#Conciousness Division

[autoacafiles]

[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

[shoyostar]

⌕ www.theloveclub.ca ⨾ ꠵ © shoyostar.

── 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.

[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.

[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?

[autoacafiles]

[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.

[adanfourty]

Life In Neon ~ cHapters Of the dreaMing hEart

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- I. Simple abundance in an empty life II. Stop III. Projection IV. Come To Theism V. Enter the Threshold

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------ White Feathers Atrium Universal Rain Shade Naissance Home

Part III: Pandora's Clock ------------------------- First. Second. Then I see you Third. Air Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child Fifth. Realitv Sixth. Water Seventh. Closure Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- In A Room Without A View

When there is reason, I awake in silence

Please enter, The door is open

I. Simple abundance in an empty life ...

The scent of passion after loneliness A hope of jubilation in life Coming closer to a dream A prelude before the plot

This time, the sunset becomes sunrise in my heart

Her sway, wavering in soft motion Guarding, away from polarity

She is herself not another other than her own self Only she can dance alone without a hint of loneliness That whiff of uncommon independence without arrogance With her right palm always open to the wind, A sign of welcomed company, only if she grants

She's a prelude to a drama An overture to a rhapsody

II. Loose-skin-loose drift, truth abuse truth to mute [St*p]

A new consciousness arises from the abyssimal gap, along with the voices of the singing colours, with the company of colourful rain.

A sighs escapes her as her old consciousness deteriorates.

Though silence is golden, it can also be a sign of unbelievable pain.

Terribly one sided, the consciousness gains space only in her extreme. Though it resembles a lesser four letter word, it cannot be spelled as of yet.

To her it came, through her it goes.

It escapes with swiftness by the way of her fingers and unto the three middle strings.

Now the top.

Now the bottom.

A play of ease and enjoyment, like a teardrop of meaning. There's release and meaning in her words, spoken through the melody escaping her fingers. Weaving phrase by phrase into sentences. Line by line into paragraphs. And chapter by chapter into a story, written in the air to her listeners' ears.

She tells her tale.

A drop of colour in melody's landscape First vivid, then lucid, then luminous The story of song and emotion, of motion and sound

Hikari luminates her enticing configuration Dancing fingers, dancing harmony Another conciousness slowly takes presence...

III. Grapple dream drama and colliding day of another mind [?`jection}

She said that fate can intertwine and leave you speechless Between your eyes and mine we share the same story Especially in this corrupted world of mounting decadence Nothing can hold truth and honesty together

As I wave my hand in the air, I motion you to come closer Start this endless romance

Not between you and I But between trust and committance

Wait for silence Wait for sleep Wait for peace

Then we can touch ..in dreams..

Metropolis doesn't want us to sleep Less it let us inhabbit our dreams Only to pieces of the shattered It can only resolve in our disloyalty

Total mindcrime it says, cannot rebuke There's no rebutle, but an end of statement

Pandemonium clouds temporary judgement A short analysis of ourselves

We cannot be subjected to distinctive terms We are fictional

City of blurring lights in swaying darkness Inverse luminary overshadows heartly judgement

"Tell me more..." "Tell me about myself"

IV. Let silence fall assunder as a boundary (ome to 7heism

Escape in makna ~e%ca]>e~ Don't let it be abstract

Have we been transformed? Apostle of today's corporate culture

Would you have changed a thing ? Destruction of the left brain regime

There is a cycle, which determines life and dharma In the starlit sky of human's silver sea of madness On the seeming horizon, inately seen A lonely silver surfer, Comes to push the wheel for me.

"Gotta move" (

"Gotta move" ^

"Gotta move that wheel right round" )

"Push the wheel of dharma round"

Repeat,

Repeat until the end of perdition

This re|>etition is road to redemption

This hand, can you feel it's touch? Now don't let go.

V. Enter this threshold, where you're }afe w/ m{E

Could it be that you and I have grown to love each other, In the dense aura of this lonely city, full of bitterness? True feelings can never hide much long, For whatever covers, cannot hide from true sight

The wind carried your cries, your wishes, your tears. And when I held my hand out to the sky, I caught some of your dreams.

The misty air partialy hides the growing flowers Blooming without sunlight, to the music of the marionettes Quartet players with classical aptitude Flowing melody in rivers of song

Endless...

Love, love, love, love, beautiful life In the eyes of a lover

Love, love, love, love, merciful touch As if in another dream

Dahlia...

Yes we are, I say we are destined Nothing else but nature that guides The wind, the solstice, the leaves Le ciel's faint whispering Warm snow welcomes this gardenia

Let's enter together...

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------

I dream of a blue nightingale

Not a dream. a perchance SDelirium guide me through this dance

a pointer. an address SPathway leading to this glass

not a form. a code SLanguages, conversations I do not recall

From a faraway place . . . The structured becomes the harmonic, then the frail

White Feathers: ---------------

Start of a lasting imperfect feeling A blissful impression unhindered This slight cut, an apothema Sweetening the shape of a tale

More poetry than justice A judgement in a poem

The tale paints itself a caligraphy Cornering prose to naratic ballad

Few words write themselves as prelude to a dream An overture towards realization Forging a small footstep for an elegy A move towards the end of a chapter

Before planting a kiss on the cheek Take a step out of square one

Atrium Universal: -----------------

I can feel the city itself Living, pulsing through me

I can feel the city itself Breathing in my own breath

At night's first saunter Tides, affairs subtly sweeping

Affairs yielding agnomen Pastly borrowed, then lent, now buried

Not a monumentous rite, A forecourting repose of endeavor

Melfluous, degree, decimal

The wall, the crack, the breach A light, a hope, A piece of reverence A sigh, a gleam, A benevolence

Neon. again a blinding, Charges, pistol, crackpot

Rain: -----

Swaying Petals, Fluttering Sight

Resting in silence Peace in the chaos that surrounds

Hiding within metropolis' fog

Out of reach Out of touch

Lit lanterns sway westbound Path seeking seem astray

Only patience can persevere Only time can lead the way

Only a woman

"A deepened interlude as an intro to a greater truth."

In phrases she speak In riddles she keep

Feel, a longing to be Only little she has

Not much left in her palm Desperately trying to keep

Err on the side of safety

"Here belies the safety of my sanctuary."

Trusting no one Careful not to love

Metropolis. weaves her coccoon

Silence within a storm

Survival is her language Passion is her secret

"Lesser I believe in myself, so I hide."

Shade: ------

A tide to ebb, A shoreline A flow, a motion A gaze

Once, a woman Twice, a sun Thrice, a nephentes

I feel the breze A neophytic caress, innocence So much to long for So much to ebb and lose

Subliminal violence An abstract for laterality

I'll always remember The news of a fog, The songs of a deaf

No echo in the halls No lesson but in our own

A feeling, inside her Notwithstanding a fall Silence for the requiem Not now, not for awhile

This feeling, inside me A pace not too far from fiction Splitting images on one screen My futile vision embracing

His feeling, inside him Bewildering encompassion of a trilogy Another mind, a friend, a rushed exemption Coming closer to a closure, then rebirth

Naissance: ----------

The birth of a soul, Deus ex machina

I feel a distant sun caressing A slow perchance for fate and fancy intertwined

What cometh this way Grasping scars emerging from days past

What shroud cloaks this day A slow immedicine, The unsounding of my parts

My love, a mirror, a friend It needs a chance, a chokepoint degapped

Heal me, A cessation from discrepancy

[tides of Helen]

This time window we must cherish, You and I and eye of The All Seeing

There's none other, Than the mindmaze in the mirror

I became, I bethroned, I abjected Thread, my dearest thread I dearly depart myself, bidding A home for a respite

Home : ------

The walls cry of absence and whispers

A slight touch of the palm graces, The plight of the plaintiff behind the fate Cursors move up the struggles of the vein, Inconclusive ill of melancholy

This notion of separation, Reaps the heart to its dires On bended knees we sink, At this river of futile tears

The ambience of loneliness and division, Portrudes above our conscious minds Heisting the current abode, Unfathomable desire to mutually caress

Beyond this boundary exists my other half Beyond this wall lies another...

Another,

Sustain contain then stop the ambience surrounding My speechless thought echoes throughout without surpass

and another,

Oboete [remember] Never forgetting specified frame of memory First clandestine then disctinction to final separation

and another,

..

I hear this loudness from inside my ears Humming, fainting whisper, to a soft speech

and another.

...

No more can I reject my objection towards presence PLighT is a revocable sister of her brother, fate

And you.

I miss you

The corridors of fate seems to form an unwanted maze No escaping reflective clarity, images beyond seen mirrors

Such is the configuration of this longing A lamentable presence, expelled from fate

It has been two long years, It has been an eternity

Your modulating kiss fades from memory As each deafening ambience ravage me

I, to my heart : [Perhaps to silence, I have spoken for far too long.]

Now the peregrine, Now the calmative

a boundary of mist separates while the only road leads to home

I've nowhere to go But to return to the confines of my sanctuary

[pulang]

Y've reached I home

Part III: Pandora's Clock -------------------------

I have come at a crossroads A silent tantrum of mind and consciousness

Please take my hand Brace the future with me

First.

The solitude of a solitary mind At this junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

The solitude of a solitary mind At the junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

[E] "Would you dance with me?"

Dec, the 12th of each cycle A courtship between Soleil and Capricorn

Of your latter solstice I find my solace Under luminous frost After a day after days before a new season

[Dahlia] Rest dear Soleil Shine a lesser warmth Shine greater southbound

Then through motion and period Embrace at former solstice

A garden in winter Not far from closure Enclosed in glass And luminosity

Come dear lucidity Let us speak to warm ourselves Let us become classic

One past, presenting a future

In this garden we trust Grace a prelude to truthful fancy

In this garden we lust Skin to skin without a mindful hinderance

In this garden we bind fire and ice

A simple presence felt between us and our dance Resultante, Of motion and perceived decadence

.the second conciousness.

A girl in the mirror Yet to set her feet, Yet to step to the real

A face becoming clearer Vivid smile doubtful eyes

Is she to be welcomed?

Don't let her future mimic the past This is not a point of vacancy Don't let time's vagrancy become turmoil This is a coming whirlwind

A new stream of conciousness is the resultant There can be no regret

Sleep, breathe deep, deeper in a shallow sleep

This is a form of regression Unfolding a dream of recurrence

~Mataku From my eyes

.Mata Ku. To eyes of myself

..Ma Ta Ku.. Then my own eyes

...Mata Milik Aku... These eyes are mine

[E] A cyclic process of birth, death and rebirth Sequential teardrop from a cloudless sky Freefall to a deep mirror of factful fallacy far from fiction

More to truth full of lies and truth, then lies, and lastly truth The answer to a riddle of the sequences and the abstract

A fracture of this mindspace leaks into the open Bequeathing beautiful lies of autumn and of lust But the winter in me is still vast, far from passing Not a drop of colour but a blackless landscape of total blur

Second. Then I see you...

On a road once shared before the crossroads Gleaming with a blueish haze of tenderness Before the coming of daylight's echoing shine Take me to a world outside this shallow sleep

Walking to currentness.

Cascading deep dark blue shade follow folly Interred in my living bones, blades of blunt burden Remain in viewable secrecy, lucidly reasoning for an answer Unwritten forgiveness uttered through a wordless whisper

Reflections, There's me in my head and me in the mirror I can see me very clearly, and I don't like it

The vivid image of reflection has a mind of it's own Why do reflections answer me with such prejudice?

...

A revisitation, A reflection of light Duplicating a world Forming an inversion Making you, Not quite yourself

...

Cascade the masks of emotion to emulate prudence Infer I have, that this is a motion of incredulity

I remain

Asking The Heaven for forgive~ness My hope is now in the clarity of my written bequest

Third. Air

Interlude to preciousness

The world is only an interlude I can't wait for the night to cast it's cloak {of dreams}

A gateway to my paralel life, another conciousness Lucidly living in a shallow sleep

Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child

Dawn to daybreak with a string of trust Warm caress of loyal sunlight Distress and jubilance harbours, Away the stray

A soulful sailor's song Lamenting grace and riddance

Yearly yearning without regard Clasping for release

Melding heartplace and effect Arriving distances to encumbrance The headplace earthing Excelling to explace

Love is a peaceful embrace A feeling, most emtious Of innocence in riddles of sin and temperance A forgiveness for the plightful son

[E] I found who I am at last By a glimpse of fate, enduring A slight mention in destiny A moment alone with my dear fate

A close brush, an eventful sigh Relief, a respite to sensefulness

One last time, Take away my breath

Deliver me my chance, To exhale my last sigh

[Dahlia] I am standing on a ledge A stare to this decending fathom

Cold air sweeps behind me As I tearfully leave my presence

I cannot give you more I cannot be a fitting piece

Musing over life and precedence. Now I'm tired.

I've tried so hard to stay afloat. I'm too tired.

Goodbye now, For I am never truly gone

Fifth. Realitv

[E] A life outside of this TV screen A roundabout of moving pictures preceeding Of passion, of circumstance, of changes My faults and lies, my trials and crimes

Curious apprehension of what may yield I behold to myself, my own mindsight A view to a thrill, a dream of a dream A dull lucidity, a makeup of frigidity

My past turns present My presence sinks into the past Another besetting recurrence Another triumph lost

Sixth. Water

[E] How is my lifeline?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A freight train coming my way.

There is a door nearer to the right. Marking exit from a disaster.

(Not out of lifeline)

But indeed. It is I, myself who can save me. It is I, myself who conjured the door. It is I, myself who live my life. Not someone else.

And it is I, myself who choose what I believe in. Not someone else not me.

I'm still breathing, I can still exhale Without hesitation, normalcy without change A sense of endless freedom without boundaries Miracles coming at an enjoyable rate

Now here's that jazz [0}

Flood of tears don't drown me You'll never catch me again crying a flood Now that I'm holding on to my dearest hope I have to hold her gently Careful not to break her to pieces

Seventh. Closure

Strewn paleness, The setting sun colours the sky

A thousand rays bidding farewell, Bidding another rest

And I wish I am not here

Wavering clouds speak with the doves A faint sentence caught in my ears

"There's nothing left to hide."

My melodies will take me Wherever this heart is needing to set

You took away all my strength, Now please take away my pain

Leave my cold outside this shell Never let it rain inside these doors

Please lead me to your promises Then please take away my pain

I am in need of refuge

This is the final scene Before the curtain falls . .

Please, Make me believe in hope, And please take away my pain

Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Now I must rest, I must be at peace

Hibernating from culture PlacIng membrane, a distance to bid myself

Sayonara for a moment Please do not forget, oboete my dear Remembrance is for sentient bliss

Keep me in your mind And please, bathe your memory of me in absolution

[jiddu-krishnamurti-blog]

Education is freedom from conditioning The real issue is the quality of our mind; not its knowledge but the depth of the mind that meets knowledge. Mind is infinite, is the nature of the universe, which has its own order, has its own immense energy. It is everlastingly free. The brain, as it is now, is the slave of knowledge and so is limited, finite, fragmentary. When the brain frees itself from its conditioning, the brain is infinite. Then only is there no division between the mind and the brain. Education then is freedom from conditioning, from the vast accumulated knowledge of tradition. This does not deny the value of academic disciplines, which have their own proper place in life. ~ J Krishnamurti, The Whole Movement of Life is Learning. . . . . . @krishnamurtifoundationtrust #JKrishnamurti #JidduKrishnamurti #Meditation #Awareness #Insights #Intelligence #Consciousness #Psychology #Philosophy #Philosopher #Mindfulness #spiritualawakening #spiritual #spirituality #yoga #positivethinking #healing #meditate #enlightenment #forgiveness #intuition #spiritualjourney #sacred #higherself #conciousness #divinity #spiritualguidance #god #wisdom #zen @walden.school The Walden School Hyderabad https://www.instagram.com/p/CC7INmvpjzy/?igshid=1lko2lt6m7kbn