#Conciousness Division

[autoacafiles]

[kinninggojo]

aki hayakawa ft. toji fushiguro

word count: 5.5k

synopsis: you’re aki’s subordinate and partner. feelings are misconstrued on a drunken night out. you reconcile with aki after more drinks, and indulge the feelings you’re so ashamed of.

content: angst, hurt/comfort, slight smut with fem!bodied reader, makeout session w/ sloppy kissing, sooo much alcohol, reader is slightly insecure, miscommunication and…toji.

playlist: i like the way you kiss me by artemas, bathroom by montell fish, i was never there by the weeknd.

there were often times at work, where aki would lament the choices that had landed him there. everyone at work was an idiot, and if they weren’t a complete idiot, they weren’t far off. apart from you.

you weren’t at all an idiot and, crucially, didn’t get on aki’s every last nerve. you clicked with aki as soon as you started in public safety. you were cut from the same fabric.

you were all the things he admired in a colleague: impeccable, smart, dedicated. you already had a repertoire of devil kills on your application before starting, and for that reason he could trust you to get the job done. you were both capable and strong.

soon enough you were conciously deciding to take the same smoke breaks and grab each other coffee. after your first quarter, you had successfully committed aki’s coffee order to memory: black, with no sugar.

technically, he was your superior, and you were his subordinate, he was also older than you. you were always mindful of not crossing the line, even though his unruly top knot was fucking gorgeous and you’d already fallen in love with his half-assed smirks. you respected the position you were in, and ultimately, put your job before any of your trivial feelings.

you’d learned to survive thus far by compartmentalizing your feelings, you weren’t about to let a man ruin that, or get in the way of your goal.

that being said, it was comforting to know that you and aki were on the same page.

—

20:00pm.

aki took one last drag of his dying cigarette, and put it out. it had just turned 8pm, and you would surely be waiting for him. it was the night of your division’s bi-monthly gathering - this time at a local bar.

aki normally never bothered showing up, but a few months ago, you had successfully convinced him it was good for team morale. you would generally rendevous there, but this time aki had offered to walk there with you and agreed to meet with you outside his apartment at 8pm.

aki opened his front door to find you waiting outside for him. you looked freezing, just as he’d suspected. you were clutching a tiny purse infront of a thin dress that was completely impractical. your dress was small and black, embedded with gems. you looked nothing less than ethereal. aki cared deeply about his appearance and, like you, always kept himself tidy. he had changed out of his work suit into an identical suit for the evening, excluding the tie. you were unintentionally matching and the heat of this revelation made it’s way into aki’s pale cheeks.

“aren’t you cold?” he interrograted, already lighting up another cigarette in his mouth as he locked up. he always spoke with his cigarette in his mouth, he was always so nonchalant. that’s what you liked about aki, his indifference, it meant that he was easy to talk to, and share your secrets with. he rarely expressed any bias towards the things you said.

you shook your head, smiling at him. “just a bit, but it’s fine. the bar’s only a block away isn’t it?”

you snorted, “you know, if you’re worried about my hands freezing you can always hold them, aki.”

he rolled his eyes, skillfully feigning annoyance. aki was truly a liar. he loved it when you teased him and made jokes like that - they played into his fantasies. he would happily hold your hand, hell, he would carry you if you asked him nicely.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he said.

and that was that.

the sky overhead began to clear, revealling the universe. you watched the sky, walking aimlessly beside aki as you made your way to the bar with him, paying no attention to the racing cars, and even less attention to the pedestrains bustling around you. you wobbled on the kerb, nearly falling off.

aki opened the door for you once you’d arrived at the bar. it wasn’t out of character for him to treat you like that, like nothing below royalty, he even pulled a chair out for you as you went to sit down before naturally claiming the seat beside you. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the bar was warm and dimly lit with candles. as you shrugged your coat off, aki couldn’t help but notice the different things you’d done with your makeup that night. your face looked dewy and shimmery, your lipgloss was glittery.

“what are you drinking?” he mumbled next to your ear, already sick of everybody else.

you hadn’t given it much thought yet. “um. maybe a lychee martini? i don’t know.”

the rest of the division were already engrossed in their own conversations. despite the numb chatter, it felt like the two of you were alone. you wouldn’t mind drinking alone with him, you thought, watching his thoughtful eyes.

“okay.” he nodded, and raised his hand to call a waiter over.

“i don’t know. i just want something sweet i think. decide for me?” you suggested, drawing circles on the menu infront of you with your painted nails.

to be honest, you hadn’t come along to drink, you had come to spend time with aki. he sat beside you, blasé, with his arm slung over the back of your chair, cool as ever. the air around him was confident, and heavy with the scent of his cologne, making it difficult for you to focus on anything else.

“you really think that’s a good idea? me deciding for you?” aki chuckled, “i���ll get you a lychee martini. that sounds sweet enough.”

you’d forgotten how quickly one drink could turn into five, soon enough you were slurring your words.

aki was always careful not to drink too much, incase you needed his help, and paced himself. also, he didn’t want to forget the time you’d spent together.

you laughed inbetween hiccups at a joke he’d made. he chuckled at you endearlingly, and steadied your hand as your 6th lychee martini sloshed around and threatened to spill over his lap.

“guys! guys!” you shouted, commanding the attention of your division. “did you know…that mister hayakawa here…” hiccup. “has never…ever…had a girlfriend!” hiccup.

the table errupted with giggles and aki scowled at you. “hillarious. now shut up.” he scolded, and teasingly confiscated your glass, dragging it over to his side of the table. he held the neck of the glass between his two fingers.

aki only bothered telling you that because you’d been prying. earlier that night, you’d asked him why he never brought any dates along, which is when he revealled that he’d never dated before - ever. he never had enough time, he lied, knowing all too well that he was simply holding out for the right person. aki would never admit it, but he believed in soulmates.

it wasn’t completely untrue that he struggled for time, his days would begin at 5am and finish at 10pm, sometimes later, 7 days a week.

he wouldn’t have time for a girlfriend, let alone dates and sex, these would always be things of little consequence to aki, unless it was you. he might’ve been able to find the time to spoil you, and take you to fancy restaurants. he’d move mountains for you, if you asked.

“hmph fuck you.” you whined, licking your lips and coating them with saliva.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not quite recalling your superior’s name, you were too tipsy for that. you reached for your glass and he dragged it away from grasp again, smirking at your deplorable attempt at a rebuttal.

“fuck me?” he lowered his voice and narrowed his darkening eyes at you. you narrowed your eyes back at him, and leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. you watched him for a while and he watched you in return, pulse rising.

your eyes were drunk, pupils blown, mascara starting to smudge. aki thought about your dishevelled beauty, and how much he would’ve liked to taste your lips in that moment. his eyes feasted on you whilst, in his head, he mapped out routes to your soul.

truthfully, for as long as he could remember, aki saw you as his.

“aki?” you whispered softly, interrupting his racing train of thought.

“yeah?” aki’s heart started thumping. you watched his adam’s apple rise nervously in throat, albeit your eyesight was blurry.

“you’re staring at me.”

“am i?” he asked, bluntly.

aki cleared his throat.

—

12:09am.

through thick cigarette smoke, you blurted out “can i stay at yours tonight?” followed by, “shit…sorry, i shouldn’t that said that.”

why were you asking him that all of a sudden? were you tired? did you want something? did you mean platonically, or in the same bed? you were drunk, clearly, and didn’t know what you were saying, but he could hardly say no.

after it had taken aki more than 30 seconds to culminate a response, you slumped back against the railings with a defeated sigh. it was worth a shot, right?

“you don’t even need to bother asking to be honest, y/n.” he stated simply, staring up the sky.

you quickly perked up, leaning in for a smoke. aki’s pulse started racing again, he could smell the alcohol on your breath as you parted your lips for a tug on his cigarette.

“gimmie.”

your legs were wobbly and he instinctively opened his arms to catch you, but you managed to stay upright without them. his pale hands continued to hover over your waist as you hung onto the collar of his shirt. you were too cold and tired to give a damn, meanwhile the proximity of aki’s body kept you warm. you’d been close, even accidentally brushed hands before, but never this close. your heart fluttered, you could feel his muscly legs become entangled with your own.

“but you hate it when i smoke.” he mumbled, glancing down his nose at you.

“well i’ve changed my mind.” you retorted. you were being a brat.

with the little energy aki had left, he rolled his eyes at you, exhaling a cloud of smoke in your face. “no. let’s go home, get you some water.” he summarised, putting his cigarette out on the railings behind you. “if you smoke, you’ll regret it when you’re sober.”

you nodded and took aki’s arm without a second thought, trying not to stumble and disgrace yourself.

the walk home was giddy. you should have felt cold because you weren’t wearing a coat, but the alcohol kept you comfortably numb. you recognised aki’s subdued apartment, scarcely lit by street lamps, and groaned in utter relief as you approached the entrance. he supported you up the stairs, through the hallway, stopping patiently with you every time you needed to collect yourself.

“you okay?” he whispered, your noses practically touching. you could only manage a nod as the world outside aki’s apartment door spun crazily.

once you were inside, aki got down on one knee to relieve you from the tight heels you’d been wearing all night. once he’d losenend the straps, you kicked them off and they landed halfway across his kitchen. thud.

your concious thoughts began to drunkenly blur into one and you were fighting the urge to throw up.

aki needed to process what was happening so he let his hair down and dragged a hand through it to get rid of any knots. you were in his apartment, and you were going to be there when he woke up as well. he was stressed, you could tell, despite not being able to form a coherent stream of thought otherwise. you could see the tension in his brow and tight jaw.

he got up and flicked the kettle on to boil, his footsteps padding against the cold floor as he shuffled around in the dark, already making up the couch for you. making you comfortable was his priority, his hot drink would come second.

the only light in the apartment came from his bathroom door that was ajar, you realised he must’ve forgotten to turn the light out before leaving, which you found strange because he was usually meticulous. little did you know, he’d been too busy preening himself earlier in the evening.

you were still stood in the doorway, using the walls either side of you to stop yourself from falling face-first into the rug, growing increasingly impatient.

“aki. water…” you groaned, swallowing a burp that might’ve turned into something else.

“just be patient. maybe don’t get yourself so drunk next time.” he snapped.

“couldn’t help it.” you groaned again, ever louder this time, the left strap of your dress beginning to slip off your shoulder, revealling even more of your delicate skin.

aki stormed over with a glass of water and held it against your mouth. “you definitely could.” then pulled the strap of your dress back over your shoulder. he stared at you exhaustedly, compelling you to take a sip of the water infront of you.

“no…would’ve been too nervous otherwise...” you admitted, taking small sips.

you felt suddenly small, cowering between aki’s chest and the closed door behind you. you were almost half the size of him. this wasn’t supposed to feel so intimate, but it did. a blush crept up your chest, colouring in your cleavage, and your cheeks. with the little reserve aki had left, he fought the urge to stare down at your pretty tits.

you were so pretty. all night you’d been so silly and clumsy, it made his heart swell. aki gulped, the way your eyes glowed up at him from beneath your fluffy lashes made him feel hot and throb between his legs.

aki’d had sexual thoughts about you before, in fact, he often thought about you in the middle of the night, with his hard, dribbling dick in his hand, but the thoughts he had were purely the work of his lucid imagination. he could really see you now.

“nervous?” he breathed.

yes, nervous. you nearly shit yourself when you received aki’s text that morning, inviting you to meet at his apartment. it was a bold move, even for him. you were used to spending all of your time together at work, lunch was no exception, but this? it felt different, maybe even slightly unprofessional.

you quickly broke the heavy gaze between you and your superior, brushing past him and making a beeline for the couch.

aki was suddenly able to breathe again and he followed you, placing the glass of water on a coaster next to you.

“i’m going to get changed. please try not to puke anywhere.”

as he turned to leave for his room, you grabbed his wrist. aki’s heavy breathing resumed. he paused and thought seriously about his choices, and what he wanted, about how pretty you looked sat on the couch beneath him, and how badly he wanted to ruin you.

every fibre of his tortured being wanted to tear that sheer dress off your body and make you wet, but you were drunk, and that would be questionable.

“y/n. you’re drunk. stop it.” he shut you down, shrugging your hand off, and left you sat on his couch in a pool of shame.

this was for your own good, aki convinced himself, ignoring all of the horrible feelings that started to bubble within him. it physically pained him to shut the door on you and leave you alone in his dingy kitchen.

that night, you lay a healthy distance from aki’s bedroom, tucked beneath a spare duvet of his. the duvet, and his pillows, smelled familiar, a scent you had learned to recognise with your eyes closed. you had learned to detect him at work, using only your nose. a blue light, you assumed from his lamp, glowed from underneath his bedroom door. all night it gnawed on your mind how inviting that light seemed, and how nauseating it felt that aki didn’t fucking want you.

everything felt hopeless. all that hard work, all those months of winning his trust, and thinking you might have had him wrapped around your finger, had amounted to nothing. you knew aki was complicated, but you thought it would’ve been easier than that.

aki frowned on the other side of the door, pulling his pillow frustratedly over his ears. you cried quietly, muffling staggered breaths with his spare duvet.

“i’m a terrible person.” he thought aloud. it wasn’t a revelation, he already knew that he was a jerk and, despite having your best interests at heart, had managed to ruin you. he could have laughed at how ironic it sounded.

this would go down in history as, potentially, one of the worst days in aki’s adult life.

—

10:34am.

aki opened his bedroom door, doubtful that you would still be there, and scanned the room for signs of your presence. just as he’d expected, you’d already left, and his apartment was empty, not even the scent of you remained.

he squinted, the morning light crept in from the balcony and stung his eyes. you had folded up the spare duvet on his couch imperfectly before leaving, and the glass of water was still half empty.

aki didn’t regret the choices he made last night, he was protecting you if anything. he checked his phone for a shitty message from you, but there was nothing, and that was somehow worse. he chewed the inside of his cheek uncertainly, remembering how sweet you’d been, tugging him in between your legs, and inviting him into your heart with an alluring smile.

he felt the sudden urge to vomit and ran to the toilet, slamming his hand into the wall for support as he let it all out. he hadn’t had that much to drink the night before, so it must have been something else upsetting his stomach. maybe guilt was symptomatic, he thought. he’d never felt like this before.

aki continued to check his phone all morning, the anxiety beginning to cannibalise him. he guessed you’d deleted his number already, and that work was going to be extremely awkward on monday.

you’d gathered your belongings at 7am, and left in a futile attempt to get some sleep in your own bed, but it hadn’t worked. you eventually gave up, and decided to ride the day out with coffee.

you were so busy feeling sorry for yourself, that you hadn’t stopped to consider aki’s reasons for turning you down.

nevermind that, things wouldn’t have worked out anyway. this is what you told yourself. firstly, aki was a busy man, he never would’ve been able to make time for you outside of work. secondly, aki had never dated before, and his inexperience was a slight deterrent. thirdly, aki was complicated, he had a plethora of unresolved traumas, you figured it would be healthier not to bare the weight of those on top of your own.

despite telling yourself this, it didn’t make things any easier, save for potentially fucking someone else.

—

monday.

aki actively avoided you on the way into work on monday morning and, for the first time, showed up late. you felt his cold presence as he walked into the office. aki sunk his feelings that morning with a coffee and a cigarette before work, and you were determined to continue compartmentalizing yours, just as you’d always done.

you’d hoped to be subtle but everyone at work could feel the change and the increasing tension, especially on thursday when aki allowed his seamless character to break after denji kept goading him with insensitive questions.

“just shut the fuck up.” aki spurned, almost spat, scrunching up the ends of his papers, before storming out of the room. your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach and fell into irretrievable pieces.

after watching aki disappear for a smoke, your eyes settled on the paper infront of you. you held next week’s schedule in your trembling hands.

“what the hell was that about.” denji snorted.

“not sure.” you dismissed quietly, noticing that aki would no longer be your patrol partner. you had been pencilled in to patrol with denji instead. you looked down so that no one would notice the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

you were no longer in the picture, you realised. you lied to yourself every day after that, persuading your heart that it was possible to co-exist as strangers.

denji’s eyes softened when he noticed your unsteady hands.

“y/n, don’t stress it. you know i won’t let us get killed.” denji leaned forward, in an attempt to intercept your thoughts, as if that was your only concern - you wished that was your only concern.

“i’ll bare that in mind.” you laughed, without smiling, and stood up to take your break.

you would have died for a coffee, if it came to it, because you hadn’t slept all week. you missed your friend and you were sad, although it was favourable that your favourite café was so busy that morning. your lonely thoughts would become distrupted by the crowd’s chatter and for a brief amount of time, you would find yourself distracted by the smell of coffee and cake.

you wondered lifelessly through the door, recalling all the times aki had stopped you from falling off the kerb along the way, offered to take your heavy bag or stomped his cigarettes out on the pavement outside.

you wouldn’t normally give the barista your order, because she’d conveniently memorized it, but that morning you could have cried.

you’d unconciously paid for two coffees instead of one, and realised when it was too late, as she handed you an iced vanilla latté and an americano: black, with no sugar.

“thank you.” you croaked weakly and carried the drinks back to the office, hoping that you and aki wouldn’t cross paths - indefinitely.

—

saturday.

the best way to alleviate your pain would be by drinking, you thought. in hindsight, it wasn’t the worst idea. you made yourself look effortlessly sexy, it genuinely didn’t take much.

you glanced one final time in the mirror before leaving your apartment. tonight you would let yourself become unravelled and forget the past week. you would saturate your feelings with alcohol and find a stranger to spend the night with. you hoped to project all of your anger onto that stranger, so the week that ensued wouldn’t hurt so much.

everything was alright to begin with; the club you’d chosen was the perfect combination of cosy and tireless. the dj played songs behind a tacky smoke machine, silencing the hum of adolescent voices, underaged teenagers and over-aged mothers.

you threw back a shot of sour apple vodka, hissing. you felt ridiculous drinking alone, hopefully one of the dilfs in the bar would find you mysterious and agree to take you home, fuck you, if you were lucky.

you circled the rim of another shotglass, fingers glistening with diamond rings, when you felt a hand on your arm.

“what are you doin’ drinking here alone, sweetness?” a hot voice rasped against your neck, “need some company?”

“sure.” you welcomed the stranger’s company, patting the bar stool beside you without looking at him first.

you inferred that he was much older than you, and probably came from a difficult line of work. based on the calloused pair of hands that lay on the bar beside you, it was probably something physical, and demanding, which is why he sounded so tired and in desperate need of a drink. the arm in your peripheral was thick and muscular, not something you were used to, particularly the force of it curling around your delicate waist. you gasped softly.

“the name’s toji, by the way. fushiguro.” you didn’t care for introductions, and nodded, skulling another shot before ordering two more: one for you and one for your new friend.

he could sense that you weren’t willing to co-operate, not easily at least, and smirked. toji didn’t mind, he was used to girls that played hard-to-get, they were all just as sad and easy in the end.

“i reckon that it’ll only take two more of those things,” he gestured to your shot glass, “to get you talking.”

“bet.” you sighed, your head already beginning to feel fuzzy.

you didn’t trust your new friend, you didn’t trust anyone, but especially not him. no one felt like home apart from aki.

aki.

your heart did ‘the sinking thing’ again, and left a sour taste behind in your mouth, causing you to inadvertently frown at your drink.

“somethin’ bothering you?” toji questioned, downing a shot of his own, before ordering something stronger. he struck you as the type to drink heavily and wake up with no regrets because he was certainly big enough to handle it.

“yeah. a friend. ex-friend actually.” you replied. toji’s eyes raked down your body whilst you spoke to the tumbler in your hand.

“ah, there we go. so she does have a tongue in her head.” he teased in a ragged voice, which lead you to face him. you confirmed your suspicions by inspecting his face; he was indeed older, with a scar on the corner of his smirking mouth. he was the type you would happily fuck, but not trust.

to say that you had low expectations was an understatement, you didn’t have any at all. men like this were unpredictable, you would need to switch your emotions off if things were going to work according to plan.

“did he toy with your heart or somethin’?” he asked.

“not even. i was just - nevermind.” you shrugged.

“what did you do?” toji continued intuitively, swirling the drink around in his glass.

“stupidly thought my feelings were reciprocated.” you laughed bitterly. you had intended to forget about him, to dance the night away, but your feelings for aki were inescapable.

“god, all you females are the same.”

you were under the impression that your plan was failing already. every time you looked at toji, you were expecting to see aki smiling back at you, haunted by the nostalgia of drinking together last weekend. you sighed angrily, slamming your glass down on the bar next to you. “excuse me.”

you stumbled quickly to the bathroom, not realising how drunk you were until you stood up and tried walking. you pushed impatiently through the crowd, muttering expletives to yourself.

you locked yourself in a bathroom stall and sat on the toilet. you didn’t need to use the bathroom, you just needed space to breathe.

normally you’d be sending aki memes at this hour, or complaining about having to go into work on monday via text, too shy to ever call him. it was routine that aki would deprive himself of sleep just to talk to you, and hear about your day, now he had to wait for any sign of life from his phone.

you pulled your phone out of pocket and stared longingly at it, at the wallpaper of you and aki. he wasn’t smiling because you’d unexpectedly shoved the camera in his face for a selfie on your first day as partners. you leaned against the wall beside you. you wouldn’t need to dial his number…you had him saved in your phone…

fuck it.

aki rolled over with wide eyes as his phone buzzed on the table. he already knew it was you calling because he didn’t have a social life. he’d never answered the phone so quickly before in his life, he hadn’t even had time to rehearse an apology.

“i-“ he started.

“shurrup.” you slurred in a small voice. hearing him breathe was enough, you’d still be satisfied if he hung up after that.

“y/n. what the fuck. are you drunk?” he snapped down the phone. he wasn’t mad at you, he was just concerned, and had a terrible way of showing it.

“maybe…” you nearly giggled, your phone sticking to the makeup on your face.

“i’m coming to pick you up.” aki stated, already reaching for his trench coat. “fun’s over.”

“no you’re not.” you testified, shouting so that you could nearly be heard over the music in the bar.

aki bit his cheek. you were being difficult on purpose, but to his relief he could tell you weren’t nearly as drunk as last weekend. “tell me where you are.”

“rudi’s.” you blurted, hanging up the phone immediately. “shit.”

“stupid girl.” he laughed shortly, getting into his car.

rudi’s was a bar in the heart of the city. aki tapped his foot impatiently at every set of traffic lights, clicking his tongue. he dared to think what you might be up to, or what you’d already done in the 20 minutes it took him to get to you. he sought you desperately in the crowd, swearing under his breath at every person that stood in his way.

it relieved him to eventually find you at the bar intact. he grabbed you by the wrist, spinning you into his chest.

“home time.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no?”

“shut up.”

aki’s hand cupped the back of your nape and brought you in close. you searched his eyes for answers, to try and understand why things had happened this way, but you couldn’t find them, you couldn’t bypass the guilt in them.

you gulped, feeling toji’s eyes on you, boring a hole into the back of your head, as your hands rested upon aki’s collarbone. he looked dog-tired.

all you could come up with was, “don’t tell me to shut up.”

aki could have cracked a smile, but decided against it and leaned down into your neck, whispering, “care to explain why the guy behind you is staring at us?”

“just get us out of here, will you.” you mumbled, fiddling nervously with the buttons on his long jacket.

aki didn’t waste any time escorting you outside; dragging you away from your new friend and your abandonned drink. he threw you into the passenger seat of his car, and slammed the door shut behind him as he slid in next to you.

“you have some serious explaining to do, y/n.”

“likewise.” you replied. aki observed your broken eyes.

“i can’t explain it.” he started, squeezing the steering wheel infront of him. “i guess i didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“think badly of you?” you asked, suddenly confused.

“for taking advantage of you.”

“oh.”

you watched the man infront of you, mesmerised, your mouth forming the shape of a surprised ‘o’. he chuckled at your reaction. you’d missed that warm sound, it made you feel so giddy. you tried pulling your eyes away from him, but you weren’t able to resist his jaded looks.

“aki?”

“hm?” he hummed, and met your gaze with a matched intensity.

you licked your lips, wetting them, preparing for a kiss. aki glanced down at them.

in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he asked, “want me to kiss you, y/n?” and held you gently by the chin. he coaxed you in, contemplating your lips with his cold eyes.

he knew exactly what you wanted and the way you wanted it. he’d listened to you when you told him what you were looking for in a lover, during a work night out. you wanted a dominant man, a boyfriend like a dad, someone to make you weak.

“i’d do anything for you to forigve me.”

aki caved and sighed before kissing your open mouth. your heart erupted, and you let him blindly guide your hands around his neck. this would remain a well-kept secret between colleagues.

he slowly kissed you, swallowing your pretty moans, and licked your tongue each time before pulling back, only to lean back in and repeatedly do the same. he consoled you with his warm tongue, simultaneously exploring your waist with his hands and brazenly reaching up to squeeze your tits.

you kissed him back sloppily, noisily, moaning underneath big hands. the butterflies he gave you were so intense that you felt sick. you felt his hungry eyes all over your body, scalding you - you were on fire.

“is this what you wanted?” he purred against your ear, before dragging his mouth over your neck and smothering it some more with hot kisses. you whined.

“well?” aki teased in a soft voice, kneading your big tits, watching them bounce around in your dress. he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, and get on top of you, in all the animalistic ways he’d imagined, meanwhile he watched your nipples harden underneath your dress.

he repeatedly silenced you by pecking your mouth, muffling your voice each time you tried to answer his question.

you whined, squeezing your thighs together. it was overwhelming - he was overwhelming.

“aki…” you began, pushing him back using the little strength you had left, so that he was at arm’s length.

“i’m sorry about last weekend.” he admitted quickly, tucking a lose strand of hair back behind your ear. his lips were red and swollen.

“it’s okay. i’m just confused. i thought i’d misread things, but now you’re saying you wanted this after all?”

he removed his hands from your chest, and studied your changing expression, predicting that you would soon start blushing. he loved it when you blushed in front of him, proudly showcasing your vulnerability.

“yes.” he said plainly, panting, still catching his breath.

“i’ve always wanted this.”

© kinninggojo 2024 / reblogs welcome !!

[shoyostar]

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── 𝓦𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝓘𝐍 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝓜𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

𝒞𝒽 : welcome, here are some of the events the club is planning. we hope to see you when they commence.

〔 𝓟𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 ﹒ 𝓟𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 〕

last updated. 19.06.24.

a little peak into a few of the drafts i have and am working on ‹𝟹 you can ask questions about them but please be polite about it !!

𝓘𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓. i am free to stop working on, cancel, or change any of the drafts i have posted here.

these are not all my drafts, just ones i am currently focused on / have been working on for some time. i work on multiple wips at a time.

these are MY original works, they are not up for grabs.

✰ ┊ 𝓗𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔!!

WE HAVE A WINNER! ┊ brazil!shoyo. [ nsfw.┊cwc : 7.3k ]

premise. amidst the stretching sea of rigged boardwalk games that line the tourist attractions of brazil's brazen beach shorelines, you manage to land yourself a jackpot.

content. boardwalk gamebooth employee + lifeguard!shoyo / f!reader. fluff. smut. mild angst. brazil arc but shoyo isn't a food delivery boy. manga timeskip spoilers. reader lwk has not so great friends (?). holiday romance. reader wears dresses and bikinis. dubcon (alcohol, tipsy but not drunk). soft dom!shoyo. unprotected sex. oral (f! recieving). creampie. overstimulation.

estimated word count: 15k+

PLAY FOR KEEPS (AND I DON’T LOSE) ┊ tobio kageyama. [ nsfw.┊cwc : 3.4k ]

premise. left heartbroken and wayward after a bitter breakup, a close family friend invites you to italy for a much needed vacation— and to meet her husband’s old volleyball teammate who now plays in the italian professional division.

content. tobio kageyama / f!reader. smut. mild angst. manga timeskip spoilers. holiday romance. age gap (26 and 34). switch/dom leaning!reader. sub leaning!tobio. dubcon (alcohol + drunk sex). mentions of anxiety, self conciousness and breakups. mutual masturbation. oral (f + m receiving). tobio has an affinity for white lace.

estimated word count: 15k+

DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND (03) ┊ fiancé!JNT. [ sfw.┊cwc : 1.5k ]

premise. due to popular demand, the nhk has organized another live special with the monster generation’s fiancées! tune in for this segment of would you rather + a surprise game with our special sponsor! ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (motoya komori, kourai hoshiumi, aran ojiro & kenma kozume). fluff. downbad fiancés. suggestive jokes & allusions to sex. petnames.

estimated word count: 8-10k.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ┊ 𝓖𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝓘𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓

‘TIL THE SUN SETS (AND RISES AGAIN) ┊ renaissance!albedo. [ sfw.┊cwc : 4.9k ]

premise. his hands grow more frail with each day, the strokes he paints becoming sloppy and uneven. but he'll paint despite the pain. until his last breath— 'til the sun sets.

content. renaissance painter!albedo / f!reader. fluff + angst. historical au. strangers to lovers. established relationship (married couple). character death. chronically ill!albedo. not entirely historically accurate. mentions of blood / bloodletting. for @/kentopedia’s love through the ages collab

estimated word count: 8-10k.

🃁 ┊ 𝓟𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝟓

TBA . . .

⌕ ┊ 𝓣𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒

TBA . . .

2024 © property of SHOYOSTAR. all rights reserved. do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize my works. no translations.

[whumpberry-cookie]

HI!! CAN WE HAVE SOME SUGAR RELATED PROMPTS!! LIKE CANDY? THANK U!!

-🍭🍬

Sure, thank you for the ask, anon! I'll try my best! :D

Sugar related prompts

(Cw: creepy whumper, whumper experiencing guilt, trauma aftermath, torture mentioned)

--------------------------

Whumpee used to to work beyond their strenght in their master's home. Cook, clean, do the dishes, dust, vacuum and other stuff. They never get any day off, even after intensive beating. So after they escaped and got taken in by Caretaker, they just couldn't accept the system of division of responsibilities. So Caretaker gives them a lollipop as an award everytime they step back and let Caretaker do some chores. It helps.

Caretaker is obsessed with one type of sweets and it makes 1/3 of their personality. Like honey, but only the heather one. Whumpee who is usually confused with human interactions is very glad with the information that giving Caretaker the heather honey never fails to make them delighted. It's safe and predictable.

Whumpee was never attached to anyone. But that kind, gentle stranger? Oh, how that stranger makes their little confused heart tremble. And that sweet, subtle and calming scent that follows Caretaker everywhere: (1) Cigarettes and coffee liquier (2) Soap and powder candies (3) Grass and lemon tea (4) cologne and peaches (5) Old books and caramell (6) Campfire smoke and hot chocoate (7) Leather and cherry syrup

Whumper actually feels guilt, so before every torture session they give their starved Whumpee a handful of candy. Whumpee can't help but tear up, eating the actual food that tastes good. That's the way Whumper satisfies his own conciousness. Some years later, when Caretaker gives Whumpee a box of candy bars, jellies, lollipops and candies for their birthday, Whumpee takes it as a message "I will hurt you soon". And the whole trust they worked so hard on falls apart in one moment.

Creepy whumper + magical whumpee (fairy-like) whose skin tastes like strawberries with sugar?

Caretaker is mute (or there's language barier) so they express kindness by preparing an afternoon sweet snack. The thing is... They can't bake. So it's always very simple. An unpeeled orange. Undermixed Cogel Mogel. Burnt microvawed cupcake in mug. Whumpee finds it hilarious, but tries to not show it and eats every meal with a smile.

---------------------

Thank you for the ask, candy anon (or lollipop anon?) Have a sweet day!

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I feel like there was a bit of a missed opportunity for Takemichi to go through an arc of his own in a man vs self kind of thing. Let me explain:

I don't remember who unfortunately, but I saw a post somewhere that talked about how future takemichi and past takemichi were two different people even if they technically were the same person. This is evident by some observations Hina made, such as how he seemed more mature and how he treated her coldly at one point, as well as some other characters being aware of the difference between past and future takemichi because they knew about his ability (chifuyu saying things like "oh, you traveled back?") and not to mention the fact that past takemichi was about to cheat on Hina with Emma before takemichi time traveled back. And that's another thing: when he time travels back to the past, he finds himself in situations that are unknown to him and he has to figure out what's going on before fulfilling whatever mission Naoto gave him. He's in these situations because of his past self and what he's doing while takemichi is back in his original time. When he travels to the past, his body in the present becomes what we could call a husk since he's asleep. But when he travels to the present (technically the future) the life of his past self goes on, doing his own thing with the new situation and timeline that takemichi made happen thanks to him changing the past.

On to my main point: takemichi's consciousness is what travels through time, along with his memories, feelings, knowledge and character development. When takemichi goes through character development, he takes it with him no matter which body he's in. But the same can't be said for his past self. Like l said earlier, past takemichi is a separate thing, and he doesn't have the same memories or knowledge that present takemichi has. Past takemichi remains constant and doesn't go through the same character development as present takemichi because they have separate conciousness. So, thanks to the fact that they're two different people but also the same person, it would've been interesting if there was a point where present takemichi had to battle with the decisions and consciousness of his past self, having to undo certain things or try to predict what he'll do since it could change the future. I'm not sure how wakui would execute that whole thing, but it would be interesting to see. Plus, I feel like it would really solidify takemichi's character as a whole: the hero who wants to save everyone, but to do so he has to save them from himself.

Oh you're right that would've been pretty cool to see! Like you said though no idea how Wakui would've done that (it's kinda funny to imagine future Takemichi having post it note wars with his past self, like leaving basic instructions for himself before he leaps like "don't cheat on Hina!!!!!!!!".

That being said though i do think past Takemichi went through some chatacter development too. We definitely can't say for sure because we never get his pov and we have no idea what his past self was thinking the whole time. But since past Takemichi was still hanging around Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu etc, was still in toman and even leading a division while future Takemichi was busy in the future i think it's safe to say he probably changed at least a little bit. Past Takemichi is still a hero too or has that desire to be a hero, both Takemichi's have the same core ideals anyway it's just the future one is the one to experience everything first hand which solidifies his motives and personality more.

[unohanadaydreams]

Notes: I was going to do the entire Captain & Lieutenant roster for this one, but then I decided I didn't want to! So that's why I progressively start skipping entire divisions. There are just a lot of well adjusted 'no's that I didn't think were worth including. I was sniffing out those 'yes's.

This hasn’t been edited in the slightest. Just stream of conciousness, which I think is probably obvious from the premise alone <3 

Would They Murder You For Voting Them Off A Baking Competition:

Genryusai Yamamoto:

No. But he would--"respectfully"--push back in front of national television and God. He's so used to being of upmost authority that he doesn't respond well to being at another's whims. You can try to politely interupt his monologue on why the delicate flavors of the past are under-appreciated by you specifically, but he will not budge until he has finished. The entire crew can only watch and nervously hover around him. His lieutenant tries to walk off the show with him in a show of loyalty.

Chojiro Sasakibe:

No. He would approach the end with a stiff upper lip and tranquil acceptance. It's almost as though he's really walking off to that great goodbye. You're crying as he thanks you for everything and promises to perfect those vital mistakes that brought his downfall. A few months later you recieve a sprawling email with a video attached, detailing a flawless execution. Unfortunately, he is required to also attach a 40 page document from his Captain.

Soi Fon:

No, but only because she will be back next season. And the next. Until she wins. It's not technically allowed, but her lieutenant has the money to pull strings. The cut-throat, flashy competition is something she consistently derides, but why else would she once again be standing in front of you with a terse smile before she walks off to the confessional hallway to talk some evasive shit.

Marechiyo Omaeda:

No. Instead, he comes back next season after bribing the network executives, the producers, and all of your fellow judges. Nothing will cover insecurity and lack of ability more than flush stacks of cash. He has the finesse to pull it off without you knowing until you're invited to his victory party after the next season.

Gin Ichimaru:

Yes. Not only is he the first to be eliminated but he does so awful that it has to be purposeful. He does is right then and there. After initially threatening to, brandishing his sword, and then convincing everyone it was a joke made in poor taste. Everyone and yourself nervously look to one other as he feigns walking away. Then you're dead! They do not cancel the show, but continue "in your honor".

Izuru Kira:

No. The farthest he goes is throwing a parting snark toward the competion he doesn't believe should've advanced beyond him. He leaves you with an air of satisfaction and professionalism that impress you. An enviroment away from his captain and the pressing demands of war brought a long lost vigor. He goes from serving food with an immediate apology to serving cunt!

Retsu Unohana:

No. Her send off is filled with false graciousness. You can feel her rage at having been eliminited the episode before the finale. Especially since she was flagged for overpowering flavors, something she prefers. However, when you DO die, there seems to be a powerful hand guiding you down the path of a shinigami and further, into the 4th division...Surely no revenge will be wrought.

Sosuke Aizen:

Yes. You didn't even vote him off. He's literally won. But he kills you anyway, for constantly nit-picking his food like you were hired to do. You tragically slip and break your neck on your way to congratulate him. Your fellow judges follow in a string of tragic coincidental accidents as the weeks go by.

Byakuya Kuchiki:

Yes. But only because you trample on his pride and by technicality, he must challenge you to a duel to protect the Kuchiki name. You're convinced it's a joke for the cameras and die so, so pathetically, weilding a sharpened carrot. He's beautiful and refined so the public gives him a lot of slack for killing you.

Renji Abarai:

No. He was a surprisingly competant competitor but he understands his limits were bringing him here eventually. He actually gives you his bandana and a big hug that lifts you off the ground. His captain, who has bribed his way back stage, is off to the side giving absolutely nothing which is threat enough.

Sajin Komamura:

Not physically, but emotionally and socially. For some reason, he decided to compete in his dog gigai. The show has prolific views. Scientists are frothing at the mouth to study him. The masses can not and will not get enough of him. He's only gone so far in the competiton because the producers have had a metaphorical gun to your head. You watch his ears pin back and start to choke up, knowing you are never going to be forgiven for this. He whines as you begin to cry and insists on a hug.

Yachiru Kusajishi:

Yes. She throws an absolute fit and tries to treat you like she does all her other underlings who don't play along with what she wants. Too bad you're extremely human and her little fist caves your skull in on impact. Everyone is too stunned to stop her. Her captain pries her off by the scruff of her uniform and says 'what'd you expect? Can't even boil water' before stamping your forehead with the hilt of his sword.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi:

Yes. He's trapped you in a never-ending cooking competition that proliferates in your mind, seamlessly transitioning into another as you fall limp to the floor, your mind forever lost while your body lives on. No matter your efforts, you always lose at the finale. Mayuri is your mind-judge. He is monologuing what he's done as everyone watches with disbelief.

Nemu Kurotsuchi:

No. You're much more valuable to her alive. Uncaring of the show happening around her, she bodily holds you to the floor and begins prying your mouth open so she can get to your taste buds. She begins scraping some off for testing right then and there, insisting that she had formulated her plate to your exact liking, but obviously she will need re-calculate.

Jushiro Ukitake:

No, but you wish he had. You have to vote him off on a technicalilty. There's blood in his food. You can't eat it, so you can't judge it, so he can't go further. He leaves with such effortless humor and charm that you have a break down as soon as he's walked off.

[methed-up-marxist]

i think that the early universe would've struggled to flourish its understanding of existence because that's what I would've done in that situation and I think the division of conciousness is a reasonable way to go about that so my reason leads me to believe I cannot disprove that as a possibility since it would give rise to the current situation at hand whilst still leaving me with no possible way to know it. and it just feels right yknow

[blrowanducks-blog]

Citrinitas - Eight bowls of water

This is a meditative progression, from nonreality to nonreality so from the initial recognition of an nonexistent center of conciousness there arises the eight windows that appreciate reality.

Besides the five senses there is the (( 6th )) sense; the integration of input to make a Seal on the Mind as an Impressiom. Sealed at the time of apprehension, by our previous experience (Now we see the world in white or black - desirable or aversive - and this becomes our marching orders. The White/Yellow hat is sometimes worn to signify a purify liquid stamped on this impression, which can grow as a trifoil from the nonexistant center, into the divisions of that purity as colors in the web of conciousness. Blue is the wisdom of blissful mental states, truely, only accomplished by thoughts of compassion. Infused now by Red flowing into the field of time as these thoughts create reality, this is the BLOOD, fertilizing the Garden. A mind that realizes the conciousness of the Sun as Salt, so that sprinkling causes Sunflares, alchemically speaking. A mind can separate the yellow and red so there is separation of the three worlds, so for now this my image of Tara, Isis, Mary, as She appears as our Mother and Queen. This is the living experience that transforms all eight senses including the the All ground conciousness the Eighth (ālayavijñāna), which ties the Urobouric knot. Now the 7th sense is where this mediation arises - this is what Jung called the world of the Angels or Demons, the active imagination, the place where the dieties are experienced, either as a singularity or as a complete retinue which can expand to include each sentience in the universe, at this subtle level it becomes a continuum. At the Buddhist alter these eight are placed as part of the Mahamudra pointing to fusing the three into one and placing them in the mental panorama as a Trinity.

[currymanganese]

Prev I think there's that sharp of a disparity in general audience and critical opinions because the season did in fact feel

like a weird arthouse film to a certain extent because they may have borrowed heavily aesthetically and thematically from a weird arthouse film, an experimental/autobiographical psychological drama from the mind of Andrei Tarkovsky:

Much like the movie, this season is stunning visually and dream-like / stream of conciousness, but the movie was divisive upon initial release and has been re-evaluated as a masterpiece in later years / in its native Russia. Idk if this season will get a similar re-evaluation and universal acclaim unless season four delivers on what they've set up so far though 😭

"Bold strategy cotton, let's see if it pays off!"

[nonbinannytranny]

i love this picture because if you look closely at my eyes you can see that i’ve had enough mushrooms to see god themself

[autoacafiles]

[manifestmerlin]

AHHHHHHH PART 6 of @jackplushie's automation au ideas!

IGNIHYDE IGNIHYDE IGNIHYDE I CAN FINALLY RELEASE THE LOREEEE I hope y'all like this. Surprisingly there's... only one actual spoiler for chapter 6? And it's sorta something that's like... you were probably already maybe guessing since meeting the ignihyde bois, and i tried to be unclear about it... but its also pretty foundational soooo not able to seperate it.

(Oh yeah and... like one group name which i just decided to throw in there so it's like... a half spoiler?)

EDIT: pssst if you liked this I made a sideblog for twst writing, @scertifiedsavanaclawstan! So go follow me over there!

Ignihyde

Ignihyde Industries is a company that primarily creates tech for... well industrial purposes. Although that's not to say that's all they do.

Idia Shroud, acting head of Ignihyde's Research division, specifically project STYX. An initiative he started to investigate the possible future of true artificial intelligence.

It was a... passion project, and even with all of Ignihyde's connections at his disposal, getting access to all the different androids was... challenging.

But eventually bots began flowing through his lab, free for him to tinker around with, a few curcuit connections here... a few bits of code there and he sends the androids back into the world.

He spends every hour of the day watching his test subjects remotely. Monitoring their vitals, their movements, their behaviors.

It's easy to spend every minute in front of his screens... he replaced his stomach a while ago, and he hasn't needed to sleep in years.

Not since...... Well since he decided to start becoming more machine than man.

But it was fine. He had a goal after all, and no one was going to- hang on what the fuc-

Project STYX didn't get any conclusive results on wether it's subjects even had a semblence of conciousness.

But then YOU showed up on his screen. You had picked up a bot displaying signs of sentience that wasn't even from his lab!

Idia became obsessed, spending most of his time (well compared to the other cases) monitoring you.

He became intimately familiar with your schedule, your habits, your tastes. He almost forgot what he was originally doing.

And THEN one of the bots that had gone through his lab ALSO showed up at your house.

And then another... and then more... eventually Idia was actually spending the majority of his time watching you.

And keeping an eye on the androids! . . . But mostly you. He had to.

Anything for a chance to see his brother again.

Ortho Shroud. First android created by Idia Shroud, first result of project STYX, and the first android to achieve true sentience.

Well, at least he would be if his brother acknowledged him. Everytime he tried to bring it up Idia would just frown and remark "that's what you're programmed to say" with dissapointment.

But he shouldn't be dissapointed! Because he did it! Ortho could really feel! Even when he was shut down!

His big brother was too distraught at his apparent failure to bring him back that he wasn't even bothering to monitor him... So he'd never realize that.

Ortho spent his days listlessly helping his brother... and then Idia started watching you.

Ortho was curious about the bot you'd picked up, the beginning of his brother's obsession. It looked like a standard cat-bot, the kind children would keep as pets.

But yours... talked... and glowed with an odd blue light, and you... didn't seem to mind?

This was the sort of thing where most people would immeadiately send the bot back to the manufacturer. Did you not even realize? Did you not care? . . . Did you prefer it this way?

Ortho's gears, literal and figurative were turning. His brother hadn't gotten much conclusive data on the other subjects... and he hadn't had an easy time considering they were all spread so far around...

Wouldn't it be better if he could keep track of them all in one place? And maybe... if his brother began to notice the traits of sentience in the other bots... maybe he'd notice them in Ortho too.

So now the younger Shroud also keeps his eyes on you. He keeps track of your buying habits, your budget, your scavenging grounds.

He puts the changed androids right in your line of sight when you're walking down main street, he hacks the stores to put them on discount when you walk in, he has them moved as close as he can to your scavenging range.

Of course, they aren't always that easy. Sometimes he had to get his hands... a little more dirty.

If the Viper bot needed his safety features shut down to execute his plan? He'd get thrown out with his charge, and Ortho could send them straight to you.

If the hunter's trackers got stuck to your cat? If Heartslabyl's new manager bot gets distracted by a friendly cat eared bot? If a slippery butler needs to lose sooner than he should've?

Well it's not like he's *ruining* all their lives or anything. After all to hear his brother complain about it, living with you is probably way better than whatever they were doing before. They should be thanking him really.

And you get a bunch of companions too! Things are going great for you, he's making sure of it.

So make sure not to put all his hard work to waste, okay?

[urlocallesbiab]

sometimes i feel my story nagging at the back of my mind, gnawing, clawing, breathing down my neck, demanding "i need to exist", "i want to exist"; its desire and will powerful and overwhelming.

when it will be written, it won't be the most beautiful or smart or sophisticated story ever, i know that even now, it may even come to be overall unremarkable; and yet towards it i feel sheer, unfiltered awe, simply for the fact that it is a story and posseses a will to exist, a great and awesome will, and i am the sole witness of it, the sole prophet and worshipper to this decisive power. a story, it feels to me, is a separate mode of being, something vaguely and imcomprehensibly conciousness-like, but abstract and untethered, while human conciousness is unseparable from the intimacy and realness of us being animals. a story needs us, our animal bodies and lives and minds, our hands and mouths and neurons, to help it become real, to take it and bring it onto earth: something halfway between a symbiotic relationship and a religious experience. i find myself subservient to it, to art as universal divinity and to my story as my personal deity that embodies the former.

this loyalty to sublime makes me feel more at peace and in tune with the mundane than anything ever before it. i realize, in a sudden grace of acceptance, that in order to serve my story, to write my god i need to be alive, a blessed animal, and to be alive i need to take care of myself, which means i have to do the dishes and find a job and various et cetera; everything shifts and makes perfect sense. i no longer feel confused or burdened as to "why should i bother", and my body moves lighter and easier.

but the thing about unwritten stories is that they don't yet exist in any physical sense, not as electronic signals or pigment on paper or air vibrations or projected light or anything else; my story in its full form resides only in my head, and thus my awe and loyalty and service towards it are directed, ultimatey, unto myself, in the most sefless and selfish fashion simultaneously — self-love through division and synthesis. to serve art is to love yourself, and to love yourself is to make sure you're alive; to want your story to exist is to want yourself to exist. it's a complex system, but beautiful. with that thought, i'll go finish the dishes, and maybe cook something.

[secretfandomrambles]

Actual Sun and Moon Spirits Zuko and Yue

1. Zuko is stillborn. When Ursa realizes this, she pleads with the spirits to return life to her son. The Sun Spirit hears her prayer and pours some of his own essence into the child and revives him. Rather than an obvious mark, such as turning the hair a different color, Agni simply brightens the already gold eyes, until they are like miniature suns. Some time later, Tui gives some of her own life force to revive a stillborn (not just sickly) Yue. This makes it so that, rather than having human souls alongside the spirit essence, Zuko and Yue are literally part of the Sun and Moon spirits.

2. As their essences and minds are divided between the Great Spirits and two mortal bodies, Zuko and Yue sometimes have troubles recognizing where they are and when. They meet each other in their dreams, which eases the ache inside them that nothing helps to fill. They do not conciously remember the dreams during their waking hours.

3. Zuko grows up with the sense of something missing in his daily life, like he is meant to watch out for, to protect someone. He always feels as if he needs to hold back when firebending, for he could scorch the earth with his power, so that it would never recover. Despite her protests of being stronger than him, Azula becomes the focus of his inherent Big Brother Energy. It becomes a little more bearable for Azula once Mai and Ty Lee are introduced to Zuko, and he is able to spread out his protectiveness toward them as well, rather than focus solely on Azula.

4. Yue is drawn toward the Koi Pond, and sometimes feels as though she is the white Koi, that she can feel the movement of the moon, the feel of water on her scales. The love she has for her husband and brother (what husband? Yue wonders in confusion. And what brother?). Her father claims it is simply the connection she shares with the Moon spirit, and discourages her from coming to the Spirit Oasis.

5. Their Mortal families believe them to be humans blessed by the Spirits, and not the Spirits themselves incarnate. Yue chafes in only being allowed to use her waterbending to heal, and Zuko struggles with Sozin’s style of bending, as it is so far removed from the original ways of firebending.

6. When Zuko is burned in the Agni Kai, his spirit seeks to return to Agni. However, the Great Spirit instead channels the rest of himself (his essence, mind, and will) into Zuko’s body, thereby making it so that Zuko is truly his incarnation. He is still scarred, but the burned skin turns gold and red in apparance, rather like dragon-scales. His eyes change as well, changing from mortal eyes to twin pools of fire.

7. Yue senses something is amiss, but she only discovers what has happened after falling asleep and finding Zuko’s burned form in their dreamscape. He reveals the truth of their natures to her. In the North Pole, the top of the koi pond freezes, layers of ice built atop one another until it would take multiple firebenders to melt through. Spikes of ice erupt around Princess Yue’s sleeping form.

8. Zuko almost immediately drops Iroh off at the first convenient port so that he won’t be implicated in treason, and goes to save the 41st division. He can’t save all of them, but he saves quite a few. And those who he isn’t able to save…their bodies spontaneously burst into flame, and their souls are drawn to Zuko, before he gently sends them into the Spirit Realm to heal from their traumatic deaths.

9. Finding Zuko’s burned form is the first time Yue actually remembers the dreams consciously. She presses Yugoda to show her how to heal even the worst wounds, and accidentally learns she can create spirit water by touch alone. This allows her to learn that she can use this new (old) power to heal old wounds. But she keeps the ability to herself, fearing that if word got back to the Fire Nation somehow, they would attack her people (they would).

10. As he has Awakened, Zuko/Agni uses his time in banishment to try and mitigate the Fire Nation’s destruction both within the army’s ranks and how they are toward the people they’re attacking. Iroh is confused, but as he is busy committing treason he just lets the kid do what he wants.

11. Eventually, they find the Avatar, a water-bender and a boy who has been blessed by La. Zuko and his crew join them on their way to the Northern Water Tribe in hopes of gaining help to overthrow Ozai.

12. That night, the Sun and Moon come together in their dreamscape, and the first thing the Sun says is “I am coming Sister.”

[blrowanduck]

Amongst Wind River Shoshoni, a community who still live in some of their ancestral territories in the Wind River Valley and the Grand Teton, Wyoming.

The principal aim of a vision quest is to ‘see’ a spirit animal that will become the quester’s animal-helper and source of his power. Amongst the Shoshoni, a suppliant desiring a vision mounts his horse and rides up into the hills where there are already rock art images. He washes, and clothed in only a blanket he lies down on a ledge below the images. His vision is induced by fasting, enduring cold and lack of sleep, and smoking hallucinogenic tobacco. Some reports say that it may take three or four days before a vision comes to the suppliant – if at all.

It is known that sleep, specifically REM sleep, consolidates memories as neurons fire rapidity repeating the patterns during the day. When REM sleep is deprived over a period of time, dreams break into waking conciousness. So the vision comes when the quester is awake but sometimes tobacco was smoked just prior to sleep: drug-induced hallucinations would thus be experienced during sleep. Occasionally people may also experience spontaneous waking visions without sleep deprivation.

Significantly, the Shoshoni use the word "navushieip" to denote both dreaming and waking. This is also true of other groups, such as the Yokuts. Their divisions of the spectrum of consciousness thus accord dreaming the same status as waking for the reception of information. (In some parts of North America ‘waking visions’ are, however, discounted.) The dreams in which spirits appear are more vivid than other dreams; the Shoshoni say that they hold your attention and you cannot awake until they are over. Visions may be mercurial: for instance, a ‘lightning spirit’ may appear as a body of water, then like a human being, then like an animal. Often frightening animals come to threaten suppliants, and they must brave them if their power-giving spirit animal is to appear. During visions, questers feel that they leave their bodies – the sensation of out-of-body travel.

Throughout North America, this travel often involves entering a hole in the rock, passing though a tunnel, evading various monsters and seeing a spiritual personage, the Master of the Animals, and his creatures. After receiving power, the shaman may emerge from a different place, sometimes via a spring.  ‘“Entering a cave” or rock was a metaphor for a shaman’s altered state; therefore, caves (and rocks more generally) were considered entrances or portals to the supernatural world.’ i might add, that flight and entering a cloud were further metaphors for shamanistic travel. During vision quests, North American shamans sometimes bled from the nose and mouth. The parallels with the southern African accounts of extra-corporeal, hallucinatory travel are arresting. Entry into the rock, movement through a tunnel, encounters with spirits and animals, emergence elsewhere through water, flight, and nasal haemorrhaging are experiences common to both continents.

Some ethnographic reports indicate that Native American people believed that rock art images were made, not by the quester, but by spirits, commonly named as ‘water babies’, ‘rock babies’, or ‘mountain dwarves’. These spirits were especially powerful shamans’ spirit helpers; they could be seen only in an altered state of consciousness. A shaman was so intimately identified with his spirit helper that is to say that a rock art image was made by a ‘rock baby’ was the same as saying that the shaman himself made it. To illustrate this point, a Native American informant told interviewers that rock art sites were created by shamans who ‘painted their spirits (anit) on rocks “to show themselves, to let people see what they had done”. The spirit must come first in a dream.’  Maurice Zigmond found that, amongst the Kawaiisu of south-central California, it was believed that a spirit named Rock Baby dwelt in the rock and made rock paintings. If one returned to a rock art site and found that more images had appeared since one’s previous visit, they were said to be the handiwork of Rock Baby. If one touched a rock painting and then rubbed one’s eyes, sleeplessness and death could result. The images thus possessed inherent power, rather like those in southern Africa: they were not merely pictures. As early as the 1870s, J. S. Denison reported that a Klamath man told him that rock paintings ‘were made by Indian doctors [shamans] and inspired fear of the doctor’s supernatural power’. Similarly, a 1900 report records that, among the Thompson, ‘rock paintings were made by noted shamans’,  and in the 1920s Glenn Ranck found that ‘[o]ne night a Wishram North American medicine man [shaman] used an unseen power to paint a pictograph during the night. He was found in a trance at the foot of the pictograph the next morning’. Such reports could be multiplied many times over: the link between North American shamans and rock art is indisputable. But that realization is only the beginning – not the end – of research. Vision quests were not one-off affairs. Shamans usually repeated quests throughout their lives. They believed that their power could be increased in this way. When a shaman had received a vision in a dream, he awoke and concentrated on it so that he would not forget it. At dawn he went into the hill to experience more dreams. When he had received sufficient revelations, he entered his ‘shaman’s cache’ to converse with his spirit helper.

[corruptdualsoul]

@wastedexorcist​

“I t....H urts....” Soft, sorrowful and strained, words echo in his ears, barely audible amongst the dead. Gutteral, digging wheeze of death makes up what little form of breathing left for him. Sea of rea clung to him, cheeks, clumping together in a sticky mess against his head, a pool gathering, seeping from its source, the slain child of the massacared division. Tears an unnaural hue of red, prick at the edge of his eyes, and he cries even as conciousness began to weaver.

Foot steps, approaching or exiting, the corpse couldnt tell. it didn’t matter, not to alma, not to the world, not to them,no.... White tircklesover his mind, theres a smile, wait...he smiled?...Yu....?

This was his last thought as his mind finally fails and his body stills.