#on an ''abusive'' caller so if i correct someone and it makes them double down on misgendering me to hurt the dumb tranny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mallowstep · 3 years

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(caller id)

cw: referenced child abuse

One of Stonefur's coworkers texts a link to their group chat.

i've worked with this org b4. if they're looking for support they need it. anyone have a few bucks?

He clicks on the link.

* * *

"I'm sorry, we don't give information about our clients out."

Stonefur taps the desk. It's a good policy. He wouldn't want them to make it easy. But.

"I might -- look, I don't want you to give me any information. But...is there a way I could prove who I am, and you'd maybe pass that on, if I'm right about who this is?"

The phone worker sighs. "If I can clear it with my supervisor, and if you can prove who you are, and if we do have who you think we have, and if they were to agree to it, maybe."

For six years, Stonefur has been trying to find a way to get home. Greystripe visited, actually, but the school said Featherpaw was no longer enrolled, and he wasn't allowed to even knock on the door of Tigerstar's compound.

Every weekend, he pours over the news that comes out of his hometown, looking for some sign that things are different. That they have a chance.

For six years, Stonefur has failed. This is the closest he has been to any chance of finding Mistyfoot and Featherpaw since he first carried Stormpaw off the compound.

"I'm looking for Mistyfoot, daughter of Oakheart," he says. "I'm Stonefur, son of Oakheart. She might be with Featherpaw, I have her brother, Stormpaw."

"I'll speak with my supervisor," the worker says. "Can we call you back at this number?"

* * *

He still can't fly. His identity is somewhere between fake and real, but it won't hold up to airport security. He packs the car for a week, loads Stormpaw and Greystripe in, and takes to the road.

After spending months walking across the country, a few days is nothing.

* * *

"Okay, Stonefur, you're on speaker."

His heart is beating so loud, it must be audible over the phone. He's practised this, prepared what he'll say, but he never could have imagined how this moment would feel. He forgets everything he planned.

"Mistyfoot?"

There's a long pause.

"I'm here."

It's her voice. It's a little older, but it's her voice, the same voice he has grown up with. He's not sure how to describe the feeling, the way it snaps his rib cage in two, the way his head feels light, the way his shoulders release, a hundred pounds vanishing off of them.

Stonefur starts to cry.

* * *

Four months after Stonefur first called, and they finally arrange a meeting.

They're informed not to arrive early, and Stonefur drives around the block three times until they can park. A woman meets them at the front doors.

"I'm their caseworker," she says. "This is how this is going to work. Our security guard is going to pat you down, and then I'm going to check in with Mistyfoot and Featherpaw. If they've changed their minds, you're going to leave. If they haven't, you come in. If they ask you to leave at any point, you leave. Got it?"

Stonefur nods, and Stormpaw copies. The woman sighs, and he can't read the emotion behind it perfectly. It sits somewhere between relief and stress.

The security check is fast: Stonefur expected it, and had them dress in simple clothing without any bulky sections. Whatever building they're in is clearly rented. They wait outside a set of double doors, and the caseworker opens them, smiling.

"You're good."

Stonefur walks past her. Mistyfoot is standing, her hand laced with Featherpaw's, but it is her, really her. He feels tears at the corners of his eyes, and he doesn't bother to try to stop them. Mistyfoot's expression shifts, softening, and she lets go of Featherpaw's hand, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I love you," she says, and he hugs her back. He doesn't think this is real. He doesn't think, after all this time, he has found her again.

"I love you," he says. "I love you so much."

She takes a shuddering breath, and he feels her tears against his neck, and she is real and alive and whole.

* * *

"She didn't want to talk to me," Stormpaw says, after.

Stonefur sighs. Reintroductions now made, he has Mistyfoot's number. She's sent him,

featherpaw's asleep

i'll call you tmrw

tell stormpaw i love him

and he's sent back,

Tell Featherpaw we love her. We're free all day, call me whenever.

"I don't get it."

Stonefur sighs, watching Stormpaw's frustrated pacing. "Mistyfoot said she's sleeping," he offers. "I think she was just tired."

Stormpaw huffs. "She left after..."

"If she didn't want to see you, she wouldn't have," Stonefur says. "But it's a lot to take, and...I think it's good that she left. She didn't ask us to leave. I'm guessing, but I think that means she wants to see you again."

* * *

"You can't hold them," Featherpaw says. "And you have to wash your hands."

She's holding two of the infants in her arms, swaddled and asleep. Mistyfoot holds the last one, who's awake, but not moving.

"We already washed them," Stonefur says.

Featherpaw stares pointedly at the sink.

After, he sits next to Mistyfoot.

"This one is Frogkit," she says. "Featherpaw has Hawkkit and Mothkit."

Featherpaw leans her head against Mistyfoot, smiling at Frogkit.

* * *

When they're three months old, Featherpaw's statement changes to, "You still have to support their heads. And wash your hands."

Stormpaw smiles at her, and she pulls Hawkkit a little closer to her.

"They're not going to take them," Mistyfoot says.

Featherpaw glances at Stormpaw. "Do you want to hold him?"

Mistyfoot rubs her shoulder, and turns to Stonefur. "Here," she says. "You remember how to hold babies, right?"

"I practised on a doll," he says. "Are you sure?"

Featherpaw hands Hawkkit to Stormpaw, correcting his hand placement. Mistyfoot nods. He takes Mothkit from her. She smiles at him.

* * *

After they've all moved in, to an apartment that's still too small but has just enough space, Stonefur watches Mistyfoot and Feathertail's routine sigh in relief. Stonefur helps Feathertail and Mistyfoot feed them, and Stormheart finds himself pacing with a crying Hawkkit.

"Give him here," Feathertail says, holding out her arms.

Hawkkit quiets instantly, and she rocks softly, holding him against her. She kisses the top of his head. "I'm still your favourite," she murmurs.

* * *

"I heard you were back in town," Shadepelt says. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too." Stonefur runs his hand through his hair. He hasn't seen Shadepelt since she was a kid, maybe ten or twelve. "I'm sorry it's-"

Shadepelt hugs him. "I'm not an idiot," she says. "I follow the news. I'm just happy you're safe."

* * *

Stonefur takes the kids for a walk with Feathertail. She pushes their stroller to the end of the block.

"I've got them," he says, and she releases the handles. "You okay?"

"I thought physical therapy was supposed to make me less tired," she says.

"Well, it takes time," Stonefur says.

* * *

Mistyfoot curls up on the couch. Stonefur puts his hand on her shoulder, and she flinches. Stonefur draws back, and she relaxes, but unnaturally, like someone has cut a puppet's strings.

Her hands were curled into balls, but they release, and he sees angry marks from where her nails dug into her hand. She rubs the heel of her hand against her forearm, and opens her eyes, glancing at him.

"I didn't..." Mistyfoot swallows, blinking rapidly. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was you."

* * *

Shadepelt arrives at six in the morning. She doesn't complain, even though they're only paying her ten dollars an hour.

He's glad he asked her to come early, because Feathertail walks her through the kids' schedule at least three times, and Shadepelt dutifully take notes, asking the occasional question. Stonefur has walked her through everything, but she won't be able to contact them once they're in the courtroom.

Stonefur drives them, and Stormheart sits in the passenger seat. He's missing school to be here, but he doesn't seem concerned. Feathertail sits in the middle seat, her head resting on Mistyfoot's shoulder.

The prosecutor told them to wear whatever was comfortable, as long as it was reasonably presentable, but Mistyfoot and Feathertail had gone shopping. Mistyfoot still seems uncomfortable, but that might be indicative of where he's driving.

Feathertail's phone chimes, and she doesn't wake.

When he pulls up to the courthouse, it's barely past 7:45, and there's already a scattered flock of reporters. Mistyfoot wakes Feathertail, and Stonefur sends Stormheart while he goes to park.

* * *

"Remember," the prosecutor says, "you're not on trial." She's not saying anything they haven't heard before, but it seems like a reassurance. "I won't lie to you. The cross-examination is going to be brutal. But you can always take a break."

She sighs. "We might not get to Feathertail today. But if we do, Mistyfoot, you can hold her hand, and that's it."

* * *

"All rise!"

Feathertail grips Mistyfoot's arm, bracing herself.

* * *

Stonefur and Stormheart sit on either side of Feathertail. She's not watching Mistyfoot, but she glances towards her occasionally.

Stonefur has come to most of the days of trial. In that sense, he's prepared for when they start. Stormheart isn't, and his anger shows in white knuckled rage. He glances at Feathertail occasionally.

"And why do you believe he said that?" the prosecutor asks.

Mistyfoot has kept her gaze trained to the side, avoiding Tigerstar. He's dressed well, and his lawyers take frenetic notes.

"Objection, speculation."

"Sustained."

Mistyfoot takes a sip of water.

The prosecutor pauses, and she retraces her steps. "Had you seen any examples of consequences for similar infractions?"

"After our brothers — after Stonefur and Stormheart had escaped, Tigerstar said Feathertail and I were corrupted. He used that as a rationale for punishment. I was the only person Feathertail has regular contact with."

"Were you led to believe your actions would have an affect on Feathertail?"

"I..." Mistyfoot blinks. Feathertail folds a piece of paper in half, and then in quarters. "He said she needed a good influence in her life. And that if I failed to provide one, he would make sure she was corrected."

"What kind of corrections did Tigerstar use?"

"Um. It depended. Denial of food. Manual labor. Usually it was more than one person could complete." She takes another sip of water.

"Can you give-"

"But the big one was...um. Corporal punishment. And it was always...he wanted you to feel small. He usually made things as embarrassing and public as he could think of."

"Can you give some examples?"

Mistyfoot glances towards Feathertail. She closes her eyes for a moment. Feathertail's hands are shaking uncontrollably. Stonefur places his hand out, where she can reach it. Feathertail takes it.

Stormheart glances at Feathertail again. She's gripping Stonefur's hand tight enough to hurt.

"Do you want to leave?" he whispers. Feathertail shakes her head.

* * *

(You're supposed to be watching the testifying witness. You know that.

But it's hard not to watch the others. Tigerstar is calm, like Mistyfoot is not describing a litany of public humiliations he had her suffer, his face neutral.

On the other side, Mistyfoot's family is fighting with the edge of permissible expression. The teenaged girl grips the man's hand, her head not lifting, and the teenaged boy beside her looks livid, glancing back at her often with a softened expression.

In a few days, the situation is rearranged. You've learned all their names, now, and it is Feathertail who takes the stand. She clutches Mistyfoot like a lifeline, and you see her look too far in one direction. As soon as she sees Tigerstar, she looks close to tears.

Her brother, Stormheart, is notably absent. You speculate he didn't think he could maintain composure through her testimony.

You can't blame him. She answers the prosecutor's questions with uncomfortable forthrightness. After adjusting to Mistyfoot's tendency to find a neat, formal way of saying matters, it is jarring to hear Feathertail respond to, "And how did he punish you for that?"

"He beat me until he broke skin."

You are just as grateful as Feathertail when her request to take a break is granted.)

* * *

When they get home, every night, Feathertail goes straight to bed. Mistyfoot brings the kids in to say hello, and a plate of food, but she doesn't make an appearance beyond that, either.

* * *

Stonefur had made a promise to himself, that he would remain calm. Whatever happened, he wouldn't risk being removed from the courtroom, and he wouldn't make things worse by being angry.

It is a hard promise to keep.

* * *

They don't celebrate when Tigerstar is sentenced.

It's a normal day. Stormheart goes to school, and Mistyfoot kisses Feathertail on the forehead before she leaves for work. Now that everything is settled, Stonefur's been fixing his paperwork so he can apply for a job.

The kids are starting to transition to just an afternoon nap, and they're tired when Feathertail herds them upstairs.

Stormheart gets home when Stonefur wakes up the kids, although Hawkkit climbs into bed next to Feathertail.

"I'm quiet," he whispers, although it's not that quiet. It's probably best to leave him.

Feathertail blows bubbles for them while Stonefur cooks dinner, and no one says what today is.

#mine #human misty au #long #feathertail #mistystar #stonefur #stormfur #hawkkit + his mom <3 #he does not do that most afternoons tho #he has a lot of energy #however he sees an opportunity and takes it]

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namjoonchronicles · 7 years

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His Desire - [BTS] Jimin!Au

[A/N] Originally I initially wrote Jimin's to be a psychological approach, about abuse and post-traumatic effects, but I settled on this one because it seems lighter, but if you want the one I intend to write initially, do inbox me.

It was a little after midnight when the phone rang and took your sleep away. Wincing at the ceiling light still on, and finding yourself in the living room, alone with the TV on, you extended your arm to your vibrating phone, and took a double-take on the screen mentioning the caller ID.

You pressed the phone to your ear after you tapped the green button in a hurry, with widened and fully-awake pair of eyes. Soon after the call ended, you were on your two feet, putting on your thick coat and shoes, and went sprinting as fast you can with a worried look on your face. Your car beeped unlocked as you walked to it in an eeriely almost full parking lot in the basement, packed with cars but no living humans in your surrounding. For a good reason that is, considering it was midnight, and most probably had gone to sleep.

But not the forensic unit, no. And that's where you were heading.

When the forensic expert revealed the decayed skeleton, she described them as a bulky set of bones. "Based on the overall physical observation and decaying rate, the deceased is is about 181 centimeters tall, has a bent left shin, is about 25 at the time of death, and there's a fused together clavicle bones, like you mentioned," Dr. Kang says, her hair tied in a lazy bun, but still attractive for someone who has an awful job, she took a sharp inhale, "However the DNA test will determine whether or not, he's the one you're looking for." With the tail of your eyes, you knew Jimin was staring into your tired expression, but you chose to ignore it.

You looked down to attire and silently cursed yourself, while hugging the coat tighter to cover yourself up as your heels clicked against the marble floors of the forensic unit to the DNA test floor where Dr. Kang had entered. It was authorized personnel only--department, so you waited outside. "Is this how you normally dress?" Jimin jogged behind you when you marched out the coroner's room with feigned urgency. You had on a pink trench coat, to cover your tight little red dress, just covering your hips. You had on a pair of Jimmy Choo's that you have been saving to wear on important events only, like this evening. You make-up was still on, you red lips and mascara hadn't smudged despite you've been sleeping in it. "Please don't talk to me." You lay your head on the wall, giving him your back.

Jimin tried hard not to look, but your ankles are very pretty. And if he thought not-looking was difficult, not mentioning how beautiful those knees are even more torturing. Jimin doesn't usually hold back compliments, but with you being kind of moody and quiet tooday, he had to be careful with what he said. "Why is it so important that you find this guy?" He mindlessly say, with a little smile playing on his lips, he lain his head back on the walls opposing yours. "...I said, don't talk to me." You spat. Jimin blinks, trying to blink away the bad feeling. He opens his mouth to say something but Dr. Kang walked out with a DNA test result. She looked at you, and she shook her head. You nodded slowly, a sullen expression back into your face. It was disappointment. With the tilt of her glasses, she walked back in and you started to move weakly downstairs.

It was bittersweet. If his body hasn't been found, there's chances that he's still alive. You blinked slowly at the fact that there might be a glint of hope in that thought. But deep in your heart you know, that he wouldn't have been. But you could imagine.

"You came for nothing on your day-off..." You heard Jimin say, and as usual, he would tail you. "...It's a little over the top even for you. I'm used to your faded jeans, sneakers and coffee-stained t-shirt...it's not like you're going on a blind date. Or are you? Were...you?" Jimin unfiltered mouth irked you that you spun around before he could say anything else, with death in your eyes as you locked gaze with him, "What is it to you if I'm going on a blind date." You shot, eyes wide and not blinking. It got Jimin's breath stuck in his throat. He gulped, and his Adam apple bobbed up and down, visibly. His eyeballs shaking. "What is it to you whether I get married or not?" You added. Jimin gulped again, he froze. "You had the day-off to, why are you here?" You hissed.

"Why in the world would you be obsessed with whom I'm searching for." You raised both of your eyebrows at him, intensifying your glare on him.

"I'm jealous." Jimin muttered. You chuckled darkly, "Of a corpse." You raised your voice a bit, in disbelief. "With the time you spent looking for this person." Jimin corrected.

You shoved him until he stumbles back a few steps. "I want to know who he is!" Jimin roared back. You had to turn away because you feel the tears threatening to fall, and when it did, you had to hold on to the closest wall to you. Jimin didn't budge, but he watches your shoulder shaking as you cried silently. This was not what he intended to happen. Jimin was curious. You were given one year break before returning to homicide division. By that time, Jimin was only a year into the job. Jimin started working in 2015, and you came back to work in 2017. Jimin entered the office thinking that the empty but equipped desk was his. He was wrong.

That's when it was revealed that the desk belonged to you. It was left empty for 13 months. So he searched for your records. You were involved in high profile cold cases from 2011 to 2014, but after December 2014, there was no records what so ever. February 20th, 2017, a Monday, the desk was occupied again. Knowing Jimin was a rookie, you helped him a lot. You saw potentials in him, and soon, you'd take him for a night-watch more often. He was helpful, and with his profilling skills, he was going to be the next star of Cold Case Squad. But he never knew why you were dismissed from work from December 2015 and only return in February 2017. "What happened that year?" Jimin whispered.

"Succeeding doesn't kill. The anticipation and expectation does." You breathed. "His name is Park Chanyeol, and he went missing after rescuing me from an attempted murder. He was pursuing the investigation alone when the higher-ups told him not to continue. Guess he was getting closer to the truth when heads starts rolling. And he was mysteriously gone. I couldn't work without him, because he was my senior and took me in when I was still searching my ground. Park Chanyeol doesn't simply goes missing." Your blood shot eyes flickers. "I was too traumatized every time I see his desk so I was put off work. I refused transferring, so they gave me a break."

Jimin felt his heart sunk. "But you know what gives me strength to walk up this forensic unit every time Dr. Kang calls?" You smiled sadly, "...That I'll finally get my answers on his whereabouts and how he is. And not be left wondering. Whether he's alive or not, like what I'm doing right now."

Jimin finally understood why you did what you did. It could be guilt or self-hatred, for putting an innocent being into danger. He never look at you the same way anymore. "Noona," he said suddenly, many days after the incident, "...what about me? Can't you consider me?" He jokingly say. "What kind of nonsense is that, make a copy of this and make me a coffee while you're at it." You said, and you watched him drag his feet to the pantry down the hallway. You sneaked behind him as he made copies of the documents, and placed your hand on his shoulder. He turns to his side and had his cheek poked by your index finger. "...I haven't been considering you, but I'm going to start, from now on, look more at you. So do your best." You took your coffee and leave Jimin there, with his shy smile lingering on his lips.

But what about Park Chanyeol? What about Chanyeol? Some people went missing, and never found. Maybe it's meant to be that way. And in that way, Chanyeol's memory will remain alive in your imagination, even if its just imagination. Chanyeol is, very much alive in your memory.

[A/N] March 8th, 2014. MH370 went missing, and the passengers were never found. None of their bodies or belongings ever re-surfaced. A relative of mine was on that plane. Hoping is soul-consuming, I watched their family deteriorate, and for the first time I experienced an alienated feeling of attachment. I pray them all safe, where ever they are.

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