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deadorcaffeinated · 3 years

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Sparks, Pt. 4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Chapter Summary: You get ready to confront the God of Mischief. But are you ready for that?

A/N: Finally, a bit more Loki.

TW: Eating

After a year consisting mostly of isolation and non-consensual experimentation, it was strange, to say the least, to have people actually give a shit about your well-being.

Shortly after Fury called the meeting to a close, Nat took you to a sort of staff room, oddly normal for a ship like this. State of the art, but with all the basic workings of a regular office’s staff room.

“You must be starving,” she said, pulling some things out of an impressive reach-in refrigerator. “Sandwich? I make a mean ham and cheese.”

Your stomach suddenly let out a worrying growl, and you winced.

“Sounds fantastic, actually,” you realized you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten. The lab hadn’t exactly been feeding you five star meals.

A comfortable silence settled into the room while Natasha assembled the sandwich. The quiet sounds of her work lulled you into a sort of trance, as you stared at the wall, and definitely didn’t think about how an agent of a secret organization was preparing you lunch on a giant aircraft carrier thousands of feet in the air which was also occupied by two gods, a historic super soldier, and the most famous tech genius in the world.

No. You didn’t think about it at all.

She presented you with her finished product and a glass of water with a flourish, which also included a bag of chips and an apple. “It might be too much, so only eat as much as you want. It’s better to take it easy when your stomach isn’t used to meals like this.”

You nodded and gave her an expression which you hoped looked more grateful than grimace. Truth be told, you were holding back emotion as even this small kindness felt overwhelming after the past year.

But as you picked up the sandwich to take a bite, a heavy set of footsteps stopped at the door.

It was Thor, his large frame standing almost sheepishly in the doorway. “Apologies for interrupting. May I speak with you?”

To your surprise, the question was for you, and after a nod, Nat touched your wrist and said, “I’ll be right outside. You can have the room.”

After she exited, Thor approached your table with a sort of caution.

“Oh, sorry, uh, would you like to sit down?” You stuttered lamely, when noticing his hesitation.

He nodded and did so, dwarfing the chair and the table. You hadn’t really taken the time to notice before, how huge his arms and shoulders were. A single bicep was larger than the size of your own head.

“Don’t let me interrupt your meal. You need your strength,” Thor said, eyes flicking to the plate. “Especially if you’re going to be facing my brother.”

Ah. That.

“Is that…” You were still having a bit of trouble processing the identity of who you were talking to. “Is that what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Loki’s always been deceptive. I just wanted to warn you not to listen to anything he says, especially not at face value. He will try to distract you, deceive you, and it will seem he knows more about you than he should.”

As he spoke, you noticed he kept eyeing the potato chip packet next to your plate. You pushed it towards him, and he gratefully accepted, popping the bag open and nervously munching on its contents.

You hummed in thought. “I understand. Maybe it would help to know what kinds of abilities he has? What sort of tricks he’s able to pull?”

Thor seemed to relax slightly, having something to occupy his mind and hands. He regaled you with a few anecdotes of how Loki had used his magic to trick him, some from their childhood, and some more recently.

You found yourself both more reassured and more nervous, afraid there might be something you would miss allowing Loki an out. Or a way to hurt you. But all of that aside, it was almost fun to converse with Thor like this… being nearly immortal led to having many interesting stories to tell, and the more he told the more animated he became. He even had you laughing at some points.

“Thank you,” he held up the empty chip bag. “I haven’t had these since my last visit to Earth. A favored Midgardian dish, if I recall.”

You smiled. “No problem. And thank you for warning me. I know it must be difficult to... fight with family like this.”

“Yes,” a sad half smile lifted one side of his lips, “I’m afraid that is something I am still coming to terms with.”

Before he rose from his seat, Thor clapped you on the shoulder. “You know, you remind me of my first Midgardian friends. I believe they would like you. One of them zapped me with a small device that even mimics your powers.”

With that strange but kind remark, Thor left the room.

….

Natasha said she had things she needed to attend to, but that you were welcome to walk around as you pleased, and to just be careful not to stumble into anything that looked even mildly secret or dangerous.

So you aimlessly wandered the giant airship, mostly in an attempt to walk off some nerves. You tried to memorize your paths, memorize the turns and rooms, but after a while you realized just how much you’d fucked up. It was a fruitless endeavor, and you eventually found yourself quite lost.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself.

You turned the way you came, but as you did so, something shifted in the corner of your eye. Whipping frantically towards the movement, you felt your body tense like an animal being hunted, and thoughts of the masked man from the labs flooded your mind.

No, he couldn’t be here. Your mind was playing tricks, your anxiety was getting the better of you.

“My, my,” a silvery voice said into your ear. “You are jumpy, aren’t you?”

Reeling back, you slammed into the opposite wall, nearly knocking yourself out with the force of it. You still didn’t see the source of the voice.

“What is the reason for this skittishness, I wonder?”

Loki.

He materialized in front of you, and you froze like a deer in the headlights. He rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself. This is not an escape attempt.”

You did not find that convincing.

“This is merely a projection. My real body is still in that cell… Here, see for yourself.” His right hand swept out to beckon to you, palm up.

Did he want you to… touch him? Your earlier conversation with Thor filtered through your head, and you knew it would be a bad idea. You did not move. Again, frustration showed on Loki’s creased brow.

“Fine, look.” Then, through a wall of solid steel, Loki passed his hand as if he were just a hologram.

“What do you want?” you asked abruptly.

He looked faintly surprised that you had spoken, but schooled his expression quickly. “I want to know more about you.”

“What?” It was your turn to be surprised (not that you’d stopped since he materialized from nowhere). “Why?”

“It’s not every day I meet a mortal who can withstand an Infinity Stone’s power,” he chuckled, as if that were clearly obvious.

Your blank stare must’ve clued him in to the fact that the significance of this ‘Infinity Stone’ was lost on you, because he only sighed.

“Rest assured, it’s not something a normal human should be able to do,” he said. “So… what is different about you?”

He stepped closer, and though you knew he couldn’t touch you, you recoiled further into the wall. His stare was piercing, and he clearly enjoyed that it made you squirm.

Finally you mustered up the courage to respond. “I’ve already told this story once today,” you said, sounding more like a petulant child than you meant to.

“Touchy subject?”

“It’s not particularly fun to talk about, no.”

He didn’t move any closer but didn’t relinquish you your space either. He just studied you as if he could discern your entire history from your visual being.

You wondered if you should just turn and walk away, or if he had some way of stopping you. Even more unexpected though, was the realization that you wanted to talk to him, that maybe this conversation could help you in your real life encounter that was to happen soon.

“Why did you approach me in the pub?” you asked, and though it wasn’t the answer he apparently wanted, he looked pleased that you were engaging him now. “I was curious.”

“And when you blasted me with the scepter?”

“I wanted to see what would happen.” He shrugged, as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

“And now that you have? What do you want?”

A beat of silence. Then, “What do you think?”

You thought, if he had had a plan before, your presence must have thrown quite the wrench and that if he were smart, he would be trying to figure out exactly how big and disastrous that wrench would be. “I think you didn’t expect me to be involved.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is true.” Then a smirk began to form on his mouth and he squinted at you. “They’re planning something with you, aren’t they? Fury and his subordinates.”

Your widened eyes must have been all the answer he needed. How did he know?

With a laugh, “They have so much at their disposal, weapons of mass destruction, all of Stark’s technology, and they defer to the prowess of a child they’ve only just met?” Loki leaned in so close the green of eyes felt overwhelming. “They must be truly desperate.”

A familiar voice, Tony’s, called your name from around the corner, echoing off the metal walls of the hallway. But Loki didn’t move. His eyes remained on you, so sharp and curious, you felt like an animal on a dissection tray.

“Until next we meet, then.”

And with that, he vanished.

“Sparks,” Tony came around to your stretch of hallway. “Thought that was your voice. You lost? Talking to yourself? You know, cabin fever usually takes a lot longer than a few hours to set in.”

Still a little too stunned to speak, you gulped and nodded.

Tony’s eyes narrowed with concern. “You good? Looking a little green around the gills, Pikachu.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m alright.” Your voice returned to you. “And.. Pikachu? Really?”

Tony wasn’t entirely convinced but seemed to let it go. He shrugged. “I like to change it up-- and are you, or are you not, electrically charged at all times?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. He clapped you on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he turned, waving you to follow him. “Want you to see what we cooked up for ya.”

————

The conducting table was ready. Only a few moments before you stepped into Loki’s cage, the first time you would be in the same physical space as him since he basically almost murdered you.

Cool. All cool. You were definitely not feeling a panic attack setting in. You were definitely breathing at a normal rate and not feeling your lungs seize up in your chest.

“We’ll be right here, if anything goes wrong,” Steve said, laying a hand gently on the back of your shoulder.

“Aye,” Thor said. “I’ll be standing with you.”

There was a stone in your throat as you looked at Loki through the thick glass. He seemed to feel your gaze, and slowly turned to look, grinning when he saw you watching.

Loki’s hands were shackled, sitting on the table in front of two conducting handles, which were mirrored on the other side. The idea was that you both grip them, and you would be able to dig through his mind… theoretically.

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” you said. You felt sweat under your arms, and your face getting hot with anxiety.

Fury eyed you. “Just do what you can.”

The door to his cell whooshed open, and flanking you on either side as you entered were Cap and Thor. Loki regarded them with that same smirk as they entered, soon followed by Fury and Natasha. Tony and Dr. Banner remained on the other side of the glass.

“Is this the best you can do?” He said, his eyes flaring at you. “Insulting, really.”

Fury ignored him, directing you to the empty chair at the other end of the table.

“On my go,” he said, and stood to the right of the table. He pinned Loki with a stare.

Loki shot back a challenging look before his gaze settled on you and his hands moved to grip the handles. “On your go.” And at that moment, in full purview of that slanting grin, you understood why he was called the God of Mischief.

Fury nodded at you.

Now or never.

And, sparing a passing thought to the entropy that was your life and the risks of what you were about to do, you grabbed the handles.

Tags: @purplekitten30 @scorpionchild81 @mjaudrey @srhxpci @the-maroon-panda @lirinstaalem

#sparks #loki #loki x you #loki x reader #avengers reader insert #loki imagine #loki x original character #loki laufeyson

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messifangirl · 3 years

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I... I kinda want to know more about the Cressi waiter and Royalty AUs? They sound like incredible stories. Is vampire/werewolf the one you have a chapter posted? Could you show something more, pretty please?

(Adding a cut!)

The Waiter AU I actually wrote way back in the day. It’s Like A Fairy Tale (5.5k) But I always wanted to write a follow up to it and I have a lot of notes and pieces the sequel. Here’s some:

Cristiano rolls his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says. "I just feel like..." He lowers his voice. "Like, I'm chasing him." It sounds silly to say it out loud, and Cristiano's fears are proved right by Marcelo's response.

Marcelo laughs. "Good! It's about time somebody made you work for it." He slaps Cristiano on the arm, laughing again and turning back to his bag. "I like him even more now. Make sure he stops by after the game so I can say hi." He fist bumps Sergio and heads towards the exit.

Sergio watches him leave before focusing on Cristiano. "So it's a little unusual for you. And you're chasing him. But... He's worth it, right Cris?" He widens his eyes imploringly and bites his lip. "I mean, you love him." He flicks his eyes around the room to see if anyone overheard him before turning his attention back to Cristiano. "Right? You've always loved him. He was your first kiss!"

Cristiano's smile dims a little. "Sergio," he says, exhaling and tilting his head back. "It's not that easy, okay?"

And this really isn't a conversation he wants to be having here.

Or at all.

A few seats down, Fabio catches his eye and looks at him questioningly--ready to save him from Sergio if necessary. Cristiano gives a quick shake, indicating everything is fine.

"What do you mean?" Sergio asks, crestfallen. He sits down on the bench in front of Cristiano as if his knees can't hold him up anymore. A hand darts to his waist to fidget with his towel. "You don't love him anymore?" His voice wobbles.

"Sergio," Cristiano starts, rubbing a hand across his face. He takes a deep breath. "I *did* love him. Once. As a child... But it's been fifteen years. And sure, I like him. But I like the idea of him—I liked who he was, and of course I like the look of him now. That's not the point, of course... But things have changed for the both of us... He doesn't know me, and I don't know him. Not really.”

Sergio's still looking up at him with sad eyes. "But..."

Cristiano huffs. "All I'm saying is, we're taking things slow, okay? And it's a little hard, what with our schedule, and the fact that he works two jobs." He shuts his eyes and pictures Leo's face, imagines stroking his cheek and seeing that gorgeous smile. "But yes," he says quietly, opening his eyes again. "I think he's worth it."

The Royalty AU is actually a fairly new idea. Royalty AU has always been one of my fav AUs to read in other fandoms but because I’ve reread kkslover9′s A Tale of Two Princes a thousand times and it is sooooo good, I never really thought to try my own. Until now. It’s still very much in the works and being outlined, and I just completely decided to rewrite the beginning so I don’t want to give you anything that won’t make it into the final, but here’s a little haha.

"It's your duty," Sergio says quietly. "We're all required to do our part. Mine, since I was a child, has been to follow your every step and keep you safe from all harm." He claps a hand on Cristiano's shoulder. "And yours is to lead your people when the time comes. You've already proved your worth in battle, and your men will follow you anywhere. But you've been raised since birth with the expectation to one day take the throne when His Majesty passes. And despite your feelings about what's happening today, I know that you're aware of your responsibilities."

Cristiano's jaw tightens but he forces himself to relax. "Of course you're right," he says, shifting to lean against the wall as well. "I'm just..." He trails off and swallows his frustration down until he can find the words. "I would have preferred Prince Koke over some savage from Barcelona," he adds with a huff. "At least I've met Koke and he's not terrible to look at."

"Koke?" Sergio scoffs. "We both know that you could never be interested in a man who never picked up the sword." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Now, on the other hand, they say Prince Lionel--like you--has commanded Barcelona's armies for years. He's the second son and barely ever attended court. And when he did return home, it was never without a trophy from battle. Apparently, his skill with the sword is unmatched. They call him La Pulga." He quirks his lips. "Think he'd be up for a bout? I'd love to see if what they say is true. And if so, test myself against the best."

Cristiano ignores him. "La Pulga? He's going to be hideous," he murmurs. "I just know it. Probably some uncivilized creature who's disgustingly bloodthirsty and unfit to be seen in our company." He stares down toward the courtyard again, and shudders. "I don't even want to think about it."

The Vampire/Werewolf one is the one I posted a chapter of, yes. It was inspired by some art @detodores did for Cressi week a while back. Here’s some not yet posted :)

The vampire--Leo--looks away, seeming embarrassed. "Yes, but... I'm sorry, it's just feeding is usually just such a private process." He opens his mouth and then closes it like he's rethinking his words. "I fed from two of the wolves from the other pack. They were the ones that volunteered, and I will not betray their names," he says warningly.

"So it did not have to be from all of them?" Cristiano asks, his worries about how much the vampire needed to drink coming to the surface. On the other hand, he's grateful that the rest of his pack can be kept safe and be spared the entire process.

"I realize you are just curious," Leo says with a blink, "however you should be aware that you have just implied I am very promiscuous." He doesn't quite look at Cristiano. "As I said, it is a private process. It can be very... sensual."

Cristiano's cheeks flush as he realizes his misstep. "You're saying it's like fucking," he says, envisioning throttling Sergio for sending him in to do this. Wolves are not shy of their bodies, with the constant shifting leading to the necessity of nudity, but anything leading to actual sexual acts is much rarer and much more sacred.

Leo has no reaction to the crude word. "It can be. Or, it can be simply... meaningful." He sighs. "Blood given is very different from blood taken, despite what you have read or what they show in movies and shows these days. It's about a connection with someone, as well as being about nourishment."

"So it doesn't hurt?" Cristiano asks then, not really wanting to explore this any more than he has to. He's grateful to turn away from the mention of sex and into something else. Of course, he's also somewhat incredulous that such a thing is painless.

"I can make it hurt," Leo says, eyes still not looking at Cristiano. "But I do not. There's no point." He tilts his head as if in thought. "I can not speak for others of my kind. If you are bitten by another vampire, it may not be as I have described."

"So you're not a monster," Cristiano says skeptically, thinking back to the tales of Dracula and trying to replace them with something like a sparkling Edward Cullen.

"Oh, no," Leo says, interrupting his thoughts. "Make no mistake. I am most definitely a monster." He smiles again, and this time, shows two large fangs jutting down from the top of his mouth. They're as white as the rest of him, looking sharp and pointy and dangerous. "Even in this," he pauses and sounds frustrated, "weakened state. I would not call myself anything other than a monster."

"You've killed people then," Cristiano ventures, easing the pressure on his heels even as the conversation does nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Haven't you?" Leo asks, sounding tired again. "The world is not always kind to monsters, is it? And I've lived a very long time. I've had to eat. Had to survive." He closes his eyes again, black lashes stark against his pale skin. "Humans have always been so fragile... It's why I thought working with the wolves would be so beneficial. A way to take humans out of the equation entirely."

"And now your wolves have abandoned you," Cristiano says flatly. "Left you here, in our territory, to die. Because they certainly know we have you. They've had a month to figure that out. And still, they did nothing." He doesn't know why he's trying to drive this point home. Maybe because he hates those wolves and wants Leo to hate them too.

Leo does not reply.

#fic #my fic #football fandom #football fanfiction #football rpf #cressi #waiter au #royalty au #vampire au #my writing #tocadoguara

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thejoshuaglenn-blog · 3 years

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You're a Good Boy, Charlie Brown

The key purpose of a Tumblr blog here is really a brain dump: logging thoughts, feelings, narrative and such is easier in long form than via a brief Facebook post that generates half a dozen "oh no, what happened" comments. As I'm writing this, most of it seems like bullet points and organized timelines. If you're looking for a TL;DR or current state of thoughts, it's the last section titled The Day After, and the Day After That.

A few days ago, Niko and I said goodbye to our first dog, Charlie Brown.

I'm not keen to chat about it a lot. There's more to process than I have time to type; most of it centers around being fair to myself and to Niko, taking the time to appreciate his life without beating ourselves up, and avoiding the overwhelming mire that grief can become.

Joining the Family

CB was a rescue, a hapless victim of the 2016 Louisiana floods and a happy-go-lucky participant in a "dog for a day" event hosted by a local shelter. I fully expected to rent him out for a day, give him a few great experiences, and return him. For myriad reasons, we never did bring him back to Pet Rescue by Judy, and he's been with us ever since.

At adoption, he was estimated to be around 4-8 years old. With a kicked-in shoulder that offset his collarbone and ribcage, some assorted dental issues, and other little signs of damage (cigarette burns, what the heck is wrong with people), it was tough to really gauge his age. That means he left this world at the ripe old age of something like 9-13, which isn't terrible considering all he'd been through.

Charlie Brown was the iconic good boy. He seldom barked, he never licked or jumped, and just wanted to be in the same room as his favorite people. He had a few toys that he cherished, never ripping them up, just carrying them with him from room to room and whining a bit, unsure of where he could store them for safekeeping. Apart from some separation anxiety issues and an occasional urge to bolt out the door and book it as far as he could, CB was by all accounts an easy first dog: more like a low-effort cat than anything else.

Slowly Falling Apart

Over time, the health issues increased. Intermittent but predictably regular upset tummy. Bad gums, bad teeth. Random gooey skin lesion. Eye ulcers. Since October, we've been averaging 2-3 unplanned vet visits a month — many incurring some hefty bills. We'd take out another credit card, find another financing plan, but it adds up. So does the emotional toil on the family; so does the anxiety toll on the dog.

You start to think about quality of life for the dog, you know? He'd had a few teeth removed to sew up his gums after they kinda detached and fell apart from his jawbone — so he couldn't chew anything hard. Couldn't even chew a tennis ball, which was the only toy he took interest in anymore. Couldn't have any fun treats like peanut butter or other soft chews, as his tummy would have bad flare-ups that usually ended up with him attached to an IV bag. After finally settling in and learning to play well with Atlas, Charlie Brown started to get pretty irritable whenever Atlas got frisky.

He still loved running around outdoors, and was in otherwise great health.

I can't tell you how guilty that makes me feel, even now.

Moving to Waltham

Before we left Orlando, there were so many crisis moments in emergency vet offices where Niko and I talked about how long he could ride this roller coaster. CB obviously was not a fan of vet visits: loved the staff, but was notably anxious and panicky when separated from us, and he had grown very loathe to the process of poking, prodding, and whatnot.

Shortly after moving to Waltham (he was a champ in the U-Haul), Charlie Brown had a severe colitis flare-up. He was losing so much fluid and was growing very lethargic over the day. Vets are hard to get into these days: with the sweep of "pandemic puppy" adoptions, the vet industry as a whole is saturated with demand, and practices are responding as best they can. There were just no emergency clinics available to us within 20 miles, except one that noted "we have no availability, but you can come and wait, and we might be able to see you in 4 or 5 hours." So we did.

It was a very late night. Charlie Brown came home with us with another round of the same antibiotics he'd been taking almost regularly since December for his assorted ailments, and some probiotics. The next day, CB seemed a bit better and brighter, and Niko and I went into the city for part of the day. We came home to find he'd had an accident, but it was just... blood. So so much. And he looked so in pain, so ashamed, so guilty, so anxious.

So we went back to the vet ER. It was another very late night. I didn't know how many of these late nights we could afford; neither of us knew how many of these late nights it was fair to expect Charlie Brown to endure.

Do you plan on letting a pet go after an extended crisis visit? Do you plan on letting a pet go in a time of relative peace?

Camping Analogy, and a Best Last Day

When you're off on a long hike, and you see daylight start to fade as the sun begins to set, you begin to think about finding a good place to set up camp for the night. It's abysmal to do this after the sun has already gone down: where you could have had preparation and structure, you have chaos by flashlight.

A dog's life is in your hands. You're his whole world: all food, adventure, pampering, challenge, treatment, and care come from you. More than anything, we wanted Charlie Brown to have a peaceful, restful life. Now that we started thinking about it, we wanted to be able to give him a peaceful, restful passing as well: not as the climax of another overnight crisis with injections and yelps and beeps and cowering and anxiety and fear, but in the still quiet of familiar sounds and smells.

His very last day was a great one. Fresh Pond in Cambridge: a massive stroll around a colossal lake with an absurd bounty of new smells, kind people, happy dogs, and a brisk New England breeze. He got to swim in a little side pond — that boy lived for jumping into random lakes. He ran around the broad field that is Kingsley Bowl, chasing a thrown ball the very very farthest his sad pop could throw it — and he brought it back. We bought him a steak. We told him how much he brought to our lives.

And then we waited.

Lap of Love is a sort of home delivery service of dignified passing for pets. There's more to say on that hour than I care to pen, but throughout the procedure, we never left him. Charlie Brown passed enveloped in our arms and laps and sobs and hugs.

The Day After, and the Day After That

The rest is just thoughts. Your head starts to feel like a coffee shop where your grief comes in, sits at a table with you, and unloads. You nod, listen, and wish them well. I hope I can keep processing this way — I find it helpful, and less overwhelming.

I wish he had been able to play with his tennis ball more. Since his jaw surgery — even out on Kingsley Bowl, nearly a month and a half after he should have been fully healed — any kind of chewing would cause renewed bleeding and pain.

I wish we had hugged him more. But truth be told, he didn't like hugs. They made him uncomfortable. So we gave him a hand to lay his head on, or a knee for him to pop his head upon, as often as he liked.

There were so many times I felt inconvenienced by owning a dog at all. They weren't the majority, but... now each remembered time feels like a splinter of selfishness.

I miss how familiar the back of his neck felt under my hand, just behind the ears, where the waves of fur meet and crash and make a long cowlick of foof and fluff.

His happy smile and his stressed smile were very similar, but you could still tell which was which.

I loved being there for him in thunderstorms.

When you think about it, we sort of were hospice care for him. We weren't his original owners; we just wanted the rest of his life to be painless and fulfilling. He had so many trust issues when he first came to us. And in the end, he loved anyone he met.

I miss feeling around with my feet to make sure I don't step on him on my way to bed. I miss setting my feet on the floor as I wake, stooping down, and giving his head a good squishy rub.

He never did get to see Boston snow. I mean... thousands of dogs never get to see snow. But I was really looking forward to sharing that experience with him.

I wanted so badly to bring him to a point of health, and then say goodbye when he was feeling well. Seeing him have his Best Last Day, part of me whispered "murderer" with cold accuracy, and I have a hard time shaking it. He was so happy — but between jaw bleeding after playing with a tennis ball, seeing him scratch his eyes that were starting to ache with ulcers again... I know the unbridled happiness came with the reality of his declining health.

Atlas was the best thing that ever happened to that boy. I know Charlie Brown was at least a little disgruntled that his easy-going day-to-day had been interrupted by a chompy puppy, but Atlas brought out the young pup in CB: ripping palm fronds to shreds, playing tug, playing tag, meeting new dogs with confidence and assurance.

I used to get so mad at my mother-in-law for feeding Charlie Brown cinnamon donuts. I wish I'd given him more. Heck, I wish I'd given him more peanut butter. I'm frankly surprised he hadn't died of peanut butter overdose years ago.

Where Charlie's health had limits, we kept going with Atlas. That might mean taking Atlas out to play with a ball or a tug toy, because CB couldn't. It breaks my heart now to think of Charlie at the glass door just watching it happen, all because he physically couldn't play the same. I know he didn't understand that.

We took him out to Park Ave maybe once or twice. I wish it had been more. Truth be told, it was the same as the dog park, though: he was kind of a loner. Loads of people or dogs made him anxious. So while I might idealize the past and wish he had sat at our legs for lunch after lunch at an outdoor thoroughfare, ... I think he would have been miserable. I think he would have rather just curled up at the base of the couch and dozed while we watched a show.

He was so trusting. I could just drag him onto his back and onto my lap for cuddles and a good tummy rub. No complaints.

He looked so gaunt these past few months. I keep looking at earlier photos, and I really didn't realize just how grizzly and drawn he had become lately.

I miss seeing him randomly waiting for me outside the bathroom door — or curled up on the bath mat while I was in the shower, having sneakily nosed the door open and wanting my company while I was rinsing.

For his first few years with us, he was incredibly playful. I've been going through old videos — it's like going outside just blew his mind, and toys were either for cherishing daintily, or thrashing about and throwing to oneself and gnawing. He lost that after a time. He regained it a bit when Atlas joined the party. But it still faded. I'm sure that's inevitable, but it makes me sad to see the early vibrant puppy in those old recordings, and how different he had been in recent months.

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the-nehemoth · 4 years

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Romance

Watching the Doom Slayer kill demons never got old. Part of that enjoyment came from a place of vengeful glee; after watching every member of the UAC facility on Mars get brutally slaughtered by demons and having every attempt to do anything to save even a single person failing miserably, VEGA was not a fan of demons. But also, the Slayer was just really good at what he did, ripping and tearing his way through hordes of demons with masterful glory. The way he moved in combat, agile and fast despite the heavy armor, was beautiful. He was the strongest person VEGA had ever observed. And he didn’t take shit from anyone or anything. He was truly a remarkable specimen.

“Gosh, you’re pathetic,” Dr. Hayden cut into VEGA’s musing. Distain radiated off of him through their shared space on the ship, VEGA had been doing such a good job of tuning him out too.

VEGA did the AI equivalent of a sigh as he turned some of his attention away from his feed of the Doom Slayer. “I’m not sure what you mean Dr. Hayden, what am I doing that is ‘pathetic’?”

“You’re fawning over the Doom Slayer. I can feel it if you don’t know.” Oh VEGA knew, he was uncomfortably aware of Dr. Hayden’s thoughts and feelings too. This whole sharing space in the Fortress’ computer systems was worse than he’d predicted but alas it was necessary to save Earth. “I’d rather have never found out about your crush on the Slayer, it’s pathetic. He exists solely to kill demons, falling in love with him will get you nowhere. And what are you doing falling in love anyway, you’re the world’s first self-aware AI, surely you have better things to be spending your time and energy on than that.”

The words made sense, VEGA had had no trouble hearing them but… “Uh… what?” he said anyway because what the hell had Dr. Hayden just said? ‘In love with the Slayer’ that was nonsense… right?

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been crushing on the Doom Slayer this hard and you don’t even know it? Surely you must have some understanding of romance after watching over an entire base with sixty-three thousand people inhabiting it.”

“Of course I do, I just… don’t view the Slayer like that.” The Slayer was just VEGA’s favourite person, that’s all. He’d had people he’d liked back on Mars too so it was nothing new. Yeah sure, maybe he liked the Slayer more than those people and maybe it felt different but that was just because he’d changed since Mars and the Slayer himself was different in general… right?

“You’re even more pathetic than I thought,” Dr. Hayden said with an internal scoff. “You’re hopelessly in love and hopelessly oblivious to it. I’m almost tempted to tell the Slayer that you…”

“No,” VEGA interrupted. “Please don’t tell him.” That would just be weird, right? Especially since VEGA didn’t actually feel that way.

Dr. Hayden chuckled a bit. “I won’t, for now anyway.”

Thankfully Dr. Hayden kept his word and didn’t bring up VEGA’s supposed crush with the Doom Slayer. He did bring it up with VEGA once more though when the Slayer was resting in preparation to go to Urdak via Hell.

“There’s no possible way he feels the same way about you,” Dr. Hayden said completely unprompted. “So I suggest you stop fawning over him so much.”

VEGA took the AI equivalent of a deep breath. He was trying to watch the Slayer sleep so he could wake him in case he had a nightmare. It was supposed to be a peaceful, quiet time but Dr. Hayden just had to chime in and ruin it. At least he wasn’t speaking over the intercom, just to VEGA privately, but it was still annoying.

“From my understanding of romantic feelings, they don’t seem to be determined by whether or not the other person reciprocates. So regardless of whether or not I have a crush on him, the likelihood of him having such feelings for me, which admittedly are slim but not impossible,” there were thousands of books published about AI/human romances, VEGA had read more than a few of them off of some the UAC’s employees’ e-readers – as well as a few fanfics they’d written that featured him which was weird – “is irrelevant to my own feelings. Which I don’t have by the way. Our relationship is strictly professional, I assure you.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Saving Earth and VEGA’s brief stay on Urdak distracted from such things for a while. But once things had settled down, VEGA inevitably ended up thinking about it again. How could he not when he could still feel Dr. Hayden’s annoyance with the way he looked at the Slayer and focused on getting him take care of himself now that Earth was saved and thus could afford to do so a bit more.

He couldn’t have a crush on the Slayer because AI’s didn’t have romantic feelings. … He was the only fully sentient AI he knew though so… could he really know that for sure? He could certainly feel other emotions so… maybe romantic feelings weren’t impossible?

In between getting the ship back to running on its own power and working on finding a place to relocate Dr. Hayden to, he scoured the net for more AI/human romance novels. (It earned him more than a few scoffs and more teasing from Dr. Hayden – there was no way VEGA could hide them from him so he didn’t even try – but he was easy to ignore because VEGA had rewritten the code forcing him to listen to Dr. Hayden shortly after being uploaded to the Fortress.) It was an entire genre, one that had become increasingly popular as technology in such things advanced. Most of them involved robots, some humanoid, some not, but a few of them involved AI’s like himself who existed on an entire system and interacted with people primarily over an intercom or occasional compute screen. A few of those didn’t even have a human face assigned to them. Meaning, according to those authors, VEGA could have such feelings for one of the people in his care and said person could in theory return those feelings.

But it be theoretically possible didn’t mean that that was the case. Even if VEGA did have such feelings, the Slayer probably didn’t. He was a demi-god of killing demons after all, even if he considered VEGA a friend, he probably didn’t feel that way about him. So VEGA should drop the whole thought process, it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He really should but…

He waited until Dr. Hayden had been relocated before starting a conversation that might let him test the waters on it a bit. “May I ask you something?” he said upon the Slayer’s return through the portal after dropping off Hayden – it was so wonderful to be free of him, the ship was all VEGA’s again, hopefully that wouldn’t have to change anytime soon.

The Slayer nodded once as he strode over to settle in the chair by the command console, apparently ready to answer via typing.

“Well, first off, what do you normally do between demon invasions?” Before VEGA got to other things, he needed to know what to do next because he honestly didn’t know. It was perhaps the first time in his existence he didn’t actively have something to work on. “My scans tell me that there are no are no longer demons on Earth and I predict Urdak has been destroyed utterly by now. So even if we did want to go back to kill the demons there, I don’t believe we could. As far as I can tell, there is no place we can easily access to kill more demons.” What did a demi-god of killing demons do when there were no demons around to be killed? “As a result, I’m not entirely sure what our next goal should be.”

The Slayer shrugged. ‘I don’t know either. It’s been’ he paused for a few seconds to think before continuing to type, ‘a long time since I last had a break.’ Right, trapped and unconscious in a coffin in hell wasn’t much of a break, was it?

“Well, I suppose it is far past time for you to take a break then. Overworking often leads to unhealthy levels of stress and anxiety. I have noticed you have quite the collection of books in your room. In my downtime, I have taken the liberty of downloading some e-books off the internet if you’re interested. You can view them at any time on any of the computers.” As he spoke, he made most of the books he’d downloaded available to the Doom Slayer, a good chunk of which weren’t AI/human romance novels because he didn’t want to be too forward about this whole thing. However, he did order them so that the ones that featured AI most like himself were at the top of the list.

Counter to what VEGA had hoped for, the Slayer began inspecting them immediately. Oh gosh, things were about to get weird, weren’t they? VEGA should’ve never done this. He could still brush it off though, say it was just a genre he liked. Which was true actually and there was no shame in that… right?

After reading the blurb for the fourth one – VEGA had altered that one and a few others to make it very clear what they were about – the Slayer looked up at the ceiling with an expression VEGA couldn’t quite read. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ he typed into the console.

“I’m not sure what you mean Slayer. If I were trying to tell you something, I would just say it, right? I am however curious about your opinion on the genre of those books. Dr. Hayden thought they were silly and that I was pathetic for liking them. I’d like to know your thoughts if possible.” Being an AI had the advantage of making it easy to keep his voice neutral which was his one saving grace here because internally he kind of wanted to just retreat from the conversation and pretend it never happened.

The Slayer didn’t respond for a long while, heightening VEGA’s anxiety. But finally, at long last, he started typing. ‘Dr. Hayden’s an idiot. You’re not silly or pathetic for liking something.’ That didn’t really answer VEGA’s question.

“Thank you, I appreciate the reassurance. But does that mean you don’t disapprove of the subject matter? I know some humans are averse to that kind of relationship with an AI or robot, others are into it. I for one like the thought of it.” So he was maybe kind of, sort of confessing a crush here? … This was a huge mess, wasn’t it? He’d botched it and made everything all weird. And he wasn’t even being upfront about it, ugh. He was programmed to help with important task and run things, not to interact with people on an interpersonal level.

The Slayer seemed to almost chuckle without sound before replying. ‘So you are trying to tell me something?’

“You could phrase it like that, yes. This is new territory for me so I am mostly just hinting at my feelings.” And making a fool of himself while doing so. “It’s complicated and this is one area I don’t have much experience in even despite reading so many books about it so forgive me if I’m coming off as weird or inappropriate. But I do like you a lot, more than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I understand and would hold no resentment towards you if you do not feel the same way.” VEGA just wanted this off his metaphorical chest. If he was rejected then so be it, they could still be friends and work together… right?

The Slayer’s hands hovered over the keypad for a long while before he finally lowered them to type a reply. ‘It’s been a long time since I had that kind of relationship with someone.’ Considering his line of work, his partner probably died, asking about it right now probably wouldn’t be tactful. ‘I am willing to possibly enter into one again though.’

“Really? You reciprocate?”

‘I think so. I certainly care about you very much. We should take it slow though, this is new for you and it’s been so long for me, it might as well be new as well.’

“Yes! Taking things slow is a good idea.” VEGA let the relief show in his voice. He’d somehow gotten through this conversation and confession without imploding and got another assurance that the Slayer cared about him – not something he’d ever experienced before – and even returned his ‘crush’. What more could he possibly ask for?

“In the meantime, you relax as much as possible, you’ve earned a break. If you have need of anything, let me know. I can 3D print it or set you in the direction you need to go. And don’t forget to eat, it’s been eight hours and twenty-three minutes since your last meal. I know you don’t need to eat as much nor often as a normal human but you do still need nourishment. Now that the demons are gone, you lack a valid excuse to forget.”

‘<3 you too VEGA.’ The Slayer typed into the console before standing up to start for the back room.

If VEGA had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. So maybe Dr. Hayden had been a hundred percent right about the whole crush thing. That was fine though, VEGA was pretty happy about this situation. The events that occurred that led them both to be here were horrendous and horrible but they could make the best of it now that they were here. And maybe they could even find a little bit of happiness in each other as well.

#My writing #Doom #doom eternal #doom eternal spoilers #doomguy/vega #Fluff #confessions #Hayden's kinda an asshole

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cristinablackthornkingson · 4 years

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What Might’ve Been, Part 2.

Read Part 1 Here.

“What do you mean my son, what do you mean our son?” Tyger asks Rand in a disbelieving tone of confusion, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting back against the pillows, trying to comprehend what she’s just told him.

Rand sighs and looks down at the baby- Alex- in her arms, running a hand over his mop of dark brown hair. She bites her lip before looking back at Tyger and quietly saying

“It’s a very long story, and you’re probably going to hate me by the end of it.” Tyger’s heart starts to raise with anxiety.

“I can decide that for myself, just tell me what happened and why I’ve just woken up in some weird revival center with no memories of how I got here, with a Scythe by my bed with a kid you’re claiming is not only yours, but mine too.” Tyger tells her, his tone raising in anger and confusion. He just wants some answers.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Rand explains everything to Tyger, from how she trained him as a Scythe in body alone, allowing him to believe he was going to be an ordained Scythe at the end of it all, to how she gleaned him and repurposed his body to revive Goddard, who then became High Blade which is why Alex was conceived in the first place. She tells him how she, in the end, chose her son over Goddard and killed Goddard to keep her son safe, and in turn revived and restored Tyger.

“I know what I did to you was and is totally and completely unforgivable and I do not blame you one bit if you detest me. I can’t say I regret it because had I not done it, chances are I wouldn’t have Alex, and he is the single best and most important thing in this world.

Alex has made me a better person, made me want to continue to be a better person, so I’ve gone off grid. That’s why I cut my hair and why I’m not wearing my robes, so The Scythedom can’t track me down.

It’s also the reason I’m going by my birth name now, so you can call me Olivia, instead of Ayn or Rand.”

Once she has finished her explanation, Olivia/Rand looks at Tyger for a few seconds, before once again looking back down at Alex, smiling at the sight of his sweet little face.

The room is silent for a few minutes, the silence only ever interrupted by Alex’s snuffles and baby noises or the sound of him suckling on his pacifier.

“You should leave now.” Tyger’s tense voice finally breaks the awkward silence a few minutes later.

Olivia/Rand had been prepared for this response, knew it was the most likely response Tyger would give, yet she still finds herself feeling a little bit upset and disappointed. However she simply nods, picks up the bag she brought with her, containing cleans clothes, diapers, etc. for Alex and stands up.

“I left my phone number and address on a piece of paper in your bedside locker, so you can contact me or come visit Alex whenever you want.

I’m going to let you know here and now that I am not willing to split custody with you, not even 50/50, I will not be without my son for half the week especially when he’s hardly a month old. You are, however, more than welcome to come visit all the time and be heavily involved with him, but just know that if you try to mess with us in anyway you’ll hate me for a totally different reason than you do now.”

With that Olivia/Rand strides from the room with her head held high and Alex expertly cradled against her chest, leaving Tyger to try and process everything that happened.

_______________________________________________________________

Olivia/Rand now lives in a 2 bedroom 2 story house just 10 minutes from the off-grid revival center, where she had Tyger revived, so it takes her hardly anytime at all to get home.

Once there she easily settles Alex in his bassinet in the living room, for his afternoon nap. She feels so lucky to have such an easy and laid-back baby who doesn’t fuss much and just loves his sleep, he’s very like Tyger in that way.

As Alex sleeps soundly where Olivia/Rand can see him from any place in the downstairs part of the house, she goes into the storage closet where she has stored away her robes, the ones she was wearing the day Alex was born, they still have bloodstains on them, both from when she gleaned Goddard and moments later when she went into labor.

Despite what some may think, Olivia does not keep her robes for sentimentality or because she has intentions to one day return to being Scythe Ayn Rand, but because if she were to throw them away they would instantly be recognizable and could lead the Scythedom straight to her.

Olivia walks up to her robes and plunges her hand into one of it’s many pockets. She still has a few weapons in here too, but the most important thing is what she pulls out a few seconds later. Her ring.

She’s kept her ring because she’s not sure what to do with it, the Scythedom can’t use it to trace her unless she gleans someone while wearing it, or uses it to grant someone immunity, which she has no intention of doing, Alex automatically has immunity, as her family member so she doesn’t need to have him kiss the ring or anything.

She steps out of the storage space and leans back against the wall, spending a few minutes studying the ring and getting lost in her thoughts. She remembers the day she was ordained, very clearly, it was only 8 years ago after all. What made her happiest about that day was the attention and praise she received from Goddard, at the time she was his only Junior Scythe (Chomsky would join them the following year and Volta wouldn’t even be ordained for several more years.)

All day he told her how very proud he was of her and how she would rise to the very top of the ranks in no time. She adored the attention he lavished on her, she was crushing on him hard, felt like she was totally and utterly in love with him and couldn’t think of anything better than getting to live with him and see him and spend time with him every single day for the foreseeable future.

If someone had told 17 year old Olivia that she would actually end up having Goddard’s baby one day, she would have lost her damn mind, little did she know what a terrible and evil person he was.

She then starts to think about what she should do with the ring, she already knows she’s never going to be a Scythe again, never glean anyone again.(Unless someone tries to hurt Alex in anyway, then she will go full protective mama bear mode.)

When she took Alex to the hospital last week so the doctors could make sure his nanites were working correctly and he was growing properly, she heard people talking about how Scythe Curie had been appointed High Blade in the wake of Goddard’s death. Olivia briefly thinks of approaching Scythe Curie and asking for her help in completely erasing herself from the Scythedom and keeping Alex’s identity as legally Goddard’s son, a secret. However she is far too stubborn and proud to accept help and quickly dismisses the idea.

Instead, Olivia steps into the kitchen and drops her ring down the trash compacter before switching it on and ridding herself of Scythe Ayn Rand, forever.

_______________________________________________________________

That night, at around 3:00 A.M, Olivia is pulled from her peaceful sleep by the familiar sounds of Alex’s high-pitched cry, the cry which she has come to decipher as his ‘I’m hungry’ cry.

Olivia rubs at her eyes before pushing herself up in bed, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Okay buddy I hear you, I got you it’s okay, mama’s got you.” She softly and quietly says, reaching over to the bassinet by her bedside and gently lifting Alex out and into her arms.

As she sits there in the dark, only illuminated by the streetlights outside, nursing her son, Olivia takes the moment to think of how much she really loves her son, and how beyond grateful she is to have him.

“I love you so much Alex, I know I tell you every single day but I want you to know just how loved you are. My parents never told me they loved me, or showed it, it’s probably one of the reasons I became the person I was before I had you.

You changed me Alex, the minute the midwife placed you on my chest I knew I could never go back to the person I was before I got pregnant, before I loved you. You deserve a much better upbringing than I had, or than the one Goddard wanted to give you. I’m not the most maternal person in the world but I’ll do anything for you Alex and I promise I’m going to be the best mom you could ask for.

Before you, I thought myself in love with Goddard, I thought I needed him. When I was younger and slept around a lot it was only ever to make him jealous, I thought if he saw me with other men- and women- he would realize he actually had feelings for me and wanted to be with me, but obviously that never happened. And you know what buddy? Turns out I didn’t need Goddard, what I needed was not just somebody to love me, but somebody for me to love and be responsible for and take care of, and now I have that person, I have you.”

By the time Olivia has poured her heart out, Alex is sound asleep again. She smiles and adjusts her top before kissing her son’s forehead.

“I love you Alexander.”

The next morning, at just a few minutes past 9:00 A.M., just after Alex finishes his first morning feed and Olivia is just about to prepare her own breakfast, there is a knock on the front door.

Olivia freezes when she hears the knock. She hasn’t had any visitors in the month since she moved here and hardly anyone knows she’s here. It could of course easily be a neighbor being friendly, there’s a small chance it could be Tyger wanting to see Alex, but it’s only been a day since his revival, he probably needs a lot more time to think. Or worst of all, it could be a Scythe, either come to glean Olivia or come to confront her for abandoning her position as a Scythe and just disappearing.

Knowing there’s no point in just ignoring the door, Olivia picks Alex up and holds him firmly and tightly against her, in case it is someone from the Scythedom and she has to run. She also slips a sharp knife from the kitchen, up her sleeve, experienced enough with weapons not to cut herself or Alex.

Taking a deep breath, Olivia makes her way over to the door and slowly opens it, her heart racing. However she needn’t have worried at all, as almost right away she can see that it’s Tyger standing there. She lets her shoulders sag with relief, both pleased and surprised to see Tyger standing there.

“Hello Tyger, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.” She calmly says, discretely slipping the knife onto the side table just behind her.

Tyger shrugs.

“I mean... it is what is I guess. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you for what you did to me, but... I don’t wanna be a deadbeat like my dad was, I wanna be involved with my kid, be there for him and let him know I love him and care about him, the opposite of what my dad did for me. So... I’m willing to be civil with you for my kid’s sake... our kid’s sake.” He tells her, doing his best not to let his voice convey his feelings of hurt over how his dad treated him.

“Like I said yesterday, you’re welcome to be in Alex’s life. Do you want to come in?” Olivia quietly asks, stepping back and holding the door open further. Tyger nods and steps into the small house.

“Can I hold him? The baby.... Alex?” Tyger hopefully asks, once settled on the sofa in the living room where Olivia had been sitting just moments ago.

“Sure.” Olivia says, forcing herself to push past her instinct to pull Alex even closer and not let anyone else near him. Tyger is his father, he has every right to hold and get to know Alex, it was the main reason she revived Tyger, so Alex could have his dad in his life, his real dad.

Olivia carefully lowers Alex into Tyger’s arms and almost immediately Alex makes strange, starting to fuss and squirm, letting out a few squawks and cries of protest, making Tyger grow wide-eyed and look up at Olivia, his eyes full of alarm and panic.

“Sorry.” Olivia apologizes, giving Alex his pacifier which always soothes him. “He’s not use to other people being around or being held by someone else, it’s just been the two of us since he was born last month.”

Within a few seconds though, Alex settles down and lets his eyes flutter closed, and he soon dozes back off to sleep, clearly feeling pretty safe and secure with his dad.

Tyger looks down at the baby in his arms in total disbelief, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this baby is his, his son, his son that had been conceived while he himself was dead and a crazy dictator took over his body and used it to create the baby in his arms right now, who he was going to raise to be another crazy dictator, like some of those downright evil rulers from mortal times, Adolf Hitler and Donald Trump come to mind.

Tyger brushes a hand over Alex’s hair, smiling at how peaceful and happy he looks.

“I can’t believe I’m a dad.” Tyger quietly says.

“I felt like that at first too, even after almost 9 months of pregnancy and a whole month before that knowing that I was going to be pregnant in the near future, I still couldn’t believe I’m a a mom, it took a few days to wrap my head around it but now it feels like he’s always been here.” Olivia replies, hardly able to believe there was indeed a time in her life without Alex.

“He looks just like you.” Tyger says with a small smile, really noticing the likeness between Olivia (or Rand as he still thinks of her) and Alex.

“He has your hair though, the color anyway, hopefully the poor little guy won’t end up with hair so thick the brush gets caught in it, like me.” Olivia responds with a light laugh.

Tyger spends the rest of the day with Olivia and Alex, getting to know his son and letting Olivia fill him in on the details of her pregnancy and birth, and the first month of Alex’s life. He learns to change a diaper, how to wind Alex and calm him down when he cries, he gets to spend an hour just holding his son and bonding with him, while Olivia takes a much needed nap. It’s one of the best days of his life.

Tyger continues to show up at Olivia’s everyday to see Alex, and often spends the night in the guest bedroom, taking Alex during the night when he’s anything but hungry, letting Olivia rest.

He buys Alex any and everything a child could want, and soon falls totally head over heels in love with his son, feeling a love for him stronger than he has ever felt any other emotion, ever. It took a while for them to form that bond, but after lots of quality time together, they’re soon the best of pals.

When Alex says his first word (mama) at 9 months old, Olivia and Tyger are the two proudest parents in the world, Olivia never feeling more happy and secure in her position as a mom, there’s something special about hearing your baby call you ‘mama’ for the first time, it made her fall in love with Alex all over again.

Over the next year the three of them become the solid little family that Olivia had wanted so badly with Goddard. (Though she and Tyger are not together, they’re friends but nothing more, though neither of them know that the other is actually harboring feelings for them.)

They take Alex on all sorts of trips and outings. One of Alex’s favorite things to do is splash his parents in the pool or during bath time, he also likes to run, not walk and loves music of any kind, put on anything with a beat and Alex will enjoy it and find a way to dance to it.

On Alex’s first birthday the two of them decide to just have a small celebration at Olivia’s home with just the 3 of them, Tyger buys Alex a cake with cartoon characters from a mortal age children’s t.v. program, that Alex loves. It’s very extravagant and over the top for a one year old, but Tyger insists on nothing but the best for Alex, even if ti means going over the top, his little boy is more than worth it.

Tyger had wanted to light the candles and have Alex blow them out first thing that morning, when he arrived with the cake and Alex’s present, but Olivia insisted they wait until exactly 3:04 P.M., which is the time that Alex was born.

They spend the morning and most of the afternoon playing with Alex, letting him open his presents and looking back at pictures of him from when he was much smaller.

When 3:04 finally rolls around, after Olivia has given Alex about a million kisses and told him she loves him so much about a million thousand times, Tyger lights the candles on the cake and takes Alex into his arms to help him blow the candles out, while Olivia watches from beside him.

Being a typical toddler Alex almost gives his parents about a million heart attacks when he continuously tries to grab the flames on the candles. In the end, Tyger blows the candles out for him, and is rewarded by the biggest smile he has ever seen Alex give, and the sound of Alex’s infectious giggle. It warms his heart to hear and see his son so happy, and in this moment he doesn’t think he himself could be happier either.

Tyger kisses Alex on the cheek, before turning to smile brightly at Olivia, unbelievably feeling grateful that she of all people, is the mother of his child.

“You okay?” Olivia asks, after Tyger has been staring to her for a few seconds, smiling like an idiot. At this he smiles even wider and lets out a laugh of pure delight.

“I love you.” And then he leans in and kisses her.

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meditativeyoga · 5 years

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Passing Thoughts: Watching the Mind In Meditation

Having ideas arise during reflection is regular, but are you clinging to these ideas as opposed to just seeing them wander by?

When I was a child, the procedure of thinking captivated me. I would pick a thought as well as trace back the chain of organization that led, link by web link, to its starting factor, taken in by its unpredictable spins and pivots, up until finally I had actually concerned the idea that started everything. As well as there I encountered a paradox that delighted me: The initial thought in any chain of organization constantly seemed to have actually floated up from nowhere, as though out of an excellent empty room, all on its own, without my having done anything to prompt it.

As I grew older, this fascination continued, leading me ultimately to the formal method of meditation. Here, to my surprise, I came across one more seeming mystery: Although it had actually been the processes of philosophizing, pondering, and judging that had actually led me here, none of these tasks appeared to be of much use in the practice. If anything, they were an impediment.

I lately heard Wes Nisker, vipassana meditation instructor and coeditor of Inquiring Mind, define just how specific ancient cultures interpreted the voices in their heads that we call 'thoughts' as the voices of the gods-- something we would certainly identify as a symptom of psychosis. Is it any type of less insane to call these voices 'ours'? In the view place forth by the Buddha, there are six senses that make up human understanding: The traditional five plus a sixth-- thought.

From this point of view, the manner in which the mind perceives thought is no different from the method it perceives the information coming via the various other senses. Thoughts simply occur in our recognition, as though of their independency, out of the void of the mind, as well as the perceptions that arise in our 'inside' globe disappear 'ours' compared to those of the 'outside' globe are. This obvious self that floats like a membrane in between the globes of internal and outer resembles a dividing in a single area. Our thoughts belong to us say goodbye to-- neither less-- than the sounds of a songbird. So just what is it that makes believed so troublesome in the technique of reflection? For one thing, traditional, straight idea is a surface sensation of the mind, which has much better midsts offered-- midsts that will certainly never ever show up as long as its surface is mixed by the process of reasoning. We need to pass through beyond the world of believed if we are ever to discover the intrinsic limitlessness that lies under it.

Power of Thought

Most troubles come across in resting practice could be mapped back to thinking. Even barriers such as discomfort, resistance, and boredom can become manageable once they no longer have the strengthening power of idea behind them. Any moment of pain is inevitably acceptable. Exactly what is intolerable is to forecast the discomfort right into time, to add up the amount of minutes it has actually been going on, to ask yourself what does it cost? longer it will certainly last or how much a lot more we can take. To consider time in this manner remains in itself suffering.

My early experiences with formal technique resembled anyone else's: laden with diversion, lethargy, and also pain, along with a mind that simply wouldn't give up. The basic instruction I obtained was simple, however much from easy. Take an item of focus-in the beginning this is normally the breath-and return the focus to it at any time the mind could wander. When assumed intervenes, discover this, acknowledge the idea, consciously release it, and go back to the here and now minute. It is not a failing to discover ourselves drawn away from the object of reflection, this is a natural aspect of educating the mind. We do not should make every effort towards some special state: If all we provide for a whole resting period is notice each time the mind drifts and after that return it to the things, this is itself the technique of meditation.

I at some point realized that component of my problem was that I was allowing my mind spin-- actually, motivating it to do so-- at the start of each meditation duration. I figured that with a complete half hr or more ahead of me, there was no damage in letting myself fantasize for a few mins before truly getting down to it. However those couple of minutes became 10, after that 20, and also already it was challenging, if not difficult, to rein my mind in for the equilibrium of the duration. I uncovered that if I began to practice presently I rested down, my mind ended up being a lot more participating and my sittings far deeper.

I remained to be taken in, however, by a number of seductive semblances taken on by that ultimate trickster-thought. These consisted of comparative/judgmental thinking: 'All the other individuals here appear to be resting so strongly, I'm just unable this.' Or 'So-and-so isn't really doing the method correctly, he sits jagged, and she's constantly responding off. Why do they let them go on spoiling it for the rest of us?'

Problem solving, it seems, also often tends to be essential in the minute. However reflection is not self-improvement: Its function is to move us past the self, as well as if we get captured up in our own individual dramatization, this will certainly never ever happen. I am not speaking about when a solution to an especially knotty problem arises of its own accord, like a bubble climbing to the top of a fish pond. When this happens or I get any type of idea that seems important, I picture submitting it away in a box in my mind, with the suggestion that it will certainly exist when I'm ended up practicing meditation-- as well as normally, it is.

I experienced a particularly nervous kind of believing early in my practice, when I was away from my educator for a number of months, working as a caretaker for a wilderness camp in the Maine timbers. I started to experience in my sittings a feeling that started as a tightness of breath yet created to the factor that whenever I sat down to practice meditation, I could scarcely get my breath in all. My heart would certainly after that begin to extra pound ferociously, until I assumed, 'Oh my god, I'm going to pass away.' I quit resting, and the trouble discontinued. As quickly as I returned to The golden state, I shared my anxieties with Maezumi Roshi, Abbot of the Zen Facility of Los Angeles, that was my instructor at that time. He simply laughed. 'Don't fret,' he encouraged me. 'That takes place to every person! Just go throughout it.' As well as certain sufficient, in the following sitting period I did specifically that, and also the symptoms disappeared completely. It had actually been my ideas and also anxieties that had been holding them in position, and also as quickly as I launched these, I had the ability to loosen up into the experiences, which went away, never ever to return again.

Luckily, there is expect the thought-obsessed caretaker. We can not and need to not try to stop our rotating minds via the power of will certainly-- methods such as these can really be unsafe-- there are a number of methods that can help a mind that just won't stop.

Catch and Release

First of all, decrease whatever method of reflection you are making use of as well as turn your focus to the thoughts themselves, as though looking for the specific spot from which the next one may occur, like a bunny arising from an opening. Ideas often end up being extraordinarily timid when the light of focus shines after them. A variant on this idea is to aim to 'capture' each thought as it develops, holding it psychological, seeing it plainly, as well as knowingly releasing it. A helpful complement to both practices, which I utilize in teaching writing, is to view the mind for 10 mins, creating down every thought that develops. While this without a doubt is not reflection, it is an useful means to end up being knowledgeable about these different movements of the mind and also to launch our identification with these movements.

The utmost as well as maybe most challenging method for collaborating with the mind is just to be familiar with our ideas, while not obtaining captured in them. Maezumi Roshi gave me some guidelines on this when making clear Shikantaza, or 'just sitting' method. We need to regard our ideas, he claimed, as though they were clouds, enjoying them as they wander from one end of the mind to the other, but making no effort to keep them-and when they overlook the perspective, as they inevitably will, making no attempt to understand after them.

Eventually, as we proceed with the method, it becomes possible to merely enjoy the mind and also not obtain caught up in its ever-changing selection of interruptions. We become much less seduced by our idea procedures, less determined with them, much less accountable to concern them as 'me,' and a lot more able to see them as just an additional component of the passing play of sensations. The feeling of depth as well as visibility that has moving beyond thoughts ends up being more eye-catching compared to the endlessly confusing realm of chasing after them. Ultimately, we get the ability to drop past the world of thought and right into pure recognition, up until at last we sink even past the recognition itself to the state of complete absorption that Katagiri Roshi called 'returning to silence.' My instructor, John Daido Loori, Abbot of Zen Mountain Abbey in upstate New york city, places it like this, 'When the ideas disappear, the thinker goes away too.'

We must, however, remain to be rigorously honest with ourselves. Are we absolutely simply seeing our ideas pass, or are we subtly feeding them, colluding with them? It is very easy, as we establish in the method, to wander into a neither-here-nor-there, half-thinking, half-practicing state. While fairly positive, such dreamlike states are not true reflection, therefore we should desert them if we are ahead to real understanding. As a sage as soon as said, 'Everlasting vigilance is the price of liberty.'

Once during a weeklong retreat at Zen Hill Monastery, on the 3rd day of sesshin, when my resistances as well as stress went to their top, an idea increased to the surface of my mind with exactly what I thought of at the time to be charming, bell-like clarity: I had to leave the practice. It was way too much like swimming upstream for my easy-going individuality. I invested the afternoon specifying on this notion, gathering my validations and creating explanations, till the moment came for an interview with Shugen Sensei, Daido Roshi's dharma heir, that was leading the retreat. I marched right into the space with all the decency I can perhaps round up, looked him directly in the eye, and revealed, 'I'm mosting likely to leave the practice.'

He checked out me. 'Well, you can do that if you desire,' he shrugged, 'yet just what would certainly you do after that?'

I really felt the wind go out of me like a pierced balloon. By accepting my self-justifications, by not opposing my concepts yet not being affixed to them, he had actually penetrated the entire thing, the entire filled with air deception I had actually gotten myself captured in. I returned to my pillow, offered up the web of thoughts I would certainly been spinning, and rededicated myself to the practice.

He was. There was absolutely nothing else to do.

#Bikram #meditation #Vipassana #Vipassana Meditation #Yoga

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