AN: I thought it might be fun to allow a little bit of 'audience participation' in this fic. So, if you'd like a cameo, let me know by reviewing! Tate (and the other AHS characters) can answer your questions and respond to your heckling!

This fic is obviously a bit of a parody of the fandom, but hopefully in a fun, 'ha ha we're all a bit derpy!' sort of way. Any resemblance to anons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The interviewer is curiously silent as the cameras begin to roll. And she's not smiling. She looks decidedly nervous.

Tate grins broadly.

"Er, the suit…" the interviewer raises an eyebrow.

Tate grins even wider.

"Neat, isn't it?" he smooths a hand down his latex-clad chest. "Comfy. Very streamlined."

"It's, er…."

"Slimming, don't you think?"

A small 'wooooo!' can be heard from the audience, but it is rapidly quashed by the oppressive silence of utter disapproval.

"Right. Sure." The interviewer shuffles her papers awkwardly. "So um…we were going to talk about Violet."

"Sure." Tate smiles sweetly, leaning back in the chair with an audible squeak. The latex suit looks almost wet in the brightness of the studio lighting. "What about her?"

"DOES SHE KNOW YOU FUCKED HER MOM!" someone yells from the audience.

The camera pans to sweep across the distressed faces of the audience members. Some are weeping softly into handkerchiefs. Others seem to have been permanently frozen mid-gasp, mouths hanging open, eyes wide, noses wrinkled (just like your mom always told you would happen if the wind changed). One woman holds up a sign which reads, in large, hastily scrawled letters "HIDE YA KIDS, HIDE YA WIFE".

Tate is amused.

"Well I uh…let's not…I would have phrased it a bit more…" the interviewer stammers.

"Of course she doesn't know!" Tate smirks "You think I'm stupid? Shit. It's not like I planned this whole thing."

"Well uh…what did you - …why did you do it?" the interviewer stammers.

Tate gives her a pitying look. It's not her fault she's too dim to understand the depth of his benevolence and mercy, after all. She's just a bit slow. Poor girl.

"Well, I did it for Nora mostly."

"For Nora?"

"The lady ghost in the house. She lost her baby. She was sad about it. So I thought I'd get her a new one. And babies don't, you know, tend to wander about by themselves. Besides I couldn't just steal her any old baby. I wanted to get her a nice new one. Otherwise it's just like re-gifting, you know?" he folds his arms across his chest "…and that's tacky."

The audience seems slightly nonplussed by this explanation.

"…and you didn't think it might be a bit…uh…wrong, because of Vi-"

Tate throws up his hands in exasperation.

"Well I wasn't dating Violet at the time, was I!"

"Er, weren't you?"

"No! God, do you think I'm sick?"

There is a pregnant silence.

"So, you uh…with Vivien…and then you um…fell in love with Violet?"

"Right." Tate agrees "…but it's not like what happened with Vivien meant anything. It was just a means to an end. I was just doing a favour for a friend. So I don't think Violet really has to know. Vivien pops out a few babies, I give them to Nora, Violet and I get married and live in the basement forever. Everyone's happy."

"I don't think yo-"

"Everyone. Is. Happy." Tate glares at her.

Someone in the audience chooses that precise moment to start weeping profusely.

Another calls out "YOU KILLED THAT ONE GUY!"

Tate pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. He strokes his chin, lost in a few seconds of contemplative silence.

"Yes." He decides, at length "Yes, yes I did."

"And wh…why did you do that, Tate?" the interviewer stammers.

Tate rolls his eyes. He is growing tired of the elementary questions posed by this feeble minded woman. She puts him in mind of Ben Harmon. Only sexier. And with a dryer face.

"Well, they weren't going to leave the house on their own, were they?" he sighs heavily "…and they weren't making a baby. And also they were annoying. The little dark one had a really nasal voice. And they hated each other anyway so it kind of seemed like the kinder thing to do. I put them out of their misery." He smiles, content that he has adequately justified his double homicide.

"We thought you were nice!" squeals one girl in the front row.

"…in fairness," the interview interjects "…he did massacre an entire library full of teenagers."

"I am nice!" Tate retorts.

"SEX ME IN THE RUBBER SUIT, TATE!" someone else yells.

The room is clearly divided.

"Well er, why don't we bring on Violet Harmon?" the interviewer smiles. Her mouth resembles a watermelon that has been viciously stabbed with a letter opener: open, but not exactly happy.

The band starts up some cheesy intro music as Violet walks onto set. She looks disgruntled. It's obvious she'd much rather be doing just about anything else than giving some ridiculous TV interview. Her mustard coloured cardigan is unbuttoned and falls loosely around her shoulders. Her skirt reaches almost to the floor. If there was a dress code specified for this event, Violet has most certainly ignored it.

"Violet!" the interviewer seems to brighten a little as Violet takes her seat. Here, at least, is someone who hasn't shoved a poker up a dude's butt. "So nice to have you with us."

"Yeah." Violet replies, unenthusiastically. She looks sidelong at Tate, making a face at him. "Why are you wearing that creepy suit again?"

"BECAUSE HE'S RUBBERM-" someone begins to yell.

Tate hastily clamps his hands over Violet's ears. He shoots the heckler a poisonous look.

Violet smiles dopily and makes no indication that she has even the faintest idea what's going on.

"Um…so…" the interviewer attempts to restore some semblance of normalcy to the interview. "Violet…"

Tate cautiously uncovers Violet's ears.

"Violet…what did you think when you first met Tate?"

Violet shrugs nonchalantly.

"Mostly I was thinking; 'What's this weird dude doing in my bathroom.'. I thought he was kind of creepy – skulking around my house, giving me pro-tips on how to kill myself."

"BECAUSE HE'S RUBBERM-" the heckler yells, again.

Tate clamps his hands over Violet's ears a second time. He stares out into the audience, mouthing 'I will END you', soundlessly.

If Violet has noticed Tate's hands over her ears, she doesn't show it. She smiles vacantly.

The interviewer is clearly struggling to remain on track.

"And um…did you uh – when did you realise that you um…."

Violet leans forward in her chair.

"WHAT!" she yells "Sorry, I can't really hear you…"

Tate removes his hands.

"Oh, that's better." Violet smiles.

"Right um…would you say you're in love with Tate?"

Violet looks from the interviewer to Tate, then back again. She blushes slightly, reaching a hand up to brush the hair out of her eyes.

"Oh er…I dunno. Uh…that's kind of personal."

"YOU DON'T DESERVE HIM!" someone screeches, from the audience.

Violet wrinkles her nose and stares out into the crowd.

"…what did you say, bitch?" she demands.

Tate grins like a kid who just got let loose in a candy store.

The woman in the audience steps down towards the stage. She is small, and wears a t-shirt that proclaims her to be 'Tatesexual'.

Violet snorts, and covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide her obvious amusement.

Tate thinks this is just about the best thing to have happened to him in recent memory.

"I said you don't DESERVE Tate!" the woman yells "He's beautiful and divine and practically a genius and he's so too good for you, you ridiculous, angsty bitch! You don't even appreciate him at all! And you can't even BEGIN to comprehend the depth of his soul – the level of his poetic anguish!" she flails dramatically "…your soul is in it's mere infancy, whilst Tate's frolicks amongst the Gods!"

"YEAH!" yells out our favourite heckler "Also, HE IS RUBBERMA-"

Tate smooshes Violet's hair over her ears.

"Alright." He says, darkly. "That's about enough."

The audience falls silent. Tate releases Violet, and stands up slowly. There is a menacing gleam in his eye.

"Weeeee're….gonna cut to a commercial break." The interviewer babbles, hastily, into a camera.

Feeling low? Full of woe? Visit BEN HARMON, qualified psychiatrist and kind of a good listener, sometimes… - will work for lifetime supply of Kleenex.