IN REFERENCE TO THE MEMBERS DW), use of various pet names, swearing, my dumb formatting and commentary uwu

wc: ~1.5k

a/n: i hope i did this req justice !!! i made sure to do a lot of research on topics that might come up in this situation so i hope everything is accurate, but also inclusive for multiple types of people within the ftm umbrella. the descriptions might not be too deep but pls know they were written with a lot of care. OH ALSO i included potential pet names they might use !! i really really hope y’all enjoy this :) lmk what u think !!

◌ CHAN

chan’s known for putting other people’s needs before his own, and this is no exception.

he’d be super giving !!! would buy you “world’s best boyfriend” mugs and shit !!! it’s cringe but you love him so it’s fine !!!

more on top of your doctors appointments or meds than you are tbh

boy oh boy… if you take/decide to start taking testosterone……

LOOK OUT HERE COMES THE T POLICE KJDF

he just wants to do everything he can to help you !!!!! whether it means literally helping you stay on top of things and being your at-home (emotional) therapist, or giving you space.

i feel like he’s very good at detecting how a person feels based on their face or body language, so he’d always be on the lookout in case you might be feeling off or dysphoric.

and, as much as it might pain him, he’d give you as much time/space as you need. once again, he has your best interest in mind 24/7 !!! he just loves you so much, you know? 🥺

potential pet names (as long as you’re ok with them !! that goes for each member.): babyboy (we saw this one coming), foxy/sexy (mostly sarcastic but also… True), sunshine

◌ MINHO

a thing that i personally love to imagine: minho introducing you to people as his boyfriend

if anybody ever gives either of you a questioning look afterward (either intentionally or not) he wouldn’t waver at all !!! he’d just stand there and keep smiling. because you’re his boyfriend, duh

constantly reminds you how strong you are !! how super tough and cool you are !!! because it’s true !!!!!!!

i feel like i always make him sound like the ceo of Boyfriend Bootcamp in my reactions but i MEAN???

for example, if you’re ever feeling down (for whatever reason. whether it applies to you being trans or not) he’d be like “MAN UP !!! YOU’RE A WARRIOR !!!! ……. a cute one <3333 bUT A STRONG ONE !!!!!!”

in general, i definitely see him as the type of person who’ll just grab your hand or hold you a little closer in situations where he thinks you might feel uncomfortable, and even if he doesn’t directly acknowledge it, you know there’s a lot of love and care behind the gesture.

also… you’re sad? here, hold a cat.

potential pet names: stud (as a joke.. but it stuck), anything that starts with “my” (like my boy, my baby, my love, etc.)

◌ CHANGBIN

ok listen

i’m not calling changbin lazy

HOWEVER

he will most definitely try and make you do “manly” things for him when he doesn’t feel like it- SJDJJ

imagine his raspy, tough, yet adorably whiny voice being all:

“BAAAABE…. BABYYYYYY….. come lift this fOR MEEEEEEEE”

ESPECIALLYYYY if you’re taller than him oh my Lord

BUT HE’D DENY IT AT ALL COSTS !!!

changbin, pointing to an object on a tall shelf: “BABE can you get this for me? you’re so strong you can do it <3333”

you: “short ass-”

changbin: “hEY”

ALSO if you menstruate, i personally believe that he would be very comforting to have around during that time !!!!! just chillin on the couch !!!!!! vibin !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

your very own personal heating pad <33 jksjfd

potential pet names: babe, bunny, hot stuff (sometimes used for moments of sarcasm !!! there are lots of those..)

◌ HYUNJIN

he’s very sweet and loving with you, which never changes despite anything you might be going through. like ,,,ever.

i can see him being especially sweet and helpful for someone who doesn’t want to or can’t surgically transition !!!!

would do everything he could to emphasize the fact that you’re his favorite boy !!!!

whether it’s through activities, pet names, playful jokes, etc., he always wants to remind you how manly and lovely you are !! lolll

i present to you a thought that just popped up in my head and Will Not Leave:

you might normally be the little spoon, but if you ever feel a bit off about your body or just don’t want to be held, THIS BOY WILL GET CURLED UP IN A LITTLE SPOON POSITION FOR YOU !! SO VERY FAST !!!

(is it also an excuse for him to be the little spoon? yeah maybe it is-)

potential pet names: hubby (regardless of whether or not you’re married sjdsdf), prince, things that start with “my”

◌ JISUNG

asks lots of questions !!!!!!! whenever he’s not sure how to proceed with something or has any general questions about being trans or how to support you, he’ll be completely transparent with you about it.

even though it makes him a lil embarrassed 🥺🥺

will overuse the terms “dude” and “bro” just to make you laugh… but you both know there’s a hidden underlayer of validation there

loves cheering you up when you’re not feeling your best !!!

also ,,,,,,Youtube Research Enthusiast

“hey y/n check this out! let’s try it :D” and it’s a two minute video about how to naturally lower your voice

and you go along with it because a.) he’s cute for suggesting it, b.) it could actually be useful, and c.) he’ll look cute stretching his neck for a few minutes and it would be a valuable use of your time to watch him do it <3 jsjdfh

oh also !!!! we know he’s just Like This anyways, but he will indeed take every chance he gets to kiss random parts of your body like your hands, shoulders, the tip of your nose, and anything else you’re comfy with :) he just likes 2 smooch, what can i say?

potential pet names: anything silly !! bubba, baby/babycakes, good lookin’, etc.

◌ FELIX

this is somewhat similar to what i’d suggested in my nonbinary coming out reaction, but i feel like he’d take a lot of care to make you feel more confident in yourself !!!

especially when it comes to your appearance !!!!! if you ever decide to try out a new hairstyle, different clothing, etc., he’d HYPE YOU UPPPPP omg

you: *exists*

felix: *silly smirk* “my handsome boy.. hehe” 🥺

bakes for u !!!!!!! will come over asap with freshly baked cookies if he even senses you might not be feeling your best !!!!!!!!!!!!!

we all know he’s a real cuddlebug, but since you’ve explained dysphoria to him (to the best of your ability), it’s very important to him that he doesn’t overstep with the physical affection

he might also suggest you use a code word or gesture to signify if it’s ok for him to get all close and cuddly with you !! he knows you have your off days, and the last thing he wants to do is emphasize your insecurities.

he loves you more than anything, and he just wants to see you smile :)

potential pet names: handsome, love, sweets (bc ya know,,, brownie boy things <3)

◌ SEUNGMIN

would regularly spend hours and hours doing research on trans rights, different forms of transitioning, other people’s perspectives (both in his position and yours), etc

honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if he posted some questions on a website like reddit or quora or something from time to time SJDK (but eventually he’d be much more comfortable asking you directly, especially since he knows not every person is the same)

he really just wants to make sure he understands how you feel to the best of his ability in order to best care for you !!!

VERY VERY diligent if he has to adjust to new pronouns. would practice that shit like it’s his JOB.

i think he’d just be very scared of screwing something up, which you might have to console him about from time to time.

you know he’s trying his best to a.) not make this about himself and b.) do everything in his power to support you

sorta similarly to changbin, i think he’d be nice to have around if you’re ever on your period !! overall, this boy would do his RESEARCH

potential pet names: baby, mister (for some playful sarcasm), bear (or baby bear, honey bear, etc.)

◌ JEONGIN

if you’re ever feeling dysphoric, depressed, anxious, or generally not the best, he will do WHATEVER IT TAKES to cheer you up.

you: :(

jeongin: “ok fine you have permission to poke my cheeks all day”

you: :D

jeongin: :D

is also very similar to changbin !!!!! he’ll very dramatically give up on a task that requires even the slightest bit of manliness just so you can do it for him…. because he’s laz- i mean thoughtful <33

ok picture something with me besties (and this is quite random so bear with me):

he buys you cologne. cute !! very sweet of him yes <3 …...but the Backstory-

he had No idea what kind to get, so he went to the store and tried on like 10 different kinds until he realized he could just swatch them on a piece of paper so now he’s covered in cologne and he buys the one he thought was his favorite but he comes home to realize it was the WRONG ONE so he has to go back to the store and test them all again until he finds the one

..all just so he could surprise you & make you feel more masculine :’)

anyways LONG STORY SHORT: innie best boy :D

potential pet names: bun (in reference to bread, of course. you must match.), handsome, sexy (BUT ONLY IF YOU SAY IT RIGHT BACK !!!!!! sexy loaf boyfriends aw <3)

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @cyberskz, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806 ( join my tag list !! )

#districtninewriters #inkidz #skzwritersclub #fluffyskzclub #straykidsland #*fics #*8 #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz #stray kids #skz ot8 #stray kids ot8 #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #tw: gender dysphoria #tw: transphobia #tw: periods

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shyrose57 · 3 years

Note

I have to talk about this rando au I came up with a long time ago because I know I'm not gonna have time to write it lol.

Purpled angst anyone?

Purpled and Punz grew up in a really crumby neighborhood. One day Punz ditches their duo mercenary job, abandons Purpled, and joins a cult. To get revenge, and make money obvi, Purpled turns to working for Quackity; the big tycoon who runs the local casino.

Purpled doesn't really recognize the mistake he's made until Quackity blows up his and Punz home. Aka, his only real shelter, and the only thing left to remind him of his stupid big bro. Worse still, when he finally gives into Quackity's offer and comes to live at the casino he immediately gets put on babysitting duty.

Enter Tubbo. The five year old shapeshifter Quackity found in some backwoods. Why does he keep the kid around? I don't actually know. Maybe he wants to utilize his abilities when he gets older, or maybe he was crazy lonely and recognized Tubbo was also crazy lonely and felt kinda bad. Either way he still ain't a great parent.

In this au the syndicate includes the entire SBI, except Tommy who is a random four/five year old they adopted/kidnapped from a bad home. They're currently working on taking down Quackity who is holding Techno and Dream in prison.

The story happens when Purpled (who has by this point come to care for his babysitee) and Tubbo (who thinks Purpled is the only nice "grownup" he's ever met) meet Tommy (who ran away to look for Techno himself) on the street and safely return him to Wilbur and Ranboo.

Tubbo originally has ram horns but shifts to look more like an alien.

The egg is some kind of weird virus that took over a couple of brains. No this idea does not have a consistent theme.

I don't have anything else really. I literally came up with this for BadDadQuackity, and Purpled centric content.

I love this so, so very much.

How much older is Purpled than the others? Is Ranboo also older? If Purpled’s the only nice ‘adult’ Tubbo’s ever met, are the other members of Laz Nevadas not so great to them either?

Does Schlatt have any role in this? What’s Dream’s position here? I’m assuming Tommy either doesn’t like him or doesn’t know him, as he was only searching for Techno, but seeing as you did include him, is he being broken out as well?

How do Tubbo and Purpled bond? What’s life like for them in Las Nevadas? Do we get Dogchamp?

Presumably they run into the Syndicate later on, so what happens then? Do they ever realize that they’re the Syndicate/from Las Nevadas?

Where does the egg come into play? What are the effects of the virus-can it be cured? Where are the Fiancees?

#dream smp #dream smp au #quackity #tubbo #purpled #tommyinnit

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ibis-gt · 3 years

Text

moooore boxer au, directly following my little drabble from last night. there's good reason boxer cam and boxer laz haven't fought before, cos 6'8 heavyweight cam and 5'6 welterweight laz aren't even close to the same weight class, but laz is confident-leaning-to-arrogant enough that he thinks he can land some solid hits and dodge enough of cam's to at least not suffer a knockout loss in this supposedly-friendly spar.

he is wrong. 3600 words. warnings for a little blood and violence, disclaimer that i literally only know boxing from anime and webcomics so some of this is gonna be Incorrect Terminology

~~~

Laz and Sal step into the gym's arena and see Cam chatting animatedly with a short, curly-haired guy. Cam glances over his shoulder when he hears the door open and somehow lights up even brighter. He waves and calls out to them, then plants a hand on the turnbuckle and vaults over the top rope, easily swinging his 300-some pound bulk in a graceful arc clear.

Laz's throat tightens and his already racing heart starts working overtime. This guy shouldn't be anywhere near as nimble as all that. He's an aging slugger whose most famous matches involved him sitting still and tanking hits.

He's just showing off, Laz reassures himself. It's an intimidation tactic. Let's see him three rounds into the match when I've given him a couple straights.

"Hey, great to see you!" Cam's voice booms out as he crosses the gym floor. "I'm so glad you took my offer. I've been watching you pretty closely as of late - you've got real skill! But I just had to find out how you are firsthand." He extends his hand for a shake, then pauses as he sees Laz already has his gloves on. Cam laughs, a short, booming sound that seems to shake the room. "Okay, down to business already, huh? That's fine! Let me get changed and I'll join you."

He settles for slapping Laz on the back, which nearly knocks him over, and offering Sal a fistbump, which Sal returns shakily. Cam ambles off towards a changing room. As he passes by the mat, he holds up a hand, and the curly-haired guy tosses his gloves at him, which he catches deftly. Then he stops on his heel and whirls around, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"Oh! How rude of me. You probably don't know Luther, he's my boyfriend and occasional second.''

Luther waves. "That's me! Nice to meet you." Laz nods, and Sal waves back.

"Lazarus...'' Sal begins, but Laz cuts him off.

"Don't worry so much. Just a friendly fight, right? That means he'll take it easy, and I'll knock his head off while his guard is down.''

Sal can't help but laugh, a high-pitched, almost frantic giggle that explodes out of him without warning. Laz is always so keyed up, like he turned the dial to 11 and snapped it off. He's deadly serious of course, but he’s not bothered by Sal's laughter. He starts to bounce on his toes, swaying side to side a little, then takes a swift step to the left, back to the right, circles an invisible opponent, and - onetwothree, quick jabs in succession that trail down his phantom foe's body, no doubt leaving them stunned.

Cam comes back out of the changing room, now outfitted in a pair of black shorts and classic red gloves. He smacks them against each other a few times and beams at Laz.

They climb up into the ring together. Sal hovers behind one corner, while Luther calls out from the other side.

“We’re goin’ three rounds, one minute between each! Standard ten count, three downs in one round is a TKO. Keep it clean, fellas! And go!” He dings the bell to start the round and leans on the turnbuckle, watching intently.

Laz moves side to side, keeping his eyes on Cam. The larger man has a gentle smile on his face. Well, he’d soon wipe that clear. Laz just needs to wait for an opportunity and slip inside his guard. They’d see how that legendary endurance stacked up against Laz’s counter.

Cam moves forward and closes the distance, leading with a jab. It’s almost offensively lazy, clearly just testing Laz’s reflexes. He dodges around it and lets out a huff. I’m not going in on something that obvious, he thinks to himself. Give me something real, old man, this isn’t kindergarten.

Cam grins as though he can hear Laz’s thoughts. He lets loose with a quick combo, faster than Laz would have expected from a slugger his size. Laz dances around the first hit, blocks the second, and steps in under the third, landing a hit on Cam’s stomach. It’s his first sign that he might be in over his head. It’s like punching a concrete wall. That layer of fat must hide a solid slab of muscle. Cam barely moves, even though Laz put most of his weight behind the blow. Laz dances back out of his reach as quickly as he can, narrowly avoiding a right hook.

Okay, okay, okay. Your opponent’s bigger and stronger than you, he’s got the longer reach, and he can take what you’re throwing at him. Stay on the defensive, don’t let him get you riled up. Laz tosses his head to get his hair out of his face - how many times had Sal urged him to wear a headband? Well, too late now - and starts circling, trying to get a better angle. Cam turns with him. That smile from earlier has settled in and kicked its feet up now. It’s going to take some doing to wipe it off his face. Laz can feel his temper start to rise. It’s something he’s struggled with his whole life - he just gets so angry sometimes. He’s usually able to channel it into something productive, cool anger instead of burning rage, but something in Cam’s demeanor is starting to set him off. Cam’s guard isn’t fully up. It’s like he’s taunting Laz - you’re so small, your reach is so short, I bet you can’t even hit me up here. Try it. Laz slows his breathing and focuses on Cam’s hands instead of his face. Try and knock his head off and you’ll only prove him right. You’ve got to keep it together now and explode later when it won’t get you clobbered.

Cam comes at him with a few more jabs, putting on some pressure. Laz slips them each in turn, backing up and watching him whiff. He’s starting to catch on to Cam’s rhythm. It’s pretty simple - two jabs with the left, one with the right. Two left, one right. Two left, one right. Laz is trying to keep the ring in mind and not let himself get backed into a corner, and that’s why Cam’s sudden change in rhythm takes him by surprise. One left, and suddenly a right that catches him just as he’s shifting to anticipate the second left. He blocks it - he’s no rookie, he knows to keep his guard up - but it shudders through his body like a cymbal crash. Jesus - if I'd taken that straight on - but there’s no time to think about the hypotheticals. He’s stuttered in his movements and Cam is closing in on the opening, backing him up against the ropes. Laz ducks left, right, blocks another hit that makes his arms ring with pain, and then ducks right under Cam’s arm and spins around him, dancing away with quick hops. By the time Cam’s turned to face him, Laz is bouncing in the middle of the ring again.

“Good!” Cam calls out, and Laz wants to hit him so bad he could scream. “You’re slippery as all hell. That little trick’s won me a match or two, y’know.”

Laz grits his teeth and resumes his defensive stance.

“More of the strong silent type, huh?” Cam says conversationally. “I like a little chatter myself. Good to touch base every now and then. Anyway!” He makes a sudden lunge forward, winding up for a devastating straight. Laz sees his opening and takes it.

He slips under Cam’s punch, using his short stature to his advantage. Just inside Cam’s guard, he crouches low and explodes upwards, slamming an uppercut into Cam’s chin. Cam stumbles back, head tilted to the ceiling. Laz closes on the opening, landing blow after blow now that his guard is down. He’s about to go for a straight when Cam’s head snaps back up along with his hands. Laz doesn’t have time to slip or dodge, he’s already committed to the punch, and time seems to crawl to a halt as Cam’s right glove speeds towards his face. Red fills his vision and he has time to think: ah, fuck.

He gets up. He does not start swinging just yet, opting to hang back a moment and take stock. Cam looks a little ruffled, a few hairs loose from his immaculate bun, some red marks on his body that will no doubt bloom into bruises later on. He shifts his jaw from side to side and licks his lip, which has split open, letting a trickle of blood down his chin. Laz is much worse for wear in their exchange. Sweat drips down his forehead and nose, and his cheek is throbbing with pain.

Lazarus has been punched in the face many times before; getting your nose broken in practice a few times is how you learn to block your head. Cam’s right couner feels like all those nose-breaking punches joined together Voltron-style to fuck his specific shit up. It connects with his left cheek and eye, which almost immediately begin to swell. Laz staggers backwards, head reeling, trying to keep lucid enough to avoid a follow-up. Cam hangs back and watches, which is almost worse for Laz’s pride than if he’d kept trying to beat Laz into the mat. Cam is breathing hard, though, and clearly he felt some of those blows. Laz leans against the ropes and tries to see through the haze of pain that’s settled over his vision. His head feels like it’s been encased in concrete. God dammit, push through, he growls in his head. You’re not made of glass. Get up and get swinging. Show him why he should take you seriously.

The bell dings. Round one is over.

Cam grins and heads to his corner, where Luther is waiting to give him a kiss and fret over his injuries. Laz slumps back against the ropes again, letting out a heavy sigh. He trudges to his corner, where Sal is biting his thumbnail down to a stub.

“Well, how’m I doing?” Laz asks.

“I’m surprised you’re still standing!” Sal quavers. “It looked like he was going to smash you into dust! I mean, did you see that counter? I could hear the impact from here! And the way you fell back, I thought for sure you were going to hit the canvas. Lazarus, you’ve got to play this safe!”

“Encouraging as always,” Laz grumbles. “I’m not doing that bad, c’mon. He’s only landed the one hit. Y’know, if you don’t count the ones I blocked.”

“Sorry, I just - you know you have the Leeroy match coming up, and he’s no pushover. It’s really important if you’re trying for a shot at the title, and I can’t have you getting injured here. But you’re doing really well at slipping his jabs and you’re clearly the faster and more maneuverable fighter. You just need to know when to quit. I could see him recovering from a mile away, and his core’s really strong. Those gut punches aren’t going to do much good unless you can land a hit on his solar plex, that’ll take anyone out of commission for a moment. The punch to his chin was good, keep an eye out for his slower swings and try to slip inside his guard a few more times. You’re not going to win this by knockout, probably not even by downs, but you can give him something to think about at least.” The longer Sal talked, the calmer he got. The gears had started spinning in his head, grinding the raw anxiety into the grist of innovation. “Frankly, I don’t think you can win this fight,” he said, voice steady and sure now. “I mean, you’re simply outclassed in weight. Best you can do is stall it out and go for a tie. Just as long as you don’t go down, you’ll be fine.”

Laz tilted his head to one side, thinking it over. “Not too optimistic, there.”

“It’s just a friendly,” Sal said weakly. “And he’s several weight classes above you. Don’t take it too seriously? Please?”

“Fine,” Laz sighs, conceding at last. But you mark my words, I’m gonna give him at least one more hit that cleans his clock. He smiles too much.”

“This is exactly what got you in trouble in the Miyata match,” Sal groans.

“No it’s not! It’s nothing like that! And anyway, I’m still proud of that match, I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘trouble’,” Laz lied. “Look, one more good hit. That’s my goal for this round, and then I back off and play defense til the bell rings.”

Sal doesn’t look convinced, but their minute to talk shop is up. The bell rings for round two, and Cam strides forward, smacking his gloves together with a loud thwack. Laz rises to meet him, jaw set. One more good hit. He’ll wait as long as it takes. That anger is back but it’s cold now, no longer the bubbling cauldron in his gut, rather a cool composure settling over his mind. His objective is clear, his goal is right in front of him, and he’s got all the patience in the world.

That is, he had all the patience in the world, right up to the point when Cam winks at him.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Winking? Winking?! Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Well, he’ll be winking permanently when I drill him in the eye so hard it closes up for good.

Cam actually laughs as Laz lunges forward, sharp jabs bouncing off of Cam’s raised gloves. But it’s the laughter that clues Laz in. Cam is toying with him, of course he is. He can’t take the bait, he’ll only play right into Cam’s hands. He has to relax. The angry boil is reduced to a simmer as Laz’s calmer analytic mind takes over. He’s no fool and he won’t rise to the bait. He backs off again, dancing out of range. Come and get me, big guy, he thinks, and when your sloppy footwork betrays you, I’ll nail you between the eyes.

Cam advances, not willing to let him out of range. He seems a little more cautious now, though - he won’t forget that uppercut in a hurry. They trade careful jabs, each blocking or ducking the other’s strikes, and for a moment it seems like they’re both playing it safe. Then Cam goes for a sneaky gut shot that Laz deflects, and Laz slips in under Cam’s guard and lands another shot on his chin. He slips back out as quick as he can, not wanting to get caught committing again, and Cam presses, shaking his head sharply to clear it. Laz notes with satisfaction that Cam is no longer smiling. He doesn’t look upset, though, merely focused. Good. Take me seriously.

Cam starts up his rhythm again. He’s been pressing a little more aggressively than Laz had expected all match. It makes some sense - a swarmer is a good counter to Laz’s more careful fighting style, and having to fend off constant attacks doesn’t leave him much room for mistakes. But Cam is a slugger, used to ending fights quickly with a few punches, and the strain of keeping up this offense is starting to show. He’s just a little slower, and the blows that land are just a little lighter. A bubble of excitement rises in his gut. If Cam keeps trying to overwhelm him, he could potentially wear him down and win this. He’d agreed to stall, but…

There it is. Just for a moment, Cam’s guard goes down. Laz steps in and drives a straight right at his nose, but Cam gets a hand up and it glances off. Laz bounces back, dodging a wild swipe, and goes for a body shot while Cam’s still in the followthrough. It lands, and Cam grunts. Laz is starting to sport a grin of his own. Finally, a sound out of the big guy that isn’t snark. He skips forward, aiming jabs at Cam’s head. The relentless pace is really taking the wind out of Cam’s sails; he eats punch after punch before he’s finally able to get his hands up and defend again. He staggers back in a defensive position, and Laz presses hard. He’s not about to let Cam get a second to breathe, if he can keep the pressure on and land some good hits he could actually win -

Too late, he realizes Cam’s game. It happens again. He commits to a straight, just in time to see Cam’s right coming for him. He gets his hit in first, the advantage of his proximity and speed closing the gap before Cam can, but a split second later Cam’s glove knocks into his chin enough to lift him off his feet. He feels one brief moment of weightlessness before he sinks into darkness.

~~~

“Ten!” someone shouts.

“Whuh,” Laz says, opening his eyes. For some reason, he’s lying down. And his face hurts really bad. Then it all comes flooding back and he sits up, his vision blacking out in protest. “Fuck.”

“Oooh, just missed the count!” Cam says, walking over and holding out a hand. “Good show, though. For a zippy little pipsqueak, you sure can throw a punch! I was seein' stars for a minute there. How’s your jaw?”

“Fuckin’ hurts,” Laz says. “How’s your ribs?”

“Fuckin’ hurt!” Cam laughs. “C’mon, let’s get some ice on that and talk shop.” Laz takes his hand and tries to pull himself upright, but his legs don’t want to take his weight. Cam takes notice and kneels down, getting Laz’s arm around his shoulder.

“Up we get,” he grunts, straightening up. Then he looks down and sees Laz’s feet dangling a good six inches off the ground and bursts out laughing. “You really are tiny,” he guffaws. “Why the hell’d you agree to fight me?”

“Why the hell’d you offer?” Laz grumbles.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” Cam says, walking the two of them towards the corner, where Luther and Sal have stepped onto the mat. “I hate retirement. I miss the ring. I wanna get back into the game somehow, so I figured I’d see how the up-and-coming competitors are doing. And frankly, kid, you’re not half bad.” He unslings Laz’s arm from his shoulders and guides him over to the little chair set up against the turnbuckle. Sal holds a bag of ice to the swelling on his eye and cheek. Cam sighs as though admitting defeat. “So fine, I’ll do it. I’ll train you.”

Sal and Laz gape at him for a moment. Luther clasps his hands to his chest and sighs dreamily.

“I already have a trainer,” Laz sputters. “And there’s nothing I want to learn from you. No offense or anything, but look, you’re not - “

“You’re in shock,” Cam said, nodding solemnly. “I get it. It’s fine, take a few minutes to really let it sink in. Cam Mersharc, five time world champion, agreeing to train you, I mean, it would throw anyone for a loop.”

“Listen, you deluded old man,” Laz starts to growl, but Sal puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What we mean to say is, of course we’re flattered and thrilled by the offer, but there’s a contract, you see, so it’s really legally out of our hands…”

“Oh, sure, no problem. Luther, honey, you still friends with that lawyer?”

“Sure am,” Luther chirps. “I’ll give her a call, schedule a chat, we’ll have you out of that in no time.”

Sal glances at Laz and shrugs. “Could be useful just to see what he has to offer..?”

Laz scowls and glares up at Cam. “Okay, old man, what’re you thinking?”

“Obviously your footwork’s impeccable and your speed is top notch. You’ve got a brain in there, too, I could see it working the whole time. Your strength is okay for someone your size, and your endurance could use some work. You train with me, I’m gonna round you out. Technically and physically,” he says, playfully tapping Laz’s chest. “Put some meat on those bones, tighten your core, bulk up those arms. Don’t give me that look, you won’t move out of your weight class. Just a little extra padding so when someone gives you one of these - “ His fist stops a half inch from plowing right through Laz’s gut. He’d barely seen Cam’s arm move - had he been holding back in the fight? Or was that head injury messing with his vision? “ - you don’t fold like an omelette. Whaddya say?”

Laz weighs his options. It never hurt to round out a little. It almost sounds like Cam’s offering to shift him towards being a boxer-puncher instead of an out fighter.

“Well… can’t hurt. But if I think you’re full of shit, I’ll tell you to your face. Don’t expect me to start fawning and kissing the ground you walk on just ‘cause you beat me.”

Cam laughs and slaps Laz on the back, nearly knocking him to the mat again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pipsqueak! Now, get down and give me twenty.”

“What? Now? I still have my gloves on.”

“Sorry, was I not clear? On the mat. Twenty push-ups. If you’re doing them wrong, I’ll make your friend sit on your back. Go.”

Laz drops to the mat, cursing up a storm. Cam nods as he watches him bob up and down.

“Oh, yes. This is going to be the start of something wonderful.”

#writing #cam and luther #underbelly #boxing au #not gt #size diff tho uwu #writing fight scenes is so hard ;-;#i will improve i promise....

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