#physical abuse is real

[lizzybeeee]

Who wants to bet that Anders was planned to be in that post-credit's Executor cutscene montage but they changed it to Bartrand when they realized it would go over real badly with everyone?

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Medical Conference

hi guys um. i cant stop writing destroyer. i swear ill figure out a system to organize these “bonus” chapters soon i promise i promise

delta is eighteen in this but the chapter delves into abuse he experienced when he was a child so cw for that

(Content: living weapon whumpee, lab whump, medical whump, put on display, dehumanization, conditioning, noncon drugging, needles, non-consensual/nonsexual nudity, noncon touching, physical abuse, emotional whump, angst, child abuse, child death mention, parental whump?)

~

“I forgot, sir,” Delta tried weakly. He knew as soon as he said it that he should’ve just kept quiet.

“No, you didn’t. You’re going to lie about it as well?” Dr.Martino shut down the attempt, focusing his attention back to the device.

Delta laid down unmoving against the steel table as the scanner searched over him. It gave him mild electric shocks each time it passed. Of course, he hadn’t been looking forward to the diagnostic tests. But he hadn’t been trying to get out of it entirely. That wouldn’t have worked. He only wanted more time to psych himself up for it. Too long, apparently. He’d had to be collected for it. It’d been a bad note to start on.

The rest of the exam went on in silence, without anymore mention of his avoidance. As Delta redressed, he thought he might’ve been off the hook for it. Dr.Martino was fumbling though his desk drawers like he’d already left. 

He produced two unopened packs of pencils from inside the desk. Delta deflated a little bit. 

Delta took the pencils and arranged them in two rows along the floor, lined up flush against one another. Gingerly, he kneeled down on top of them.

“Hands behind your back,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair.

Already there. He knew the drill. He lowered his head, silently counting. No longer than twenty minutes, usually. No fewer than ten.

When he looked up again, Martino was leaning back against the table, flipping through a folder.

“The ISCEM conference is coming up in a month,” he said offhandedly, as if this would mean something to him.

“Okay?” Delta answered, more in confusion than anything else. He hadn’t meant for it to be disrespectful. 

Nevertheless, Dr.Martino’s shoe pressed down against his calf, driving the pencils further into his skin. 

“Yes, sir,” he quickly corrected himself. The pressure disappeared. The pain stayed where it was.

“You were probably too young to remember the last one, weren’t you?” Dr.Martino sighed.

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t really think about it. He was pretty distracted by the numbness traveling down his legs.

“Well, put it on your calendar. Don’t want you forgetting again.”

“Yes, sir.” 

He didn’t have a calendar.

~

“Mention the steady-state thing we discussed. I have files on it, I - is it too late to make a copy? I will. And if you could just please pass along a message for me, I would be ever so grateful,” Simon went on, fumbling through his own briefcase, trying to give what he could. Dr.Martino took the reports from him, flipping them around to see the equations he’d scribbled onto the back.

“You’re not coming? Sir?” Delta added the “sir” on as an afterthought, conscious of the doctor’s presence. Simon himself rarely demanded such formalities.

“Don’t interrupt,” Dr.Martino snapped, more tense than usual. But Simon obliged him, stepping a little closer.

“Not my scene.” Simon patted his head. It was soft, but Delta reflexively flinched away from any hands that drew too near to his face. 

Something on the desk beeped. The transit had rafted up. 

Delta held his wrists up easily as Martino presented the cuffs. They were psychic tech, meant to restrict his powers more than the collar already did. Presumably some kind of safety measure. He felt his world going flat as they clicked into place, all his spatial awareness reduced to a single field of view. The effect was extremely disorienting. He nearly fell over getting off of the table.

~

He’d mostly evened out by the time they’d gotten to the hotel. He sat idly against the chair he’d been placed in, watching the doctor unpack. Everything in the room was the same shade of beige. 

It seemed like they should’ve been able to go. Martino abruptly produce a vial from the bag. Delta recognized it as a sedative. He inserted the syringe into it, drawing it back up.

“I’ll behave, sir,” Delta offered. He eyed the needle warily; he’d usually have been given something in the way of warning.

Martino shook his head. He took a firm grip of Delta’s arm.

“Believe me, this is for your own good.”

Delta tensed his arm up, holding still as the needle entered him. Something cold shot into his veins. It took a long time for the chamber to empty. 

~

It hit him before they even reached the elevator. He clung to Martino’s arm, needing something to brace himself against, however briefly. Martino assured him he wouldn’t have to stand for long. They moved backstage at the panel. Delta nearly collapsed into the fold-up chair.

The cuffs were briefly removed as he was given the medical gown to wear. His hands moved slower than he would’ve liked, but he was able to put it on. It tied along the front, leaving much of his chest exposed.

Dr.Martino took a minute to make sure it was fitted correctly. He cursed, noticing for the first time the visible boot print against the side of Delta’s ribs. 

“Great. They’re going to think I beat you.”

You do beat me, Delta thought. Not as much as he used to. Not as much as Paris. But Martino still hit him. 

The doctor felt over the bruise with his hand, reigniting the pain. Delta winced. It was recent — still tender. The sedative helped a bit. All his thoughts were coming to him in a haze.

There was nothing that could be done to cover it, so apparently they were just going to ignore it. The cuffs came back on around his wrists. He led Delta out onto the platform regardless, sitting him up against the stool. It was had a back to it, luckily. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay upright without it. He’d been trained enough not to slouch or to look so outwardly high, but it was definitely a struggle to maintain neutrality. He kept his head down. It was the safest, the easiest to maintain for a long period. People gradually filed in. Though he was used to being put on display, the sterility and lack of decorum in this new space made the whole thing feel all the more jarring. It all felt far away, though.

His eyes closed without meaning to. When he tuned back in, Dr.Martino was droning on. He recognized some of the words. He would’ve recognized more if he wasn’t drugged. It was a talk about internal power generation. Conduits. There was a hand on his shoulder. Delta stood up from the chair. The gown was pulled down a bit from his shoulders.

Martino pressed the multimeter to his collarbones, watching the number climb until it broke. He pulled it away before it could burn up completely. He pressed a thin disk up against Delta’s chest, where it held there. It was some kind of controller. A thin arc of electricity emerged from it without any conscious intention on his part. More appeared, each of them branching away from his body like a plasma ball. The effect was immediate; that familiar fear crept into the eyes of the audience. 

It cut all at once. The disk was removed. Delta sat back down on the chair, pulling the gown back up over himself. 

The lights darkened. Behind him, a clip show began to play. He didn’t need to look back. He’d seen it plenty of times. Different explosions, annihilations, destructions. All his own work. He could recount each of them to the second. It played for a long time.

For some reason, they clapped when it was over.

~

“Sorry — do you mind if I look at it?” 

Delta opened his eyes again, sensing the it in question. He tensed up. 

He hated being touched. The moderator stripped the gown back again. He felt the electric pulse still going about Delta’s clavicle. His hands traveled around the collar. 

“I’m biomedical by trade,” the man explained, tapping at the gold, “This is custom, yes? When was it made?”

“The model’s about five years old. It gets updated about once a year.”

“Incredible. I see some scarring, though.”

Delta shivered as the fingers traced the burn scars by his neck, a bit on his trapezius. They were in the shape of a Lichtenberg figure.

“That seems non-optimal?”

“Those actually predate the collar. They’re a natural result of it overextending itself during an exercise. The restrictor works as a stopgap to prevent that kind of burnout.”

Though he’d expected it, it still jarred Delta just how easily Martino slipped back into calling him it.

Another scientist approached. She slid up to Martino, shaking his hand eagerly.

“Oh, darling.” He embraced her. She grinned, readjusting her jacket as they pulled away.

“Danny, it’s been ages. How are the girls?” Her nails clicked together.

Danny. The girls. Martino actually had a family. Not that he ever saw them. He had daughters. They’d been kids, the one and only time Delta had ever met them. They had to be in their twenties by now. 

“Brats, the lot of them. They’re smart, though. Smarter than I was at their age.”

“Well, that’s not saying much.”

Delta was not surprised when her hands traveled onto him. He barely flinched this time. But he hadn’t expected her to speak to him.

“Oh, and look at you. You’re all grown up now, huh?” 

She gripped his chin in between her fingers, studying his face. The touch wasn’t harsh, nor was it gentle.

“You probably don’t remember me.”

That was correct. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he could find no memories to attach to it.

“He’s a bit distant at the moment. You’ll have to forgive him,” Martino answered for him.

She released her grip, turning her attention back to the doctor. Even in his current state, it didn’t take him long to put it together. She’d been one of the teachers at the Institute. He wondered how many of them were wandering around out there now. Most of them. Dr.Martino had been the only one to retain some semblance of his position. All the other administrators had been cast away just the same as the students.

He had forgotten nearly every one of their names.

~

Martino packed up the last of the day’s display materials, arranging all of it back into the suitcase. It’d been a success, as far as these things go. He’d revealed all he could without breaching the terms of his contract. All the real science was under a strict NDA. It was nice to catch up with some colleagues, though. It was healthy to be off of a spaceship every once in a while.

He tugged Delta’s sleeve, pulling him up from the plastic chair. He took a minute to undo the cuffs; he’d thought they were an excessive measure to begin with and they had prevented any real show of power. Delta rubbed idly at the marks they had left there.

They made their way back up to the hotel room. The drug had not yet worn off; Delta still stumbled a bit when he walked. He’d redressed himself in a thick hoodie, trying to keep out the chill from the overactive AC or perhaps just trying to hide. 

The door opened. Martino dropped his suitcase onto the bed. Presumably out of habit, Delta lowered himself to the floor, kneeling there. Waiting for instructions, as if he could have followed them. Martino scoffed. 

“You can sit on the bed. I booked a double room for a reason.”

He watched the whole minute it took for his words to sink in. The way it took even longer for Delta to actually rise, blearily climbing up onto the mattress. His hands gripped searchingly across the blanket, pulling up the edges like he needed something to hold onto.

Martino ignored him. He moved to the far side of the room and opened the door to the balcony. The city skyline was clearly visible just down the road. The lights from it shone brighter than the stars from space. Martino produced one of the foreign cigarettes from its packet. The ember burned in the dark night. It was all quiet.

“What was I like when I was little?”

He turned to look at Delta. The kid was drugged out of his mind. He might’ve given him too much.

Dr.Martino took a long drag. He rarely smoked, so used to the endless sterility that he would not so much as dirty the air. But tonight was a rare night.

“What were you like?” He ashed the cigarette, turning back to look at the night skyline. “I don’t remember.”

Delta looked down, disappointed. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Martino sighed, losing the battle.

“…You were quiet. Same as you are now. You mostly kept to yourself.”

He gave no visible reaction.

“You didn’t get along so well with the other kids,” Martino admitted, some disdain entering his voice. 

Delta looked up. His expression was totally blank.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked.

It was manipulative, and self-pitying in a way that did not flatter him. Martino put the cigarette out. He stepped back into the room.

Delta shrank back a bit. The doctor looked him over. His eyes had dimmed some, no doubt due to the sedative. His hands were unbloodied. Just looking at him, no one would have know what he’d done. Martino remembered the sound of bones snapping and the bodies out in the yard. He remembered the expression Delta had worn the first time he’d killed — as blank and unfeeling as the one he wore now. He did hate him, he supposed. He’d never been his favorite. All his favorites had been buried a long time ago.

He didn’t say that. He remembered his lines — and he cursed himself for ever diverging from them, even for a second. He would correct it now.

“There is no you.”

Delta opened his mouth as if to object, then thought better of it. Good.

“No more talking tonight,” Martino said.

Delta nodded, laying down onto the mattress. He fell asleep with all the lights on.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @pigeonwhumps

[yuridovewing]

what i will always, alwaysss hate about the crowfeather discourse is how it got several people, even some people who i thought would know better than to spread such harmful rhetoric, to get up on their soapbox and say with their whole chest "child neglect is not abusive, breezepelt should get the fuck over it"

[shadystranger]

What was up with cass fighting for his life to stop dean from rescusing sam (not to mention his almost enthusiastic jumping to move past sam's death) He did NOT have that energy when the roles were reversed

like summin smell fishy and it aint just cass's pussy

[citricjoy]

tell me why kyles character on veronica mars has the most bizarre fucking villians wiki entry… you’re telling me he did all THAT… while looking like THAT?……

[blissfali]

I do think shubble is incredibly brave and amazinng for coming out and speaking on her experiences in a public platform. physical Abuse isnt always (often its not even) punching or hitting or slapping. It can take amny different forms. Biting sounds silly wehn you hear it but it becomes very serious very quickly!!! Esp when u consider how strong human teeth are + how quickly infection can occur if the person bleeds, etc. Something “harmless” can always escalate. And shubble did not deserve ANYYY of it i felt like my jaw was open druing the entire stream. As a victim of abuse myself im really proud of shubble for coming out with this.im so glad she got the help she needed too she really deserves the world.

[ssaltlicker]

Ekko straight beat the fuck out of jinx and people are frothing on their fanfiction ass ep but caitlyn elbows vi once and it's game over never redeemable ever.

Smoking crack

No literally its fucking unreal. Watching a dude beat a woman nearly to death and thinking thats cute while also watching someone essentially get elbowed and claiming its abuse is a different type of deranged

[platoapproved]

As the resident TVC expert, do the books ever address the fact that Armand has a substance abuse problem? I knew he had a familial history of alcoholism through his father but I’m reading TVA for the first time and I feel like I should have been keeping track of how many times he’s mentioned being intoxicated while in Venice. I’ve seen parts of the battle-ax sequence out of context but I never realized until now that Armand explicitly states that he’s also drunk while all THAT™️ is happening

😭 I am so flattered and happy to answer as well as I can, but I promise I really am NOT an expert. I've still only read up through TVA! 💚 I can't tell you if the question of Armand and substance abuse ever comes up in later books, though my suspicion is it won't.

(Also good luck on your reading of TVA! It's... a lot!)

It really is interesting to me that a lot of discussion especially around Daniel/Armand talks about Daniel's addiction but (and it's probably just because people are going based solely on the show which is so fair!!!) doesn't mention Amadeo getting drunk all the time in Venice. That includes the breaking-down-Marius'-door-with-an-axe scene and everything that follows. But the one that really kills me, and to me makes it clearest that Amadeo is turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism, comes earlier:

He was particularly horrified that I'd fallen drunk into the Grand Canal, necessitating a clumsy and hysterical rescue. I could have sworn he went pale at the account, that I saw the color dance back from his whitening cheeks. He whipped Riccardo for it. I was full of shame. Riccardo took it like a soldier without cries or comment, standing still at a large fireplace in the library, his back turned to receive the blows on his legs. Afterwards, he knelt and kissed the Master's ring. I vowed I'd never get drunk again. I got drunk the next day, but I had the sense to stagger into Bianca's house and climb under her bed, where I could fall asleep without risk. Before midnight the Master pulled me out. I thought, Now I'll get it. But he only put me to bed, where I fell asleep before I could apologize.

It's just got so many layers of awfulness - Amadeo falling in the canal comes up a bunch as a fun shenanigan in fic/discussion, which I love, but I also can never forget what follows after it. Marius whipping Riccardo rather than Amadeo but making him watch. Amadeo promising himself he won't get drunk again but then getting drunk again the next day. :/ Running to Bianca's house and hiding under her bed because it is 'without risk' in a way that the palazzo isn't. :\

TVA doesn't ever address it explicitly but I think it's pretty easy and justified to read Amadeo as having a very unhealthy relationship with alcohol, even without taking into account a family history of addiction with his father.

I feel like I've read a handful of devil's minion fics where there are explicit parallels drawn between Amadeo's addiction to Marius' blood and Daniel's addiction to Armand's blood, but I would LOVE to read a fic where like... Daniel and Armand talk about the fact that as an abused teen he was getting drunk every day in a way that was clearly not just 'people drank a lot of wine back in the 16th century'. If anyone has any recs like that I'd love to read them!

[toomuchdivergentformyneuro]

i find it sad that i’m more traumatized than i can remember

[winepresswrath]

the thing about revisit of the fight in 1x5 is that Louis started it and Louis kept it going and Louis threatened to kill Lestat but it's kicked off because Lestat put his hands on Claudia. that's what tips Louis over the edge into physical violence.

and the other thing about that fight is that Louis was not going to leave Lestat. He's not focused on trying to get away or comfort Claudia, though he is enraged on her behalf. He is trying to hurt Lestat. He can't really hurt him but he doesn't know that yet. He wants to punish him for both what he did to Claudia and for Claudia leaving in the first place. honestly knowing Louis probably for some other stuff while he's at it. he's been punishing him for seven years. But I really don't think he was going to actually try and leave him. that's so fucked up. they're so fucked up.

[crayonverse]

details bout michael n eins dynamic. 2 me (cw physical/emotional abuse, cannibalism, suicide/suicidal idealizations, ableism, self-harm)

michael only refers to himself as eins father when he wants ein to do something, any other time hes just michael .

lets ein not refer to him as sir to make him feel more "special" .

after eins mom broke up w zack she sorta got a bit. out of it. she started neglecting ein and she became depressed. The First Step in ein distrusting others bc his mother stopped paying attention 2 him. michael used a small amount of his magic to control her and make her drown herself in the kitchen sink and then kidnapped ein, making it look like she had killed herself and ein had ran away. .

just as a small thing of me hcing ein as a transguy, michael named him ein bc the meaning of "ian" (which is what his name is just spelled weird) is "God is Gracious" as a constant reminder that michael "saved" ein. .

ein wasnt tested on w forever potions (in the early stages w the other kids) because michael absolutely could not let Zack know he had his other stupid kid. when ein found out about the testing he was extremely upset bc he wasnt "special enough" for it. picture ein 6 years old begging for medical malpractice to be used on him .

he was tested later but as a teen when michael got out, since he didnt have access to the other children. although he wasn't able to use the full potions since he didnt have access to emeralds at the moment, so he used diluted versions of the potions that weren't as powerful via syringes. ein gets a fear needles from it .

when michael n the other two idiots were locked in the pocket dimension ein went through a brief depressive period bc the One Guy he (thought) cared about him disappeared. when michael did get out he didnt tell ein immediately bc he . doesnt like ein but when he found out ein got arrested he told ein that he should stay in jail for a few months to "learn his lesson" .

slightly unrelated but when michael wanted him out of jail he also wanted ein to disappear off the radar so he faked eins death in jail. originally he wanted ein to die in like a riot but ein, sensing an opportunity, asked for it to say he killed himself instead. the opportunity being aphmau half way into her uni course looking up her old high school bullies to see what theyre up to and just finding out ein is Fucking Dead .

the potions michael uses on ein are mainly magic power related (like eins Green Laser) because he likes manipulating ein into doing things rather than using his magic because its "more fun" .

michael subconsciously views ein as his actual son (mcd travis) bc he feels like "this one is a better son" or whatever .

not a specific thing but mother knows best reprise from tangled is a Viewpoint on their dynamic 2 me .

ein is internally scared of michael but he never verbally says that and if anyone asks him if he is he denies it immediately bc he doesnt want pity. you can see it in his eyes though. elizabeth is really the only other person who mentions it but she mostly uses it to make fun of ein because she "doesnt think its that bad" (<- she is unaware) .

bc of michael ein absolutely hates unwarranted physical touch. he reacts violently if anyone grasps his shoulder from behind or touches his upper arms. the only touch he usually allows is people lightly touching his hair/head bc he still registers it as headpats (grabbing his hair usually results in him biting) .

michael usually physically threatens or abuses ein to reprimand him but sometimes he throws ein into the Metaphorical Torture Box for entertainment .

basically most of the things michael does to ein is for his own amusement .

he also heavily dehumanizes ein to convince him to do evil acts, rationalizing it to him as "you arent a person so is it really that bad??" ein does not view himself as an actual person at this point more so as a nameless soldier, a weapon, etc .

i used this for an old fic n stuff too but also michael makes ein commit cannibalism to forcibly dehumanize him more. he wants to make ein feel entirely disconnected from humanity (like michael feels for himself) so ein will basically be a "mini michael" .

ein also consciously copies michaels mannerisms/speech. only really elizabeth n zack notice it however and it just fucking freaks zack the hell out (elizabeth is also freaked out by it but mostly ignores it) .

theres just a general theme of a loss of control for ein in general. he gets a small allowance from michael and hes not allowed out overnight, all his communication is usually internally with the researchers or guardian forces. most of the time ein self isolates from them, viewing them as beneath him and michael. when they try to talk to him its a 50/50 whether he'll tell them to fuck off or he'll hiss at them .

another specific detail is pre s4 ein fucked up a potion and instead of his usual reprimand, michael used pliers to defang ein. in his head its the one thing ein can't rationalize about michaels actions (the one "seed of doubt" he has). he usually makes excuses for michael's actions towards him but being defanged is the only one he struggles with since he knows that michael knows how important his wolf side is to him .

pre s5 and just like at the end of s5 (when ein was seen on the bridge) he was going through another depressive episode bc he missed his ears and tail. he was mainly just going through the motions of his daily life but he was barely holding on. michael repeatedly discouraged ein from committing because the plan would be messed up because of it (michael said that directly to him) and he would imply that ein would be a traitor if he went through with it. .

michael actually flipped between discouraging and encouraging ein to commit to see what he would do. .

he's caught ein self-harming before, w ein attempting to either drown or smother himself. michael doesnt like doing this regularly but most of the time he lets ein hug him so he feels "comforted". other times michael just scolds him and tells him to not do it again. .

i also hc ein as a low empathy autistic (bc # me) and he used to stim very openly and loudly but michael disliked that part of him so he "trained" ein to not stim in public which just results in him being constantly overstimulated, a contributor to Ein being fucking mad all the time. hes like a hair trigger away from a meltdown at all times .

the only method of stimming ein can usually get away w is when he scratches his arms/scabs. unfortunately he doesn't trim his claws and it usually results in ein making himself bleed or reopening scars. michael has attempted to get him to stop doing this but its pretty much a compulsion for ein at this point.

[vero-niche]

not to double dunk on a post but have you ever been a cis girl growing up in a small town who does not - physically could not - conform to the expected feminine presentation? they used to beat you up for that yknow. they used to beat me up and say its okay bc im not a girl. they used to (still do i assume) bully and harrass my friend (cis lesbian) on the street for looking like a boy. in the capital city too. and all this not even mentioning trans men or other masc presenting genderqueer identities. be so fucking real right now masculine gender expression is only ever accepted when it is done by someone percieved to be cis and perisex. an issue which is very much present in the real tangible world and have been for quite some centuries actually

[vizthedatum]

I don’t think using the term “narcissistic abuse” is ableist.

(addendum: if you are triggered by the usage of the term, please enforce a boundary for yourself to ignore posts like these (just like how I ignore posts that trigger me). I am not wishing harm on anyone. I am working on healing, moving on, and also forgiving people - but it does not change what happened.) Ableism is the blatant discrimination of those with disabilities - calling the abuse cycle by its term (there is no other term that accurately describes what I went through) is not ableist. Just like calling me autistic is not ableist. Just like calling out my previous codependency and people-pleasing that caused me to chronically lie to people is not ableist. The term is DESCRIPTIVE and it is indicative of a real thing that happens.

I know other people think that it is ableist.

I know people won’t believe me when I say it saved my life.

You know how no matter what you do or say, someone will find issue with it? Doesn’t matter how many degrees you have, the amount of medical validation you have received, the things you have witnessed, the insistence that I am not proposing harm to anyone (I am insisting on accountability though!), etc.

There are people who will not believe you or take it personally.

The lesson I have learned: I need to trust myself with the information I have right now. I can continue to learn more about people and the world, but I am not responsible for people thinking that my usage of a term is vilifying a whole community. I have faced this my entire life (telling white people about white supremacy and appropriation and then having them accuse me of vilifying all white people; countless other black-and-white examples).

So whatever.

Call me a monster.

After all my abuser probably calls me one.

[bottombaron]

I think that Guillermo, at the end of Laszlo's 'Roast' party in episode 7, will reveal his secret.

The party will most certainly devolve into a roast of him instead, because of course it will. Because Nandor won't be able to make clever jokes or get anyone to laugh and in order to save his ego he'll do what he always does in those situations and sacrifice Guillermo in its place. He'll say unnecessarily cruel things because he thinks no one person can be more important to him than the fear of his own weakness. He'll pile it on too. One thing after the other. Maybe the other vampires invited to the roast will laugh along because familiars are easy marks. And the heat will build. There's only so many lashes Guillermo can take on behalf of Nandor's pride. And Laszlo, Nadja, and Colin are starting to grimace and wince.

And that's when Guillermo will do it.

He will stand up, with the chair he was sitting in making a horrible noise across the wood floor like a record scratch. To let you know that the party has been violently cut short.

And Laszlo will do a panicked head shake, maybe try to salvage the situation from the precipice that Nandor has unknowingly brought them to. That Guillermo is about to jump off of. With all of them helplessly attached.

Guillermo was put in the audience on the other side of the room. Already segregated from the rest of the group. He's in a room filled with vampires who were just laughing at him but now look. Nandor's peers. The whole vampire community is here, watching him.

Guillermo's vampires sit across from him at a long table with a podium, like a panel of judges. Like he's a prisoner standing before the pulpit awaiting a verdict. He's got one last moment to either swallow the pride he just started to embrace on a float earlier that year and sit back down, let himself be ridiculed like always but live to see another day ... or burn it all down like it deserves to be, with his plea of guilt.

Holding a struck match, Guillermo will finally speak the truth to Nandor. To everyone. The real truth. The one he hasn't spoken out loud yet. The one nobody knows.

He will say, "I have a joke." And everyone will listen.

"I paid to have some barely-turned, low-rank, nothing of a vampire. Who hasn't even been one longer than I have been a familiar…to bite me. And turn me. In the back room of a gas station where he works. And he did it."

"I've been turned by a vampire that wasn't my master. That wasn't you."

Guillermo's jittered, bitchy energy tapers. He no longer fidgets or looks around at the faces slack-jawed at him. He's gone cold.

Like a killer, he delivers the next blow straight at his master's heart, sitting across the room at the podium, similarly frozen in place.

"But that's not the joke."

"The joke is, I may not have known how taboo it was…that it would be such a big deal to everyone else…but I did know…" (he licks his lips and despite his unshakable intent the uncontrollable emotion he always carries inside him threatens to undo his composure. Still, he keeps his voice loud and steady. Mostly. His attention is focused. His eyes start getting a little wet, but he hardly notices. He's going to follow through.)

"I didn't even really do it because I wanted to. Not then, or like that. (Not with him). Not for the same reason I had wanted to do it before. Or the reason I told Laszlo and Nadja I did it."

"See…the joke is…"

(His voice has become softer. It still carries across the room easily. There is no one else in the whole house but Guillermo and Nandor.)

"I did it because I knew how it would make you feel."

"I did it because I wanted to hurt you."

[yesyesokayalright]

tehe im so silly

[ssaltlicker]

Anyone that ships real timeline jinx and ekko but hates Caitvi for being “abusive” is a hypocrite dude