#this is the laszlo I'd been waiting to see in the show

[writeroutoftime]

Congratulations again!!!! I’m here with TWO—count ’em, 2!—requests. Can I get Diego Hargreeves with “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before” and Laszlo Kriezler with “I don’t need you to tell me who I am!”?

Aww thank you so much! I'm so so sorry this is incredibly late, but I hope you still enjoy! I also hope you've been doing well! 💛

oOoOo

The bar was noisy and the stench of cheap beer filled the air. None of that mattered to you, though, as you concentrated on the task at hand. It was Friday night which meant your weekly, friendly, 'date' with Diego. The same Diego who had challenged you to a round of darts, causing you to poke your tongue out in concentration.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before." Diego teased, laughing into his beer as he watched you throw all three of your darts into the outer rings, losing spectacularly.

Huffing, you threw your arms up in frustration and turned around. "If it's so easy, you show me then." you challenged, hands on your hips.

"With pleasure, sweetheart." Diego said, strutting past you to retrieve the darts, before he lined up his first throw, landing a perfect bullseye. The other two darts followed in quick succession leaving Diego with a smug grin and you pouting in your chair.

You threw back the rest of your drink, grumbling about how unfair it was when Diego had near perfect aim. "If I had superpowers, I'd score a perfect game too."

"Nah, you don't need any powers. C'mere, let me show you." he offered, holding a dart towards you.

Without hesitation, you jumped off your seat and grabbed the dart from his hand, twirling it back and forth between your fingers. Diego then took a step towards, standing behind you. Wordlessly, Diego took your hand in his and manipulated your fingers until you were holding the dart just like he wanted you to. All you could do was pray he hadn't heard the way your breath hitched at his touch.

"That feel okay?" he asked, glancing down at you.

Wordlessly, you nodded, looking over your shoulder into brown eyes. "Getting comfy there, sweetheart?" he teased before returning to the task at hand. "Alright, now you wanna line it up." he started, helping you guide your hand to the correct height. "Then you're gonna throw it back, release, and make sure you follow through." he explained, walking you through the steps without actually throwing the dart. "Take your best shot."

You shook your head to clear it before trying to follow Diego's instructions. Throwing the dart, you were dejected when it didn't hit the center, but did hit closer than before.

"That's not bad at all." Diego offered. "Try one more time."

Once more, you lined up your shot, pulled the dart back, and released. This time, however, the dart sunk right into the bullseye, your eyes immediately going wide.

"Oh my god, I did it!" you shouted, a huge grin overtaking your face. "Did you see that?" you asked, turning to face Diego and engulfing him in a hug.

Before either of you could respond, you were so caught up in the moment that you kissed Diego without thinking. When you realized what you had done, you pulled back frozen in shock. You prayed you would spontaneously combust to avoid an awkward conversation and Diego's rejection.

"I am so sorr-" you began to apologize, before Diego's lips were on yours once more.

This kiss was a surprise, but it was soft and sweet. Not at all what you would've expected from Diego, yet you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. You found yourself lost in the moment you had been waiting for.

Pulling away, you allowed your forehead to rest against Diego's, a small smile on your lips. "So, that was, uh..." you trailed off with a slight giggle.

"Yeah." Diego smiled. "It was."

"I guess these weekly dates are more than friendly?" you giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to Diego's lips.

#rita's3yearcelebration #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy imagine #rita writes

[saltysalmonkid]

Okay wait in regards 2 my last post i hv a lot of reasons for why i dont want human!nandor to be canon and i just wanna dump them out just cuz

So the obvious/most selfish reason is that like. I dont want laszlo and nadja to outlive him and guillermo i wld cry real tears that can never happen i'd die i wld wither and die i wld become a little husk of nothingness on the floor of my room.

But more IMPORTANTLY i feel like it wld detract from his journey of self discovery. Like uhh how do i say this... so his whole thing is that he has no more lust for life. He feels like his existence is meaningless and is depressed because of it. And also most notably he thinks that becoming a human wld fix all of that. Do you see where i'm coming from here? If the show just made him a human the it would be like. Idk a copout. Because its like hes like "oh if only i were a human.. then everything would be better..." and then bam he becomes one and doesnt need to do any further self reflection bc he did the geedang thing.

Now you could make the same argument for guillermo and vampirism, but i think for him vampirism was mostly about power. He wanted power and freedom from his shitty repressed catholic life. But he already got that power, thru his van helsing heritage and thru asserting himself and being more confident in himself in later episodes. Its become increasingly clear that guillermo now craves vampirism less for the sake of vampirism and more because of nandor and what it would mean to get turned by him. To nandor, vampirism is an act of love. He doesnt give it out freely like nadja or laszlo, so to be turned by him would be an admission of something that guillermo has been craving from him for so long.

Whereas with nandor and humanity, it is purely an escapist fantasy. Its pretty apparent especially in the wellness centre & a farewell. He treats his (percieved) humanity as a cureall, and shoves all his actual problems under the rug because he believes them to be fully solved by becoming human. His happiness is directly tied to his percieved humanity and when it is taken away from him he immediately spirals and wants to go into a super slumber. So i think to turn nandor human in canon would subtract from a lot of emotional growth that he has to go thru/issues he has to work thru.

At least those r my thoughts!!

#wwdits #nandor the relentless #nandermo #hv a lotta thoughts abt stupid vampire show lol

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse