#I think my dad said they were howling at a siren outside somewhere?

[morvantmortuary]

I’ve been stuck in bed with a migraine for two days, and was just jarred out of my half-comatose state by a whole huge pack of coyotes abruptly howling right outside my house, which had me going from feeling like my skull plates were grinding against each other to down the stairs for the first time all day in under 45 seconds

so it’s helpful to know that my migraines make me startle fairly easily :’D no wonder I spend my sick days drafting smut in my head and not anything scary ahsksldlg

anyway, hope y’all are doing well 🖤 I’ve been just laying here with the tiny morvants watching random videos on various horror series, but it turns out the horror was in my own backyard all along

[indirispeaks]

Nikki

1998 - 2018

“Read more” link because LONG.

I’ve always been a Siamese cat person ever since my dad surprised me on my third birthday with a tiny kitten hidden in his coat pocket.  I named her Smudge, and she was my cat from then until my first year of college 17 years later.  My parents don’t know what happened to her, and guessed she had slipped outside and gone off to die in private somewhere.  (When I was younger it was still acceptable to let the cat out to wander the neighborhood.  She’d always come in when I called for her.  

Our next cat wasn’t Siamese and it was my sisters who named her Smudge II.  I wasn’t as attached to her as I was to Smudge I.  She had horrible skin allergies and licked herself bloody so she had to wear a bib to let it grow back, she was on a special diet and everything but she only lived for 7 years and it was likely due to the medication she had to take.  

I had a snowshoe kitten at one point, but she died under anesthetic while being spayed.  I’d only had her 6 months so that didn’t hurt as bad. 

I left college and started working full time at the library and living on my own at  my coworkers farm.  In the chicken coop.  Whole other story, but I will say that it was utterly fantastic and appealed to my artistic nature.  I found a Siamese breeder nearby and went to see the latest batch of kittens. (Don’t worry, it wasn’t a kitten mill, it was just an elderly couple who loved Siamese and had four of their own, plus however many kittens were floating around.)  The kittens were outdoors when I found them and up til that point, I was set on getting a female...all my cats had been female. I had a little girl in my hands, baby-talking her, when a very determined little boy scaled my pants leg,velcroed himself to my chest, squealing demands.  My choice had been made for me, and I couldn’t resist those eyes and that “YeeeeeEEEEEeeeeEEEEEEEeeee!!”  like a little ambulance siren.  

I had to hide him from my mother until I found the best way to tell her.  She is NOT a cat person.  Poor Nikki had to spend a good hour with his head poking out of her purse that she’d hung on a fence during her tennis lesson...and then over the weekend at a friend’s house.  It worked out in the end, but he never forgave her for that.

Not him, but I don’t have any pictures from his kittenhood because cell phones with cameras hadn’t been invented yet and I didn’t have a camera of my own. That’s the image I found that looks the most like him at 6 months.

These are from last month.  I didn’t take any photos of him when he started deteriorating so quickly.  I don’t want to remember my sweet old man like that.  He would have turned 20 in four months. I wasn’t good to him in some ways.  My mother laid down the ultimatum that if he stayed in the house, he MUST be declawed.  (Which I will never go again to any cat of mine)  I left him for a month at my parents while I was off having a mid-life crisis 30 years early.  

But I fought for him.  He had kidney issues from age two?  Three?  I don’t remember, but he had to live at the vet’s office for a month so they could drain his bladder.  The surgery to fix it was 500 dollars, which isn’t as bad as today’s treatments that run up into thousands and thousands of dollars. I’d already spent 300 on tests and the bladder draining.  I was told that I shouldn’t “spend so much on a pet”  and I ignored that advice outright.  I put down my signed American Girl doll as collateral and he ended up having to have a full sex change.  Still my boy though. He’ll always be.

I said in an earlier post that he wasn’t doing well and was on medication for pain and thyroid issues...three weeks of treatment and he wasn’t showing signs of improvement....he was worse off.  Hunching and swaying, leaning against the wall when he walked or he’d fall right over.  Crab-walking, unable to groom the mats out of his fur and hated it when I tried to help.  God only knows how many times he fell off the bed.  I already had a lidded basket there so he didn’t have to try and jump from the floor, because that usually led to him smashing face first into the sideboard or slide, frantically trying to claw his way over the top, Indiana Jones style.  (His expression was hysterical and I fully admit that I laughed once or twice) I caught him almost every time, but I stopped letting him jump up on ANYTHING without my assistance.  

I made the difficult decision Saturday that the best thing I could do for him would be to give him a peaceful death, free of pain.  My sister Kelsey drove me back to the vet clinic in Derby, and I could not be more grateful.  I knew they would ask for his reason to visit when he checked in and if I opened my mouth to answer, I was going to lose it.  So Kelsey checked him in and then explained to the nurse and did most of the talking in general while I let Nikki explore the landscape in front of the building.  He always liked exploring every new place and watching out the window in the car to see what was happening in the world. I was numb and sort of going on autopilot and don’t remember what I said or if I said anything to anyone other than Dr Mork. I know I thanked her before we left. El Paso clinic were very professional and I am so grateful for that too.  The nurse took us back to one of the “Rainbow Bridge” rooms so we would have some privacy while we waited on the vet and she showed up just a few minutes later.  She was very patient and waited while I got and gave Nikki a drink of water and clipped off some fur to put into a vial.

She explained everything that was going to happen, that she would take him to the surgery and put an IV in, then bring him back.  I wish I’d gone with him, but I didn’t.  While she was doing that, Kelsey and I looked over the options they had as far as final services went.  I could afford everything, if the money from Ebay and Etsy had hit this morning instead of half an hour ago.  I’m going to reimburse her for that.  I chose to have him cremated and store his ashes in a carved wooden box, after having a paw print pressed into some clay.  I plan on keeping them together, probably on one of my shelves, until it stops hurting so much.  His ashes will then be buried in mom and dad’s back garden, under my window with my showshoe kitten, Watson, and Hibble. The pawprint will be hung on the wall to remind me of the good times we had.

She came back and I held Nikki in my arms while she administered an overdose of anesthetic. I told him how much I loved him and he was a good kitty and everything was going to be alright while he purred.  I watched him close his eyes.  I heard him sigh.  I felt him stop purring.

He’s gone.  I have had him half my lifetime, I would have done anything for him and he gave me so much.  He sat on my chest and purred when I came home from the hospital and was in such pain.  He would reach up and touch my chin with his paw until I smiled and told him I was okay.  He had a high prey drive and kept my place insect-free and routinely brought me severed cricket legs, half eaten spiders, and the occasional headless mouse.  He could knock flies off the wall.  I don’t know if he ate them or what but he sure whacked the crap out of them.  He volleyball spike-d a bird out of midair.  He was a good hunter.  He yelled until I let him in the bathroom when I was taking showers to supervise the process and then discovered the bathtub had the best acoustics for his 3 am impressions of the tortured, tormented wailing and howls of a thousand lost souls of the eternally damned.

I held him another few minutes, then wrapped him in a fleece blanket that had been provided, kissed him, and told him goodbye.  Then Kelsey and I left through the side door directly from the room...I guess so that we didn’t have to walk back through the small crowd of people in the waiting room.  I was still in a daze and disoriented and got completely turned around in the parking lot, unable to find where we’d parked.  I don’t even remember the drive back to Kelsey’s house.  She kept me distracted by giving me a make-over and take my one year photo for ‘before and after”  That’s another post entirely, but I was glad for the distraction.  It’s probably a good thing I have NINE different projects going, half of them needing to arrive at their destinations by FRIDAY.  That’s another thing I’m grateful for, it’s a really good way to keep myself distracted.  I don’t think I would have been able to sleep anyway....I really didn’t want to lay in bed and dwell on this.  Hopefully my hands hold up to the pressure, there’s tons of beading involved.

[jiemba]

Sanvers Week Day 5 - Domestic

Cw: hospitals/illness, mentions of police brutality, homophobia

The first time Maggie felt him move, she’d woken Alex so frantically she thought someone had died. But when her wife took her hands and pressed them to her belly, beaming and insistent (“There, right there, do you feel it?”), Alex could only shake her head. That was always her greatest fear, in the beginning. That he wouldn’t feel like hers right away. That he’d never feel like hers at all.   She remembered the pain of having Kara stand before her dressed in black, snarling that they didn’t share blood, and imagined her son spitting the same thing at her, mid-argument, in fifteen years. It had been drilled into her from day one, every time someone would congratulate Maggie but not her, or a stranger would ask how far along her friend was. Every time Eliza would make a shotgun subtle suggestion about ensuring that he had enough male influences in his life. When she would try to visit Maggie during her check-ups and the nurse would ask her, cautiously, if she was a family member. When she would do 3am runs to the grocery store for ginger beer and the cashier would ask how far along she was, only to say “Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you were the mom”. Now, she couldn’t be more grateful for that distance. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming. She clenched Maggie’s hand on the way out of the doctor’s office, feeling the tremble of her wife’s skin, stopping to take her ashen face in her hands. “It’s gonna be fine,” she found herself saying, only because that’s what you said at times like this, even when the words were hollow in your throat. “We’ll figure this out.” Still in shock, Maggie could only shake her head, glazed eyes drifting somewhere over Alex’s chest, repeating the only thing she’d been able to say since they were told. “We haven’t even named him yet.”

Everybody told them, “It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy, as long as it’s healthy.” But nothing had prepared them for the news that they were having a son. Alex could only relate it to the same joyous freefall of Maggie telling her they were finally pregnant, reeling from nerves, euphoria, disbelief. She’d felt the world in that minute. Maggie immediately switched to calling him mijo, Alex kissing her wife’s belly at night and whispering how she couldn’t wait to meet him. They couldn’t stop imagining him. Any concerns that arose mostly came from other people - the sceptical glances and unsure comments when people first heard, the way they’d look at Alex like she had nothing to teach him. They were sipping M’gann’s virgin peach mojitos one night at the bar when Maggie had to tug her out of an argument with a hand around her elbow.  “Alex, forget about that guy. You don’t have to listen to some idiot who doesn’t think you can kick a ball. Hell, between the two of us, our kid’s gonna be the most badass, grenade-obsessed, surfing, soccer-playing, crime-fighting science genius in the world. Or he won’t. Maybe he won’t be like us at all and he’ll be a funky arts student or something. It doesn’t matter. Whatever he is, he’ll be beautiful. He’ll be ours. OK?” Alex let her wife tuck some hair behind her ear, finding it impossible not to smile at the possibilities, vast as the sea. “OK,” she murmured, kissing her. “But no grenades until he’s at least five.” Maggie’s head tilted with the laugh, and she wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “You’re right, we don’t want him choking on the small parts.” Their own fears came later - faster for Maggie than for Alex. She remembered her brother’s bloodied face against the hood of a cop car at 17, his screams sounding hollow in that empty Nebraska field. She could picture her son at 7 or 8, too scared to wear hoodies outside the house, too scared to run in the mall, hiding under his bed when he heard sirens blocks away. Imagined herself passing on the safety speech her parents had given her and Eduardo, about where to put your hands, what to say, how to make it home alive. Throughout her pregnancy, she and Alex kept attending every Black Lives Matter march they could make it to, Maggie clenching her wife’s hand for the parts when she couldn’t chant, when she couldn’t speak, when she could barely breathe. Alex would stop in the street and kiss her soundly, cradling her wife’s growing belly in her hands, and say, “Listen, beautiful boy. Listen to all these people fighting for you.” After they got home from a march, around five months in, they were making a truckload of brigadeiros and Pão de Queijo (which Maggie would inevitably eat, disgustingly, in the same mouthful) when she stopped, took a deep breath. “Since he’s getting your last name, I think… I want to give him a name that reminds him of his heritage. Eddy and I – we were always so embarrassed of ours, and I just… I want him to be proud of his name, his skin, his language. Not how I grew up, you know?” “Of course.” Alex came behind her to kiss her shoulder, wrap her arms around her belly. “We could name him after your Tia maybe? A boy version?” “Actually, I was going to ask her for suggestions. Maybe she can help us name him? It could be a really nice gesture…” Alex smiled against her wife’s skin. “That sounds perfect.” The initial phone call, in the end, didn’t go as well as expected. Alex tried her best to stay in the shower and give Maggie some privacy, but it was impossible not to hear snaps of English between the Portuguese and Spanish, the yelling of no, absolutely not, you’re not telling them anything about this, they gave up the right to know anything about my life twenty years ago, they don’t get to hear his name, they don’t get to know he exists, you’ll always be his Vovó and that’s all that matters…

Afterwards, Alex found her wife sobbing on the kitchen floor, all hormones and bad memories, and scooped her into her arms. “Darling….” “I don’t get it, Alex,” she cried. “I haven’t even met him, but I feel so much. I love him, so much. Just… how? How could my mom have felt these things for me and still let my dad…?” All Alex could do was sigh, trying to quell her own fears of turning into her mother, and press kisses into her shaking wife’s hair. “I don’t know, beautiful. I don’t know.”

Everybody told them, “It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or boy, as long as it’s healthy.” But they’d never truly considered the prospect that he wouldn’t be healthy. The doctors discovered it late. Alex and Maggie could sense the edge in their voices as they invited them in for more tests, telling them not to worry until there was cause to be worried. But when Alex heard the words “aortic valve stenosis”, she’d been the one to implode first, leaving to throw up before the doctors could explain to Maggie what the words meant. Back home, if Alex was a whimper, Maggie was a howl. Every day that week, she covered her mouth and screamed in the shower. Alex always heard, held her as she broke, let herself break with her, but nothing she said could convince Maggie that she had done all the right things, eaten all the right foods, that there was nothing they could have done. Their mornings had lost all light. Maggie would find herself holding her breath, unable to get out of bed until she felt him move. “Come on, mijo, wake up for me? Please? Just let me know you’re OK.” Often, Alex’s singing was the only thing that roused him, and she’d kiss Maggie’s belly after, assure him that he was doing a good job, that he was being so brave, that she loved him. Their friends did everything they could. Winn and James brought food, helped Alex with her paperwork so she could clock off early most days. Kara always commented on his heartbeat changing at the sound of someone’s voice, J’onn confirming that he could tell they were there. Alex pulled him aside, tears in her eyes. “Tell me the truth. Is he in pain?” J’onn could only sigh, bringing the closest person he had to a living daughter into his arms. “No, Alex. He’s just very tired. Keep singing to him. He likes it.” She did. For weeks, it was the only sound in their home that was beautiful. “You know what my mom would say if she were here?” Maggie muttered as she sat at the kitchen table one night, unable to stomach even her most desperate cravings. There was a bottle of wine in the pantry they’d bought when they first fell pregnant, saving it for the night they brought him home. They both seemed to feel its presence, just feet away – torn between wanting to swallow it down or smash it to pieces.   “What?” “That this is my punishment. For the life I chose.” Alex shook her head a little, staring only at the table. But deep down, she knew if anyone was being punished, it was her. She had too much blood on her hands after all these years for it to be anything else. “Do you believe that?” Maggie’s lip trembled. “I don’t know.” It occurred to Alex then, almost out of nowhere, that they’d already painted his room, the back wall all spaceships and stars. She hoped it hadn’t been a mistake.

The doctors took no chances. Scans twice a week, bed rest for Maggie. Alex couldn’t always be there. She worked as much as she could, trying to save money for all the time she’d need off, and she was in uniform, overseeing evidence collection fresh after a raid, when she got the call. “Alex, you need to come here.” “Sure, I can drive over -” “No, Alex, you need to get here now. They’re taking him out.” Kara flew her straight away, Alex sprinting straight into the hospital leaving no explanation for why Supergirl had just dropped her at the front door. Maggie was in pieces, refusing to settle enough for the c-section, because what if he dies, Alex, what if he’s not ready, what if he dies and he never knows that we loved him… Alex grasped her hand as they prepped her stomach, drew a curtain across her lower half, got Alex a chair. This was happening. Dear God, it was happening. “We’re not gonna talk like this,” Alex told her firmly, tears spilling out of her eyes. “Not today. You remember when I was drowning? I was drowning, and you told me I didn’t get to act like it was the end. Because we were gonna have a lifetime of firsts together. You remember?” Maggie could only sob in response, the doctor announcing that they were going to start cutting. “No, please, not yet -” “Maggie, babe, don’t look at her. Look at me,” Alex told her, clinging to her wife’s hand as tight as she could. “Listen to me, OK? You told me we were going to have a lifetime of firsts. And we did, beautiful. Our first Valentine’s Day, first Chanukkah, first Christmas. Our first anniversary, at the beach house, remember? We had our first vacation, and I met your Tia for the first time, on the first trips to  home towns. And today we’re having our first baby. Our beautiful boy.” “Alex,” she choked, wincing at the dulled sensations of being stretched apart, but Alex soothed her, brushed a hand over her covered hair. “Just breathe, beautiful. We’re meeting our son today. We’re meeting him so soon, darling. And he’s gonna have a lifetime of firsts too. A year from today we’ll be having his first birthday. He’s gonna walk, and ride bikes, and go to school, and bring someone home to meet us, and he’s gonna be so happy, Maggie. I promise, darling, we’ll make sure he’s so happy…” “I’m scared,” Maggie whispered, hiccupping on her tears as she felt reaching, pulling. “I’m scared too,” Alex breathed, wiping her eyes. “But we just started this. And it’s not gonna end today. OK?” “OK.” She wept, and she closed her eyes, and let Alex’s forehead rest against hers. But they couldn’t help but notice that when their son was taken to a table by the wall, they were the only ones in the room who were crying.

Two weeks from her son’s first breath, eleven days from his first open heart surgery, Alex found herself running. Running because the doctors had just told them of his first infection. Possibly his last infection. Updated his condition from stable to serious. Not yet critical. But maybe soon. Because of course the universe wanted to smack her down from being happy. Of course she didn’t deserve him. Of course motherhood was just another thing for her to fail at. She couldn’t run home. The place was too full of gifts people brought before it all went to hell, the useless baby clothes that were all too big for him, that he might never grow into. The fridge full of cooked dinners people had dropped by, the letterbox full of sympathy cards, the answering machine flashing red. God knows what they were going to do with it all, when this was over. She ran to the only place she knew held people she could trust. James was the first to see her at the door, half-dressed in his Guardian suit, mask off. He pulled her into a hug. “Alex, how are you doing? How’s our little guy?” “The same,” she lied. “I need to speak to J’onn.” But J’onn already knew. He called her up to his office, having heard her screaming mind from down the block. It wasn’t until he shut the door that her knees buckled as she sat, as her vision went dizzy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, taking in everything she was thinking. “Breathe, Alex.” She couldn’t cry. Not even with a storm raging in her chest, not even with her world collapsing. It wasn’t real. She wouldn’t let it be real. After a while, J’onn said, “Maggie called, hoping to find you here. She needs you, Alex.” But Alex shook her head hard, letting it fall forward into her hands. “I can’t. I can’t be there if he…” “Alex,” he exhaled, his own mind screaming along with hers now. “As someone who’s lost children…” A sob escaped Alex’s chest and splattered against the window. “It was the most painful thing to hear my daughters scream as they were dragged to the furnace. But it’s my greatest regret that I wasn’t there at the end. Even if it meant burning with them.” He closed his eyes, body shaking from the shuddering woman under his arm, from the wound of his own memory. “He can’t do this without you. Maggie can’t do this without you. If it happens, it will hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. But if it happens and you’re not there…” Alex choked, wiped her face. “I should be stronger than this. Maggie should be falling apart, but I… He’s not even mine, not really…” “No, Alex. He’s yours. Before he even existed, when he was just an idea, he was yours.” “J’onn’s right, Alex,” Kara said, slipping through the door and kneeling before her grieving sister. “You and Maggie dreamt him up together, made him together, brought him into the world together. And you’re going to get through this next part together.” “I’m scared,” Alex choked. “I know,” Kara wept, holding her hands. “Maggie called me, she told me he was worse. She needs you there, Alex. Luca needs you there. And I know you need them too. So I’m gonna fly you over, OK? He needs his mom for this.” Once Alex caught her breath, she agreed to go, but only if Kara flew her to the desert first. Out there in the dust, she let herself collapse to the ground, let her sister hold her, let herself scream like she could burn the world down.

Maggie left the NICU as soon as she saw them coming. She’d never wanted to fight in front of him. It made Alex long for the start of their relationship. It was a simpler time then, when they could argue about vacations and dishwashers. Not where they would bury their son next week, if they had to. Not picking out coffins the size of fucking shoeboxes. “Nice of you to show up, Alex.” She felt all the bite in the words. Absorbed it. “I’m sorry I left. I had to speak to J’onn.” Maggie trembled noticeably at the mention, knowing exactly what they would have discussed. She shook her head to clear it, twisted her wedding ring around, around. “He’s been OK today. They say if he starts breathing on his own again within the next 24 hours that’s good progress.” Alex didn’t ask what would happen if he didn’t.   On the other side of the glass, they could hear Kara speaking softly to Luca. When you get bigger we’re gonna have the best time together. I’ll take you flying wherever you want, little one. I promise. Alex sighed, stepped a little closer to her wife. “I’m sorry I ran. I was just losing it, I needed -” “I know. I get that. But you didn’t even tell me where you were going. I was scared,” Maggie told her, dissolving in Alex’s grasp. “I know since we found out he was sick you’ve been distancing yourself. You barely felt him kick, you threw yourself into your work. But I couldn’t run. I felt him, every second of every day. Now, not being able to hold him… I feel like someone’s cut off my hand, Alex. I can’t do this without my wife.” “You don’t have to,” Alex whimpered, pulling her into her arms. “I just needed to go and breathe. But I’m here. I’ll always be here. For all of it. All our firsts.” Maggie sniffled, wiped her eyes. “I just hope they’re good ones.” They scrubbed in, suited up, covered their hair, saying goodbye to Kara as she left to give them space. But Alex still had to fight not to break apart seeing him there, his chest bruised, carved straight down the middle. Wires. Tubes. Her son. “He’s OK,” Maggie murmured, her hand rubbing Alex’s back and guiding her closer. “Come sit down.” The first thing Alex did was reach out her hand to take his. Even barely conscious, he knew she was there, his body seeming to release a wave of tension. “I missed you so much, beautiful boy,” Alex wept. “I’m so sorry. I’m back now, I promise. I’m right here.” He shifted in his daze, as if trying to edge closer to her hand, and she held on. Maggie leaned her head against her wife’s shoulder, wiping her eyes. “Looks like he missed you too.”

There was a sign on his capsule. It had hippos on it. “Hi, my name is: Luca Jon Danvers My parents are: Magdalena Sawyer and Alexandra Danvers I like: sleeping with my moms’ t-shirts and soft music   I don’t like: loud talking I’m resting after major surgery. Please visit the washing station and cover your clothes in a sanitised gown before you hold my hand. Do not try to pick me up. Tell a nurse immediately if I turn blue.” They sat in silence for a long while, Alex reading the sign a thousand times over, still not able to absorb that this boy carried her family’s name. Beside her, her wife was praying for the first time in twenty years. Hail Mary, full of grace, she remembered, but after that, her mind was entirely dark. “He looks so much like you,” Alex whispered. And he did – the skin darker than hers, almost black hair on his head. Even his eyelashes, his lips. His eyes, on the few occasions she’d seen them. “He’s so beautiful.” “He is. Can you believe we did this? That we made him?” Alex shook her head “It was all you anyway.” “No. It was us. It’s always been us.” “I just…I feel like after all the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed… Maybe that’s why. Maybe I don’t deserve him, Maggie -” “No,” Maggie insisted, grasping her hand hard. “We do deserve him. We deserve a real, full, happy life, remember?” Squeezing back, Alex kissed her wife’s forehead. “I want you to know,” she started, but her voice cracked. She swallowed. “I want you to know that I love you. And I’m proud of us for doing this. Whatever happens.” “I love you too, Alex,” Maggie replied, kissing her softly. “And when we get through this, we’re going to have the most beautiful lifetime of firsts, with this perfect little boy that we made. OK?” Alex nodded against her forehead, fighting not to sob. They sat for a few more hours. They took turns eating. Alex sang his favourite, the red robin song, over and over. It was about 9pm, when he started choking. The world spun. Doctors and nurses crowded him, Alex clinging to her wife, telling her that this was good, this was what they needed, that he was fighting his tubes. “Breathe, baby boy,” she found herself saying anyway. “Breathe. Please.” When his lungs filled with air, their world filled back up with light. And as he screamed and screamed, his skin the healthiest red they’d ever seen it, legs kicking at anything he could reach, Maggie and Alex clung to each other, relishing in the sound that meant their son was here, was breathing, was alive. When the doctors finally confirmed that he was stable, removing many of his tubes and wires, they asked who wanted to be the first to hold him. “You should, Alex,” Maggie murmured. “I got to have him for 8 months, it’s your turn.” “No,” Alex replied, running a hand down Maggie’s back. “Together. Always.” The nurses wrapped him up for them, getting them to share a massive armchair as they laid him across their laps. In tears, in disbelief, they stared down at their sleeping beautiful boy, both their hands cradling his head, his body. “God, he’s so small,” Maggie whispered, laying a thumb across one of his tiny feet to compare. Alex smirked through tears, raised an eyebrow at her wife. “Wonder why.” Maggie’s hand left Luca just a moment to lightly smack her, and for the first time in weeks, they laughed. For the first time ever, their held their son, and stroked his hair, and kissed his hands, and their lifetime of firsts had never felt so bright.

[fanficstookover]

Open Your Eyes - Stiles (part 2)

Stiles x Reader 

(Y/N) is the new student at Beacon Hills High School and she has a secret. Being born blind, she was never able to see a thing, until she was attacked by a wild animal. To this day she has never told anyone about it. So will she do it now?

Word count: 2593 

(A/N)  I wanted to finish and post this way sooner, but school was literally killing me, so I had no time what so ever. Hope you enjoy this xxx

Other parts: part 1  - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 

The drive home was quiet. My mom barely spoke and I just stared in front of me. This was another thing about being blind: you don’t have a phone. Because, how would you use it, if you’re not able to see the screen. That also meant that I had zero contact with any of my friends...not that I had many to start with.

“So,” my mom finally spoke up after five minutes, “who was that girl I saw you talking to?”

“Her name is Kira. I have some classes with her,” I explained. “So you made some friends today?”

“Yeah. I guess so,” I sighed. Mom didn’t say anything after that. She was always like that. Trying to make a conversation, but at the end of the day, we both knew she was only doing it because she feels bad for me. She thinks that if she forces herself to talk to me everyday, we would maybe someday start to bond. Like a normal mother and daughter. But I don’t think so.

I do not like my parents.

We arrived at our house and I stepped out and started walking to the door with my cane stretched out in front. Tick Tick Tick, on the stone path. I could finally stop with the ticking a few feet away from the door. My mom got her keys out and started searching for the right one. It took her some time until she got it, but when she finally did, she fortunately opened the door very quickly.

“Your father will be coming home a bit later.” she said before she sat down.

“Where is he? I thought he wouldn’t start working until his knee got better.” I asked.

Before we moved to Beacon Hills, my dad got into a small accidence and injured his knee. So he had to take some time off for rehabilitation. In that time, the police station of the city we previously lived in, had some problems and had to cut some people off and xhose my father will be one of those people. Fortunately, they realised it was cruel to do that to an injured man, so they gave him a job in a different city. In the end, it turned out for the better, because the paychecks are better here (as I heard from my parents) and it will finally be permanent. Before this he was kind of someone police stations send around to each other if they needed more officers.

“That is right. But he already went to the station today to meet the sheriff.”

“Oh, that is..nice.” I said and walked to my room. I lay face down on my bed when my mom suddenly walked in.

“I forgot to mention,” she smiled fakely, “the sheriff invited us for dinner. I understand if-”

“No, I’ll go.”

“Great. I actually bought you a new dress this morning. We wanna make a good impression now, don’t we?”

“Yes we do, mom.” My mom put the dress on the chair next to the door and walked away without another word. I walked to the door and closed it. The dress was nice. It was black with some lace on the skirt. Once I would put it on, it would probably reach my knee or something.

I put the dress on and not soon after I heard the front door open. My dad came home. I walked to the living room to say hello.

“How was your first day at school,” he asked after I said hi. “It was okay,” I shrugged, “I met some people. They seem nice.”

“Well, that is great.”

“Yeah, and they are all very helpful,” I smiled, thinking about Stiles. There he was again, in my head. What is it about him that I liked so much?

My dad tried to keep the conversation going, but just like my mom in the car, he failed miserably.

“Oh look at the time, I think it will be better if we go.” My dad handed me my jacket and my cane that was on the table. I thanked him and we were off. Just like before, this car ride was uncomfortable too. I don’t know how my parents to it, but they can make every situation awkward. I absolutely hate it.

It would probably be less if I wasn’t blind. I am very well known with the fact that my parents hate it that I am… different. It is a torture for them to see me struggle with my disability every day. That was why I doubted a bit about telling them that I had gotten my sight back.  Ut how could I possibly explain that?

“Here we are,” my father said as he pulled into the sheriff’s driveway. There already stood two cars. A normal grey car (I could see the attachable siren in the backseat) and a blue jeep next to it. Especially the jeep looked familiar. I must have seen it somewhere before.

“(Y/N), don’t just stand there, c’mon.” my mom tugged on my sleeve and pulled my to walk on. We got to the door and she rang the doorbell. Not even a few seconds later, we heard a loud bang inside and someone mumbling that “they were fine.” I had to giggle slightly, until the door opened and I saw him: Stiles.

“Welcome to our humble home,” he welcomed us and motioned us to walk inside. Only when I stepped inside he realised who I was.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I didn’t know I was coming to you either.” I smiled. He took my and my parents’ jackets and jung them up on the rack. Then he showed my parents the way to the kitchen so they could talk to Stiles' dad, who was apparently busy with the dinner.

“So,” Stiles said, he had his hands in his pockets and he looked a bit nervous. “How are you doing.”

“Fine. You.”

‘Great. Just not really looking forward to the dinner… Not that I don’t want you to be here, just my dad and-”

“It’s okay, to be honest I also didn’t want to come.” He showed me the way to the couch and our conversation was immediately much more easy once we were comfortably sitting there.

“How is it,” I asked, “being the sheriff’s son?”

“It’s great. I always get the information about the big cases. Just don’t tell anyone I told you.” he winked. I could see in his impression later that he realised it was pointless to wink to a blind girl. I wanted to laugh, but held it in. Then I felt my eyes sting a bit. Was I crying?

Well, was I trying to cry? I haven’t cried since the accident. The animal not only damaged my face and eyes, but also everything connected closely to my eyes. So I can not cry. Instead, it just stings.

But why was it stinging?

“Dinner is ready,” Stiles’ dad called out. Getting me out of my trance. I stood up and Stiles took my hand. I was a bit shocked, then quickly realised he was only helping me got to the table. Nothing more.

After the dinner Stiles and I got back to the couch while our parents stayed at the table. Nothing had really happened while we were eating. Except for that my dad kept on asking about the job and how big of a criminal city Beacon Hills is. I realised that that question made Stiles a bit nervous. but , why would it? He didn’t look like a criminal to me.

Mr. Stilinski had answered that there aren’t so many criminals around, but that the city did have a problem with animal attacks some time ago. I had almost choked on my food when I heard that. Animal attacks? Quick snippets of that night flashed before me. But more of the sounds. The crackling of the twigs. The hard wind rushing through the trees and the… howling. There was definitely something howling in the far background.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay,” Stiles whispered to me. I just told him that I was fine, but I already felt my eyes stinging again.

“Will you tell me what that was about?”

“What do you mean?” I asked in return.

“Well, you told me it was fine, but I could see it wasn’t.”

“PTSD, I guess.” Stiles looked at me in shock. Then, he looked in the direction of where our parents were and he stood up. A few second later, he threw me my jacket. I gave out a little scream.

“Oh, sorry. Put your coat on. We’re going for a walk.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you need to talk to someone,” he said and he couldn’t be more right. I hadn’t realised it, but once he mentioned it, I felt like I had to tell him everything… and with that I meant everything.

I was not sure what it was, but something about Stiles told me that he was different. He was normal, but still in a different way than others are. If that even makes sense.

I put my coat on and picked up my cane. Stiles stopped me: “You won’t need it.” I smiled and told him that I was just taking it, because otherwise I would lose it and folded it up so I could put in my pocket. I wasn’t sure, but from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him give me a weird look. I decided to just ignore it.

We walked out of the house, holding eachothers hands. To be honest, I had really gotten used to this. Every time Stiles held my hand, or even touched it for a second, a spark shot through my body.

It was already dark outside. The street lamps were on, but didn’t do much. From time to time I glanced at the houses we passed. Most families were watching tv or still eating dinner. They all seemed so happy. It made me sick.

“Here we are.” Stiles stopped. I slightly bumped into his side. Not even because I was “blind”, but simply because I wasn’t paying attention. We were standing in front of a flat piece of grass which was surrounded by tall and big trees. “Well,” he continued, “not exactly. Just a minute or two.”

“Alright.” I gave him a nervous smile. We walked to one side where the trees were the biggest. Once we couldn’t see the grass field anymore he stopped again. This time, in front of the biggest trees I have (n)ever seen. At the top of it, there was a big tree house.

“Where are we?”

“The most private place in whole Beacon Hills,” Stiles told me. When he said it, I could feel him squeeze my hand very lightly.

“It’s my old tree house. I build it with my parents when I was younger.”

“And how am I supposed to get up there?” I laughed.

“Ha ha. Do not worry. I have a great solution.” he pulled my with him to the other side of the tree where there was a ladder and next to it a swing.

“Sit right there,” he helped me get to the swing, “and hold on tight. I’ll see you in a minute.” after that he started to climb up the ladder. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my here all alone, but instead I screamed because suddenly my feet left the ground. I was being pulled up.

“What the hell, Stiles!” I said once I was up in the tree house.

“Oh c’mon. Do not say that wasn’t fun.” I didn’t say anything. Stiles just smiled and pulled me into a giant bean bag chair with him. I fell straight onto him. Our faces were only a few inches apart. I rolled to the side and looked up. I was nicely greeted with the night sky. It was beautiful.

“So, let’s talk,” he finally spoke up.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything you want to get out. Just say it.” I had to think for some time about what to say. I wanted to tell him about my secret so badly. But I can not just blurt it out at the beginning. The best thing was to slowly get to it.

“I hate my parents,” I sighed. It felt so good to finally say it out loud. “Like, don’t get me wrong. They are great parents. Just not for…”

“You?” he ended ym sentence.

“Exactly. You don’t want to know how often I overheard them talking about how they wished I wasn’t blind and how this,” I pointed at my face, “has ruined their chance at being the perfect family and stuff like that. It messes you up.” Stiles didn’t say anything. I wasn’t angry. What could he say?

“Then there is the fact that I don’t have any friends.”

“Do not say that.” Stiles almost seemed angry when he heard me say it.

“Or at least, not until now. Everyone always avoided me. And the fact that I don’t have a phone or any other form of contact possibilities doesn’t help either.” After that we stayed quiet for some time. I didn’t feel like talking anymore and Stiles probably had no idea what to say. After what felt like forever, he was the first one to break the silence.

“I was always wondering. How do you imagine the world?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you cannot see it, but you must have ideas, right? Like, for example, how do you think bacon looks like?”

“I never thought about it. But probably pink, whatever pink is”

“So what about the rest.”

“I always imagine that school is this gigantic fancy building, with golden walls and doors made from diamonds and other kinds of stones and that every popular girl just walks around in a trash bag or some other shitty outfit, just to make myself feel better.”

We both laughed at my imagination.

“And me?”

“What about you?”

“How do you think I look? You never really asked or like, you know…”

“Do that whole“I’m blind and the only way to know how you look like if to feel your face” thing. Not really my style.” I smiled. “Back to your question. I think you look just like a ken doll.”

“Excuse me? How do you even know how it looks like?” he laughed.

“I heard that it is the perfect definition of a guy, so…”

“STILES? (Y/N)? Are you up there?” suddenly the voice of mr. Stilinski disturbed our lovely silence. Stiles got up and poked his head out of the small window.

“Hi dad.” he waved downstairs.

“Get down here.” he simply ordered. Stiles walked back to me and guided me to the swing. I sat down and just before he started to pull me back down, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and said: “thank you.”

“For what?” Stiles seemed to be extremely confused by my actions.

“Everything.” and with that I started to get closer to the ground. There, I was welcomed by mr. Stilinski and my parents. None of them really seemed to be too happy with my actions.

My mom didn’t say anything, she just dragged me towards, I assumed, the car. I turned around and looked up to the treehouse where Stiles was still looking at me. I waved and he waved back, confusion still spread across his face.