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eleanorbloom · 4 years

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Somethin’ Stupid (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Title: Somethin’ Stupid

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Antonella Valentini)

Warnings: Adult language.

Word count. 3.2k

A/N: So, this is my first songfic ever. And the first time I do a one-shot here on Tumblr. I know someday I’ll write something not song-related haha

The other day while I was doing the dishes, this song played on my shuffle and I had the idea to do this (Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman version, if you ask). I know songfics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but what I found interesting about this song is that has a decent amount of lyrics and fits well with the narration. So here I am.

This is veeery light version of Ethan Ramsey, but just because he's under the effects of alcohol. I love angsty Ethan but I was feeling a bit self-indulgent so I wrote him a bit less serious. Hope you enjoy!

I apologize for any mistakes, English's not my first language.

Hope you enjoy it!

_______________________________

I make my entry to the Renaissance Boston Waterfront Hotel. Tonight, Edenbrook is holding a Farewell Dinner for Harper Emery, as she leaves her position as Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook and we receive Naveen Banerji in her place.

I have one thing in mind for tonight. Something I’ve been denying for months. And these past weeks more than ever. I wanted, I really wanted to put distance but is too fucking hard when is Antonella Valentini we are talking about. I can’t resist that woman. Her long copper hair, the sensual waves that she uses to control with a ponytail (and that have put perverted thoughts in my mind more times than I’m willing to admit); her green emerald eyes; his beautiful and rounded lips, always rosy like bubble gum… And sweet like a bubble gum if I may say.

I have tried to stay away from her. But it’s very difficult when you have to see her six days a week and to interact at least four times a day. And even if she tries to stay away from me, because I begged her to keep a civilized relationship after what happened between us; it’s so really difficult just seeing her in the eyes. Just see her jewels shining towards me.

Because just smelling the grapefruit blossoming in her neck makes my stomach quiver. And as if Naveen had X-ray powers, he knows how bad my stomach quivers every time I see her. He knows how difficult it is for me to stay away from her, even when he has encouraged me to take things to next level. As a friend and as my boss, he is pressing me to let my relationship with Valentini to blossom just like the tulips in spring.

“Naveen, I cannot be in a relationship when I’m her supervisor. I’m an attending and she is a resident, and I’ll be her boss once she starts working in the Diagnostics Team” I told him the last time he suggested that idea.

“So? I really don’t see the problem there.”

“Everyone is gonna question her position there, they’ll think she earned the position because she slept with the responsible for the selection, that her number one spot wasn’t such.”

“Did you forget that I selected her as Junior Fellow, Ethan? Mostly because she saved my life. She found a cure neither the best nor the second-best diagnostician in the USA could do. That’s not enough reason?”

“Of course, because we know the truth, but what about those who don’t know?”

“You’ll tell them to go to hell, as you do as usual.”

“What about the Board?”

“What about the Board? There’s no rule against attending-intern relationships, the only consequence is that you can’t evaluate her.”

“Mhmm yes, I know.”

“But you could keep an eye on her. Supervising her indirectly. I would take charge of the evaluations you are supposed to do, if you don’t want to deal with another attending to keep an eye on her.”

“You… You would do that?”

“Yes. As long as you stop pushing her away, I will. . You deserve to be together. Now, not in three years. There is no time to lose, my friend.”

My mind raced a million miles per hour until I finally convinced myself that it was the right thing to do. Naveen would always support me to give the impartial note in this. If we had an important disagreement, he, as Chief, would intervene. If I couldn’t evaluate her, Naveen would do it himself.

I was tired of pushing her away. I was tired of ending my days without her. I was tired of beginning my days without seeing her emeralds on my blue skies. I had lived 36 years without taking risks. Always acting profusely calculated. I was done with that. She’s worth every sacrifice I must do to be with her.

And now, I was entering the Ballroom.

I had the first-class table, obviously. I sit with Harper, Naveen, the Board Directors, even the Mayor of Boston and his wife. A few tables away, there she is, having a good time with her friends and an insufferable scalpel jockey that always seemed too touchy-feely with her to my liking.

Once the dinner’s over, all guests stand up from their seats. Some to have a drink, others to mingling, and others to go to the dance floor. I see her approaching the dance floor, and by the time I’m there, she’s dancing with her friends, laughing and making some jokes.

I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me.

I go for a scotch. I can’t do what I have in mind sober. I’m so fucking anxious and scared. Like a teenager. And even as a teenager I never felt this nervous.

An hour later, after bearing chitchat with some colleagues and other annoying people, I start to look for her again. And there she is. In the arms of that silly scalpel jockey that had nothing but a doll face, and even if he seems okay, he’ll always be a scalpel jockey to me. He had his hands on his waist while dancing an upbeat song.

Then a salsa starts, and he slides his hand through her entire body. How bold of that bastard. While they move to the sound of that Latin beat, his hands are tracing all her back, her waist, and his hips, slightly crossing the line to her bum. How dare he?

I drink my scotch in one sip and I approach them, feeling my head heavy and hot.

“May I have this dance, Dr. Valentini?”

Antonella turns to me a little surprised.

“You know how to dance salsa?” She inquires, playfully.

“Not so well, but I’m sure I can follow your steps.”

“Is fine by me” Antonella winks at Lahela with a smirk in her mouth. “Vamos a rumbear, Dr. Ramsey” She answers as she takes my hands. (T: Let’s go dancing, Dr. Ramsey)

“I didn’t know you speak Spanish”

“All my family, except my paternal grandfather, are Latinos. Mexico, Cuba, Puerto Rico. My grandad’s from Italy.”—She explains as she starts to make her moves.

One foot going forward, then the other. Then one foot to the right, then the other to the left, alternating while she waves her hips. And I have to go the other way around. If she’s going forward with her left foot, I have to go backward with my right one, and so.

“So I grew up in a Latino community back in New York. That’s why I know cómo rumbear. Salsa, Rumba, a little of Merengue, Bachata.”

“Mmm yes. I see. You were teaching Lahela como rumbear?” I ask trying to stay focused. But her hips just waving, swinging, and rocking against me when I pull her closer is just killing me. To look like an Irish queen, she moves her body like a Latina goddess.

“Nah, I’ve already taught him. We should probably practice for the next level, but I think it’s not suitable for a doctor’s dinner.”

My blood starts to boil just at the thought of her doing sexy dances in salsa clubs, her back against his chest. Their bodies flushed. He going handsy. No, no. No fucking way.

And if we go some place to dance, I know that there’s a chance you won’t be leaving with me.

“Are you dating Lahela?”

“Quite a very intimate question Dr. Ramsey. Didn’t know attendings were so nosy.”

I know she’s teasing me. Not reflecting the question. But still, it’s killing me.

“Just curiosity. It has always been a mystery to me what’s your deal with him. You seem very confident with each other to be just friends, but I have never seen you doing something more than dance.”

“That’s because we don’t want anyone to know. We want people to wonder. Just as you, now. Leave it as a mystery”

“So you two are not”

“Why do you tell?”

“It’s just a game to you. You both enjoy make people wonder, that’s all.”

“Maybe. It bothers you?”

“Maybe”

“Why?”

“He’s a scalpel jockey, you could do so much better.”

“How yeah, how so?”

“Someone less shallow, more into your interests, your sharp mind.”

“Who says he’s not into it? We share interests in music, dancing, adventures. He has brains, you know? How do you think he made up to be Harper Emery’s favorite intern just after three weeks from her return to the OR?”

She’s defending him. Oh. My. Good. Lord. Don’t tell me she has fallen for him already.

“Brain to move his hands. I don’t think he could use his brain to anything else. Make it work to find solutions.”

“I still don’t see the point of keep talking about him.” She asks, trying to hide how upset she feels about my words—"I think we should leave this dance…”

“Of course not”

I press her against my body. I won’t risk my chance. He could leave with him tonight, and I won’t let that happen.

“Let’s change the topic then.” She says, a little more serious, looking right into my eyes.

“If you insist” I concede while I pull away from her to trace her body “You look beautiful tonight”

I look at her and her face reveals that she didn’t expect that. But how could I not notice how beautiful she’s looking in that emerald dress that matched her eyes so well? Or the cleavage it had in the middle of her chest, or how delicately highlighted was her waist?”

“Thank you”

“Emerald with ginger hair is a safe combination, but you look regal.”

“Wow. I think we should call an ambulance”

“Why?”

“Someone poisoned your drink. There’s no way you would compliment me like that just with scotch, your brain must be numbed.”

“I might have a few scotches on me, yes. But I’m lucid.”

“So lucid that tomorrow you won’t deny that you called me beautiful tonight?”

“I won’t. As I won’t deny the other things I might tell you later.”

I see her gulping. Her cheeks flushing, her grip quivering and then tensing.

“Ethan…”

“I’m thirsty, why don’t we go have a drink somewhere quieter?”

“Y…Yeah, sure” She agrees, her voice still quivering a bit.

I take her by the waist and we move towards the bar, ignoring all the curious glances from the attendees.

“Double scotch, neat. You, Rookie?”

“Mojito Cubano, please”

“I never saw you drink a Mojito before”

“It’s not like you have seen me drink too much to know my drinking habits. I don’t stick with one drink. I choose my drink based on my mood.”

“And the mojito what is for?”

“Freshen up.”

I raised an eyebrow

“I’ve been dancing for more than an hour. The body needs hydration”

“That’s what they teach you at Columbia? That to combat dehydration you should drink alcohol?”

“Don’t be a boomer, Ethan. I want a drink to keep having fun. And you won’t ruin my mood by ranting me for my hydration choice”

I smirk as I take a sip of my scotch. A few moments later she receives her Mojito. She took a sip with the straw.

“Mmmm this tastes so good. I’m gonna have like three of this, minimum.”

“Watch out, Rookie, your patients tomorrow are not expecting you to show them how much you drank tonight.”

“It’s my day off tomorrow, that’s why I’m drinking like there’s no tomorrow, cause, literally, there’s no tomorrow for me.”

Her words sound sticky, slow. She’s tipsy but she looks happy, and I love seeing her happy.

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two

I guide her out of the ballroom. There’s a window at the end of the hallway. We stand there. It shows Boston City from above. The lights of the city glistening like the freckles on her face.

Suddenly I hear her laugh.

“What is so funny?”

“I remembered Miami. How quiet it felt that night. The sea, the breeze. Just as now.”

“There’s no sea, no breeze”

“I know. But we have a great view and alcohol. What are you gonna say now? I never took chances, blablabla, I don’t gamble.” She mumbles, trying to fake my tone and the seriousness in my way of speak.

Funny thing is, the conversation I want to have with her it’s not much different from what it was in Miami. About taking chances, about falling for her. But now I wanted to make things right. Not recoil after telling her how I feel about her.

Was it the right time? Maybe she’s more than tipsy, and everything I say she might not remember it tomorrow. But how do I start? Why she wasn’t even looking for contact? She’s not even looking at me. When she used to look for me all the time. To try to kiss me when we were alone…Am I actually late? Is she with Lahela for real?”

“Even if it’s quiet here, I hear your brain hammering with questions. What’s bothering you?”

“I’m still wondering if you’re dating Lahela” I confess before I could stop myself from saying the most stupid and out of place question I’ve ever said.

“Why do you care so much what I do or what I don’t do with Bryce?”

“I…”

“I’m a single woman, I can mess around with whoever the fuck I want and I don’t have to explain myself to anybody.”

“I know. I’m not judging you, it’s just a question.”

“Even if you were judging me, I couldn’t care less what do you think of me. I only respond to me. You lost the right to ask about my personal life the moment you said we couldn’t be together.”

“You’re righ-.”

“Why you can’t just let me be happy? Why at the slightest indication of me being happy, doing my life, you come here as you have some right on me and you start making questions, wonder what I do with Bryce…”

“It’s not that, Antonella. I’m…”I’m just bloody jealous, but I can’t tell her that. or should I?” I just want to make sure you’re happy and being treated well.”

“Bullshit”

“It’s true. I…”

I see her taking a sip directly from the glass and not from the straw.

“Budshet” She insists, her mouth full of crashed ice.—”And I have no time for more bullshit, bye.”

I see her turn away toward the ballroom. A take a few large steps and I grab her by the wrist.

“Please don’t go”

“Leave me alone!” I could say she’s reacting that way because of the alcohol. In a normal situation, she wouldn’t yell at me like that, but I don’t mind. It’s just the two of us in the hallway, anyway.”I’m done with your bullshit, Ramsey. You say one thing, then you act the other way, asking personal questions as if I owed yo-“

“I love you” I confess. Her eyes open in surprise. There’s panic, disbelief. “I love you, Antonella.”

And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, “I love you”

I cup my hand on her cheeks, looking at her expectantly. She closes her eyes at my touch. Our lips meet. A soft breeze until she pulls me away.

“So what? You’re gonna say all that and kiss me because you’re drunk and tomorrow you’ll make as nothing’s happened and you’ll ignore me like before? No. I’m not stupid to go through this again”

I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before

I could see her pain, her fear. And I couldn’t help but understand the way she was acting now. Protecting herself from being hurt again by me.

“This is different, Rookie. This isn’t going to be as in Miami, where I confessed and then I felt guilty and I ended up everything before if get more serious.I love you and I wanna be with you, Val”

And though it’s just a line to you, for me it’s true, and never seemed so right before

“I don’t believe you. Why would you want that when things are so complicated?”

“I don’t care anymore. If it’s complicated or unethical by my standards. I want to be with you, Antonella. Every day without you is agony. It’s like depriving myself of air.”

“Ethan…”

“I talked to Banerji, he supports me, he has a way to be together without jeopardizing your career”

I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true

I’d been thinking the whole evening about how I can tell her my feelings. What I want. What we could have. But I never considered that she might not want the same.

“I’m sorry it took me this long. That I pushed you away after we showed how we really felt about each other. I could’ve handled the situation better. But now I’m here trying to fix this.”

She was speechless. Her mind racing a rapidly, I could almost hear her brain hammering, just as she could hear mine.

But then I think I’ll wait until the evening gets late, and I’m alone with you

She places her hand on my chest and then she encircled her arms around my neck. I could smell the fresh scent of mint in her breath and the citric notes of her perfume feeling glorious on her neck, exuding hormones, her womanhood at the feeling of my body against hers.

The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night’s so blue

“Ethan, are you serious? Real talk?”

“I am. This is the end of me running away. If you let me, this is the night for us to start.”

“Us?”

“I think we have to call an ambulance; someone poisoned your drink. You are having a hard time understanding what I want.”

“It’s not that I’m not understanding. I want you to tell me. Straight away. Leaving no doubts. You have to fight for it.”

“What can be more clear than an ‘I love you’, Valentini?”

And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, “I love you”

“It’s not clear what are your intentions with me. I could tell that you have loved me for a while, but that hasn’t stopped you from pushing me away. Loving me doesn’t mean anything. If you want something from me, you have to earn it.”

Okay, Rookie, if that’s how you’re playing, let’s do this. I’m up for everything tonight. I don’t’ mind. I was feeling a teenager before I put a foot on this place. What does another teenager act do, when I’ve been acting like one the entire night? It was insignificantly easy compared to what I had done before. A piece of cake.

“Antonella Valentini, do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Her eyes are filled with shock, then tears, and joy. Her cheeks flush. It was like all the alcohol left her body. She looked sober. Soberer than when she was actually sober. She hangs herself from my neck. I took her by the waist as soon as possible and I lift her.

“Yes. Yes! I wanna be your girlfriend, Ethan Ramsey.”

She kisses me sweetly in the lips. God. She’s amazing. The sweetest human being in the entire world. Then she pulls away.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” She whispers before coming back to me again. This time, to not leave me for eternity.

________

#Ethan Ramsey #Open Heart #Choices #Choices Stories You Play #ethan x mc #ethan x casey #ethan x you #ethan x f!mc #oh choices #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #op

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 57

I just realized this morning that I have been consistently updating chapters for just over a year now. The first 5 chapters of this story were just kind of helter-skelter when I first joined Tumblr in 2017. I re-posted them from my main to this blog on September 11, 2018, before starting my weekly chapters with number 6 the following day.

In that year, I have gathered 431 followers, several regular re-bloggers, some new friends, and two very good online friends who I adore (@charlylimph-blog and @baelpenrose, I’m looking at y’all).

Thank you, everyone, for being so supportive of this story and all the other stories I’ve posted on here.

With that said, here’s today’s chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

I woke up in the middle of the night with a groan. Groggy, I reached for my wrist to turn off my alarm, only to realize that it had never gone off. Why am I awake? my tired brain slogged to figure out. It wasn’t a noise, as far as I could tell – the room was too quiet for that, and Conor was still snoring beside me. Slowly, I started to realize that it was entirely too quiet. I reached across the snoring lump beside me, and found what I had expected: cold sheets. Maverick had gotten up in the middle of the night.

Gently, I got up and padded out into the public space of our quarters. Sure enough, a tousled head of black hair was poking over the back of the arm chair. I could hear a low murmur and realized he was talking to someone. Maverick wasn’t the kind to keep secrets, so instead of indulging my vast capacity to be nosy, I cleared my throat to let him know I was there.

A hand popped up and waved me over. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was talking to Dad.” Nothing in me was surprised by the fact that he was having a conversation with a man who died over thirty Terran years ago. It probably didn’t hurt that it was a pretty frequent occurrence.

Sure enough, as I came around the chair to sit with him, Maverick was holding a photo of his dad in one hand, the other held out in invitation to curl up on his lap. “Good morning, Mr. Okima,” I yawned at the photo before kissing Maverick’s cheek. “You can’t sleep either?”

“You know Dad doesn’t sleep.”

“I meant you, silly.”

“Oh.” He squeezed me before setting down the photo. “Nah, I’ve been having nightmares lately. Not the normal kind, with you and Conor getting tired of me and leaving me. These are more the horror movie kind. Voices whispering, I can’t find whoever it is, I don’t know if they want to hurt me or need help, that kind of thing.”

My chest ached at how casually he mentioned his ‘normal’ nightmares, but I bit back my automatic argument. The three of us had talked about it in depth, not long after we agreed to make things official, and we all had our baggage that we were working through. Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the more immediate issue. “Have you ever had nightmares like that before?”

He tilted his head briefly before resting his cheek on my hair. “Sometimes. Usually after someone I was close with died.”

“Is talking with your dad helping?” No one had died on the ship, to my knowledge, so I was clueless where the bad dreams were coming from.

“Usually does. I started writing him letters about a year after he was gone, but my aunt kept finding them. I didn’t really understand death when I was six, so I thought I could send the letters to Japan and he would come find me. It made her angry, so she��”

I knew this part of the story. She made him watch her burn them. It was horrible. “So you started talking to him instead,” I prompted.

“Yeah.” I could feel his smile against my head. “When I got older and understood better, it just made sense, you know? The words go out into the universe, and they’re everywhere, so that meant they could find him wherever he was.”

I nodded in agreement. “I did the same thing after I lost Jo, talking to her. It made me feel better, and I was twenty,” I poked his side for emphasis.

“I know.”

“Think you can sleep now?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” He held me tighter instead of moving to stand. “What about you?”

“I woke up because you weren’t there,” I admitted.

A small smile crept on his face. “But I snore the worst of the three of us,” he pointed out.

“And I need that snore to sleep. Come on, we’ll put you in the middle this time. I think nightmares mean you need it more right now.” I stood and gently tugged him to his feet, wrapping my arms around his waist. I had never been a short woman, so I loved how small I felt with both of them and took a moment to bask in the feeling. After a moment, we made our way back to the bedroom.

As soon as we were at the foot of the bed, Conor made it clear that he was also awake. Unceremoniously, he lifted the blankets in a clear command to come back to bed. Giggling, I crawled in after Maverick and leaned over to drop a kiss on Conor’s forehead. He wrapped around our pilot like an octopus before nuzzling into the bend of his neck. “Stupid gits, awake at all hours of the night. How’s a man supposed to sleep in an empty bed?”

Maverick rolled his eyes to me before scooping me in close so we could all grab a couple more hours of sleep.

The next morning, I was feeling my midnight chat but fought it off to focus on the task at hand. True to my word, I stopped by Xiomara’s office before I even stopped at my own. Without looking up from my datapad, I started talking as soon as the door opened. “Xio, I wanted to make sure you heard about what happened in BioLab 2 yesterday – “

“Good Morning, Councillor Reid,” a calm voice interrupted.

My head snapped up. Looked like Tyche and I were wrong about Grey forgetting to tell Xiomara, although not by much if their postures were anything to go by. “Oh, good morning, Grey!” I blinked, eyes wide. “I honestly thought you would still be asleep, given how late Maverick got home last night.”

Rubbing their face, they sighed. “I sincerely wish I was still asleep rather than still awake,” they admitted. Only then did I notice the dark circles around their eyes. “I have promised myself that I will sleep after I meet with Councillor Kalloe, so please do not let yourself worry.”

I scowled at my friend, as I was working up a full head of steam to nag her into a nap. “Well, it looks like we had the same idea, at least as far as making sure Xiomara is in the loop.”

The woman in question rubbed her eyes with one hand, groaning. “This sounds like a nightmare already, if both of you have come charging in here so early. So, let’s hear it.” I gestured silently for Grey to speak, knowing that they had far more information on everything than I did. As I patiently waited for them to give the brief version and send all the data already collected over, I was treated to a rollercoaster of expression from the head of Health and Safety.

Finally, Grey was finished. As soon as they made their excuses and left, the anticipated explosion erupted forth. “I cannot believe this!” she shouted. “Grey, I understand – they were trying to get on top of it as quickly as possible, especially with the scrutiny their department would be under. And you!” she pointed her finger at me sharply. “You had no reason to know any sooner than you did, and that idiot is working both of your partners to the bone. You are excused from my wrath,” she spat. I struggled to keep a smile off my face; Xio may get impressively furious, but she always made sure to target her weaponized anger at the right target. “But Giang flipping Huynh could have told me this yesterday!” Her voice had dropped to something eerily between a hiss and a growl. “We have no idea how many people on this ship are at risk or could have been hurt. I have to get down there, check out the lab, check the logs…”

“Xiomara,” I interrupted, grabbing her forearms gently and wiggling them. “Xio. I completely agree that you should have been informed much sooner. But going down there right now will not help, especially when Grey already gave you all the data gathered by the research lab yesterday.”

“It helps me think – “

“You would have to be thinking clearly first, and you know it,” I told her firmly, pointing to her seat. With the closest thing to a pout I had ever seen on her face, she sat down. Her generally dangerous-looking grace gave it a very feline air of I’m sitting because I want to, not because you told me. “Now. Coffee. I know you’re furious, and I don’t blame you. Being there yesterday was enough to set Conor into a fit of anger bad enough that he scared a couple people. And your temper is much worse than his.” I grabbed the two cups of coffee I had dialed up – one iced, light, and sweet, the other hot and as black as I could manage to get it – and set her customary jet fuel in front of her. “Coffee first, then look over the data. Once you know what to expect, then go down there and see it for yourself.”

“I take it Huynh is nowhere near the lab.”

“Nope. And I am being very careful not to know where he is so that I can’t tell you that, either.”

“Mmm hmm,” she hummed as she sipped her coffee. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that he is coming down hard on your men?”

“Not a thing,” I lied smoothly. “I will admit to being a bit miffed that Alistair’s swimming lessons are being postponed until future notice, though.”

She arched a brow. “No swimming at all?”

“Just until you look over the results Grey gave you regarding the water, so you can approve re-opening the general area and only cordon off the diving platforms. Hence asking you to review the data before you go storming empty trenches.”

I was awarded with a regal nod. “Hide my quarry and keep the information hostage until I perform a heroic task. Wise decision.”

“I try,” I smirked. At least she was in a good mood again. Feel more confident with the odds of her looking at Grey’s report first, I stood to leave. “Time to check in with my mermaid-resistant admin and see what’s on the agenda for today.”

“Has Conor considered sparring?”

“He considered it just long enough to summarily reject it. I’m thinking running, or dance.” I glanced at her slyly. “Or maybe capoeira?” It was an open secret that Xiomara taught classes in her scant spare time.

She laughed and waved me out of her office. “Just make sure that Grey doesn’t come back on shift today, okay?”

I groaned. “That’s going to be nearly impossible, but I’ll try. And we may need to consider re-visiting shipwide treatments for anxiety and sleep disorders. Last night, Antoine mentioned that the reactions to the recent adjustment in gravity are exceeding what we anticipated.”

“And I need Grey for that,” she sighed. “The same person who needs to sleep.” She ran a hand through her hair, toying with the end of one dreadlock while she thought. “Miys. If Grey Hodenson tries to go back to work, can you alert me immediately? I want to discuss this with them, and it may be best if I bring up the topic when they are most aware of symptoms.”

“Clever girl,” I murmured, grinning. “That’s something I would do.”

She tossed me a wink. “You aren’t the only one picking up tricks.”

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#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #aliens #apocalypse #original writing #humans are space orcs #hfy #sci fi #death cw

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sevi007 · 5 years

Text

Waiting for the Sun - Chapter 2

Rating: Teen and Up Audience should easily cover all bases here

Summary Chapter 2: Dante comes home at last.

Warning: Heart- and teeth-melting fluff in the second chapter. Oh, two child OCs snuck in here, too, I do love me some fluffy moments with kids. And Rodin is possibly a bit OOC, but I enjoyed writing him a lot.

Read it on AO3

Read Chapter 1 on tumblr.

_________________________________________________________

Seeing his shop ablaze with light even from afar was both a distinctly unusual and a reliving thing for Dante when he turned the last corner.

It just meant his mood had not been taken the worst way possible.

“Who knows how long they are still gonna be there?”

He slowed down to a walk while he tugged his coat more snuggly around himself, a sad barrier against the wind that had started to pick up, smelling like snow. He was not yet close enough to see through the merrily lit windows, but he spotted Lady’s motorcycle near the stairs and Nico’s van opposite the building – without any tree strapped to the roof – so he figured they had just decided to wait out his return.

Which was… a lot. More than a large part of him had expected, jogging – alright, maybe running – the way back here.

The thought managed to warm him more than his too-thin clothes.

Caught up in his musings as he was, he was already halfway up the steps to the front door when he noticed someone leaning against the wall next to it, almost vanishing in the shadows of the doorframe. He slowed, faltering in his steps, before he shrugged it off and greeted the younger. “Isn’t it a bit too cold to stay outside like that, V?”

“Says he who stayed outside for hours,” V’s smile was nearly as pale as its owner, but genuine. He shifted enough that the light from inside illuminated him, leaning heavily on his cane. “And who is the reason I am out here in the first place.”

“Oh? You were looking for me?”

“Griffon was… supposed to do that.”

“Hey now, I don’t like that tone of voice,” Griffon protested as he fluttered out from the shadows above them, dark feathers fluffing up in protest. Nestling on V’s shoulder, he grumbled, “I found him. He just outran me on the way back here.”

“Supposed to,” V repeated evenly, ignoring the indignant squawk from his shoulder. His gaze wandered over the dark streets until it returned to Dante, green eyes scanning him. “You… worried a few people, it might seem.”

Dante nearly grimaced at that. Nearly. He had more control over his expressions than that, and he was not about to let Griffon tease him for his laps in control “Who else went looking?”

“Nero was out looking for you. Griffon informed him on the way back here” V tilted his head towards the demon bird, who nodded in return. “But everyone else is still inside.”

Dante hummed in understanding. It didn’t sit right with him that he had started such a commotion, but there was no way to change anything about that now. He would just have to make sure it didn’t happen again.

He continued on towards the door, looking forward to warming up and finally relaxing a bit. Only that V made no move to follow him, giving him pause. “V?”

The younger was frowning down at his cane, twirling it between his hands while he seemed to ponder something.

Finally, just when Dante was ready to just go inside and leave it be, he spoke up.

“Should I leave?”

It took a moment for Dante to process what he had just heard, and when he did, he directed a questioning gaze upwards to the low hanging clouds. “Why does everyone ask me that today?”

“Well, maybe…” Griffon started out, sharp sarcasm tinging every word, but fell silent again – thankfully - when Dante cut him off with a hand gesture.

“Right, feather-face, I get the why for the first time. Why do you ask, though?”

The question was directed at V, who now showed a keen interest in his cane, long hair shielding most of his expression but the wry smile tugging at his lips.

A squeeze of sharp claws digging into his shoulder that could have been warning or encouragement or both, and the young man sighed faintly before answering. “I did attempt to kill you once, Dante.”

Waiting a beat to see if anything was going to be added to that, Dante was almost perplexed when that didn’t happen. He flapped a hand at V, but turned to his winged companion as he spoke, “Is he going to say anything else? Something that I don’t already know, perhaps?”

“Tried to tell him that he couldn’t expect you to take that seriously,” Griffon spread his wings in what seemed to be his kind of a shrug. “But does he ever listen to me? No.”

“Most people might not react kindly… to someone who almost murdered them,” V spoke up, voice and expression void of all emotions.

Or at least they would have been, if the younger hadn’t gone through Hell and back together with all of them. By now, Dante was pretty sure he could pick out the slightest hitch in the words, the tiniest of tremors, giving him away.

Oh, for crying out loud…

Not sure if to laugh or to roll his eyes, Dante shook his head and clapped his hand down onto V’s free shoulder, making him jump. “Nah, kid, you’re missing the part where half of the people in this very shop have already tried to kill me before you even came along.”

One quick look to the side, and he added brightly, “And yes, the birds present are included.”

Griffon let out his grating laugh, which sounded like a scratching caw.

The tiniest shift, and V looked carefully up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are saying that as if there is nothing unusual about it.”

“Eh. It’s old news. Actually surprised when there’s no bullets or swords involved in any greeting at this point,” Dante smirked when V huffed a quiet laugh at that, before using his grip on the younger to steer him towards the door. “And now stop standing on my doorstep like a sad lost puppy, I want to get inside and get something to eat.”

“Hear hear, best plan I’ve heard all day.”

Pushing the heavy door open lead to warm air and light enveloping them as they stepped inside, and Dante quietly appreciated being able to close the door and seal the cold out behind himself. No way he was gonna step outside again this evening.

He wasn’t really sure what he had expected upon his return. An empty shop had been the worst case scenario, if he was fully honest with himself. Having everything ready for a party, as if he hadn’t stormed out, had also been somewhere up there on the list.

What greeted him now was neither of those options, and he was both glad and a bit confused for it. There was no crowd of his friends occupying his shop, nor any decoration that Patty had all but threatened him with. Only a fir tree, still half wrapped in plastic, was leaning against the wall in the far corner, an array of colorful packages shoved next to it on one side, a few plain carton boxes on the other side.

And Morrison and Patty were seated on the couch, looking up when they heard the door. Patty’s face brightened, eyes glittering with joy, as she spotted them entering. “There you are, Dante!”

“Hey there, kid,” he couldn’t help but smile back, truly smile, (still here, still here, because they were too stubborn to leave him, didn’t want to leave him) and she all but beamed at him in answer.

When her gaze wandered past him, however, the smile fell, morphing into a frown. “V, did you go outside in that outfit again?”

V cast a quick look down himself – sleeveless, coat hanging open over his shoulders, sandals – before looking up with a wary expression, already dreading what was to come. “Only for a moment?”

Patty’s eye-roll was remarkably expressive, just as the sharp look that followed. “And you absolutely didn’t freeze your ass off, of course.”

“Uhoh, here comes the lecture,” Griffon announced, flapping his wings to lift off his friend’s shoulder. His silhouette wavered, becoming blurry as feathers turned to liquid and flesh became ink. “Every man and bird for himself now, boys, I’m out.”

“You…!” V muttered a curse under his breath that was uncharacteristically vicious. It made Dante actually snicker out loud while he stepped away, clear out of the line of fire.

“Language. I just don’t wanna get dragged into this, Shakespeare,” was the last thing the demon had to say before his very being turned into new lines of ink on V’s skin and his voice drifted off.

“What is it with you people and not taking care of yourself?” Patty sighed deeply, climbing over the backrest of the couch. Determinedly strutting over to the Christmas tree shoved into the corner, she crouched, dragging one of the presents out from under the lowest branches. “Here, open this one, V. There’s a blanket in it.”

Even with his reflexes, V barely managed to catch the light package as she threw it his way. “… Thank you? But I cannot simply…”

“It’s yours, you dork. I was going to give it to you, anyway. Now open it.”

“I did not…”

“V, open it, before I do it myself and smother you with the blanket while I’m at it.”

Dante chuckled, shaking his head as the squabbling continued and the two of them completely forgot about him in the meantime. He ducked past them, directing his steps over to the couch where Morrison was still sitting, looking as comfortable as one could be.

The broker tilted his head back to smile at the younger when Dante threw his coat over the backrest, holding out an already opened beer for him. “Took you a while.”

Dante accepted the bottle with a nod, hiding his grin behind it. He was not really surprised by how matter-of-fact that had sounded. Someone who could wait for him for years while still running his shop in his absence, could easily wait for him for a few hours to come around. “You didn’t even put the decorations up while I was gone?”

“Hmmm,” Morrison took the bottle back when Dante handed it over, following the hint to the empty Christmas tree. There was a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth when he turned back. “Couldn’t be sure what would happen if we put too many festive things up.”

“What - did you expect me to come back and burn it down on a rampage?”

“That, or Lady doing the same if we overdid it with the clichés.”

The chuckle bursting out of Dante was wholly unexpected even for himself, and he coughed for a moment, faltering, before he managed to swallow and then breathe again. “Fair enough. The others?”

“Nero’s still out, Trish is doing who-knows-what as usual. Most of the others are in the kitchen, making dinner,” Morrison’s eyes crinkled as he nodded over to the kitchen door, something in his gaze saying Go on.

Dante hummed in understanding, already turning away.

If he reached over and squeezed Morrison’s shoulder in parting, as tightly as he dare to, then – well. The others were still occupied and thoroughly distracted, and the gesture went as unseen as the answering pat of the arm that Morrison gave him. Just as the smiles on both of their faces.

Entering the kitchen, Dante mused that he really hadn’t been in here all too often – he was actually surprised how many people and things fit into this room.

There was the muttering of voices mixed into the noise of someone cooking a right feast, but he ignored that for now, stopping right after his first step into the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he let all the sensations wash over him for a moment.

The sizzling of things frying in pans and the hiss of boiling water and the clatter of kitchenware. The smell of spices and sugar, oil and fat, roasted meat and self-made dough and freshly cut vegetables. The sound of talking and giggles and people bustling about.

He waited for a beat, expecting the memories to come rushing back, but it didn’t happen. They were still there, a notion of cinnamon-sugar-spice and everything connected to it, but he didn’t feel overwhelmed by it.

It was different enough to be new.

It was familiar enough to feel like home.

“Dante!”

He opened his eyes again, smile curling around his lips as he noticed he had been spotted.

Kyrie was holding her flour covered hands awkwardly to the side before realizing it, clapping them down against her apron to dust them off. “Oh, I’m glad you’re back, we were already starting to worry… not that you need any help, usually, so there’s that, of course. I hope you don’t mind we took over your kitchen? We figured, you know, celebrating or not, you wouldn’t say No to some dinner and perhaps it would cheer you up-….”

She was rambling. Dante supposed that had to do with how he had left, and the worry and guilt on her face when she had asked if they should leave.

It was understandable, but absolutely unnecessary.

He had already lost too much time with worrying over what to do.

Stepping forward, Dante huffed a laugh when Kyrie’s words tapered off in surprise, not exactly giving her time to recover before carefully but resolutely drawing her into a one-armed hug.

He more felt than saw her breath catch, her frame going stiff in surprise against him for the slightest bit – before she responded enthusiastically, throwing both of her arms around him to hold on tight.

“Welcome back.” The word were quiet yet fervently whispered against his shoulder. Making him tighten his grip just the slightest bit.

If there was a good way to tell her all the conflicting things he felt, all the gratitude laced through it, with few or no words at all, then he didn’t know it. So he did the only thing he knew to do - holding on, allowing himself to linger for a second.

Once she stepped back, clearing her throat and smiling at him, he pretended not to see the wet glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“D’awwww, you guys are really cute sometimes.”

Kyrie burst into laughter beside him, barely restraining herself with a hand covering her mouth. Dante, meanwhile, turned towards their audience at the kitchen table with his arms spread out wide. “Excuse me? Kyrie, perhaps, but I’m clearly too handsome to be cute.”

“Nope,” Nico shook her head, pointing with the fork in her hand for emphasis. “Cute and handsome doesn’t cancel each other out. No getting out of this one, mate.”

With a faked groan, Lady shoved the younger woman with her elbow. “Don’t encourage him any more, it’s a miracle his ego even fits through the door as it is.”

“I mean, does it matter anymore? He encourages himself anyway.”

“I do so hate when you’re right about things like that,” Lady grumbled, helping herself to something from one of the plates. Nico simply snorted, shrugging good naturedly before joining her.

The gesture drew Dante’s attention to the various plates and dishes standing around on every available surface, dishes among it that he hadn’t even seen or heard about before, and he whistled through his teeth. “You outdid yourself on these, Kyrie.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” the young woman waved it off while turning towards the stove again. “I had lots of help!”

“Yeah, we helped!” Angelo declared, looking up. He was kneeling before the oven, watching it intently. “Kyrie, I think it’s preheated now.”

“Thank you, Angelo. Careful, get away there, it’s hot!”

“Is that pizza I spot there?” Dante leaned over her shoulder as Kyrie balanced the gigantic tray past him.

“Right in one. We have pizza, roasted meat, vegetables, fries…,” she nodded at the kitchen as she put the pizza into the oven. “There should be more than enough for everyone, and for different tastes, too.”

“Well, I do know that this fits my taste,” he informed her with a smirk, reaching out to test some of the topping, cold or not.

Yet for all his superior reflexes, Kyrie proved herself to be fully capable of being faster than him when it counted. Like now, when she shut the oven door right in front of his nose, thwarting any further stealing attempts. All huffing noises didn’t help there. She laughed straight in his face when she turned and found him pouting at her. “Shoo, you! You will ruin your appetite like this!”

“Lady and Nico are eating, too,” Dante pointed accusingly over to the girls, who were indeed chewing on something. Nico waved at him, unrepentant, while Lady flipped him off with wicked glee written all over her face, muttering through a mouthful, “’Cause we helped make the food.”

“You just got an excuse for everything, don’t you.”

Still giggling, Kyrie patted Dante’s arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, you will get to eat as much as you want soon enough. Just a little while more.”

Shuffling sounded, and Angelo popped up between them, looking at them curiously. “Then, can we put up the Christmas tree in the meantime?”

“Tree!” Elisa joined her brother, peering over his shoulder.

“Well, I suppose,” Kyrie started hesitantly, looking from the children to Dante for approval. “If you get someone to help you with it…”

“Dante can help us!”

The conviction in that statement made Dante raise a questioning eyebrow. “Why, do I have to work for my food now?”

Angelo looked dumbfounded for a second, then flushed as he realized how he had made that sound. Shuffling his feet, the boy scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s not what I…I mean…”

The awkward gesture reminded Dante strongly of a certain nephew of his, and it took quite a lot to hold back his laughter at the sight. He very barely managed and instead upheld the offended look just long enough to see Angelo waver some more, before he dropped the act and shrugged with a crooked grin. “Relax, I’m messing with ya. Sure, let’s do that.”

“Wait, really?!”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“Awesome!”

With loud cheers, the children stormed past him out the kitchen, leaving him behind with ringing ears and wondering how none of their caretakers had gone deaf by now.

“Are you alright with that?” Kyrie caught his raised eyebrow and added. “Decorating, I mean.”

“I will manage,” he shrugged again as he strolled towards the door. “I know the colorful stuff is supposed to go on the tree, the rest should be child’s play.”

“Not what she meant!” Nico called after him as he made to close the door behind himself.

“Oh, I think he knows-…”

The door fell closed, cutting the rest of that conversation off. They would figure it out, he was sure.

Elisa was already busy trying to drag one of the carton boxes from under tree. The thing was approximately her size… and seemingly also the same weight, if the fact that it didn’t budge an inch was anything to go by. Dante snorted as he caught sight of it. Two quick steps and he lifted the whole box up with one hand, laughing as she pouted up at him. “Woah, princess, let me do the heavy lifting. Where do I put this?”

“So we are putting up the tree now?” Patty stood from the couch and came over, appraising the tree as she went. “You will have to get this thing into the stand first before you can put anything on it.”

“Oh, Nero said we should leave that to the adults,” Angelo commented, looking up from the box he had ripped open, tinsel and garlands in his hands.

“You guys talking about me behind my back?”

Nero stepped into the shop, dragging a hand through his hair and kicking the door shut without even looking back. The hard lines of his mouth eased as his gaze swept over the people present and caught on Dante. Inclining his head in the barest nod, he carried on. “And you started without me, too. Rude.”

“I would say you’re late,” Dante replied, imitating a mocking salute with his free hand, “But then I would have admit that that was, a tiny bit, my fault, so I will keep my mouth shut.”

“Right, old man,” there was laughter in Nero’s eyes, even as he shook his head. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Ah, silence. Not my strong suit.”

“And don’t we know that all too well,” that dry comment earned Patty a glower, and she stuck out her tongue in return. “I’m right and you know it. And stop playing around with that box, you’re going to drop it.”

“What, this thing?” Throwing the box in his hand up, Dante caught it again with a smirk. “And me dropping it? Why, I would never… whoops.”

The box tilted while he was spinning it on one finger, tilting dangerously to the horrified gasps of the people close to it.

Before too much could happen, Dante caught it, easily balancing it out with a grin on his face and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “See? As if I would drop it. Pffff.”

“You...!” Patty shot him a look so dark it could have made a higher demon take cover, before she snorted and burst out laughing. “Dork.”

“Okay kids, no more playing with the breakable things,” Morrison declared, walking up behind Dante to snatch the box from his grip, despite all his protests. “Work first, then the fun.”

“Yeah, let’s put the tree up already!” Angelo demanded. “We were waiting forever!”

“Right, right. V, get over here, help me with this thing.”

The order made the young man sitting on the couch jump under his new blanket. Blinking in surprise, he pointed at himself. “Me? I don’t know how to…”

“It’s easy, I will show you. Come on.”

“Alright…”

Considering Morrison distracted enough, Dante ducked to the side and peered into the nearest box of decoration. Jackpot –ornaments and more garlands and tinsel. That, he could surely work with.

“That grin only means trouble.”

“No idea what you mean,” Dante told Nero when the younger stepped up next to him, batting his eyelashes at him for good measure.

The younger snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he crouched down beside him. “Right.”

Dante almost felt it coming, in the way the younger shifted next to him, tensing and relaxing as if preparing for something. So when Nero made to say something, he wasn’t even surprised.

“Don’t ask me if I’m alright now, Nero,” Dante interrupted him, low enough that nobody with human senses could hear it, his smile just softening the words enough to make it teasing. “That would be so out of character.”

Nero closed his mouth again, just looking at him for a moment. Then a flicker went over his face – the tiniest hint of a smile, something softening around his eyes – before he turned his head away, smirk in his voice as he spoke up. “Should I insult you instead?”

“I would be honored if you did,” he assured the younger, pressing a hand to his chest for emphasis. “Do your worst.”

“Ugh. Can you stop being weird for just five minutes-...”

“Kid, com’ on, do you really think I can?”

“Right, I forgot - that’s asking too much of you.”

“Uh-huh, see, you’re starting to understand me. There’s hope for you yet.”

The glare sent his way lacked any real seriousness due to the badly hidden smile: Nero did his best to cover it up by jabbing his elbow into the older man’s side, huffing a little in satisfaction when he got a pained grunt for his troubles.

Dante simply grinned into the box he was still digging through, content to work in companionable silence for a while.

Until he discovered a handful of tinsel strands that were just the exact same shade of silver Nero’s hair was in this lightning, and, in a burst of inspiration, held it up for inspection. “Hey, kid, look at that – I found your lost hair!”

Nero made a weirdly choked sound that could have been suppressed laughter or him gagging in disgust, spluttering, “Wha-…oh funny, old man. Haha.”

Dante started straight up cackling at the look on the younger’s face, flopping to the side not too gracefully. Still sniggering, he half-heartedly tried to shove Nero off of him when the other punched him in the shoulder – hard – and then pretended to shove him head-first into the nearest box.

He broke down in laughter all over again when he managed to throw some of the tinsel in Nero’s direction during the scuffle, considering the outcome of it a full success. “No, wait, hold on, let me put this stuff on you, you look so pretty with it!”

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“Aha, that’s one for the swear jar!”

“I don’t even care.”

Morrison sighed deeply, trying and failing to hide a smile as the silliness seemed to spread and infect the others – Patty dropped her work long enough to throw a garland around V’s shoulder, startling the young man, and Angelo held an bauble to his ear like an earring to see Elisa burst into giggles.

“Children, the whole lot of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tree was alright, Dante supposed.

Leaning just a bit too much to one side, maybe. And it was also possible that the garlands were to be put up first, not last so that they covered a few of the ornaments. Not to mention that ornaments were, perhaps, usually, supposed to fit together, not like these ones. Obviously someone out of the group had gone and bought them without checking for colors or if it fit together, so those that they had used were simple-colored in red, blue and violet, with a few sticking out with glitter and gaudy pictures on them

But it was a Christmas tree, and it was standing, and there were ornaments on it. Nothing had burned down, nothing had gone wrong like it happened so many times to all of them. Dante supposed that was as good as they could hope for.

And maybe, just maybe, there was also the fact that he was still breathless from laughing and arguing and bantering with the people who had helped set the tree up.

Nero carefully pushed one presents back under the tree after helping Angelo to try and figure out what was in it for the boy this Christmas. Patty was still teary-eyed from laughing over their antics the whole time. V somehow still had tinsel sticking to his clothes and hair because Patty plus the children had ganged up on him and decided he needed at least some decoration to brighten his looks – not his mood, per se, since he had spent the first few minutes glowering at them before cracking, joining in on their laughter with quiet chuckles on his own. Elisa looked ready to fall asleep on the spot where she was balanced on Morrison’s hip with Angelo ruffling her hair affectionately.

Dante himself had only just successfully managed to unwind most of the extra garlands that someone had tried to decorate him with (or strangle; he wasn’t too sure) from around his neck when loud laughter started up in his back.

“Did you guys try to decorate each other instead of the tree?”

Trish smirked at them, looking as put together and elegant as ever, especially in stark contrast to the mess they had made. A small white box balanced on her hips, she nodded towards those who still had glitter and more stuck to them, residue laughter dancing in her eyes as everyone starting patting themselves off with mixed mutters of defense and embarrassment.

Instead of trying to save his dignity, Dante sniffed archly and threw the last garland over his shoulder much like a fancy scarf. “What, you don’t think we look perfectly Christmas-y for the event?”

“More like perfectly idiotic. Blue isn’t your color, Dante,” she plucked the offending garland from his grasp and threw it carelessly over her shoulder. It landed neatly over the rack by the door. She assessed him one more time, eyes crinkling and lips quivering while she tried to look serious. “Hm. The glitter can stay, I think.”

“Huh. Didn’t notice the glitter.”

“Hardly believable – there is more than enough. Anyway,” she held up the box, balancing it on the tips of her fingers. “Where is this supposed to go?”

“Dessert?” Morrison asked, immediately taking a step forward when she nodded. “Let me…”

“Let me,” interrupted V quietly, stopping the older man with one outstretched arm. He nodded towards the dozing girl in his arms, smiling slightly. “You have your hands full.”

“True,” Morrison huffed a laugh, hosting the sleepy girl higher up in his grasp. “Hey, princess, wanna take a break until dinner is ready?”

“Mmmmmh,” Elisa muttered something unintelligible before turning, burrowing deeper into him.

“I will take that as a yes.”

“Say hello before you both fall asleep on me,” Trish gracefully handed the box over to V before pressing a peck to Morrison’s cheek, laughing. “There we go. Go take your nap now.”

“Like the old man I am.”

“That’s what you said.”

“No, that’s what my back is telling me,” Morrison grumbled while he stomped over to the couch, falling into it heavily while rubbing his lower back with his free hand. “Aw heck…”

Joining into the general bout of laughter that elicited, Dante reached for the kitchen door to hold it open for V when the younger passed by him with a muttered thanks.

There wasn’t even time to turn back around to the others before Trish was there, throwing an arm over his shoulders and humming thoughtfully while she leaned closer to scan his expression.

“Not that I’m against cuddling, mind you” Dante wrapped his own arm around her waist – the closest to a hug the two of them would probably get while being sober and unharmed – and smirked back at her “But did you want something specific?”

“You’re not going Ebenezer Scrooge on us?” Trish’s smile was teasing, eyebrow cocked questioningly. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Do I even want to know why you’re familiar with that story? And I had my grouchy moment already. You missed it. Which is a shame, if you ask me - I was great.”

That answer didn’t satisfy her, frown tugging at her features. Of course it did not, he thought with no little amusement, because this was Trish, and if anyone had always seen right through his attempts of defending himself with sarcasm, it was her. Pot calling the kettle black, and all that.

So when understanding dawned on her face and her smirk turned into a wide smile, he mostly resigned himself to whatever was to come.

“And yet, you’re here. All Christmas-y,” patting over his hair and showing him the leftover glitter on her hand for good measure, she winked at him. “You’re starting to warm up to this.”

Dante wrinkled his nose at her. “Bah, humbug.”

Trish gave a laugh and shook her head. “I’m serious. I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much.”

“Serious, you? I think the whole Christmas cheer is getting to you.”

But it all didn’t help. She simply laughed even harder, pressing a peck to his cheek before slipping out of his hold with a last parting pat to his shoulder.

For once, he was actually glad she had left him alone instead of trying to get the last word. Else he would have probably ended up admitting out loud that he was, in fact, enjoying this, and there was absolutely no reason to affirm to her just how often she was right.

The kitchen door next to him opened up with an audible banging sound and Nico waltzed into the room, balancing a tray. “Out of the way, watch it, dinner is coming through!” She declared loudly while heading towards the pool table, holding her load high over her head as she went.

When she put down the tray – carrying a varieties of vegetables meant as a side dish – resolutely down on top of the table, Dante raised an eyebrow. “The pool table? Really?”

“You don’t exactly have any tables with space for more than two people,” Lady reminded him while pushing past him, carrying a plate of her own. “We are making due. Trish! There you are! Get over here, you need to try those thingies Nico brought. They are awesome. What are they called?”

“Latkes. After a receipt from my Grandma!” Nico informed her, grinning proudly. “A hit at every party.”

“Well, I can’t say No to that, can I,” Trish chuckled, moving over to the pool table where Lady waved one of the treats at her in a mocking replica of a Come hither motion.

That seemed to be the unspoken signal to take a seat for everyone, and the enticing smell of dinner made sure nobody even thought twice about it. In a joined effort, the entire collection of chairs in the shop and even the couch itself were dragged closer so everyone could sit. Plates were handed around, wishes for drinks were voiced, and seats were exchanged until everybody had found a place and a drink.

In retrospect, Dante couldn’t even tell how, but at some point he ended up in a chair between Lady and V, strategically placed nice and close to the pizza.

“Hey, scroogey McScrooge, mind handing me the Eggnog over there?” Lady elbowed him gently, chuckling when he rolled his eyes over her joke.

“Honestly, is everyone in on this joke?” Dante demanded, leaning forward to glance at Trish at the other end of the table. The woman had the gall to raise her glass at him, eyes dancing with laughter. He glowered at her, earning a pleased grin for it.

“Sure, did you expect anything else? Thanks,” Lady added when he topped off the Eggnog for her. “Have to say though, this is not bad.”

Following her gesture around the room, Dante had to say that, it really wasn’t. It was surprisingly… comfortable, with everyone being in high spirits, laughing and chatting.

“Hmhm, not bad at all,” quirking a grin, Dante raised his glass towards the head of the table where Kyrie was just taking her seat at last. “Kudos to the hostess, I have to say.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s your shop,” Kyrie admonished, laughing.

“No, he’s right,” Morrison winked at Dante from the opposite side of the table. Raising his drink, he declared loud enough to be heard over the initial chatter. “People, I think it’s time to drink a toast to Kyrie, for having this idea in the first place and making it possible. Cheers!”

“Hear, hear!”

“To Kyrie, indeed!”

“Cheers!”

“Yeah, and thanks for the food!”

By the time the last cheering died down, Kyrie had her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with barely swallowed laughter. “You’re all so ridiculous,” she mumbled, voice quivering with giggles, earning herself another round of laughter.

“Kyrie, Nero? Can I give Uncle Dante his present now?”

The small voice speaking up effectively silenced the last bit of laughter, heads turning in surprise.

Elisa meet the baffled gazes with wide, questioning eyes, still looking a bit sleepy, but getting more and more awake by the second.

The group exchanged surprised and amazed gazes over her head. Nico mouthed a quiet You heard that? towards Patty, who nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling suspiciously. Dante raised an eyebrow at Kyrie and got a beaming smile for it.

Even now, quite some time since coming to the orphanage, it was rare for little Elisa to speak up in a group of people, and for her to do so audibly and to ask for something that she wanted was still new and precious.

When nobody answered her, Elisa frowned, reaching over to tug at Kyrie’s sleeve gently, as she had so often when speaking had been too much for her.

Kyrie exchanged a quick glance with Nero who shrugged, scratching his nose. Looking hesitant still, Kyrie turned back to her charge, starting, “Sweetie, didn’t we say we would wait until after dinner with the presents?”

Elisa’s expression fairly crumpled, her grip on the sleeve tightening.

“Oh, no, sweetie, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s just one present!” Angelo joined in, slipping from his seat to rush to the girl’s side. Planting both hands firmly on her small shoulders, he looked up at the adults pleadingly. “And we don’t mind waiting with dinner a bit longer, right?”

“Right,” Nico joined in. “And I’m curious now what the present is.”

“Yeah, can’t leave us hanging like that!” Lady added.

“We would all suffer from the curiosity,” V pointed out mildly, smirking when Nero rolled his eyes at him and murmured dramatic, dude.

“Fine, guys, I got it, it’s fine.” Kyrie shook her head with a wide, fond smile. “I don’t see a problem with one present being a little earlier than the others. Go ahead, Elisa.”

“Yes!” Angelo cheered at the same time as Elisa’s smile returned full-force. The girl turned and ran off towards the coatrack by the door, starting to dig through the bags that had been left at the foot of it with obvious glee.

The short pause in proceedings gave Dante time to flag Nero down, waving him over. The younger complied with a feigned sign, leaning in close to listen. “Yes?”

“What exactly do I got coming here?” Dante inquired, nodding towards Elisa.

“What, you nervous?”

“Kid,” Dante intoned, all jest gone from his voice. Nero straightened, smirk vanishing as he listened intently. “Nobody told me we’re supposed to have presents ready here.”

He nodded over to the girl who was still digging through the bags, looking to all the world as if she was on a very important mission. “I don’t have anything in return.”

The way Nero’s gaze softened at that didn’t sit all too well with Dante, but he ground his teeth together and stayed still instead of deflecting with more jokes.

“Dante, relax. This isn’t an obligation,” how Nero managed to make an eye-roll audible would always be a mystery to him. “The children already gave each other a bunch of presents, and we gave them something of our own. Elisa wanted to make something for you, too. That’s all there is to it.”

“Made it? Herself?”

“Well, yeah.” Now there was surely teasing in Nero’s voice. “Difficult work. Took hours. She was very excited to hear your opinion on it.”

“And you tell me to relax. You’re trying to make me nervous, you punk,” Dante groused under his breath, elbowing his chuckling nephew.

He had already been prepared to smile and be happy with whatever he got, since he hadn’t even suspected there would be presents for him. Hearing that there had been hours of work been put into this only made him more determined to love it no matter what.

He couldn’t help but reach up to pat Nero’s forearm reassuringly, rumbling lowly, “I’m going to be properly amazed.”

“You better be,” it might have been a threat, somewhere deep down, but Nero was smiling slightly while saying it.

Then the younger man was gone from his side, and instead Dante was faced with a little girl, flushed red and wide eyed in excitement, holding a roll of paper out to him with shaking hands.

Dante would forever deny that his hands weren’t quite steady either while unrolling the paper carefully, muttering. “Now, let’s see what we got here…”

There was rustling beside him, someone leaning over his shoulder to take a look as well, someone else gasping quietly before whispering “Aw so cute!”. He didn’t pay them any mind, occupied with starring at the drawing he had been handed.

It wasn’t too difficult to figure out what he was looking at, even for him - a portrait. The mop of hair drawn with silvery-gleaming colored pencil already giving away who he was looking at, the shoulders colored in red and the haphazardly drawn beard stubble in grey only topping it off.

It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he would have personally thrown anyone who dared to point out any flaw into the flaming pits of Hell.

Blinking hard, Dante cleared his throat, hmm-ed for a moment, squinted at the drawing some more (more felt than saw Elisa vibrate in excitement next to him) before he made a surprised sound, holding the picture away from himself as if realization had only just struck him. “Hold on, this isn’t a photograph?! Could have fooled me!”

Elisa burst into giggles, flushing red, while Kyrie squeezed her shoulder, whispering none too quietly “Told you he would like it!”

“Absolutely captured my roguishly good looks,” Dante declared, generously ignoring the way Lady kicked his shin under the table or how loudly Trish snorted over that statement. “I will need this framed. This gets a place of honor on my desk.”

“Oh good, then that desk is finally going to be used for something else than sleeping on it,” Morrison retorted, grinning even when Dante shot him a mock-offended look. “Oh, don’t give me that, I’m gonna get you that frame, after all.”

“You’re only half right, though,” Patty piped up, pointing with her fork for emphasis, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He was using it to stash his magazines, too.”

“Fair enough.”

“Bunch of cheeky smartasses,” Dante muttered under his breath, not quite seriously, earning nothing more than stifled giggles and snorts for it. He opted to ignore them, instead rolled his drawing carefully back up and turned back to Elisa. Making sure to lean down to her eyelevel as he spoke to her. “Thanks for the portrait, princess. Best present I ever got, I might say.”

The beaming smile that made her entire face lit had been expected. The way she surged forward, throwing thin arms around his neck to hug him tightly, however, was entirely unexpected. Dante all but froze in surprise for a second before he relaxed, patting the girl’s back gently. “Woah there, slow down a bit. Not going anywhere.”

“Love you, Uncle.”

The words were whispered against his neck so quietly, but fervently, he would have missed it where it not for his sharp hearing. It silenced him better than even a sword stabbed through his chest could have ever done. His heart seemed to miss several beats, lungs too tight to draw breath.

“Are you happy, Dante?”

Dante cleared his throat, willing his body to cooperate. Wrapping his second arm around the little girl, he squeezed her gently, whispering back. “Love you, too, princess.”

If he buried his face for a second longer than necessary in Elisa’s tousled hair, blinking hard, then heck, nobody could prove it to him afterwards.

Another loud clearing of his throat, and he gently put Elisa back down to her feet, releasing her while ruffling her hair. “Okay, that’s enough cuddling for an entire week. Go get the first slice of that tasty pizza now, princess, you get the honors.”

Elisa’s laughter rang out like bells as she chased around the table, jumping straight at Nero, who caught her easily and lifted her onto Kyrie’s lap.

“So, does that mean we can start eating now?”

“Sure!” Kyrie shifted Elisa in her lap, dropping a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head, before looking up, gesturing at the table. “Everyone, dig in!”

“Oh god, finally, I was starving.”

“You ate the whole time while we were cooking.”

“Sampling makes me only hungrier!”

“Nero, do you think Dante will like my present, too?”

“Sure he will, bud. No doubt about it.”

The conversations started up again, flowing easily as everyone helped themselves to their food or helped others out to reach certain dishes.

Dante stood up from the table while everyone was distracted, mumbling something about being right back. Some heads turned, some smiles were sent his way, but nobody really questioned it as he left the table and ambled over to his desk.

The rolled up drawing found a place behind the photograph’s frame, tucked in there neatly until he had a right frame for it, too. Dante paused, considering both of the pictures for a moment, before turning back towards the others.

Not yet joining them. Not yet. From over here, he had a nice view of them all, and he luxuriated in simply watching for a moment.

Just as he watched, Patty showed Morrison something on her phone, both of them smiling down at it fondly (the distinct feeling that they had managed to snap a picture of his hug with Elisa crept up on him. He would have to get a hold of that one later). Angelo was retelling a story to Nico and V with flailing arms, causing the mechanic to laugh loud and cheerful and slap V’s shoulder, the young man chuckling at her mirth. Nero used the distraction to press a gentle kiss to Kyrie’s forehead, making the young woman smile up at him brightly. Trish and Lady clinked their glasses together, faces alight with laughter.

They had given him so much. The thought caused warmth to course through him.

Although it was soon followed by the niggling realization that he didn’t even have a small present for them in return.

He could vividly imagine their reaction, should he decide to voice this thought out loud. Could see them telling him it was alright, or tease him for worrying over something silly like that. Perhaps point out how he didn’t even have money to buy presents for them – and anyway, shouldn’t he pay off his debts first before buying new stuff?

It would be anticipated, would be normal, having them tease rather than be bothered by it. A nice and easy way to drop the subject and forget about it.

Only that he didn’t want to forget about it. It bothered him. He wanted to give something in return, this time, now that there was a time where he could.

Caught up in his thoughts as he was, he belatedly registered a sound from the direction of the door – a scratching, a thump. The sound of a hoarse cough.

Then something or someone banged against the front door with such a strength that the whole house front seemed to shake with it, windows clinking and wood groaning.

The entire shop fell silent as if sound had been cut off.

Rising to his full height, ready to jump into action should their latest guest try to kick down the door and join the party, Dante waited. The banging didn’t repeat itself. In fact, everything had gone eerily quiet.

Shooting a quick look towards the table, where everyone either looking at him or the door, Dante make a quick hand motion – wait; stay – before reaching for the top drawer of his desk, retrieving Ebony and Ivory.

Cocking both guns, he crossed the space to the door soundlessly, paused, listened – still almost too quiet – before ripping the door open and raising his guns in one smooth motion.

Nobody there.

But just atop the stairs and right in front of the door, sat a jute bag that seemed ready to rip at the seams.

After a second of confusion, recognition hit, and Dante looked up abruptly to check his surroundings.

On the streets, the roofs - no one was in sight.

Especially not a stranger in an ill-fitting Santa Clause-costume.

Deeming it save for now, Dante holstered his guns and directed his attention to the found at his feet. He briefly considered the possibility of this being a trap, before he shrugged and crouched down, reaching out to tug the bag open.

Nothing for it, after all.

Instead of a writhing mass of tiny demons or an explosion or something similarly trap-like (he had been there before), what tumbled out of the bag and towards him was an array of presents. Different in size and shape, but all neatly wrapped in gleaming paper, with bows on top, each of them having name tags attached to them.

With the names of his friends, Dante realized, more and more speechless and reeling by the second. There was one for Patty, and Nero, and the kids, and…

There was a note, on top of it all, so small and unremarkable in contrast to the rest of the content that he hadn’t noticed it at first. He plucked it up before it could be blown away, turning it to discover a neat handwriting, lilac shimmering letters assembled in neat rows -

Don’t get bright ideas - this is a one-time reward for not running. And to pay off some old debts - R.

“Dante?”

He turned his head at the call, shooting a look over his shoulder.

Nero was standing, hand reaching for a weapon at his belt – his gun, most likely, since the sword had been left next to the door – one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Lady had her chair tilted backwards, gaze scanning the darkness behind Dante as if she was just looking for someone dumb enough to prove a worthy target for her. A spark flickered over Trish’s finger, reflecting on the cane V had suddenly in one hand, playing with it idly. Nico was clutching her fork just a tad too tightly to be comfortable, free hand creeping for the bag at her hips.

Even Kyrie had halted her movements while cutting the pizza in half, exchanging quick glances with Morrison, who was conveniently placed between the door and the kids, and Patty, who was fiddling with her amulet, frowning.

Dante took a moment to really appreciate the sight – appreciate the bunch of people who were be ready to leap into action for him, not even thinking about the fact that there wasn’t much he couldn’t take on alone.

Not giving a damn, since they considered it a fact that he didn’t have to take it on alone.

Nero’s eyebrow climbed up higher, and he relaxed – just like the others around him, chairs scrapping and weapons being slowly lowered – seemingly considering it safe now that Dante had been silent for so long. A smirk tugged at his lips, caused by whatever he saw on the older man’s face. “What?

Angelo’s curly head peeked around Morrison before Dante could answer, trying to look past the open door. “Who was at the door? What do you have there?”

Dante tried to answer with something witty, he really did. But there seemed to be something lodged in his throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak.

And he found that, for the first time this evening, he couldn’t recall the voices of his childhood echoing in his head, even if he tried. Albeit not eradicated, but effectively drowned out by this newfound appreciation for this gathering of people who had made themselves at home here, with him.

So instead, he lifted the bag inside – heavy fucking thing, he nodded absentmindedly, there must have been more than enough for all of them – and held it up for inspection, a bright, honest smile making its way on his face full-force.

“Does that whole rule about waiting for presents until after dinner still stand, or can we make an exception?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodin was fairly sure that the fact that it had started to snow while he was still out and about was a bad prank with him as the poor victim.

Muttering curses in tongues long lost and forgotten under his breath, he tried without success to get anything out of the cigar stump hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. Finally conceding defeat, he tugged the offending thing from between his lips and threw it over his shoulders, not even turning to see it disappear in a flurry of sparks and ashes.

He was digging through his pockets for a new one when a blast of cold wind whipped the seam of his red coat around, tugging at it as insistently as tiny hands. All his renewed cursing and tugging it back didn’t help, wisps of wind tangling in his fake beard and trying to rip the hat straight from his head as if to purposefully annoy him.

“Dammit all to Inferno and back again- enough!” Thundering the words into the dark of the night, he ripped the hat off himself, crushing it in his fist. “Enough of makin’ me look a fool for one century at least, ‘m drawin’ a line here, fuck’s sake!”

Nobody answered. Nobody laughed at him, not even good naturedly.

For some reason, he almost wished it had been different.

(How long since somebody had stood up to him? That somebody had laughed at him not in malice, but all in the name of joke? That somebody had laughed with him?)

At least the wind died down a bit. Grumbling to himself, Rodin pulled out his cigar case, retrieving one to put between his teeth. Hand hovering at the unlit tip, he chewed on it, frowning thoughtfully into the dark.

(He had tried to assess the kid’s age during their “conversation”, but the aging process of mortals had always been a mystery to him. The white hair certainly didn’t help, either, and neither did all that frowning. But it should have been… well a few decades couldn’t be too far off, could they? Decades. For him, nothing more than a blink – so why did it feel so long right now?)

“He’s fine,” he said out loud, not sure himself if he was talking to himself, the wind or the sky or something beyond that.

Wasn’t even sure where he should have directed this to – he couldn’t imagine either of the two he was looking for going to Hell or Heaven. Neither Inferno nor Hell, Paradiso or Heaven had ever held a place for them go to, after it all ended.

(He certainly hadn’t found them on his many travels through the realms, and he was glad for it. He didn’t have any interest in stumbling upon their souls, being tortured for eternity in their death. As it was, he could shrug it off and pretend they had, somehow, managed to escape, find an Afterlife of their very own making. He certainly thought those two capable of doing just that, of defying all odds.)

Clicking his fingers until a spark danced on his fingertip, Rodin continued to mutter to himself, “Stubborn, distrustful and cocksure, just like the devil himself, that one. No manners at all.”

Pausing, he considered his statement again, taking the first few calming drags, feeling the smoke curl down his throat. “Eh, guess he got your soft heart at least, Eva. Woulda liked that, I bet.”

The wind picked up again, catching the thin plume of smoke he blew out and letting it dance merrily into the night sky.

Suddenly, he felt a laugh bubble up from deep in his chest. Laughing at the shitty weather, perhaps. Maybe at the world, fucked up as it was. Maybe at himself, for standing around in the cold in a crappy Santa costume and lamenting when he didn’t even know for sure what he was lamenting.

He didn’t really care about what or that he might have looked like a lunatic to anyone passing by. He laughed and laughed until it tapered off into chuckles, then died down completely.

Oh, what the hell, Rodin mused, taking great pleasure in letting the flames dance from his fingertips over to the material of the offending hat still clasped tightly in his fist. Just this once.

Even someone like him, as infinite as the universe, should be allowed to get a bit soft around this season that humans had declared a holiday long ago.

What better time to become a bit melancholic than now, where the veil between worlds became thin, when past, present and future couldn’t always be told apart, and magic infused the fabric of being so strongly that even an ordinary person was treated to a miracle every now and then?

Rodin watched with grim satisfaction as the Santa hat finally fell to ashes in his hand, shaking it off with a derisive gesture, sending the flakes tumbling into the wintery air. The garment had done its deed for this year. Just as he had – more then, considering old debts had been paid.

(Next time, perhaps in a few more decades from this point onwards, when things got quiet and memories got loud again, he would be able to remember his past companions with a laugh and an insult on his lips, rather than the feeling that there were things left open and unfinished.)

For now, though…

He snapped his fingers and the rest of the costume fell away, vanishing into thin air while his usual attire replaced it. A second snap, and he held a fresh cigar in one hand, lilac flame dancing on the tip of the thumb on his other hand.

A third snap, and the air tore open in front of him, reality shifting and distorting to form a portal back to his bar.

“Back to business we go!” Straightening his favorite jacket again, he squared his shoulders and bared his teeth in a wide grin that would have sent demons and angels alike running for their lives. The darkness swirling inside of the portal swallowed him up when he stepped right into it, still chuckling to himself.

Behind him, the portal collapsed into itself. The snowfall picked up, the flurry of white flakes magnifying and filling in the footprints he had left in the thin layer of snow.

Minutes later, it was as if he had never been there in the first place.

#my writing #dmc #devil may cry #dante #fanfic #rodin #nero #kyrie #trish #v #lady #morrison #patty lowell #dmc 5

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gobbochune · 6 years

Text

I’m calling you out for not knowing how to call people out

I saw a callout post for a problematic user the other day that was probably the worst attempt defamation I’ve ever seen. And this made me mad not because I thought the target was wrongly accused, but because there were like seven people giving their testimony to the abuse and yet it was handled so poorly that I doubt anyone who saw it would even believe them. This is pretty dangerous considering the person in question was an actual pedophile grooming children for sex, and a quick google search told me that this person has an army of stans ripping the lack of significant evidence apart in order to entrap new victims. Calling out the blatant inconsistencies in testimonies is a tactic that abusers use to separate their victims from the people who want to help them. Anyone who has had a run-in with a serial pedophile can tell you that they usually have a methods to make people trust them over numerous allegations. Its not enough to throw a rock at their house, at its worst, that rock can even help the abuser gain a victim’s sympathy.

So I’d like to take this moment to explain how to properly spread information about a potentially dangerous person. Though, I’d like to make this very clear: I’m not saying this as someone whose done a lot of these as if its some kind of art form. I’m doing this from the perspective of someone who has seen the scum of the earth and know how they ensnare people, and hope to be able to spread awareness to potential victims.

1. The Abuser

I feel like it is a no brainer to actually mention who the abuser is, but apparently thats difficult for some people to wrap their heads around. So often I will see purposeful misspellings or code names in callout posts to avoid causing drama. This is stupid for two reasons: Firstly, if it is at the point where you feel a callout post needs to be made for people’s safety, fandom drama should no longer be an issue. Secondly, if you don’t make it clear who it is you’re warning people about, how the fuck are they actually supposed to avoid them? Like, do you expect a 12 year old who is currently being gaslit by a pedophile to message you like ‘Hey, is @lle/////gory!!!334 Gregory? That kinda looked like his username but I couldn’t tell.’ Of course they’re not. They’re going to ask the person who is grooming them, who will either say ‘lol nah’ or make up a sob story as to why they’re being defamed. Grow a pair and use their names.

It is very likely that the abuser will have more then one account, you’ll probably need to list all of them that you’re aware of, but know that the minute they see a post with their current name on it they’re probably going to change it. So, mention very clearly who they are, what circles they can be found in, and how they amassed enough popularity to trap victims in the first place.

This callout post that I saw, which I will now be using as a reference for what not to do, managed to list the abuser’s various names but pretty much nothing else about them. All it said was that they were apparently the origin of some meme, but didn’t even explicitly say what the meme was so I had no idea if I even knew this person or not. I didn’t know if they were a fandom blog, an art blog, a social justice blog, a youtuber, the only context I could draw was from the fandom-specific usernames of their victims. If they changed their name, which they probably did right away, I would have no way of telling who this person was.

Include screenshots of any of their posts with a lot of notes and listing this as identification for who they are. Also explicitly mention what circles they can be found in, any projects they were involved with, and any other iconography that can be associated with them. However, there is something I’d like to stress:

Do not include leaked personal information such as home address, workplace, or emails. It is not your authority to broadcast this information online. A callout post is not a legal testimony, merely a warning to other internet users within a community. If alerting the authorities is necessary, it is a different process to be handled by the victims and their supporters. Do not attempt to intervene through a social media.

If you don’t want to receive hate from an army of stans thats understandable, which is why many people often will make a blog where victims can anonymously offer evidence. In fact, I suggest doing this as a first resort as it is easier to search “_____ problematic” into Tumblr then it is to scour a personal blog for mention of the abuser. This will also provide a handy archive for the allegations, and help keep up with the abuser’s activity. However, for legitimacy’s sake, I suggest that the mod’s identities of these blogs be clear. This leads us to my next point:

2. The Evidence

This is actually my primary reason for wanting to make this. The stuff mentioned above delegitimises accusations but isn’t really dangerous the same way a shoddy presentation of evidence can be. Someone who has been thoroughly brainwashed by the abuse cycle will look for any reason to continue a relationship with their abuser. They’ve likely been isolated from their friends, groomed to worship or fear their abuser, and are so drained from a volatile relationship that they don’t have the mental energy to waste on doubt. It takes a lot of strength to end even a good relationship, thats why abusers try to keep their victims drained and confused. They make them think it is easier to continue being abused then try to untangle the lies and manipulation.

That is why you need to be explicit, blunt, and vocal about what the abuser has done. Put the most serious and unforgivable accusations at near top of your post in clear view. Try not to rely too heavily on accusations that dont have concrete evidence, as the abuser has probably already explained away anything you don’t have in writing.

I am going to once again revisit the terrible callout post from before. The first thing they did was the usual attention grabbing intro with the paragraph pretending to tell us who this person is was to list a bunch of testimonies from various users.

Now, testimonies don’t really work over tumblr in a traditional sense. In a courtroom a testimony is given under oath, all the words spoken must be presumed to be true because the speaker understands that lying is a federal offence. Obviously the internet is not like this, and there is nothing stopping someone with a blog from lying. Not to mention, if they had been in the abuser’s circle in the past but is now flinging accusations, it is safe to say they didn’t leave on the best of terms. Abusers are famously unable to take responsibility for their relationships falling apart, odds are everyone in the abuser’s circle convinces their latest victim that all previous victims were in the wrong.

I spoke with a friend who briefly joined the public discord of a known abuser to see what it was like, and showed me the rules specifically prohibiting anyone on the server to discuss allegations towards the mods. There was even a list of names that the bot would automatically block if you tried to type them in the chat log, and the mods had this witch hunt mentality where if they found evidence of you conversing with blacklisted users outside the discord, you would be banned and your name would be added to the list. It is very likely that the act of reading a testimony and asking about it could place a victim in danger.

However, there is value to a testimony online if there are more then one. Testimonies are really only effective if there are an abundance of them, so many that you don’t even have to read one, the sheer volume of people speaking out against the abuser is suspicious enough on its own. Again, the presence of a blog that allows anonymous asks or submissions would be the ideal platform to publish testimonies.

Back at the terrible callout post, underneath the list of testimonies they had some bullet points of direct evidence that they linked directly back to the abusers blog. You should not do this. I cannot believe there are people who do not realise it is largely worthless to use posts that the abuser still has access to as a source.

If you have even a remotely functional following anywhere on the internet you have probably said something stupid that bit you in the ass before. Your immediate reaction was probably to defend yourself, and when that failed, you go back and delete the post. Abusers can do the same thing, or, even more insidious, edit the post to say something else.

“_____ fetishises black women! here is the link!” can originally have linked to something explicit but can easily be changed to “I think black women are beautiful and deserve our support <3 <3″ to make the writer of the callout post look stupid or overzealous.

Screenshots are your friends. Take screenshots of the concerning behaviour and either include them in the post or link to a photo sharing archive. There’s really not much to explain about this. I cannot believe someone thought linking back to the original url would work.

Another thing I cannot believe about that terrible callout post was that half of the accusations linked to posts of people repeating rumours they’ve heard.

This is...dumb. This is unsalvageable. Don’t to this. It will never count and you will look like an idiot.

However that terrible awful worthless callout post did have SOME credible evidence, to shit that didn’t matter at all, which leads us to our last point.

3. The Abuse

Now this part is hard to discuss as most people seem to think abuse is a subjective term. This is not the case.

While abuse can take shape in an infinite number of ways, not all stuff that pisses you off counts as abuse. Sometimes a jerk is just a jerk. Now you can hate a jerk as much as you want- they probably deserve it, but don’t try to sell someone just being a generally awful person as abuse.

The terrible awful no good callout post tried to back up claims of criminal activity by saying the abuser cares more about Doctor Who than Flint Michigan.

This is not abuse. Why would anyone think this is abuse.

Now, if I have a blog devoted to a fandom I’m probably not going to post stuff about Flint Michigan to that blog. As stated above, I had no idea who this person was. For all I know they could have been exclusively a fanblog for Doctor Who. Sometimes there are just spaces that are kept away from serious real world issues and that in itself is not a crime.

Trying to equate something like that to an act of sexual assault only makes it easier to dismiss your legitimate concerns by saying: ‘they’re just hating on me for being cringy’

There are millions of reasons why someone might not want to keep up with real world social activism on their blog, and those are a million reasons the abuser will use to invalidate your legitimacy.

But hey, if that sort of thing annoys you, I totally get that. Go ahead and block this person, campaign against them, blacklist their stuff, encourage your friends to do the same. I’ve blocked people for less, just dont call it abuse.

Now there is actual fan content that is means for legitimate concern. If the person consistently praises or creates content of abusive scenarios, its a red flag. If a person consistently defends incest or pedophilia, its a red flag. If a person bullies someone else for being ‘triggered’ over Flint Michigan, its a red fucking flag.

The problem isn’t the art or the content or the blog type, but the mentality behind those things. Liking Doctor who isnt a problem. Liking the idea of Doctor Who having sex with his own daughter is. Avoiding current events isnt a problem. Trying to bully activists into silence is. You need to include that context to be taken seriously.

Chat logs are your friend. Get the permission of victims to post, anonymously or otherwise, chatlogs of concerning behaviour. Try to focus on patterns to show a potential victim that the tactics used to insnare them have been used on other people before. Highlight instances of an abuser being sweet, (The Honeymoon Phase) as well as how quickly they devolve into abuse.

In Conclusion

I’ve probably turned a lot of people off with this big dumb rant about something as petty as a callout post, and to those people I say: Good. If you’ve never been in a position to need this kind of thing then that is good. I’m not being facetious here, or implying you don’t know what you’re talking about just because you disagree with me, a callout post is really a last ditch effort to warn others that someone can construct in the aftermath of their ordeal. Pretty much everything I’ve mentioned relies on the willingness for victims to come forward, which I totally understand if they dont want to.

It is not my intention to bully others into sharing traumatic memories over the internet, but rather to make sure that anyone who does speak out wont become a target for harassment. At the end of the day, these are just posts floating around on tumblr. All you can ever hope is for someone to see your warning and stay away from the person who hurt you. Perhaps even draw the attention of other victims and help them process what has happened to them.

But baseless claims and petty squabbles aren’t how you do that. Abuse should be taken seriously, and there is a large difference between someone Problematic and an actual Abuser.

7 notes · View notes