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caliumcyanide · 1 year

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Every time Dazai smiles in the entirety of the light novels (the official translations) Part 2.

Volume 2. "Osamu Dazai and the dark era."

Please, proceed with caution and get some tissues. For the especially masochistic, there's this track I always imagine playing when reading volume 2. It's from BSD game. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Scarlet Sky or Dear Prince, but I just have a sort of involuntary response to this specific track.

Without further ado...

Prologue:

“Yep.” Dazai smirked as he looked himself over.”

“Hey, Ango! Long time no see! Looking good!” Dazai raised a hand with a smile.

“That’s pretty meek coming from you, Ango Sakaguchi—you’re the man who knows everything about the Mafia,” Dazai added with a smile.

“Oh, really? I just had a feeling I’d run into you both if I came here tonight, so here I am.” Dazai grinned, as if amused by his own words.

“When we grilled Dazai later about what was in the hot pot, he just giggled.

“Guess there’s not much you can do about that,” Dazai said with a smile.

“Oh, hey. Let’s all take a picture together,” Dazai cheerfully suggested out of the blue."

“I just felt like if we don’t take a picture now, there’ll be nothing left to prove we spent this time together, I guess.” He grinned brightly.

...

Chapter 1:

“…Ha-ha! Just kidding!” Dazai abruptly added in a cheery tone.

“The reason you have so many people following you is that you don’t turn your back on them. I’ll leave things in your hands. I won’t tell the boss.” He patted Hirotsu on the shoulder and smiled.

“Those are soldiers.” Dazai’s lips slightly curled the moment he laid eyes on the photos. “Seasoned ones, at that.”

“Get me a coffee with lots of milk. Make sure to cool it off!” Dazai cheerfully yelled out as the man dashed away. “Oh, but no ice, okay? If you can get me a decaf, that’d be even better. And double the sugar, please!”

“This entire area is going to turn into a war zone.” Dazai gazed at the city skyscrapers and gave a small smile.

Dazai faintly smiled, then said, “I know. That’s not what you were asking, right? But, Odasaku, these men were professional assassins. It doesn’t matter how good you are. Killing them was the only option.”

“I can see you’re not happy… I’m sorry for compromising your principles.” His smile weakened as he spoke.

“That’s it?” Dazai gave a disappointed smile. “Piece of cake. Here, let me see it.”

“If you just squeeze your finger ever so slightly, you can give me precisely what I crave most. The only thing I’m afraid of is that you’ll miss.” His lips curled as he approached the man.

“Now shoot. Right here. You can’t miss from this close up.” Dazai grinned from ear to ear.”

Still pointing at his forehead, Dazai closed in on the enemy with a smile that could’ve even been described as peaceful.

“Sorry to shock you like that.” Noticing my gaze, Dazai scratched the side of his head and grinned.

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at Dazai as he explained with a smile.”

Chapter 2:

“Maybe I should recruit them…” Dazai smirked while wiping his sweat.

“A Mafia member who refuses to kill, talented yet has no interest in advancing through the ranks, a man who’s raising five orphans—Sakunosuke Oda.” Dazai smirked.

A few moments went by as he listened to whoever was on the other side, but soon enough, his lips suddenly twisted into a grin.

At one point during our mission, Dazai had told me with an uncomfortable grimace, “It smells so bad that I want to cut my nose off.”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh…” Dazai began to chuckle, smiling from ear to ear for some reason.

“You fools!” Dazai’s lips curled into a sneer in genuine disgust.

Chapter 3:

“Hey, Odasaku. You’re awake now, right? How are you feeling?” Dazai walked into the room with a cheerful smirk.

“Akutagawa—he’s like a sword without a sheath.” Dazai grinned from ear to ear.

“I thought you had no interest in fighting,” Dazai replied with a smile.

“Y’know, it really hurts me that you consider something as small as this a debt.” He gave a feeble smirk.

“To meet someone.” Dazai smiled.

“Oh? I think it’s kinda cute, going to such lengths to plan another person’s death. I never would’ve thought of doing that.” There was more than a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Where else?” Dazai wryly smirked.

“I found a handkerchief at the site of the explosion.” Dazai grinned fiendishly.

“As if.” Only the corners of Dazai’s lips curled. “We came to get information on Mimic. You knew that.”

“Odasaku’s marksmanship…” Dazai broke into a meaningful grin.

Dazai looked at Ango, then beamed as he said, “Oh my. It almost sounds like you think you’ll be able to leave here alive, Ango.”

The air froze. Ango’s expression slowly faded away, but Dazai was still smiling.

It was the photo we’d taken in that very bar only a few days ago. All three of us were laughing and smiling.

...

Epilogue:

The cheerful gentleman, Dazai, tilted the sake bottle and poured the chief some alcohol.

“I can figure out most things if I look into them.” Dazai beamed with a shrug.

Chief Taneda stared at Dazai in shock, but Dazai just innocently grinned.

“You’d lose your job if I did that.” Dazai wryly smirked.

To be continued...

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leaderintitleonly · 10 months

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It's really funny (it's not) when Disney fans think we hate Rachel Zegler because she's "not white" when in reality I just need someone with red lips (lipstick baybeee) and a soprano who can sing opera to play the part. That's really it. That was all I asked for. Because all I need is the illusion of blood on the snow. Or in this case, rose petals on the snow. Whatever cute stuff you want here. I just need bold red lips and that's anyone. Anyone could have played this. But instead we have someone who can't grasp that this is a story about overcoming abuse and being resilient, not talking shit on the own part you're playing. That's incredibly antifeminist and disgusting. So for someone to make a tweet about bleaching her own skin and then deleting it, honestly says she doesn't have the maturity to play this part. Emotional maturity would have been nice instead of insisting you're a "more modern girl". Nor did this adaptation need another male part when this movie had an amazing job of the principle speaking roles being women. When you look at the script, half of the speaking time is women... and that's only two roles. The rest is divided up by the men scrambling for speaking time and good riddance. We didn't need a Jonathan. We didn't need a new love interest. Honestly, get lost. You're missing the point entirely of the vision of "young love" overcoming hate which was Walt Disney's original inspiration with Romeo and Juliet's many nods in the film. Except this is supposed to end with life instead of death, giving the hope that despite your parent working against you, you just might succeed with enough support. Enter the dwarfs, the only time I have ever once seen disability and potential neurodivergence ever treated correctly and not as a stupid punchline. We're doing better today but just barely and even today we're still tripping in places. Rather than a chance to remind people dwarfism isn't just a white person thing, we have this. Pretty shameful when Mirror Mirror is running circles around us. We had a chance to remind people that women have dwarfism and when you have dwarfism, much like other disabilities, you usually have an entire package with you.

The dwarfs were inspiring to me. Doc's anxiety and Dopey's mutism meant I wasn't a weird child. I was just different and that was okay. I had a family who accepted me, much like Snow White's and even with my medical issues, I was my own definition of normal. I was okay. I wanted diversity. This is still heavily skewed white, we get one woman, and if Peter Dinkelage is proud of himself, the stupid smiling comment he made... guess what the leaks are? Stupid smiles. We could have made this a great opportunity to elevate more people to his employable status but unfortunately he's pulled the ladder up behind him and I'm very disappointed. If you like this live action concept, you're missing the point. You are entirely missing the point of what this short, animated film was meant to accomplish. It was meant to show a range of emotions in an animated medium and to be treated just as any film or play would have been treated. It was entirely serious and full of heart with a few jokes peppered in. And it's not meant to shame women. Let's put some emphasis on this. Snow White is someone who survives and despite it all, thrives. She didn't need to be aged up. The point was that she survives. There's also nothing wrong with young love. I had a crush at fourteen on both boys and girls. It's part of growing up; exploring your feelings. Denying that feels oddly weird and like you want to sterilize teenagers of all thoughts. You should let teenagers be teenagers. The fact the OG Snow White doesn't have a safe place to explore her thoughts until she runs away should tell you something. There are teenagers right now who are facing similar circumstances but I suppose Disney and others are content to put their fingers in their ears. We could have had some fleshing out of concepts and had parts of the film restored but this misses the mark entirely. Not my Snow White but because it pretends that childhood is charmed and disability is a joke.

#doc's mun speaks

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erisvipera · 11 months

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You're not my father.

On today's Father's Day i want to say a heartfelt "FUCK YOU" to my seed donor.

You never were a father to me. You never stood up for me when i needed you, you just liked to play pretend. You watched as 2 adult men beat the shit out of me and abused me for years. You can choke. I tried so long and hard to try and make a relationship between us work. Bent my principles, ignored the red flags, ignored the distrust and disappointment, ripped out a part of my soul just for you to turn around and drop me the moment i ask a single fucking thing of you. All i did was ask you to stand up for me when your girlfriend insults my very existence. And you couldn't even do that. You said "I don't want to talk about this." And then you never contacted me again. You dropped me like a piece of trash because i asked you to stand up for your daughter, just ONCE in your sorry life. But you couldn't do it. You were too busy being a slave to your girlfriend's manipulations and demands. You never EVER cared about me. You just cared about the image you portray to people watching. Keeping up appearances was always more important to you than actually doing something for once in your sorry life. I guess i shouldn't blame you. Your parents didn't take care of you either, you never knew what love is supposed to feel like. So you never loved me, and you never loved my mother either. The woman who ripped herself apart to raise your two children, provide everything we wanted and needed, somehow managed to make the day last 48 hours every single day, for us, while you watched and did nothing. Who fell in with 2 abusive assholes one after the other because all she wanted was someone to love her, and still tried to protect us, while she was getting beat up and hurt, while you just watched. I was getting abused by not just one, but two abusive, violent men, one after the other, and not a *single* time did you try to remove me or my brother from that situation. My mother took the fact that she was never loved by her parents and turned it into strength. You turned it into the ugliest, most superficial farce of parental love i have ever seen. You disgust me. You're not my father. You're a disgrace.

#father's day #i hate you #vent #it hurts #fuck this

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astromechs · 1 year

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This may seem silly to say but I really want to thank you for your post about Gamora's character and her death in Infinity War. I still feel a lot of hurt over it. Not just because her abuser killed her. It's the way it was framed as him being able to reduce her soul to nothing more than a tool for him that was most horrifying. Plus part of her arc was wanting not to die in a way that served him. I also hated that there was never any chance for the characters who had become her family to discuss it and reflect on what she meant to them. It's possible I'm biased but I always felt there wouldn't have been a team without her specific actions, principles and convictions. I don't think she gets enough recognition for this. Her death was one of the biggsst blows to the guardians family and story. I had been hoping Endgame would have explored it more and was disappointed when it didn't. There is a lot more I could say but mostly I'm hoping vol 3 finally allows there to be a more open recognition of how important she has been to the team and how valuable her life was to something beyond Thanos. I don't expect it to be easy or exactly as it was before but I also hope she gets to reconnect with the family the spirit of who she is helped build and at least get back parts of her purpose and life that never should have been taken in the first place. Particularly the close sisters she and Nebula fought so hard to create once they were both free from Thanos. There's still a lot potential for her and guardians is all about the characters being a family who can overcome anything. You can't have that without Gamora.

this isn't silly at all, anon, because i feel the same way. this death was so disgusting because it literally stripped everything away about who gamora was, and gave her none of the agency that she fought so hard to have, instead, like you said, making her a tool for thanos in the end. it doesn't sit right with me in any way, and frankly, it's a little triggering, this whole message that it's sending, in terms of the way that it was presented in the film, of like, "hey, guess what! your abuser owns your soul forever after all, and you can never get away!"

russo brothers meet me in the pit challenge

absolutely agree that gamora was critical to that story and how the team came together, too. i haven't seen vol 3 yet (that's this afternoon for me), but crossing my fingers that gamora's importance in this way gets some airtime.

#asks #anonymous

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feral-girl-fall · 1 month

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Whumpril 2024 Day 3, Prompt: Shame

Summary: Dean's spiral of self-hatred while he tells Sam about his time in hell, what he's done, and the monster he believes he's become.

Pairing: None

Warnings: Angst, self-hatred, hurt/little comfort

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“It wasn’t four months, you know,” is how Dean starts the conversation that will rip him to shreds. Sam says nothing, confused until Dean starts to pour his guts out about the pit. At first, he has Sam’s sympathy, and as much as he craves it, it also makes him sick. Because he knows what he has to say next.

It feels like a part of him is being ripped out, as if speaking the words aloud makes them real. As if the horrors, the torture he’s inflicted haven’t counted until now because they haven’t been acknowledged in the light of day.

And he can’t turn around, can’t look at Sam and the look of disgust he knows must be on his face. But ever since Alistair appeared, Dean knew he couldn’t hide it any longer. If he didn’t tell Sam, Alistair would, and Sam deserved to hear it from him just how much of a monster he’d become. He can hear Sam’s breathing, steady at first then then hitching when Dean confesses what he’s done.

Ever since he’s made it back from the pit, all Dean’s heard is John’s voice rattling around in his skull, this incessant buzzing that even whiskey won’t touch. Screaming at him, mostly. But the times when it isn’t screaming are worse. His father telling him that he never thought Dean would be the one to give in to the darkness. That he was supposed to be the strong one, the steady one, the honorable one never giving a second glance to the oblivion calling to Sam. That John is disappointed in him.

And as many times as Dean tells himself – hell, as many times as Sam tells him – that John is a bastard and what he wanted for them didn’t matter, it still does. Because this time, he’s undeniably right. Dean has given his brother so much grief over his freaky psychic shit, and for what? For Dean to turn around and do something so much more unspeakably inhuman the second he gets the chance? He’s spent so much of his life trying to be good. For his father, for Sam. Trying to be someone, be something that John would be proud of, that Sam could look up to. Something that might one day be worthy.

But every principle he’d ever held, every time he told Alistair to shove it, for thirty years straight, every goddamn thing he’d ever stood for went out the window the second he took the deal.

Despite Dean’s best efforts, the tears start and won’t stop. And that makes it worse, somehow, because the last thing Dean deserves is to pity himself after what he’s done. Sam speaks up now, says his name. Dean knows it’ll be some empty comfort he doesn’t believe and doesn’t deserve, but he can’t make himself stop his brother from giving it anyways. He knows Sam will say that thirty years is more than most could take.

But it wasn’t enough.

“I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.” His voice breaks then, because he’s spent so much of his life pretending. Pretending that he’s unbothered by the things he’s seen, the things he’s done. Trying to put on a brave face for his brother. And all of it has led up to this. It’s meant nothing. He’d dared to insinuate that Sam wasn’t human without bothering to look himself in the mirror and consider what he was capable of.

Sam is silent then, and Dean deserves it. He doesn’t reach out and touch him, because Dean doesn’t deserve it. So the pair sit in silence until the tears have stopped and Dean can face his brother, if not look him in the eyes. Not another word is said, and the brothers drive off once again to face whatever horror comes next. And Dean will deal with it the way he always does, by running himself into the ground.

Because he deserves it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #whumpril #whumpril 2024 #whumpril day 3 #shame #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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holy-stevie · 4 years

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His Little Girl

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Daughter Reader

Summary: After a fight at school Ransom and Y/n get into a nasty argument.

Warnings: swearing, bullying, anxiety and panic attacks, arguing, bad writing

a/n: i have a few fics that have been requested and i promise i’m working on them i just haven’t been in the right mental space to follow a planned fic right now.

Masterlist

Please do not repost my work anywhere else!

Ransom Drysdale was a lot of things. Playboy, Trust-fund brat, Clever, Wicked, Heartless, Black sheep, Grandson, Cousin, Nephew, Son. He never thought that he would ever add Father to that list. He never anticipated that one quick fuck without protection when he was seventeen would result in him becoming the sole caretaker over a tiny little girl, his tiny little girl.

“Y/n are you paying attention?” A voice startles you out of your little daydream you had found yourself in. Your math teacher stands at the front of the room with her arms crossed, a sour look on her face as she watches you snap up and give a small smile.

“Yes ma’am.” You mumble, clenching your hands as you feel the stares of all your classmates on you, the situation not helping your already overwhelming anxiety. The teacher huffs before turning back to the chalkboard, making you sag into your seat with harsh breaths when you hear a few snickers around you. Breathe, in and out, hold it together.

When the lunch bell goes off, you’re the first out the door. Rushing through the hallways to your locker and then outside to the spot you feel safest in, a single dying tree at the edge of the big schoolyard. Sitting below the tree with a sharp breath you close your eyes to centre yourself, going through all the breathing exercises your therapist gave to you for the bad days.

You’re coming down from the small anxiety attack when you hear them approach, the playful laughs and taunting whistles making your chest freeze up again. You had never really had friends at school. In your younger years’ parents would pull their children away from you because of your last name, That’s Ransom Drysdale’s daughter, they’d whisper to each other every day you exited the car. When you reached high school they just simply hated you because you were Ransom Drysdale’s daughter, your fathers shadow clouding over you.

“Well if it isn’t the little rich girl, crying over your hair again?” The snarky blonde at the head of the group mocks as she kicks the bottom of your foot, earning snickers from the four other girls crowding around you. Macy was her name, she was the richest girl in the school, besides you of course, and her mean girl show was what made her pray on you every day.

“G-Go away Macy.” You stutter out, your chest was aching from the lack of air, the panic swirling in your mind dangerously.

“Aw she’s going to cry. Why don’t you call your daddy to come s-save you?” She mocks you, rubbing her eyes like she was crying and laughing in your face. You feel the flame of anger rise through you and before you can stop yourself you kick a leg out from under her and quickly jump on top of her, delivering two solid punches before you’re ripped off of her by a nearby teacher.

“Miss Drysdale to the principle right now!” The teacher barks in your face, dragging you away from a now crying Macy. You don’t even try to hide the little grin on your face, satisfied for a whole two minutes before you’re told to sit on the plastic seat outside the office while they call your father.

You groan and bury your face into your hands that are propped up by your elbows planted on your thighs, your fingers tangling in your black hair as you get a hold of yourself.

You cringe as you hear the sharp clicks of heels walking down the hallway towards you, you lift your eyes to confirm your fears. Your father walks powerfully down the locker clad hallway, his expensive scarf draped over a cream sweater, his usual brown coat and pressed slacks that ooze money. That’s not what bothers you, though his angry expression is going to cause another panic attack later, no it’s the busty blonde that walks besides him in a barely there red dress and black coat. She was his newest girlfriend, an accountant or something like that, that thought she was your new mother.

“Mr. Drysdale, this way please.” The old bald man says from the doorway, not even acknowledging you. Your father tells (Veronica? Vivian?? You couldn’t remember her name) to wait with you and closes the door behind him. The blonde sits next to you awkwardly and tries to talk to you, but you aren’t listening to her, instead closing your eyes and gripping your hair tighter until it starts to sting lightly.

Five minutes later when your father emerges from the office he doesn’t say anything, grabbing your arm and yanking you up to your feet and dragging you to the car roughly, his girlfriend walking behind the two of you trying to get his attention. He almost throws you into the car when he opens the backdoor, slamming it shut after all of your limbs are inside the car.

Ransom doesn’t say anything as he pulls up to his girlfriend’s house, seriously what the hell was her name, just stopping the car and waiting until she gets the hint and gets out of the car. The ride home is silent and tense as you dig your nails into your hands at the anger you know was waiting for you at the place you called home.

He doesn’t wait for you when he pulls up the house, immediately going inside and grabbing a glass of the oh so desirable brown liquid. You however wait in the car for a few minutes to gather yourself before going inside, standing patiently in the doorway to living room as you watch your father down the glass in a single mouthful.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He yells, not even trying to calmly talk this out. You swallow heavily as you try to find your voice through the lump in the back of your throat.

“I was-” You’re immediately cut off as he whirls around to face you and holds up a dismissive hand.

“I’m not done. You think you can just walk around being a brat? Ruining my date because I had to come deal with you ONCE AGAIN.” His voice booms through the house, tears rising in your eyes at his anger. The cloud of disappointment overwhelming you, a constant let down to the only person in your life.

“Dad I-” Your throat once again closing up and causing panic to spread through you like a wildfire, but he doesn’t notice. He never notices.

“God can’t you be fucking normal for once in your life!” He shouts again, glaring at you. You feel the tears that were held tightly in the corners of your eyes drip down your cheeks, that same flame of anger raging through you again as you connect your eyes to his identical ones.

“I’m sorry I’m not normal, that I can’t go five minutes without getting lost in my head. I’m sorry that I cause you so much fucking trouble, that I can’t even make a single fucking friend in that shitty school. I’m sorry that I am and will never ever be enough for the great Ransom Drysdale! I’m fucking sorry that my existence is such a burden to you.” You don’t wait around for a response from him, instead bolting up the stairs to calm yourself down in the safety of your room.

The house is quiet for the rest of the afternoon, the faint sound of the tv downstairs waking you up from your nap. Groaning in disgust at the stickiness of your face you have a quick shower, padding downstairs barefoot half an hour later in one of your dads’ old sweaters and a pair of comfy pj pants.

You don’t say anything as you approach the living room doorway, your dad is sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over his strong form. He doesn’t say anything either as he lifts one arm, inviting you to snuggle into his warm side. You smile sadly before taking the offer, curling into his side as you lean your head on his shoulder when he wraps his arm around you lightly.

“You’re not a burden.” He says, not looking away from the tv. You sigh as you close your eyes trying to push away the screaming thoughts.

“The day I first held you I cried, like embarrassingly hard.” You giggle a little bit at his confession before he continues.

“I couldn’t believe I made something so perfect, something so wholeheartedly mine. I knew things would be difficult, I mean I was seventeen for heaven’s sake, but I also knew that none of that mattered because you were mine.” He looks down at you with a small smile, that type of smile that was rare to see from him, and cups your soft cheek in his big hand.

“I knew from that day that I would try my hardest to be a good dad, to be the dad you deserved. Today I didn’t listen to you, I didn’t ask for your version of the story and immediately placed all the blame on you. Today I failed as your father and I’m so sorry y/n.” He chokes up a bit on your name, making you frown and pull back to look up at him.

“Dad it wasn’t your fault, I know it wasn’t. I was just angry, a-and you were angry, and we aren’t really good at communicating.” You frown at the last part making him chuckle lightly, his hand coming up to soothe away the frown in your brow. He sighs and shoots you an apologetic look, the guilt eating away at both of you for hurting each other.

“I’m still so sorry baby girl.” He mumbles, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He raises an eyebrow in confusion though when he sees the mischievous smile on your face.

“I know how you can make it up to me.” He narrows his eyes at you, looking way too innocent.

“And how is that?” He asks warily, amused at the little grin that lights up your whole face.

“Buy McDonald’s for dinner.” He groans at your request, making you giggle.

“That stuff is so bad for you y/n.” He complains but gives in when you pout at him.

“Fine.” He says with a roll of his eyes, laughing himself when you get up from the couch and cheer, the child like glee making his attitude completely melt away.

Taglist: @scarletsoldierrr @chrisevans-imagines @patzammit @onetwo3000 @yoncevans @harrysthiccthighss

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #dad!ransom #daughter!reader #chris evans #angst #anxiety

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codedredalert · 3 years

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no lead nor steel shall reach him so [Golden Kamuy, Ogata & Yuusaku] -- gen oneshot

Ogata character study || 1705 words

A good marksman could swear blind that he knew a good shot before his bullet left the barrel.

Ogata was a good shot. The moment he pulled the trigger on Yuusaku, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death, Ogata is messed up and regrets nothing, this is not a nice softe redemption story.

A/N: written for @narramin

(On Ao3)

===/\===

Ogata knew the rumours.

Second Lieutenant Hanazawa Yuusaku is the eight virtues personified, they said. No wonder he was promoted so young. No wonder he had the honour of bearing the flag.

Perhaps Ogata knew the rumours best because they were spoken carefully around him— whispers like prey rustling the grass, catching his attention whether he willed it or not.

He's that Ogata's brother, they said. No, reliably came the disbelieving reply. Can't be, no way, you've got to be lying, is it true? It's true, the Second Lieutenant said so, though Ogata tries to keep it quiet. Ah, well it makes sense, he's the bastard after all, isn't he? Hah, in more ways than one…

Sideways glances between himself and their vaunted officer, not nearly as discreet as the men of the 7th Division believed themselves to be.

Have you heard? asked First Lieutenant Tsurumi in a conspiratorial whisper when he had Ogata alone. They say the Second Lieutenant is very principled.

Yes, Ogata has heard.

Shall we see for ourselves? proposed the First Lieutenant, hand outstretched, an offer.

一.

"Life is a long road."

Grandmother taught this to him in a voice that was light to mask the weight of wisdom in those heavy words. After Mother's death, Grandmother had never faltered in her duties though she grieved, going through the funeral proceedings with head held high, and seeing to Ogata's every need with reliability that Mother had never managed, though she had tried.

"The longer one's road grows, the more places to stumble, and for impurity to rest on the soul. With time, every person falls to the suffering of existence."

She used one of her wrinkled, gnarled hands to smooth back Ogata's clipped-short hair, soothing and pleasant.

"It is just the way life is," she said.

Ogata approached Yuusaku for the first time since the young officer had first called him brother, and the younger man lit up with such unadulterated delight that it sent a shudder of disgust down Ogata's spine.

He had to be faking. No one got that excited about a night out with their bastard half-brother. But as long as the Second Lieutenant wanted to play the good brother, that suited Ogata just fine.

Ogata led Yuusaku to the pleasure district, watching with amusement as the younger man's delight turned to discomfort, to embarrassment, to distress.

"Brother… I'm terribly sorry," he said, bowing. And he sounded sorry too, as if it physically pained him to refuse Ogata's first tenuous offer of brotherhood. His sincerity grated, as did his refusal. In one move, Yuusaku had both undermined Ogata's objective, and plainly made the grave insult that— however much he claimed to want Ogata for an elder brother— Ogata's wants and ways were beneath him.

With the trap now useless, there was no choice but to let him go, and Yuusaku walked out of the establishment as free and upright as ever.

But Ogata could be patient. As the war went on— as the acrid gunpowder, piss, shit, and anguish seeped into them all— Yuusaku would stumble. Ogata just had to bide his time and try again, try better.

二.

His mother was beautiful in death. She had hundreds of admirers from the peak of her career, and many a swooning painter had captured her likeness. A portrait of her had been gifted to them, and it smiled bright-eyed and gentle upon Ogata from the family altar as she never had in life.

"It doesn't look like her," he remarked, as he stood side by side with his grandmother and offered incense. He remembered his mother's back as she stood in the middle of a room for long stretches of time, silent and unmoving. Her profile, as she stared out the window, watching for a man who would never come.

The joss sticks burned down to ash, and Grandmother lifted her head from her prayers. She bowed and turned away, gesturing for him to follow. He followed suit.

"People see what they want to see," she said, once she had closed the door behind them. Grandmother was very different from Mother, in that way. She always paid attention to him, even if she was silent at first. He just had to be patient.

"Men wanted her beauty, so they took whichever parts of her they found beautiful and painted over all the other parts to suit their tastes. They did not know her character, the hardship she went through. The geisha, the maiko… they suffer greatly for their success. But it was our hope that she would have a good life, a better life than the one we could give her. Not..."

Heartache. Deep despair. The delusion that roused her from bed only to make the same dish, day after day: a desperate, futile offering to a love that didn't realise.

Ogata understood.

"Superior Private Ogata. It appears that Yuusaku is a more gallant soldier than we imagined. He's won over the hearts of all the other men."

Ogata let out the breath he'd been holding for his shot and lowered his rifle. He could read between the lines and take the orders the First Lieutenant preferred not to say explicitly. Plausible deniability and all that. It's why the First Lieutenant liked him.

"So you're saying we're better off not killing him, sir?" asked Ogata, reloading and already looking for his next target. He didn't need an answer. "Understood."

Ogata led Yuusaku wraithlike over the fields where gunfire and screaming had reigned earlier that day. The night was quiet but far from silent, the sighing of the wind an unearthly substitute for the dead and dying soldiers' groans. Yuusaku's boots scuffed the earth as he followed. He made enough noise that Ogata could have shot him at fifty yards, blindfolded.

"I want to see you kill him," Ogata said earnestly, pressing his knife into Yuusaku's hands. Yuusaku flinched and his eyes slid away, looking for escape, looking anywhere but Ogata's eyes, anywhere but the Russian soldier gagged and bound at their feet.

"Father said I have to keep my hands clean," Yuusaku begged off, as if the word 'Father' could invoke more authority than 'Lieutenant General' or 'martial law'. Ah, but Yuusaku was a beloved child, Ogata remembered, and this was him trying to appeal to the filial respect that Ogata never had the chance to develop for the man.

Something must have shown on Ogata's face.

Yuusaku embraced him and Ogata's blood swarmed like locusts in his veins, eating him alive with irritating discontent and a curious, persistent thought.

三.

Mother's death was Ogata's first. A lot of customs went with it, though Ogata didn't really see why. When everything was over, Grandmother paid a priest to come bless the family and sprinkle salt at him.

"It's for your own good. Death is an unclean thing, we don't want its shadow over you," Grandmother explained when Ogata grumbled about some of it getting it into his eye. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, as she smoothed the front of her kimono. "Remember to do this after I've passed."

Ogata buried her the year he was conscripted. He didn't get the priest afterwards. There wasn't much point, on the way to a war.

It was so easy to find Yuusaku on the field, even in the chaos.

Gallant Yuusaku, leading the throng of soldiers eager to kill and die for the emperor and their nation. Ogata could frame them in his rifle sight like a painter drafting a standing screen. Yuusaku, marked by the rising sun.

It was so easy that it was a wonder how the enemy snipers hadn't gotten him first. The waving flag begged to be targeted. Did the Russians dismiss him for having no gun? For never drawing his unblooded sabre?

It was so easy to line up the shot.

What would happen if— ?

Ogata pulled the trigger.

四.

Birds scattered as he missed, taking to the peach-pink sky above the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki. Ogata took aim for his second shot, but the timing was already so far off that there was no point. He lowered his grandfather's rifle instead of wasting another bullet.

He'd been over-eager, moving too much, and too fast. The light was gone now, and he would have to return home empty-handed.

Yuusuke's distant silhouette crumpled. His corpse joined the hundreds of bodies on the battlefield, lost in the chaos of the regiment as he went down, the bright white and red and gold tasselled flag falling slowly after him before it too disappeared from sight. Ogata lowered his rifle with a strange sense of frustration and ran his hand through his regulation cropped-short hair.

There was a strange absence of something he thought would be there, and with that... Disappointment. Profound disappointment. Like the shot when he was a child in the fields behind the family house in Ibaraki and learning to hunt, the birds scattering as he missed.

Yuusaku crowned by the sun, beloved.

He'd been overeager and now gallant Yuusaku would be forever gallant, forever pure. The impurity of death didn't seem to stick, and now Yuusaku was an immortal nuisance and Ogata still had no answer to the discontent crawling on his back.

Ogata's hand clenched on the butt of his rifle, white-knuckled with cold. This was the first time he felt bad when he'd made his shot, bereft of something out of reach, which could have been his but never would. It was a pricking irritation similar to missing a shot. Even though he hadn't.

There were no answers here. There were no answers in the dead. Not in his mother, not in his grandmother, not in this man who called him brother.

Ogata turned and First Lieutenant Tsurumi was there. The First Lieutenant smiled in understanding and nodded in approval, as if knowing Ogata's thoughts before Ogata himself.

The father who only had enough love to raise one virtuous son. Yes, Ogata could just ask him directly. There was no point thinking about Yuusaku any longer.

Yuusaku was dead. That was the end of it. Ogata couldn't reach him anymore.

Time to turn to the living.

===/END\===

(On Ao3) ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

#ogata hyakunosuke #hanazawa yuusaku #tsurumi tokushirou #golden kamuy #gk #golden kamuy fanfiction #gk fanfic #gk fic #my writing #mine

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torivikachu · 3 years

Text

okay I promised myself I'll get to this topic one day, so here's my venting about Orochimaru in the whole SNS dynamics and in general.

first of all -

there is a Russian expression that is roughly translated like "the crook-backed can only be changed by grave" and well that's like literally the case since he just made a fucking 180° spin after his revival /okay mb a 179° one he still is kinda creepy in some cute way /

so I wanna start from the beginning.

when Orochimaru was first introduced he was sort of an ultimate villain, a disgusting and merciless and heartless and just the epitome of fucking evil, you know?

I mean his tongue? dude that was the creepiest thing I saw by the age of 12 /and probably till my current age of proud 22 / and I already discovered some pretty heavy hentai shit by then /aaand showed to my 6 yo sister....talk about childhood trauma / so I was ready to pretty much everything BUT THAT

and his ripping off faces and reviving the dead and killing his sensei and all those experiments on humans .... he is THE CREEPIEST villain in Naruto. I mean it.

this is why seeing him on Boruto all cute and caring parent / even though his son is a homunculus / really throws me off.

but lets return to a moment he marked Sasuke.

first of all, when Naruto sees them battle, he charges right in and goes all kyuubi to protect Sasuke and encourages him / even if in a somehow mocking naruto-isch way - well what do you want a guy never had anybody encourage him before how is he supposed to know this stuff / - so Naruto already sees Orochimaru as a threat to Sasuke.

if you remember, Naruto was unconscious and didn't know about the mark since Sasuke asked Sakura not to tell him. so he just went on believing it was over and honestly thought he and Sasuke were okay / which they actually were until Itachi was back in town /

and then when the 4 of Sound find Sasuke and convince him to turn to Orochimaru, even though Naruto saw they were falling apart, he felt betrayed. and twice as much, because it was OROCHIMARU Sasuke turned to. fucking Orochimaru, who Sasuke believed to be better suited for helping him / even though it meant he'd have to sacrifice his body / then anybody in Konoha, even with his hands not functional Orochimaru was his choice and that must have hurt Naruto bad.

he chose to believe Sasuke was abducted, but then he caught up to him and discovered that he was not, that Sasuke was leaving him for the damn snake and the worry the betrayal the devastation he felt ...

it could have broken him, but he chose to fight. he channeled all of this heartbreak and pain into motivation. and that is exactly what I admire about Naruto.

so back to Sasuke, who made the hardest choice of his life / yet / and comes to Orochimaru. he is drained, physically and emotionally, but he enters the life of constant fear and being on guard, because he can't trust the snake - his intentions of taking over his body were clear as a day.

I am not sure if Orochimaru would make any sexual advances... I think he is into many nasty things pedophilia being one of them, but I like to believe he never did anything to Sasuke. he might have watched or examined certain parts way too intently but I think fucking a body that was going to be his would be too much even for him. but you never know with those psychos.

anyway, he admired Sasuke. way too much. and he felt like a collector owning the best precious thing in the word. and yes for him it was like that - he felt like he owned Sasuke and he liked it. he enjoyed it.

pretty sure Sasuke didn't like that and his rebellious and disrespectful way of speaking with Orochimaru sure shows that.

but Orochimaru never let it phase him. I think he got a bit dillusional after his fight with Sarutobi - whether it was his encounter with the deadly technic that chopped some of his soul or the aftermath... he got more careless and overconfident and he really must have believed he owned Sasuke since he didn't see it coming when the latter attacked him.

so, even if Sasuke did feel something towards Orochimaru, it was disgust, pity and maybe a little respect for all the power the guy harnested. there is a chance he developed some ill-motivated teacher/student bond with him / since the guy was a bit of a batshit crazy parody on a parental figure for three years for him / but it wasn't that strong.

but Naruto didn't know that. all data he posessed was

1. Orochimaru has a weird obsession with Sasuke

2. Sasuke went to Orochimaru

of course Naruto was fucking jelous of Orochimaru! no wonder he went kyuubi after Orochimaru flaunted his ownership of Sasuke on that bridge and almost destroyed a forest in his wrath while Orochimaru kept sliding out of bodies one after another and just enjoying the display of anger.

and when Sasuke killed Orochimaru, I bet Naruto thought that was it! nnnnice! Naruto vs. Orochimaru 1:0! Love wins!

uh huh.

then Sasuke goes on rampage with his band of Orochimaru pets / I think Naruto didn't like that aswell /

but then Sasuke suddenly needs an advice.

guess who he turns to?

a fucking Orochimaru!!!!!

but Naruto didn't know that, he was busy saving the world?? but then Sasuke and his messed up team of hokages and Konoha enemies join them and Naruto had to sense Orochimaru, but I guees he was too happy to see Sasuke to pay much attention to it.

and then Orochimaru is redeemed and can continiou his research / though outside of Konoha - I am pretty much Naruto still doesn't exactly like the guy / and Sasuke keeps using his help for his missions so Naruto HAS to put up with that. he does everything he can, he even lets a homunculus made by Orochimaru / no offense to Mizuki I like Mizuki / enter the academy, because he wants to be a good person and good hokage and not let bad feelings interfere with his ruling...

and Orochimaru agreed to lay low...

and I am pretty sure Sasuke didn't really see the problem and it annoys him when Naruto would bring it up. he doesn't consider Orochimaru to be better than Naruto, it was just a better choice back then and he is a good ally if you think about it.

and I am both relieved and disappointed. I mean I like the fact that he could be redeemed but he was such a strong villain... he had a purpose, he had some messed up principles, he was such a catalyst in SNS dynamics...

but good old days are over, so we have to live in a era of Boruto, where nothing makes sense anymore.

peace

#Naruto being jealous of Orochimaru #Orochimaru considering Sasuke his pet #Sasuke not giving a damn about both of them #nice love triangle you ve got there #sns #orochimaru #narusasu #sasunaru #sasunarusasu

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thou-crusty-batch-of-nature · 4 years

Text

The rise and fall of our love

part one | part two

playlist: gold by nick murphy and chet faker

too young to burn by sonny and the sunsets

cold cold cold by cage the elephant

pairing: reader x james, lily x james

warnings: language, fluff, a bit of angst

A/N: hope you like my first proper series! i've been working on this for a while and i'm so excited to finally post it! feedback is very much appreciated so lmk what you think

also, credits to @approved-by-dentists for the iconic line "I'll drop kick your firstborn", you can check her frog memes here

and credits to the harry potter wiki fandom, I took those amortentia info from there

p.s. the cover is made by me

word count: roughly 2.4K

MASTERLIST

"You can't expect me to believe this!" James was looking at you with his mouth agape and exaggerated wide eyes which made the conversation slightly more embarrassing than it already was.

"5 minutes till midnight!" Sirius announced from a table with several bottles of champagne by his side.

"Well, you should. I'm telling the truth!"

"Y/N!" he shouted in a serious note, as if he was trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your ears were burning. Someone hex me right now.

"James!" you answered - this was like a bad version of the Marco Polo game.

Something in your eyes convinced him of your honesty. "You have never been kissed on New Year's Eve!" he gasped with such amazement that you didn't have the heart to reveal that, in fact, you have never been kissed by anyone on any other occasion - you still needed that remaining bit of dignity. Well, not a real kiss, that is. The only time you have ever kissed someone was on a game of spin the bottle in 3rd year, when you and Remus shared a very awkward one-second kiss, that James never forgot to bring up every other day.

"Why is it such a big deal - I don't need a kiss to have a lucky year! I can manage fairly well on my own, thank you very much!"

The whole Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with chatter, clinking glasses and loud music. New Year's Eve meant a great deal to gryffindors, whether it was for the booze, the games or the chance to kiss your crush at midnight.

You could proudly say that your presence was owed to none of the above, but rather to the persistent demands of your best friend, Marlene. Not that you didn't love a good party - it's the opposite, really. The only problem was your low intolerance to alcohol; three big gulps of beer were enough to make you the talk of the school for at least two weeks. And with Marlene and the marauders by your side, the chances of that to happen were outstandingly high.

"It's a matter of principle, it's about the neediness of human nature, about their need for closure and contact in order to feel full and satisfied! It's about the idea of knowing that you have emotional support!" he declared passionately with a hand over his chest.

"So, people are horny and they need to kiss other people for them to feel valid and worthy?" You scrunched up your nose in disgust. "That's messed up!"

"It's love, Y/N! It's not supposed to make sense, it's like magic!"

"You sound like a cringy girl from a romantic muggle movie!" You snorted.

"You're incredible!" James sighed, disappointed. "Alright, I'll show you, you'll see!" Soon enough, a gigantic clock appeared over the fireplace starting the New Year's countdown.

"9…" People were chanting joyfully.

"8…" You could feel James' stare, but you kept your eyes glued to the clock.

"7...6…5…" You sensed him inch closer.

"4…" He spun you around and cupped your cheek.

"3…" You were lost in his eyes. They were an infusion of spring and autumn, a melt of fiery leaves and honey.

"2… 1!" His soft lips met yours, and you could hear fireworks erupting outside the castle. You felt your soul implode. The kiss was shy, yet passionate. His hands were slowly grazing your back while yours found their way to his dark curls. It felt right - perfect, even.

Even though it was your first kiss, you knew it was the best you'd ever have. Everything was easier when you were with James, everything felt at peace. You pulled apart when you ran out of breath, still longing for more. Your whole face was on fire, and you let your forehead rest on his.

"Here you go. Wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Eh- t'was alright." you joked, trying to sound cool. You laughed nervously, though you were pretty sure it sounded more like a squeal. Great.

"Do you think Lily saw it?" Something in his voice made you realise that he wished she did. You were just a puppet in his cruel play. Your heart wrenched a little, but you managed to hide your pain.

"Don't know. I haven't seen her tonight." You were his friend. That's all. The kiss meant nothing for him, and that was okay.

Just great.

"I think imma go check on Marls." you said, trying to hold your tears back. "Thank you, for the kiss." you exclaimed sarcastically, though James didn't seem to notice. He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes already on a certain red-head.

Oh, you were so stupid! How could you let this happen? A wave of nausea washed over you while the knot in your stomach kept pulling at your insides.

You made your way through the sea of people, right where you knew Marlene would be. There she was: lounging on the couch next to Sirius, drinks in hands, talking about Merlin knows what. You suddenly felt very bad to disturb your best friends who were both clearly having a great time, so you quickly turned the other way.

"Y/N!" Marlene shouted. Shit. You quickened your pace, only to hear her shouts over the music. "Y/N Y/L/N stay where you are or I swear I'll knock you down!"

You continued to walk but stopped when you saw James and Lily a few steps ahead. She was laughing while he was whispering something in her ear. Lily spotted you and smiled teasingly. You took a deep breath. Defeated, you turned and saw Marlene's tall figure facing you. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You haven't realised that until she asked you. Good thing that James was too busy fawning over Lily to notice.

Marlene didn't wait for an answer to take your hand in hers and lead you back to your dorm. She pulled you in her arms while you finally let your tears fall. You felt pathetic; how could you believe he would actually like you the way you did?

You told her everything apart from that unbecoming smile Lily gave you. They were also friends, not as good as you two were, but you didn't want to stir up any arguments.

You and Marlene have been best friends for over six years. You used to be quite an introvert, whereas Marlene was cocky enough for the two of you, so she made it her goal to get you out of your shell. And she succeeded - even too well, some would say.

And as for you and Lily, things were - you guessed you could call them decent. Neither of you made any effort to be besties, as Lily made it quite clear she didn't like you. However, you managed to become acquaintances for the sake of your friends'.

"Y/N! What is our number one rule?" she asked when you finished.

You sighed. "Bros over hoes."

"I will never put a boy over our friendship, Y/N. You come first. Especially when you have a problem."

"Okay, mother." you rolled your eyes. "I should've drank the damned firewhisky. It would have been a far better alternative to get shitface drunk than deal with all this."

"You're right." You glared at her. "What? You really are. That just proves my theory further: technically, alcohol is a solution."

×××

Naturally, the odds haven't been in your favour, and Lily and James were closer than ever. You would be lying if you said you were happy for them.

"Now, Y/N/N, that's just cruel!" Marlene said with her mouth full, spitting half of her breakfast on you. Then, she silently handed you a napkin. You gave her a nod of thanks. "I mean, I get it, you are a tad bit jealous, but that's understandable!"

"Am not!" you defended. "I'm happy for my friend for finding his love." You choked that word out. "Okay, I might be a tiny tiny bit jealous but that's not the case right now! I just don't understand his choice!"

"Ah… here goes that 'he could've had all this but he chose that' speech..." Marlene sighed.

"Yes- I mean no! That's not what I mean! I just don't like Lily!"

"I know…" she said regretfully. "She is a good friend to me, really - she's not that bad. I know you two had your problems, but… Wait, what are your problems exactly?" she squinted her eyes in confusion. "You've never told me the real reason you two don't get along."

"Well…"

"Good morning darlings!" Sirius interrupted, plopping down next to Marlene.

"Good morning to you too!" James chirped with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. He sat next to you, hugged you and you could swear you heard him squeal.

"Well, someone seems to be in an awfully good mood this early in the morning. Waddup?" you ask, popping the 'p'.

"Someone got back to the dorm very late last night after having spent the entire day with -"

"LILY-FLOWER! HERE!" James got up and waved frantically towards her. She furrowed her brows when she spotted him next to you and you quickly averted your gaze.

"Hello there!" she smiled, sitting down on the other empty spot next to James. She took his hand in hers and glanced at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Lily asked innocently.

"Nah, everything's alright." Just my back hurts a little... from all the stabs. The intensities of your stares could burn holes through each other's bodies.

"Y/N, have you finished your DADA essay? I think it was due Wednesday and I haven't written a word!" Remus cuts in, sensing the tension. You made a mental note to thank him later.

×××

"So what was all that about?" You were in the library "helping" Remus write his essay - in reality, you were munching on his chocolate while he was reading.

"What?" You decided to play dumb, hoping he would drop the subject. Remus leaned in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It was too early for any of this.

"Your 'friendship' with Lily." he air quoted.

"There's nothing wrong with us…"

"Oh, then let me call her here and make friendship bracelets together!" he mocked. "You almost hugged to death out there!"

"Quiet!" you heard madam Pince's high screech.

You let your head fall in your hands. "Is it so obvious?" you whispered. He gave you the are-you-kidding-me face and you groaned.

"Fine! The truth is that I don't know why she hates me! I've tried to be her friend for so many years, ever since she became Marl's friend - and she rejected me every single time. Not to mention that she has never been the nicest to me. And now she acts like I drop-kicked her firstborn and I'm sick of it."

"So nothing happened?"

"Nothing that I know of…"

"Huh…" It was clear he expected somewhat of a greek tragedy. You glanced at the clock and cursed, you were running late to class. "Remus, we gotta leave."

You both got up in a hurry, stuffing parchments and quills in your bags. "Potions?"

You checked the time again. "In five minutes."

"Shit."

You sprinted down the halls of Hogwarts, going on every shortcut you knew. You reached the classroom faster than ever - seriously, you must’ve broken a record.

"What time is it?" Remus asked, a bit out of breath.

"10:04" you managed to say.

Remus knocked on the door while you struggled to keep an upright position - you had to admit that you were a bit out of shape.

"Ah, Remus and Y/N, I was beginning to worry! Everybody is late today! Do you happen to know about Potter and Lily's whereabouts?"

"No, sir."

"Probably in a broom closet." Sirius said between coughs. Slughorn decided not to hear this remark.

"Very well, then find your seats and get your books out." You hurried towards the empty desk behind Sirius and a now-seated Remus. Where was he?

"Now, as I was saying. I prepared some concoctions this morning which you can find on your desks. Any ideas what these might be?"

"It's Armortentia!" someone from the front exclaimed.

"Excellent! Now, this is the most powerful love potion in existence. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. Despite its power, Amortentia doesn't create actual love; it's impossible to manufacture or imitate love."

You were already growing tired. "Miss Y/L/N, you seem awfully relaxed. Care to reveal what scent do you smell?"

Your head shot up from the desk, trying to remember the question. You were ready to ask the professor to repeat it when you saw Sirius pointing to his nose and then to the potion.

Thanks, you mouthed and Sirius winked.

"I smell…" you started, closing your eyes and sniffing the liquid.

"I smell gingerbread, old books and…"...James. You quickly opened your eyes as the realisation dawned onto you. "... musky cologne."

"Wonderful, miss Y/L/N! Now, in the hour that remains you and your desk mates will have to brew an acceptable vial of Amortentia, helped by the example before you and of course, your books. So, open the books at -"

A loud knock interrupted Professor Slughorn. He turned his head just as James and Lily barged into the room all giggly and blushy.

"Excuse us, professor! We had some urgent Prefect duties!" Yeah, right.

"You are a tad late, I'm afraid. Oh well, you may come in, I've just finished the instructions for today's lesson. Potter, there's an empty seat next to Y/N; Lily, you can take a seat next to Miss Macdonald."

"Hello, roomie!" James whispered when he sat down, wiggling his eyebrows. "What are we brewing today?" he asked. Why did he always have that stupid smirk on his face?

"That!" you pointed towards the tiny cauldron in front of you.

"Hmm - let me see." he leaned forward to look at it, then scrunched up his nose when he tried to smell it.

"Bloody hell, Y/N! Do you bathe in your perfume? And what is with this smell - lilies? Are lilies here? Well, besides the most beautiful one over there?" he nodded towards Evans.

You couldn't help but blush and look away. You were sure you didn't put any perfume on this morning, so that meant…?

"We are brewing Amortentia, you barmy wanker!" you heard Sirius' wheezy voice, who was trying and failing to hold his laughter.

"Oh" James said, rubbing his neck. "Shit."

Shitty indeed.

You were in deep.

****

part two

taglist: @futurewriter2000, @puppycat714, @booksbeforebois, @slytherinquill, @screennamealreadyused, @fific7, @with1love1anu

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imaginingsoftly · 4 years

Text

Not My Type - Matthew Tkachuk

Type: first meetings, Y/N insert shorts

Requested: No

Warnings: drinking

(Y/N = Your name)

A/N: You all have Matty Tkachuk stuck in my head and I don’t know how I feel about it. #26 from this prompt list, “Just one drink”

The last thing you’d expected to be doing on your first day of summer break was day drinking at a baseball game and then drinking more at a bar afterwards, but here you were.

Kay was your best friend, and you really couldn’t say no when she offered to buy tickets for the two of you to go see a Cardinals game, on the condition you’d go out drinking with her after. She wasn’t a baseball fan, so you knew it was really the only opportunity to get her to the ballpark. “Come on, Y/N,” she had whined, “you have to stop in St. Louis on your way home anyway. Why not stay a day or two and visit with me before we don’t see each other all summer?” She had a point. After spending three years and two summer sessions together at Stanford, it was the first time the two of you would be spending any significant amount of time not joined at the hip. Besides, it wasn’t like you were really in that much of a rush to get back to Philly.

You’d agreed eventually, and that was how you’d ended up where you were now, more than a little buzzed and trying not to be offended Kay had abandoned you at the bar to go hunt for a boy to torture until she was ready to go home. Paddy O’s wasn’t that bad; Kay knew how to pick her bars, even if she chose this place purely because she knew you’d find someone to talk baseball with so she didn’t feel guilty about abandoning you.

Your Phillies were playing the Mariners, and the beers you’d consumed earlier at the ballpark finally caught up to you as you found yourself caught up in the game. “That’s fucking bullshit,” you said out loud, raising an arm at the television screen nearest you. “That wasn’t a fucking strike, it was two feet outside the box! Holy shit are you joking?” You took another sip of beer as you shook your head in disgust. How Joe West was still calling games was a mystery. The guy lost his ability to identify balls and strikes before you were born.

“You a Seattle fan, sweetheart?” The voice came from behind you, smug enough you were already readying for a fight before you’d turned around. The face smirking down at you was enough to make you take pause before you responded. Matthew Tkachuk may have been one of the most irritating players you’d ever watched, but he was damn pretty.

Tkachuk raised an eyebrow, and you realized you’d been staring. “Phillies, actually, but I have a problem with shitty officiating.” He laughed, and you relaxed slightly. Sports was your comfort zone. As long as he didn’t start flirting you were fine. His nose was slightly burnt under the shadow of his Cardinal’s hat, and you realized he must have just come from the game as well. “You at the game earlier?” Tkachuk cocked his head in confusion, and you gestured at his attire.

Realization dawned on his face, and Tkachuk nodded. “My brother and I try to take in games whenever we can. I don’t know if we can watch baseball together anymore though, he picked up a slight affection for the Red Sox when he was at BU.” He took a seat at the bar stool next to you and continued. “I told him he wasn’t allowed to jump on that bandwagon, and he tried to tell me he went to school in Boston so he wasn’t bandwagoning, it was his team now. Kid went there for a year, he doesn’t get to call it a home team.” Tkachuk shook his head in disgust, and you found yourself giggling.

“So can I get a name, or am I going to have to call you baseball girl all night?” Tkachuk cocked an eyebrow at you, and somehow you didn’t find his attitude as annoying as you usually would. You must have been drunker than you thought.

“It’s Y/N. Sorry.” Tkachuk stuck out his hand and smirked again. Nevermind, his attitude was annoying.

“Matthew. You can call me Matt if you’d like.” Yeah, definitely annoying. “I have to ask, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a bar like this all alone?” You rolled your eyes at his lame excuse for a pickup line. Real original, Tkachuk.

There was a reason you never went for the athlete types. Most of them were hot, or at least had hot bodies, but that was about it. Their egos could reach Mars, and a lot of them couldn’t keep up with your brain. Your grandfather had said it best; “million dollar bat, ten cent brains.” They tried, most of the time, but it got frustrating to try and slow down so they could keep up. That wasn’t to say they were all like that; some of the athletes you’d met over the years were good guys with decent minds, but they just weren’t your type. You preferred watching them on their respective fields of play than screwing them.

You sighed, gesturing in the general direction of Kay. “I’m actually here with my college roommate. I’m visiting her on my way home from Stanford.” Oops. You usually didn’t give away where you went to school, especially to guys you didn’t know. “She likes to flirt. I prefer watching sports.” You took another sip of beer as Tkachuk’s eyes lit up.

His eyes followed the beer as you raised it to your lips, and you squirmed a little at the way he was looking at you. His eyes held just enough mischief to keep you weary as he spoke again. “You a hockey fan by any chance?” You almost regretted nodding when Tkachuk made a self-satisfied face at the admission. “Me too.” Not the response you were expecting. Tkachuk laughed when you cocked an eyebrow, telling him as much without a word. “You know who I am?” The cocky bastard had the audacity to blush when you said yes. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You almost refused on principle, ready to end the conversation and get back to your game, when he spoke again. “I’m not trying anything, I promise. I just want to talk baseball, and it looks like the two idiots keeping us out here are currently talking to each other.” You looked over at Kay, and he was right. Her and Brady were chatting away like long-lost friends, and you sighed. Of course she would be flirting with a professional athlete and have no idea who he was. “Just one drink,” you sighed as you stared daggers at Kay, “and then I have to go make sure my idiot roommate knows she’s flirting with a guy two years younger than her.” Tkachuk laughed and gestured at the bartender for refills of what you were both drinking.

The Phillies had begun a rally while you were speaking to Tkachuk, and your eyes flew back to the screen as Molina lined the ball into the right field gap. You cheered without thinking, holding out your hand for a high five. Tkachuk obliged, and you blushed when you looked over to find him staring at you in amusement. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked baseball, eh?”

You laughed and jostled his shoulder. “You a Canadian or something, saying eh?” Tkachuk laughed at your teasing and shook his head.

“I spend most of my year in Calgary, sweetheart, I’m gonna pick up on some of their lingo.” He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and you found yourself enjoying your conversation a lot more than you’d expected over the next hour or so. Matthew knew a lot about baseball, and somewhere in that conversation he’d become Matthew instead of just his last name in your mind as one drink turned into two. Kay had moved on from Brady, thank goodness, though you found yourself a little disappointed when she’d reappeared at your side. She nodded at Matthew, smiling approvingly at you, and Matthew stopped his spiel about why the Cardinals should bring back their baby blue uniforms long enough to introduce himself.

Kay almost had to drag you away from Matthew, much to the surprise of her and yourself, and Matthew’s gentle kiss on your cheek as you said goodbye was almost too much to handle. He’d said goodbye with the kiss and a cocky “sweet dreams sweetheart,” and part of you wanted to cringe over how arrogant he was. The other part of you was pretty turned on.

That part of you left him a napkin with your number and a note reading, “if you ever want to talk baseball, I’m more than interested.”

You weren’t expecting a response. Sober you never would have left the note in the first place.

You certainly weren’t expecting to wake up to a text the next morning that said “Sweetheart, I can think of a lot of things I’m interested in with you, and talking baseball is only one of them.”

Maybe that athlete rule could be broken just this once.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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a-long-walk-in-the-forest · 3 years

Text

Itachi’s Taurus planets degree exploration

Since if I want to make a proper reasonable guess for Sasuke I need to have some idea about Itachi too so I’m going to just list any taurus degree that fit him. He has at least 3 things there (mars, venus, saturn).

I tried to keep different interpretations of the character in mind but not so much so that I can’t narrow it down at all. Note that these descriptions were mostly written by people decades ago so some of them may sound a bit ... Also the body parts mentioned are used for predictive and medical astrology.

0-1

It denotes a person of. a disputative mind, one who will have many enemies, and will need to exercise himself much in self-defense; one to whom life will open out into a great field of strife, but who, through his own native force and diplomacy, will eventually prevail. It is a degree of SELF-PRESERVATION.

The native will have to stand forever on the lookout ready to parry unforeseen attacks, as his destiny has fierce struggles in store. But in struggles he surely will thrive and revel as if it were his own element, and he will engage himself in them to his utmost. He has a great will power, is versed in tricks and makeshifts, and can be very reserved in spite of his liking for arguments and polemics. Churlish and insensitive to pain, he seems born to have things his own way in spite of the war furiously waged against him on all sides. He may even be endowed with magic powers. This hard character’s failing is ungenerous; it may even become cruelty.

Denotes a person of strong character; of a rather morose disposition, and possessing magical powers; one with strong will-power, very reserved, inclined to be cruel.

A persevering strategist; denotes good mentality; a prophet of a new order; love of home; brilliant 233 mind; renowned for benevolence; powerful in combining old principles in new application; beauty, devotion, fame or fortune; throat or gullet; palate.

Denotes one whose life is threatened in early infancy. The ideals are high, and he delights in all that is beautiful and sweet. The native is somewhat erratic and inconstant, loving “fresh fields and pastures new.” He inclines to the poetic and artistic, and may excel in such paths. It is a symbol of Cultivation.

This degree seems to blend the qualities of Aries and Taurus in a less desirable fashion. Here the stubbornness of Taurus is directed to the establishing of the ego. In so doing he alienates those around him so that he is left to carry his burdensome load alone. There is a strong tendency for men to be mislead by a woman usually because of his desire to possess her and make her subservient to his own ego. In most cases he desires and attracts someone extremely selfish and difficult to deal with. He seems not to be able to disassociate himself and pursue his course alone. This is an even greater threat if it is the man’s Moon or Venus which falls on this degree. At any rate it is the stubborn desire to establish his own ego irrespective of others which cause the insurmountable trouble.

This degree is favorable for a good mentality. Denotes a persevering strategist. More inclined to the artistic than Scorpio 0-1 degree.

1-2

It denotes one for whom life will be a severe lesson; whose ambition is likely to outstrip his power; one who will attempt great his discomfiture; whose efforts will prove futile, and whose hopes a will vanish as the clouds.

The present repels him, human society holds no attraction for him. If he, therefore, does not find an outlet in the pursuit of nature’s secrets or in historical studies and the like, he will lapse into a dull idleness, root of all evils. He must break the ominous spell isolating him spiritually from his kind if he is not to find realized in himself the biblical threat, Vae soli (Woe to him that is alone—EccI. 4:11). He must draw a wholesome lesson from his disappointments and realize that he has produced them himself with his wrong attitude of estrangement from life. Life must be loved if she is to present us with her gifts; these are not to be frowned upon in comparison with the unattainable daydreams, toyed with by cloud-dwellers apt to slump defeated to the ground if they cannot reach their aim. Any vital force that does not find a proper outlet will cease to flow. The greater one’s inborn vitality, the more quickly idleness will blight It.

Denotes that he, or she, born under this degree will live alone, isolated, mentally; not in sympathy with the present state of things.

Magic; a pleasing personality; a person who is above petty things; loyal and serious-minded; some interest in occultism; magnanimous; opening of throat.

Denotes one capable of immense sacrifices who surrenders self, expecting no reward. The life will be often lonely, but ever threatened by storms. In the end wisdom and worth will triumph and the second half of life brings good promise. It is a symbol of Devotion.

This degree is not a decisive one although it gives a strong will and a desire to protect the ego at all cost. There is also a capacity for cruelty. Self-preservation is the basic quality. When the self is not threatened the individual may relax and this degree will then be free to develop along other lines generally consistent with the chart as a whole. It is possible that the native could be so sensitive that even when the self was free from threat, defensiveness would be uppermost. Until this tendency is overcome there is not much hope of success. There is much ability both mental and physical.

This degree promises a pleasing personality. A person above petty things. Loyal and serious minded, with some interest in Occultism.

2-3

It denotes a person whose interest will be greatly enhanced in the autumn of life, who will reap benefits greatly enhanced in the autumn of life, who will reap benefits from old age and pleasures from maturity; whose chief characteristic is acquisitiveness, and whose designs will meet with much success. It is a degree of acquirement, of GATHERING TOGETHER.

This influence points somehow to untimely love. The native may have older people propose to her in her youth, or vice versa, will insist on marrying a younger partner in her elderly age. The planned match risks to come off whether the younger partner looks at it as a sincere and generous gift of his or her youth, or is driven to it by base interest-where the one alternative does not altogether shut off the other. Aside from the question of love or marriage, the native will be luckier in later years and will reap tardily the fruit of his days of labor.

Strong sympathies, excessive sensibility, very impressionable and mediumistic.

Scientific; artistic; degree of plot and strategy; an important degree in nativities of great military generals; a carefree traveler; inclined to live his one life regardless of others’ opinions; afflicted - may denote an unfortunate end; generous; uvula.

Denotes one favored by fortune. He will possess good judgment, and will do the right thing at the right time. His early life will be filled with struggle and with promise, expanding to favor as he advances in years. With a good insight into human nature the native can well choose others to assist in his work, and whilst holding work to be the true necessity of life, he knows the value of relaxation and pleasure to others as to himself. It is a symbol of Fortune.

Much indication of loneliness and self-undoing. Some of the artistic qualities of Taurus come through here. There seems to be little appreciation for life. These people generally find little to live for. They isolate themselves from other people. They tend to pessimism and despair. Much of this comes from inertia but it can also come from too much freedom and too many choices, which are not open at the same time but which sweep by in a maze of confusion to this individual. Idleness tends to atrophy any abilities that one might have. It would be helpful to him if opportunities were kept open to him for longer periods of time. He might continue to procrastinate, but in some cases this might lessen the frustration. Basically this is a problem the individual must solve for himself and realize his own part in humanity’s pattern. He must discover for himself the worthwhile nature of relationships with others. His childhood training will do much to over-come these problems if recognized and dealt with in meaningful way.

A carefree traveler, but adverse aspects may denote an unfortunate end. Artistic, scientific and generous. Inclined to live his own life regardless of other people’s opinions.

3-4

It denotes a person in whose life much sedition will prevail, whose affairs will be marred by his own violence, and whose house will be dismembered through strife, in whom wrath will effect great evils , and whose force will be turned against himself. If is a degree of DISINTEGRATION.

An exacting, disdainful, short-tempered being, destined to remain, so to speak, raw stuff throughout his life, who cannot possibly keep in harmony with the ones he loves. The native hat, however, a nearly military sense of discipline as something absolutely necessary for himself as well as for others. The keynote of this character is its lack of that indispensable minimum of feminine fluidity needed to melt and blend any spiritual alloy; therefore, both the native and his never sufficiently plastered buildings tend to harden and collapse. A male every inch of his boorish being, an irksome grumbler, easily roused to a fury, the native will not be able to put up with anyone; he will handle things and people awkwardly and clumsily and will be peeved and disgusted at any show of weakness in his neighbors. Hence a tendency to isolation and ultimately to self-destruction, as in Dante’s figure of Pier della Vigna (Inf 13, 70) who, embittered and nearly crushed by all his fellow courtiers’ envy and slander, ended by commiting suicide. Unless no other features balance this influence, the male native never will be able to appreciate feminine charm. The female native should never marry. This degree shows sometimes a remarkable feature: a special fondness for fireworks, which may well become a passion if the rest of the pattern helps (the Fire element). The native’s body will be subject to decalcifying.

Denotes one in whom the male principle predominates excessively, the female being nearly nil, sympathies towards the opposite sex wanting. if a man he rarely ever marries, If a woman, she ought not to many.

Literature (skill in working out plots); writers of detective stories; one accustomed to the exercise of authority; favors playwrights; military men. organizers who work to uphold the law; degree of plot; planning, tact, and scheming bodily injuries; destruction by fire, war or earth-quake; unscrupulous defeat; throat or larynx.

Denotes one whose destiny it is to come before the public in some professional capacity. The native will be impulsive, bold, and brave, and will be gifted with controlling and magnetic force. He will travel and move about a great deal, and will be exposed to danger with little or no hurt. It is a symbol of Intrepidity.

Gives an imagination guided by the eye. More a Mercury imagination than a Neptune imagination. A practical ability to plan and portray with mental activity to mentally see a completed project. This ability probably contributes to success in later life. Often brings a marriage to some one younger in later life although may be reversed and is not always successful but has better than average chance with the influence of this degree. It generally contributes to a building up of resources and a bringing together of people which usually results in a very prosperous and socially happy old age. 340 He does wait until old age to enjoy life but seems to enjoy the years of accumulating and building.

This degree of plot, planning, tact and scheming is found in the charts of novelists, play-rights, military men and organizers who work to uphold the law.

8-9

It denotes a man whose chief interest will be in his home, and in the care of his children; one who is attractive to young persons, and whose mind is pacific and benevolent; one who has the ability to inspire confidence and faith in other; whose footsteps will be followed in security and whose life goes by easy weay to a peaceful end. It is a degree of MINISTRATION.

The very figure of pater familias; love for one’s home and large family, careful upbringing of one’s children and well-meaning strictness toward one’s dependents. A humane, honest, peaceful yet energetic nature, such as to attract the young and inspire confidence in all. Love of nature and country life; good sense rather than common sense? efficient running of affairs rather than mere routine. The native will do his utmost for his children’s happiness, but is not in the least certain to reach happiness for himself; on the contrary, when particularly badly aspected elsewhere, he could look forward to death as a release, though no attempt at self-inflicted death can be foreseen; the good shepherd will not leave his flock. This degree may produce corpulence if other factors concur.

Denotes one who will have a very gloomy life and who Is likely to die be fore he passes his prime

A born teacher and scientist; hearing (afflicted - may in - cline to deafness); inordinately fond of food; afflicted - gluttons; if the will is weak, may become a drunkard; a tendency to be contrary and stubborn, especially with planets in 27 degree Aries-Pisces; frequently their own worst enemies; has much to do with healing; said to be a degree ruling the Irish; cervical vein.

Denotes one who acquires much by work and application, but who lacks the faculty of watchfulness in protecting his gains from the greed of others. He has an easygoing tendency, but gains come from labor, craft, and the management of his own affairs. He may be the victim of deceit or treachery, and should never put himself in the hands of others when his own well-being is concerned. He should avoid things and circumstances he does not understand. It is a symbol of Misleading.

Very subject to teasing. Easily taunted into futile efforts. This individual feels a responsibility which he cannot maintain. He is easily aroused into a defensive attitude. Part of this is due to a response to shadows and unreal images around him. If this person were born soon after a New Moon this tendency would be enhanced and become very difficult to handle. He is plagued by an environment too active for his lumbering nature. He has a slow heavy feel and is unable to move quickly. His record of success and failure would be improved by a protective cover of some kind under which he could take time to clear his vision before he struck out at the threat he fears. This degree also affects the vision adversely. If he could be made to feel a sense of protection rather than being subjected to constant teasing he would have at least an opportunity to correct his evaluation of his environment. This person however seems to have been born with the fuse lit. And it is very unclear what useful purpose this influence serves.

Contrariness when found with planets also in Aries, Libra in 27 degree. A born teacher and scientist.

16-17

This symbolizes a life of toil without much fruits; the misdirection of effort through ignorance of natural laws; a straining after that which Nature has not designed, and consequent failure in life. The native will be unpopular, moving against the stream, and by much exertion, hurting himself alone. It is a degree of FUTILITY.

The native’s habit of thinking with his own head is apt to make him unpopular; his failings will bring about his misfortune. His intelligence is like a river liable to flood the barren sands of Utopia instead of fertilizing the happy valley of originality. He is in for unceasing, often wasted, labors, which will not make him move a step forward. There is a guilty light-mindedness; the native will believe that he can solve single- handed and in his own way certain problems which repose on natural laws, as those of economics, dynamics and the like. On the other hand, such a being can easily rely on Divine Providence and reach that absolute faith which moves mountains and goes so far as to give sometimes personal success in spite of rationalistic logic and science’s “infallibility.”

A truly good person; one who has Implicit faith in the Most High.

Painting; business; musical ability (variations of pitch); singers; oratory; a powerful degree for men; color; and original person who has much influence on his sphere of society; ideas or popularity may grow by spurts, but unexpected falls sometimes follow too; homicidal tendency; abscesses of neck if with 25 degree Leo-Aquarius or 21 degree Aries-Libra; associated with explosions (of nuclear plants or bombings); often a tall person; tonsils.

Denotes one free as air, brave, spiritual, restless, and unfitted for the regular routine of daily life. Care in infancy is essential. He is of a wandering disposition and frequent changes are for him. It is a symbol of Wandering.

There is some contradiction in this degree. Basically the difficulty seems to be over-optimism. Stubbornness seems to be more prominent than the more desirable Taurian traits. One may well enjoy a certain measure of popularity which only seems to contribute a stubborn blindness to the weak spots which need attention. He also seems to enjoy a fair amount of luck which also tends to produce a false sense of security. If however, he has a genuine appreciation for his luck and is able to resist sheer flattery on the part of fair-weather friends without being rude and cutting himself off, he may come out pretty well. Luck in any form tends to run out if not used wisely. Here it seems to be built in that luck which is squandered does not continue. There is only enough to prime the pump. He must keep the flow going or it will stop.

A powerful degree for men. Denotes an original person who exercises considerable influence in his circle of society. Their ideas or popularity may grow by leaps and bounds, and unexpected falls sometimes follow.

18-19

It denotes a gentle, inoffensive but weak nature, inclined to indolence or hopelessness, and thus while Nature is luxurious and fertile, and all around speaks of wealth gained by industry, the native remains in a poor condition for want of determination. It is a degree of INCOMPETENCE.

An exquisitely feminine nature. The native may go so far as to be a genius, but even in normal cases she will have some very bright gift which she is not likely to exploit in full and will at least partially leave untapped. A gentle and sweet character, even too little self-assertive, which will tend to flabbiness, indecision, passivity and gloom. A certain typically feminine futility will accompany an equally feminine skill in getting things done. A voice of pure musical pitch, an unconstrained speech, a naturally smart and graceful demeanor. Her main virtues will be self-possession and cleanliness. In a mystic sense, the symbol may be taken to mean the Sacrament of Baptism. Destiny may have in store travel or emigration to the New World. Teaching may be a congenial profession, if the pattern contains such elements as to give the necessary authority for this.

This denotes a great genius. His home Is, or will be, the western hemisphere.

Music ( a trumpet); a person who rises from a humble birth place to a great renown through a process of unfoldment; hair; leader of party; often a tall person; maxillary artery.

Denotes one who is unable to estimate his abilities and who attempts things foolhardy and useless. There is a tendency to irritability and aggressiveness and lack of self-restraint. Thus he will court unpopularity and will suffer from his own actions. It is a symbol of Futility.

Mars N Node is located here and incorporates more violence than the previous degree. We should however learn more of the nature of Mars from this combination. In most reports the degree has characterized a violent misuse of the energy. It is considered savage and warlike. I am of the opinion that since the N Node of Mars is influencing this degree now we may expect to see some more constructive and positive action from people with planets here. One authority suggests an unfolding process which must proceed in an orderly fashion patiently as a flower blooms. There certainly is a contrast here between the growing power of life against the destructive but also temporary power of death.

A person who rises from a humble birthplace to great renown, through a process of unfoldment.

20-21

It indicates a silent, watchful disposition, inclined to caution, method, and thrift, but liable to assaults from unexpected sources, which will overthrow many carefully designed plans. It is a degree of ANTICIPATION.

A frugal, cautious, watchful, silent and close character bearing the hallmark of individuality, a deep mind, a pitiless logic, a precise and methodic intelligence, more suited for analysis than synthesis. The native will rely but on himself, yet destiny will baffle him with gleeful spite and take a cruel delight in hitting him just where rational logic would rule out failure or even danger. The collapse of his most accurately prearranged plans will tell on the native’s temper, whose guardedness may drift into suspiciousness, and misanthropy into wickedness.

Denotes one having an analytical mind. He may succeed as a chemist, or where application to minute analytical effects is called for; a very sound reasoner.

Music (variation of pitch); oratorical ability; doctors; homicidal tendency; undernourishment and poisons are in some way connected with this degree; immorality, violence, danger of accidents or poison; goiter; alcoholism; sinus artery.

Denotes one of sporting tendencies who delights in trials of skill and who is generally fortunate. To his nature there is a generous, sympathetic, and interesting side, which gains him many friends and much popularity. It is a symbol of Sportiveness.

This degree seems to have a dual nature and suggests varied and contradictory influences. There is perhaps the greatest tendency to cause one’s downfall by envy of another’s position. There is something here which suggests a Scorpion tendency to sting itself to death out of frustration rather than give up and walk away. There is a tendency to climb the ladder of success at the expense of competitors if necessary. But those who take this route pay for it one way or another. There is much rugged brute force strength of Taurus. This individual tends to feel he can go his way alone. There is one authority that suggests an ability on the part of this native to sacrifice himself for someone he loves. Of course there are many kinds of sacrifice. Some of them are beneficial and some of them are not. It is well to consider here whether the individual might not better correct his own faults in order to contribute something more worthwhile rather than sacrifice something which does not really pay the necessary price. Maturity of the human spirit should be the goal.

Undernourishment and poisons are in some way connected with this degree (May be denoted by planets here in aspect to planetoids.) Also Nymphomania.

24-25

It indicates a powerful and haughty nature; one who is disposed to justify himself by force of arms rather than by intrinsic merit. Such a person will make many his servants but few his friends and in the end his state will be a pitiable as that of a dying lion. It is a degree of PRIDE.

The subject’s inner world will stay closed and unknown to all. Yet this is no cowardly nature, rather an arrogant one; the native is innerly proud, haughty, overbearing, but not vain. As he is spiritually isolated among his fellow beings, he will have justice done to himself, if necessary, by having recourse to arms. As he is misunderstood, he will endeavor to have his own way even by resorting to violence; as long as his strength does not fail him, he will see subdued servants around himself, never friends. He will risk either to die a stray dog’s death, or to be kicked and spat upon on his death bed, like the lion in the fable.

This denotes a very mysterious character. Whilst living among men, a stranger to men. He has a life of his own, a world of his own, he is content to live and die unknown.

Sometimes have theories and ideas of doubtful value; homicidal tendency; alcoholism; women with planets here are usually intuitive, poetic, lively, and flirtatious; men careful with their money; lower jaw.

Denotes one of natural talent who will be beset with difficulties in gaining recognition, but whose mental strength will be the more determined because of them. When his time comes his power will be felt. He will force acknowledgment by sheer ability and energy. It is a symbol of Premeditation.

There is much disagreement about this degree. The most uniform expectancy centers around a peaceful highly spiritual being generally too soft for the hard blows delivered by life on this earth. If it pertains to mastership of a high spiritual nature, there are indeed few who could live up to such an influence. Therefore we would find few to indicate such evolvement. However, at the very least, this degree does have an influence contributing to a spiritual awakening. How far the native would be able to demonstrate such qualities would have to depend on the rest of the chart as well as the overall capacity he had to extract the good from any influence. At least there is very little that is derogatory to be said about this influence. I think it is quite obvious that it stimulates spiritual development. The steady persistent qualities of Taurus are blended with that influence and as humanity develops we should expect to see people improving on what has been accomplished with this degree by other people.

These people sometimes have theories and ideas of doubtful value. Women with planets here are intuitive, poetic, lively and flirtatious. Men with planets here are usually careful with their money.

28-29

It signifies a tyrant, who takes delight in power apart from its uses, and whose opinions are bigoted and selfish. To rule, without regard to qualifications, is the passing ambition of one born under this degree. Death, which frees the slave, will bind the hands of a tyrant in irons forged from his own heart. It is a degree of DESPOTISM.

Things are worse in a male horoscope. The other components ought, however, to be carefully weighed, and it has to be decided whether the omen refer to his (lawful or unlawful) mate, or to himself. In the former case, the man, of course, is the victim. Should contrary features of overbearingness be at hand, which could not possibly regard others, he is then certainly himself the tyrant looking at his dependents as pack mules, ignoring their human dignity, or taking a great delight in trampling upon it. The one hypothesis does not altogether exclude the other. Whether a woman or a man, the native would assuredly be in for a great many unforeseen events. He may well be cowardly as all real bullies are; but he is unlikely to have true foresight. Someone may thrash him within an inch of his life, or even shoot him as a dog. Vulgarity and bigotry usually complete the picture of such a character.

Be careful. A life full of strange events, and liable to grievous accidents.

Good organizing ability; strong will; usually magnetic, proud and stoical; heavy drinking; suicide; a degree giving “something to cry about”; Trapizius.

Denotes one who is continually beset with difficulties and who finds it hard at all times to decide his course of action. He is ever between forces of opposite natures, and is quite as likely to do the right thing as the wrong one. These conditions must be subdued by the steady cultivation of the will. It is a symbol of Embarrassment.

This degree is widely contradictory. And the two extremes may exist in the same person. There is potential mathematical and scientific ability, and at the same time a tendency to create and live in a dream world of his own. When the native is rebuffed or feels a sense of failure there is the temptation to withdraw. And yet his capacity to achieve is great. Many times this person gives up without a struggle especially if that dream world is comfortably constructed and the life situation is one that does not demand attention to daily details. Many daily details are of such a nature that they can be performed without much awareness but are accomplished by rote habit. When such is the case this native’s ability risks to stay dormant. Alcoholism is also a possibility here, although there really is no need for alcohol to escape into the fantasy dream world. There is also a magnetism here which may attract so-called karma or heavy problems to be dealt with or the magnetism may attract other people who add zest to the life.

These natives are usually magnetic, proud and stoical. Have a strong will and good organizing ability.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #degree exploration #n-astro

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