#angular 13

[synthetic-rust]

‘Casper, The Taciturn Sentinel’

Digitised some sketches of Casper I really liked and ended up with this, Character page collage thingy

[northopalshore]

Rising signs in the Groom Persona Chart: Their features

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The rising sign in your GPC tells you about your future spouse's appearance, physical attributes and how they present themselves. Picture it like reading their birth chart lol.

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In the signs & degrees:

♰ Aries (1°, 13°, 25°):

Your future spouse could have very angular features, perhaps their eyes could be sharp or very striking. They could have an eager look to them, or they could look like a kid in a way. You could think that they're impatient or they may like to rush things a lot. They could have a great physique or look very hot. They could wear a lot of gym clothes, tight fitting outfits or just athletic wear in general. Either a dork (Maximilian Goof aka Goofy's son lol) or a gym rat.

♰ Taurus (2°, 14°, 26°):

They will dress very comfortably, while still looking extravagant. They could look sophisticated and very, very attractive i.e perfect smile, perfect teeth. They could be taller or heavier than you. They will be very calm, down to earth and put together. They could have a well built physique, and tough body.

♰ Gemini (3°, 15°, 27°):

They could have a slender face, pale skin and a narrow stature. They will look very expressive when they start talking, but have a rather dull resting face lol. They could look rather breezy if that makes sense. Not one to wear anything too fitted. They could have great facial symmetry. Something about their teeth will be very prominent i.e straight or very white.

♰ Cancer (4°, 16°, 28°):

They could have very soft, rounded features. Doe eyes. They could have a slight glow to their face and their eyes. Curvy body, soft lips. They could wear a lot of baggy or vintage looking clothes. They could gain weight quite easily. They will look kind and mellow. They could have a very inviting smile.

♰ Leo (5°, 17°, 29°):

Gorgeous hair, and that face card doesn't decline. They will love dressing in old Hollywood vintage clothing, old money or loud and expensive. They could have very wavy or curly hair that will catch anyone's attention. They also have a slight cocky look to them. They are attractive, and god do they know it.

♰ Virgo (6°, 18°):

They are usually very petite/short and frail looking. They could look compacted but not aggressively so. They will look very clean and polished. There will not be a single speck of dust on them nor will you spot an unironed spot on their clothing. They will love wearing comfortable yet elegant looking clothes. You'll notice they tend to lean on a specific silhouette or colour that they like.

♰ Libra (7°, 19°):

" They have the face of an angel and the body of a greek god" Beautiful. Elegant and gentle. Looking at them will leave you at a daze. They look good and know exactly how to dress for their body. All of their facial features blend in harmoniously, could have a symmetrical face too. Oval faces, bright eyes, pretty smile.

♰ Scorpio (8°, 20):

Usually, they will have very striking eyes. They could have eye bags or just darkened eyes in general. Like virgo, they could love to stare at you lol. Every feature they have will accentuate their eyes. They are very attractive ( s*xually) , everything about them will be sensual and seductive.

♰ Sagittarius (9°, 21°):

There could be a significant size difference between you. They could have very long legs, curly or fluffy hair, and animated facial features. They will look very charming, but goofy in a way. One look at them and you know they're somebody fun to be around. They could laugh a lot and look stoic (contemplating) at times.

♰ Capricorn (10°, 22°):

They could look very cold or uninviting. He could have a very relaxed yet also somewhat stern look on their face even with neutral emotions. They could look very mature, their eyebrows could often be furrowed lol. They could have very prominent bone structures i.e nose, hollow or defined cheek bones. They could look very "boney" in general lol. Very masculine.

♰ Aquarius (11°, 23°):

They could be very tall or slender. Their heads and arms could be quite prominent something about them will catch a lot of stray eyes. They likely have features that are rebellious in nature. They could have odd hairstyles/ colours (especially) or tattoos or piercings. They could dress very.. exotically? Strange? Their fashion style could be quite questionable to say the least but never are they boring to look at.

♰ Pisces (12°, 24°):

They will have very sad, sultry looking eyes that look almost sympathetic 24/7. They will seem like they're not really "there" with you i.e lost in thought or deep contemplation. They will have very rounded features. Their cheeks could look very puffy or rounded when they smile. You could think that they're too good to be true. Their skin could have a greyish undertone, almost like the moon is beneath their skin.

Note: If there are conflicting signs of their appearance for example you have Virgo rising (small, petite) in 2° Taurus (bigger, heavier) then it means your fs is considered large for a virgo i.e.gains weight easily, and are very well built or muscular while still not being overly built (lean).

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*** entertainment only, reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore groom persona chart 2024 all rights reserved. Disclaimer

[mediumgayitalian]

Kayla will never tell her older brother in a million billion years. Plus one extra.

But she knows more about Lee Fletcher than he does.

It is not something she did on purpose. Nor is it information she necessarily wants, she most certainly did not ask for it. Nor is it information she will offer.

She will not tell him that she knows the crumple of Lee’s face when he tells a lie. She will not tell him she knows the stark pain in his shoulders at the end of the day. She will not tell him she knows the grooved scars on the palms of his hands from bitten-sharp nails. She will not tell him she knows the sounds of his quiet, pillow-muffled sobs as well as or better than she knows the sound of her father’s voice.

Instead she will watch him. And she will meet Lee’s tired eyes. And she will nod to him, and he will nod back, and they will both look at Will, exhaling.

———

The first time she sees him she is hallucinating.

Genuinely. Medically diagnosed and everything.

“Kayla,” Will whispers, and there is a strain in his voice, as there always is when one of them is sick. “Kayla, dolly, the cloth needs to stay on your head.”

“Cold,” she sobs, “please, Will, I’m so cold.” Dolly. Dolly. He calls her dolly when she’s crying, when the tips of her fingers are bleeding and her knees are scraped raw and she screams if he gets too close to her. “‘M so —”

Her teeth clack hard together so hard her mouth glues shut. And the ice in her finger and toenails fires up her veins and pricks through all of her capillaries, turning her solid, and it burns, and it aches, and she bawls enough that acid burns up her throat and dribbles down her chin, down her shirt, in her bed. And over the heart pounding in her ears she hears her older brother exhale a soft little broken moan and choke it back just as fast and his always-warm hands brush over her cheeks, and she groans and squirms away from it and cries harder, and he whispers “Hold on, dolly, the fever’s almost broken, I can feel it,” and she opens her eyes and he is there, hair longer, hair neater, lab coat starched and collar covered in old Star Wars stickers, bulky glasses barely clinging to his face, tears soaking his long, angular face.

And Kayla squints, and the freezing ice recedes ever so slightly, sparking just under her skin, and she tilts her head, and she stares at him, at his freckle-free face, and whispers, “…Will?”

And he squeezes his eyes tighter and begs, “One more time, kiddo, I’m so sorry. One more time. I can’t help you if I can’t touch you. Pull back the light, baby, I can’t see, you have to control it just a little more. Just enough so it doesn’t burn. Please.”

And she squints again and Will-not-Will wavers, and the infirmary lights blink off his tears, off the lens of his glasses, and the. she squints again and the lights are dimmer, and the lab coat is gone, and his hair is frizzier.

“What,” she croaks, and Will pats her hair, and his hands are rough like she’s used to, and his round face is wet, and his scrubs are barf-stained, again, and he is smiling, tears dripping into his mouth, bright blue eyes clear, and he laughs and touches his forehead to hers.

“One-oh-one,” he whispers, shoulders shaking. “You’re safe, dolly. Your brain is out of the oven. Gods. Holy shit. Holy shit, Holy God, Holy Hera.” And he starts to pray.

She exhales hard, exhales, and forgets about it.

———

The next time her brain is not cooking hard enough her proteins are denaturing.

The next time she is sleep deprived, which does not help her determine reality.

She is lucid enough to notice the change, though.

She should not be awake. This much she knows. Will had sent her to bed hours ago, a half-hour after Austin and a full hour after the kids — as is her right; she is a full 13 years old — and she went, not without grumbling. And she meant to sleep. She usually does. But the moon was bright, and unusually warm. And the fairy lights twinkled with twice as much laughter than usual. And the audiobook her daddy sent her was just so enticing, just so flowery and beautiful, and as she listened to the gravel-low voice of the woman narrating and stared out the window she could see it playing out, plain as day, over the silver-washed hill of Thalia’s tree and the gentle giggling of the Atlantic waves.

She’s not supposed to be up late enough to watch Will creep in.

But she is, and that’s that. She hears the creak of the rickety screen door, slow like he’s trying to keep it quiet, and holds her breath, careful to make all her muscles react to keep her from being seen. The cabin is big but not that big and she sees him quickly, out of the corner of her half-closed eyes, tiptoe careful across the wooden floorboards, hopping over the noisiest ones, resting at the side of each of their beds and waiting, watching at the ends of them, shoulders dropping, eyes blackened and eyebags heavy. After a moment at each he reaches out his burned hands, resting gently on her siblings’ foreheads, and closes his eyes, exhaling, letting the fiery warmth from his palms spread slowly through their veins, wrapping strands of sunlight neatly around them like spider silk. As it recedes he sighs, in exhaustion or relief, and holds his hand, for a second, breathing in, breathing out, and moving on.

He comes to her last.

She has relaxed her breathing by then. She is thirteen years old and remembers every day of it; knows how to twitch her muscles and murmur in gentle sleepiness, knows how to breathe til her heart goes slow and flicker her eyelids so her face shows its dreaming. Daddy checks on her too, when she’s home, and she likes to stay up for him, likes to wait, likes to savour the feel of his string-callused fingertips and soft cool palms.

“I know you’re not sleeping, you little twerp.“

He flickers again — she sees it this time — and the heat of his hands fade a bit. His face gets a little longer, chin a little pointier, and the wild curls around his head mellow into something wavier, something gentler and more tamed. The glasses balancing on his wide nose are unbelievably thick, thicker than Julia’s whose prescription is a joke, and make his blue eyes look buggy, beetle-shaped. He’s got half as many freckles but that could be the moonlight. His smile is the same.

“I know what REM feels like, you know.”

She says nothing and keeps breathing. He sighs. He strokes a thumb against her forehead and it is familiar, and she knows, immediately then, that it is her brother who strokes her, who guards the foot of her bed.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed. If you’re not asleep by then I’m gonna smother you, ya pain in the ass.”

He pulls away and she watches, follows the thwack of his falling-apart Converse, the rise of his gentle humming. He pulls tiny bathroom’s door shut and the humming swells along with the fireflies, echoing soft and melodic in the kind-of-big cabin, and she means to stay awake, really. She wants to watch him transform again, wants to watch his shoulders grow back and his spine stretch straighter. Wants to see the familiar roundness of his cheeks.

But his voice is so beautiful, and the scrape of his toothbrush is as rhythmic as ever, and the moon is so high in the sky. Her audiobook fades to silence as she slips away, warmed, into the cradle of her bed.

———

The third time she sees him there is no excuse.

It is the dead middle of summer and he is exhausted. The camp swells with the sum of them all, with the drum of running footsteps and crashing swords and crowing laughter. Her brother lives in the infirmary, practically; no matter how many times he is dragged out he keeps sneaking back, keeps slipping out of his friends’ sight and falling right back into his scrubs, hair pulled back.

“You are not supposed to be here,” Kayla says crossly. “Your shifts are done for the week.”

He smiles guiltily and the change is immediate. The slant of his shoulders is identical, the curve of his grin is unchanged, but the glossiness of his eyes fades away, and the strange ghost of her brother takes full shape. He is different, in the clear sunlight. A familiar stranger. He grins at her widely and turns on his heel, strolling to the mortal medicine cabinet.

“And who died and made you head honcho, Sunshine?” She blinks in surprise, glancing down at her hands. That is a new one. Sunshine.“It’s the busy season. I’m only keeping up with demand.”

“You’re gonna wear yourself right out,” she hears herself say. “Right out, and then what?”

“And then the sun will keep shining,” her brother says. “Besides, you’ll be taking over in no time. You’re already better than me, squirt.”

It’s an odd thing to say — she isn’t. By virtue of her parentage she can heal, and she can sing the hymns. But her strength is in her bow and her violin; her strings, not the stretch of bandages or shine of the suture. Will knows it. This brother, though, the one who stands in his place, is not speaking to her.

“I am?”

“‘Course. You know anyone else who can drag an errant soul right back into a body?”

Yes. She’s seen Will do it on more than one occasion, on more than one justification. She’s seen how it makes Chiron’s lips tighten and the atmosphere go dark. There is healing, and then there is blasphemy and challenge. Will walks the line like no one has since Zeus struck the challenger clean off the Earth.

This brother is not talking to her.

“Am I really going to take over, Lee?”

She says it carefully, because she isn’t sure. There are no pictures and Will tells no stories. But she hears whispers, sometimes, from the scattered few who knew them both, who watch Will corral the lot of them to breakfast or take the reigns of the chariot or calm hysterics with a touch, who whisper: “Sometimes I look at him and it’s like seeing a ghost.”

Her brother smiles a wide thing at her. It is as soft as she remembers. “Course, baby. No doubt in my mind.”

———

The fourth time she sees Lee Fletcher, she makes him come.

She waits very carefully. He comes when Will’s tired, she hypothizes. When his own strength won’t stand. So she waits, for the second wave of camp flu, for his lead on the climbing wall, for the rare nights when Gracie gets cranky and homesick and stomps around the cabin, throwing things and yelling. She waits for the look in his eyes, for the glassiness to smooth into something soft and reverent, something timeless.

It does not come when she expects.

The fourth time they are sitting together. Or, Will is sitting, legs tucked under him on the side bench, and Kayla stands, breathing careful, arms pulling elastic taut.

Her third missed shot, he is behind her.

“Relax you jaw,” he suggests. “Your tension is throwing you off. Let yourself hit the edge — it’s a new challenge, kid. No need for a bullseye.”

“I always get a bullseye,” she argues.

Lee smiles. His eyes are different, she realizes. They’re — constant. Blue. Like hydrangeas.

Will’s change with the sky.

“Bullseyes are a process.” He puts a steady hand on her elbow, tilting it slightly. “You gotta aim for the bigger picture before you focus on the details. The bullseye will come. Start with hitting the target.”

She huffs, scowling, but he’s right, and on her fourth shot the arrow lodges, just on the edge of the compacted wood.

Lee cheers. That, she sees clear as day, is identical, from the strain of his arms to the crow of his whooping laughter. He even does the same clumsy, dorky dance that sends him sprawling.

Kayla smiles past the lump in her throat.

———

The fifth, sixth, and seventh times pass without her counting, as does everyone one beyond. They happen in stretches and in the blink of an eye — the shapes of his mouth when he yawns, the drawl of his fed-up sarcasm. The weight of his elbow on the top of her head, grinning as she shoves him off, the shake of his deep, bone-rooted sigh when he thinks she’s asleep and his entire body strains, curled up under his favourite quilt. The weight of his ‘v’ in I love you.

She almost stops looking.

“What did he look like?” she blurts, one evening when he takes them to the beach. The rest of them are up ahead, Austin chasing the younger ones up the muddy sand.

Will freezes, just barely, then walks on with a forced lightness, swinging his loose arms between them.

“Who?” he asks, voice light.

Kayla gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“Your older brother.”

“I had four, at one point.”

He says it quiet like he does at the campfire, when it’s only the older kids left but she’s managed to stick around, holding her breath so they won’t notice and send her away. When Will lies back on a log and matches his breathing to the flames, eyes unseeing, and Annabeth watches him carefully and whispers, “Play us something, Will.” And he picks up the guitar he keeps dusty under his bed and sings something soft like there’s no hardness left inside him. No bowstring.

“When he laughed, you could hear it across camp,” he says quietly.

Kayla had not specified which brother but he knows anyway, had been waiting for her ask, and she strains to hear, now, leans in over the turn of the waves and shifts of the sands and strives for every note, every chord of his voice. “He invented a full name for me so he could holler it when I got in trouble. William Andrew.”

“I didn’t know he made that up.”

A ghost of a smile turns Will’s lips. “Yeah, it stuck real good. Even Chiron forgets I wasn’t born with it, actually. He yells it, too.”

He tilts his heart to the sky and stares at the clouds, exhaling, hands still by his sides.

“I was his favourite,” he says finally. “He wasn’t supposed to have anybody, but he loved me. He watched me real careful. He was —” he swallows — “I loved my brother, you know. To the sun and beyond it.”

He stops, turning to the waves. She lets him and watches his back, watches the shape of his scapulae under his camp shirt.

“I wish I still had him.”

The air shifts beside him, then. She sees Lee next to him, this time, not in place of him, with a broad hand on his shaking shoulder, a tanned forehead pressed to his temple. He turns to her, when Will breathes normally again, and winks, blinking back away as the clouds move from the sun.

“I think he’d be real proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

Kayla hesitates. “I mean — yeah. You’re like him, you know? You stand like he does.”

Will is smiling, softly, eyes red.

“I’ll have to show you a picture of him, sometime.”

“Yeah.” Kayla smiles, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’d like to see him.”

[nenoname]

How Stan+Ford+Bill refer to each other

Stan

Ford:

Childhood: Stanley (9)

Teen: Stan (2)

Pre-Portal: Stanley (15), my brother (5), S (2)

Post-Portal: Stanley (33), Stan (13), my brother (7), my hotheaded brother, idiot (2), knucklehead, [Dipper's] uncle Stan, hero, stubborn mullet-haired frostbitten vagabond, wrinkly carnival barker, irresponsible shortcut-loving overgrown child, cheater, fraud, "looks like me if I gave up on life"

Post-Weirdmageddon: Stanley (16), Stan (5), my brother (2), Stanley Pines, hero (2), the man who saved the world, "selfish jerk", the most selfless man I’ve ever met in any dimension

Lost Pages: S (5), Stanley (4), my brother (3)

(S is a pre-portal incident Journal only thing + pre-portal incident Journals only has "Stanley" mentioned in code, tends to call him Stan when talking to the kids)

Bill:

Pre-Weirdmageddon: Stan Pines, Stan (6), old man, [D+M's] uncle, you idiot, Stanley

Post-Weirdmageddon: Stanley (7), Stan (10), Stanley Pines (2), fat grandpa, fumbling idiot con man, weaker copy of Sixer, Bootleg Sixer, mouth breathing carnival barker, gambler, lifelong loser, goofus, PTSD Barnum, side character, co-dependent, stupid, tacky, smug, unworthy, resume-inflating cheap trick loving past-denying overgrown child, pathetic excuse for a 5-sensed three-dimensional one-life spanned skin puppet, carbon-copy of a better genetic duplicate, conman clown, Lucky Stan

Non-canon shorts/Reddit AMA/That cut perpetual machine nightmare: Stan, Stanley, Stan Pines, slick

Lost Pages: inferior clone, brother (when pretending to be Ford)

(Most of the post-Weirdmageddon Stan mentions are for the "fun" facts in the Wheel of Shame, Bill spends the How not to Draw short never directly acknowledging Stan which I find hilarious)

Ford

Stan:

Childhood: Sixer (5), Stanford, Ford, Poindexter, bro, buddy

Teen: Sixer, Stanford (2), nerd robot

Pre-Portal: Stanford (5), pal, you jerk

Post-Portal: Stanford (3), Ford (8), Poindexter (2), my brother (11), brother, bro, the Author of the Journals, you ungrateful-, my nerdy twin brother, my dumb brother, know-it-all, dangerous-know-it-all, world's nerdiest old man, show-off, that jerk, stuck up son of a gun

Post-Weirdmageddon: Sixer (5), Ford (3), my brother (5), Stanford, Fordsy, bro, my nerdy bro, Brainiac, Mr Goody Nerd-Shoes

(Tends to use "Stanford" when shit's serious, yes i'm including the two getting traumatised by thrist comments clip come and stop me)

Bill:

Pre-betrayal: Sixer (2), Stanford, smart guy, Stanford Pines

Post-betrayal: Sixer (5), Stanford (2), Ford (4), Stanford Filbrick Pines, Stanford Pines, ol' Six-Fingers (2), Fordsy (2), my old pal, IQ, Mr Brainiac, Brainiac (2), [Mabel's] uncle, our friend, old man, kid, tough guy, pal, Mr Serious

Post-Weirdmageddon: Sixer (20), Ford (7), Fordsy (2), drama queen, fella, sad nerd, genius, idiot, partner, Mr Tabletop Gaming, backstabber, gallant, perfect pawn, pet human

Lost Pages: Sixer (7), Fordsy, Slick, pal, my old pal, my property

Bill

Stan:

Pre-Weirdmageddon: Bill (3), all-powerful space demon, you one-eyed demon, wise-guy

Post-Weirdmageddon: Bill (3), Bill Cipher, little wise guy, Pointy, jerk of the week, narc

Non-canon shorts/That cut perpetual machine nightmare: you creepy triangle, guy (3), nacho, cop

Ford:

Pre-betrayal: My Muse (19), a strange being from a higher plane, being (3), strange whimsical creature, true friend, Bill (2, however!! this is from Dreamscaperers long before J3 was properly written)

Post-betrayal: Bill (default way of referring to him), My "muse" (3) Bill Cipher (10), Cipher (10), the demon (2), my enemy (3), you insane three sided--, The Beast with Just One Eye, the devil, liar, monster, angular psychopath, nightmare in disguise, king of nightmares, the Triangle, a has-been, a needy theater kid

Lost Pages: Bill (17), my Muse (11), Cipher (18) , Bill Cipher (2), extradimensional deity of knowledge, Cill Bipher, this Bill guy

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy​​. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[astrodescent]

astro observations pt.2 🕸️🪽🦇

aquarius mercuries are always asking people questions about themselves, but not always because they care - it’s to study them

i’m envious of sagittarius mercuries because y’all can ponder things but you’re okay with not getting a definitive answer

pisces / aquarius don’t reply not because they hate you, we just have escapist tendencies

virgo mercuries can be a little annoying when explaining something to them, because they always find a fault in any situation.

scorpio placements have parents who had suffered, either while they were pregnant or after the child was born.

sagittarius mars / 9H always have the best philosophies that they live by

say what you want about virgo venus natives but no one is gonna take care of you like them

“teen degrees” (13°-19°) in astrology, usually indicate some sort of transformation and learning experience that manifests within the placement

i’ve noticed that venus ruled or dominant placements have a pink undertone and mostly have pink / green auras

planets in angular houses (1H,4H,7H,10H) are usually important to the foundation of a person in a chart

saturn conjunct sun can indicate ocd

leo moons sidereal cancer moons cause drama and then victimize themselves when it turns back to them

aquarius / sagittarius in a chart can make someone VERY blunt especially when mad

[kazperthegh0st]

Leo realized too late that Nico di Angelo was extremely attractive.

Leo didn’t think of his friends as attractive.

Piper: angular features and gorgeous eyes and nice tits. But she was also Piper; the one who cried in his arms when she told him about her dad, the one who did his hair and nails, the one who could beat his ass. But he wasn’t attracted to her.

Jason: tall and strong and intense with a good chest. But he was also Jason; the one who saved him at the Grand Canyon, the one who never found Leo annoying, the one who died for the Prophecy so Leo could live.

And down the list of his friends. Were they gorgeous. Yes. Were they sexy. Yes. But they were his friends.

But Nico.

Nico gods.

Nico had never been the kind of guy that every camper wanted to ask out. That was always Jason or Percy. And more importantly, the campers refused to ask Nico out directly.

They had deemed Leo as the approachable one. And that was how Leo realized his best friend was so incredibly attractive.

Random campers approached him to ask him if Nico was single or straight or gay or if he’d be interested in them.

Several instances of this later, and Leo had comprised a list of responses to these questions:

“Is he single?”

“No sorry, he accidentally entered a marriage contract with the devil during a spooky ritual.”

“Is he gay?”

“Yeah sure! In the way that Viktor Frankenstein is gay: Nico is building himself a six foot tall boyfriend out of dead bodies.”

“Does he like girls?”

“Oh yeah totally. Loves ‘em. Especially virgins. He could probably use another sacrifice if youre interested in being carved open with a styngian iron sword.”

“Would he be interested in me?”

“No sorry, he prefers his lovers in the later stages of rigor mortus. If you get what im saying.”

And maybe Leo had taken it to far. Maybe he had made Nico seem too creepy. But so what. They didn’t have the balls to say anything to his face in the first place. Besides. Half the camp already thought Nico was weird and creepy; if they believed the stuff Leo had said, then they were assholes who didn’t deserve Nico in the first place.

The next time it happened. Leo snapped.

“Do you think he’d let me take him out on a date?”

“Hell fucking no! He wouldn’t let any of you assholes within twenty feet of him if he knew about this! He wouldn’t want anything to do with a shy asshole who is to scared of him to ask him out to his fucking face like he fucking deserves!”

The girl tried to stammer out a response but Leo was already marching in the direction of Cabin 13.

And then he was pounding on the big black door with his fists and all the strength he had in him.

The door opened a crack. Just enough that leo could observe an eye staring back at him through the darkness. Nico opened the door and stared at him.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” Nico was asking him so many questions and ushering him quietly into the cabin and encouraging Leo to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Nico was crouching on the ground in front of him and all Leo could think about was how pretty his face was.

Nico, who had matured into such an attractive and kind individual. Nico with gorgeous hair that framed his face. With delicate eyeliner. With pretty lips and soft cheeks that Leo wanted to press gentle kisses to.

Nico put the back of his hand against Leo’s forehead.

“You’re so hot,” Nico said.

Leo laughed.

“Not like that.” Nico sighed. “You’re burning up. Worse than a fever. Is something wrong?”

Leo nodded numbly.

“So it’s just a stress thing? Youre not burning up cause you’re sick?”

Nico sat on the bed next to him and pulled him into a hug. “Talk to me.”

“You’re a really good friend, Nico.”

“Thanks but,” Nico paused, “this isn’t about me Leo, it’s about you.”

“No.” Leo said. “It is about you.”

“It is?” Leo felt Nico start to pull away.

“No wait. Its not you. Its not I promise I just.”

“Its what?” Nico asked, cautiously.

“Half of the camp is in love with you.”

“Leo?” Nico asked. “Are you ok? When’s the last time you got some sleep?”

“No, no, listen, Im not crazy!” Leo stood and paced back and forth as he spoke. “Im not crazy. Every day for the past week there’s been at least five campers that have come up to me to ask about you. People who dont even know you!”

Lep paused to catch his breath. Then he pitched his voice and imitated the questions he’d been asked. “Is he gay? Is he interesten in me? Would he want to ho out with me? What does his ideal girl look like? What would a good date idea be? Is he single? Is he taken? Is he this is he that!”

“I’m just so sick of it. They don’t even know you and they’re to scared of you to ask you in the first place.” Leo tossed his head back and laughed. “So they come to me to ask! Because I’m your best friend. They harass me because they’re too scared to talk to you.”

“Im sorry-“ nico started.

“Don’t apologize! Its not you’re fault that they’re assholes. Its just. They dont even know you. They have this idea of who you are but its not you. Its not even close. They have no clue how kind or funny you are. They only want you because Alternative cultures are being seen as cool again.”

“They shouldn’t be bothering you.”

“They don’t know you like I know you. They don’t care about you like I do.”

“Leo, I-“

“And I’m running out of excuses— running out of things to tell them so they’ll leave me alone. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to tell them.”

“Tell them,” Nico started, his voice quiet. “Tell them that I’m yours.”

Leo stared at him.

“What?”

“Tell them I’m yours.”

“What-“

“But only if you want me to be— want me to be yours that is.”

“I- You- Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah.”

“Like for real? You want me to be your boyfriend?”

Nico nodded. He stared down at his shoes.

Leo approached him. And tilted Nico’s face up, forcing the son of Hades to look him in the eyes.

Nico’s whole face was red.

“Fuck yeah.”

[lilithlounge]

Rising Signs & Physical Appearance

Ko-fi & Buy Me A Coffee for a personal Astro Appearance Analysis!

If you’ve ever wondered why people see you a certain way before they even get to know you, your Rising Sign (Ascendant) might hold the answer. It’s that first impression you leave, the energy you naturally project. Of course, genetics and lifestyle are huge factors too but after years of just observing people, I’ve noticed the rising sign often colors our appearance and vibe in fascinating ways.

For example, I have a Leo Rising at 13 degrees and honestly, it fits. My hair has always been a thing whether it’s good or bad, it’s noticeable plus. I keep touching it and I’m so sorry that I do but I just wanna look good 😂.

Here’s a little un-important guide to how each rising sign can show up physically and energetically based on the people that I’ve known:

Fire Risings People notice them immediately, they walk into a room and light it up without even trying.

Aries Rising: strong bone structure, athletic build, confident walk. Their eyes often have this fierce spark, like they’re always ready to fight argue with you.

Leo Rising: Regal vibe, strong features, thick or dramatic hair. They carry themselves like royalty even when they’re wearing their trash bag pajamas…or a potato sack 👀.

Marilyn Monroe, Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon…Leo rising.

Sagittarius Rising: Tall or giving the illusion of height, long limbs, animated expressions. They move like they’re on a mission. Literal horses.

Earth Risings Grounded, classic and just elegant. They tend to make everything look effortless.

Taurus Rising: Soft, Venusian features, gorgeous skin a relaxed and sensual energy.

Virgo Rising: Keanu Reeves? Anyone? delicate but precise features, sharp eyes, a clean polished presence that makes you feel like they have their life together. You’ll know so much about their current mental state based on their looks.

Capricorn Rising: You’ve probably heard that millions of times but yes, they do have angular features, strong jawlines and a serious but magnetic vibe. They often seem to "grow into" their beauty over time.

Air Risings Light, witty and hard to pin down, you feel like you could talk to them for hours.

Gemini Rising: Youthful, quick expressions, playful eyes. They always look like they know something you don’t and you probably don’t.

Libra Rising: Symmetrical, balanced features. There’s something soothing and beautiful about just being around them.

Aquarius Rising: Unique, futuristic beauty and something a little offbeat but mesmerizing. Their style is often ahead of its time.

Water Risings Deep, emotional and unforgettable.

Cancer Rising: Soft, moon-like features, big expressive eyes. They have a warmth that makes you feel at home instantly.

Scorpio Rising: Intense, magnetic presence. Their gaze alone can stop you in your tracks. Actually, it DOES stop you in your tracks.

Pisces Rising: Dreamy, mystical beauty like they live halfway between this world and another.

More than looks, your energy speaks louder

It isn’t just about your face or your body, it’s the vibe you walk around with. Fire risings might burn bright and bold, Earth risings ground a room with their calm, Air risings bring a breeze of fresh ideas and conversation, and Water risings move people with an almost invisible emotional pull.

When I started really paying attention to my Rising and how it interacted with my chart ruler (the Sun, in my case), things started to click liked it never clicked. The way I dress, the way I show up when I meet new people, even how I approach first impressions.

If you’re curious about the layers of your appearance, aura, and first impression energy especially how your rising sign, ruling planet and aspects weave together, I offer personal readings where we can dive into it. It’s way deeper than just “Leo Risings have good hair.” (Although, yeah, we usually do.) 🐥.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, allusions to suicide, morning sickness.

A/N: Okay, I screwed up on some of the timeline. I made a change in chapters 1 and 2 that reader and Daryl met up every 3 days instead of every 6. Also, I adjusted the amount of time between Rick waking up and actually making it to Atlanta. So instead of it being about 9 weeks into the outbreak, we’re about 12-13 weeks in when they are at the CDC. Rick’s timeline was really the only one I could work with, so I hope to hell it makes sense now. Anyway, on with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

Morning came way too quickly. In an environment where you should have felt at ease and been able to get restful sleep, you were a wreck. After fleeing Daryl’s room, you spent a long while curled up on the bed, folded into yourself as tightly as physically possible. You cried until you were exhausted, your eyes red and sore. In the end, sleep was not merciful enough to take you. 

When the wall you were staring at began to distort and move, you finally deemed it necessary to leave the bed and force yourself to shower. You felt dirty. You had responded so vehemently to Daryl’s advances, quick to repudiate the pressing matter that would most certainly only continue to grow. You couldn’t blame the hunter for your actions. 

With the water running and steam filling the small bathroom, you shed your clothing and stepped beneath the spray. It had been months without a proper shower, the water itself feeling like heaven against your skin. You hadn’t even realized how filthy you truly were until you saw the grimy water swirling at your feet. Scrubbing your skin was something you decided to savor; the same with washing your hair. You shampooed it twice before deciding you had probably abused the hot water rule and reluctantly shut it off. 

The air in the bathroom was humid, still steamy, which made it a little less shocking to step out of the stall. After toweling yourself off, you wiped off the mirror with your hand, taking in your reflection. Circles under your eyes and a more angular look to your face; not sleeping and eating less and less as the world continued to deteriorate. 

The mirror was small so you had to step back to get a look at your body, taking stock of things you hadn’t noticed while in a state of constant stress and fear. Your breasts were tender, but Daryl hadn’t exactly been gentle with them the night before. Other than that, nothing appeared different that could be blamed on pregnancy. You had definitely lost weight as you examined your stomach. Trying to track the days in your head without your calendar, you eventually estimated that you were only about 7 weeks. You would need some sort of book or would eventually need to ask Lori or Carol about the changes you could expect. 

But that would mean telling them. 

As you dressed, you wondered how long you might be able to hide it, assuming Daryl wouldn’t want his comrades to know since even giving them your name had been privileged information as far as he was concerned. 

You left your room as quietly as possible, figuring it was really too early for anyone else to be awake. They would all probably sleep in now that they had the chance. You left your boots off, padding barefoot through the halls to the kitchen. Maybe there was some tea that would help settle your nervous stomach. It was dark, the lights off to conserve power. Pursing your lips, you looked toward the ceiling, feeling a bit ridiculous. 

“VI, could you turn on the lights?”

The response was immediate with soft lighting chasing away the shadows in the room. You raised your brows in shock that the system had operated for you. 

The kitchen was well stocked but you settled with some black tea and an apple. You probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything else down with the relentless nausea. Was this the result of stress or could it be morning sickness?

The silence and solitude helped more than you could have imagined, but all too soon, people began to shuffle in. Most of them appeared to be hung over, especially poor Glenn. To your surprise, almost everyone greeted you and asked how you slept. You dodged the question with a shrug each time. They seemed content with that and moved on to the next person. 

T-Dog came into the cooking area and began digging through the contents of each cabinet and then the refrigerator, obviously intending to make something either for himself or perhaps for everyone. Carol came around to start coffee, offering you a squeeze to the bicep and a gentle smile that you returned. 

You were nearly finished with your tea when the smell wafted through the air, sending your stomach into a revolt. You were quick to cover your mouth and nose, spinning to find T-Dog scrambling eggs. You audibly gagged before your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you quickly toward the door. To make matters worse, you had to bodily maneuver past Daryl to make your escape toward the privacy of your room.

Your meager breakfast was flushed down, the act of bringing it up leaving you more exhausted than you had already been. Maybe spending the day in bed wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. 

You crawled onto the bed, melting into the soft mattress. In pure contradiction to your earlier predicament, your mind went blissfully blank and sleep found you almost immediately. 

You jerked awake to the sound of a small knock at the door. You didn’t feel quite rested but you did feel better. Your stomach still felt uneasy but you didn’t foresee it forcing you to pray to the porcelain god anytime soon. Your body was reluctant to comply with your brain’s order to leave the bed but you soon found yourself in front of the door, pulling it open to meet the concerned face of Carol. 

“Honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. 

“I’m okay.” You answered tiredly, leaning against the door. The urge to go back to sleep for the foreseeable future was quite difficult to ignore. 

“I know it’s none of my business but,” the woman dropped her gaze to her wringing hands, “it’s just that I couldn’t stand the smell of eggs when I was expecting Sophia. And I wasn’t just sick in the mornings. It was all the time, which made Ed—well, that doesn’t matter.”

You were already feeling the familiar tightness return to your chest, the uncomfortable fluttering inside your gut. “I—” You couldn’t possibly tell Carol. You hadn’t even told Daryl yet and he was the baby’s father. Still, the way she was looking at you. It was as if she was as desperate to have a friend as you were. “Please don’t tell anyone.” You relented, slumping even further against the door. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I just figured having someone that understands couldn’t be such a bad thing.” She shrugged with that sweet smile of hers. 

You have no idea. You returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“Here.” She extended a hand, opening her palm to reveal several red and white candies. “Peppermint will sometimes help with morning sickness.” You stared for a moment before accepting, stuffing all but one into your pocket. You quickly unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, yearning for some relief from the constant waves of nausea. 

“Thanks. Really. You could tell me to sacrifice a chicken while standing on my head and I’d do it at this point.”

Carol covered her mouth and chuckled, the moment hanging briefly before her expression turned suddenly grim. “That isn’t the only reason I came by. I wanted to fill you in on some things Dr. Jenner told us this morning.”

That did not bode well. “Yeah, okay. Come in.” You stepped back and allowed her to enter, closing the door behind her.

Carol had finished retelling Jenner’s explanation and the two of you were sitting in solemn silence when the lights shut off. You figured the other woman was looking as puzzled as you were before the two of you clumsily found the door in the darkness. You opened it to find Dale and Lori in the hallway, others with their heads peeking out of their rooms. 

Footsteps caught your attention just before Jenner passed you by, intercepted by Dale. 

“Why is the air off?”

“And the lights in our room?” Lori added. 

Another door opened, Daryl leaning out with that same bottle of liquor from the night before firmly in his grasp. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s ev’rythin’ turned off?”

Jenner seemed unbothered by the inquiries, casually swiping Daryl’s bottle in passing without missing a beat. “Energy use is being prioritized.”

Dale appeared taken aback. “Air isn’t a priority? And lights?”

Jenner tipped the bottle to his lips for a long swallow. “It’s not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.” Everyone filed out into the hall and began following the doctor, Daryl yelling at him as they walked. 

Carol touched your arm but you nodded and gave her a gentle push to encourage her to go to her daughter. “I’m gonna put on my boots and I’ll be right behind you.”

Moments later, you entered the big room and started down the stairs to join everyone just as Daryl snatched back the liquor bottle from the doctor. Jenner failed to react, his eyes on Andrea. 

“It was the French.”

The blonde stood puzzled. “What?”

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

Jacqui spoke up as you came to stand next to her. “What happened?”

Jenner was utterly nonplussed. “The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel.  I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “Let me tell you—” 

Rick was quick to interject. “To Hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Jacqui gently took your arm and urged you toward the door. “Oh, okay.” She said. It was obvious she was trying to maintain calm. Meanwhile, your heart was attempting to beat out from behind your ribcage. You barely made it to the middle of the stairs before a shrill alarm began blaring. 

Amidst everyone’s panicked inquiries, the AI sounded overhead. 

Thirty minutes to decontamination.

Daryl was worked up, his posture tense and expression angry. “Doc, what’s going on here?”

Jenner had weaved through the consoles to one on the end, scanning his badge and punching numbers on a keypad. 

Shane continued to rally everyone onward. “Everybody, ya’ll heard Rick!”

Rick joined in the urging. “Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!” 

Others were shouting as you climbed the remaining stairs and headed for the exit. There was a whirring clang as the door slid shut just before you could reach it. You were trembling, steps on autopilot while your brain raced through every possible outcome of the situation. None of them were pleasant. You didn’t even remember descending the stairs again but found yourself back on the lower level, watching Shane and Rick restrain Daryl. 

You were in shock, only registering key words in the intense conversation happening around you. 

“…locked down…”

“…28 minutes…”

“…catastrophic power failure…”

“…it sets the air on fire…”

Daryl ran past you with an axe, threatening the man that had just condemned you all to die.

And then, as Daryl was being held back and everyone shouted and cried, the doctor was speaking directly to you. 

“You. You don’t want to bring that innocent baby into this nightmare. This is a mercy.”

Your eyes widened and immediately sought out Daryl, who had gone still and silent. T-Dog was able to pull the axe away from him, the redneck being too busy staring back at you, his expression equal parts anger and shock. 

“You’re pregnant?” Dale exclaimed, releasing his hold on Daryl. 

“You do want this! All of you!” Jenner secured everyone’s attention with the exception of you and Daryl. 

While the pandemonium dragged on, the two of you were frozen. Your eyes pleaded with him to understand. He had no way of knowing how long you had known; whether or not you had lied about taking a test. He was only aware that you knew and you didn’t tell him. He was breathing fast through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

When he finally looked away, it felt as if your bones turned to jelly. You slid down in front of one of the stations and pulled your knees to your chest, fighting off yet another episode of panicked emotion. 

Distantly, you were aware of things happening around you. A shot was fired. The axe was hitting the door again. Everyone was yelling, pleading. 

Jenner hadn’t been offering you a medical alternative. He was telling you that this was going to happen. You could have warned everyone. You could have done something!

Now, everyone was going to die. You were going to die. Your baby was going to die. Your choice was made for you and the only thing you could think was that it was not the choice you would have made. You wanted this baby, Daryl or no Daryl. You wanted the chance to be a mother. You wanted your baby to have a chance. 

Feet began to pass by in front of you, but you were slow to respond, only looking up when someone grabbed your upper arm. 

Blue eyes. Angry, concerned, panicked blue eyes. 

“Get up.” Daryl ordered, hauling you to your feet. His hand slid down your arm to your wrist, and he pulled you along behind him. When you reached the hallway of rooms, he let go. “Get your bag.” You watched him start to walk away but found yourself still unable to make your feet move. Daryl snarled and ran back to you, grabbing your shoulder to give you a none-too-gentle shake. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing but voice calmer. “Y/N. Get your bag.”

It only took a heartbeat, but finally, you nodded and pulled away from him. You only had the clothes from the day before to grab and shove inside the bag. You had to shuffle around in the dark but somehow, you successfully gathered your things and stepped out into the hall just as Daryl was approaching. He still had the axe in one hand, his crossbow hanging from one shoulder and his pack from the other. 

“Go. Go, go!” He threw out his hand to urge you forward. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You met up with the group,  gathering at the front doors. They were still sealed. While the men were trying to break the glass of a large window, you noticed missing faces. Hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries, you laid a hand on Lori’s shoulder. 

“Not everyone’s here.” You felt stupid once the words were out. Of course she knew people were missing. They were her people. Surprisingly, she just gave you a mournful look and shook her head. What did that mean? Your expression shifted to disbelief. Unless Jenner had killed them or sealed the doors with them still inside with him, they had a chance. You had to go get them. You had to help. You had to—

“Get down!” You heard Daryl yell just before he dragged you to the floor, shielding you with his body. The surface beneath you vibrated, glass shards scattering across the lot of you. “C’mon!” He pulled you along again, this time by your hand.  

“Wait!” You yelled, your sudden stop causing him to lurch backward. The hunter growled in annoyance as you stopped to pick up his crossbow and bag. He didn’t take your hand again but you were right behind him, careful of the swinging axe when he took a walker’s head clean off.

Everyone sought shelter in the separate vehicles, Daryl leading you straight to his truck and opening the driver’s side door while snatching the weapons and bags to toss them carelessly in the back. “In! Get in!” He was almost shoving you while you scrambled inside and tried to cross into the passenger seat to give him room. However, his fingers snagged the back of your shirt and pulled you back toward him while, at the same time, he closed the door. You were pushed down toward the floorboards with Daryl’s body covering you once again. 

The explosion was massive. The truck rocked violently; the blast so loud that it left your ears ringing. You felt Daryl’s weight shift before it was gone completely, his hands on your arms to help you up into the seat even as he stared out the window. You followed his line of sight and gasped. The building had all but disintegrated. Cars, trucks, tanks: just gone. You felt only a slight relief at seeing Glenn wave Andrea and Dale into the RV. Maybe Jacqui was in there too. You weren’t a part of their group, but they were living breathing people. And that meant they mattered. 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your head toward Daryl, his hands patting down your arms, your face, your stomach. The concern he was showing was odd but not unwelcome. “Y’alright? Hurt anywhere?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay.” And right before your eyes, his expression morphed and twisted into bitter anger. 

“Good. Best sit there an’ just be quiet.” His voice was low, bordering on threatening. He started up the engine, cracking his neck while his eyes burned into the vehicle in front of the truck. 

“Daryl, I was gonna—”

“Did I stutter or ya just hard’a hearin’?” He roared, not even looking your way. 

You took in a deep breath, fighting back the tears with everything you had. You had fucked up, that was true. Maybe you deserved his wrath but you’d accept it with grace. Well, you would at least try. If there was any hope at all of fixing this—of getting through it at least civilly—you would need to let him cool down. 

As Daryl turned the truck around, pulling up the rear of the caravan, you watched the column of black smoke from what once was the CDC spiral up to layer across the Atlanta sky. 

[cosmic-daydreamz02]

Ideal Partner

Placements to look at for traits of your ideal partner:

7th house sign and planets: House of marriage and partnership

7th house ruler (sign and house placement + planets in conjunction with 7th house ruler)

Venus and Mars sign and house placement: Venus is what you value in relationships and how you attract people Mars is what you are attracted to in a partner (Venus represents the wife in a man's chart)

Jupiter (for husband specifically): Jupiter is traditionally thought to represent the husband because it represents wisdom and growth.

Asteroids:

Juno(3): represents what you stay committed to/the type of person you will marry

Eros(433) and Psyche(16): Eros represents physical passion and Psyche represents emotional and mental intimacy (kind of a deeper look at venus and Mars dynamic)

Alma(390): soulmate connections

Vesta(4): devotion, dedication, and sacred sexuality (pretty much like Juno, what you will stay devoted to)

Amor(1221): unconditional love (where and how you can experience love without expectations)

Groom(5129): describes key qualities of husband

Boda(1457): represents marriage (this can describe the kind of wedding you will have too)

Briede(19029): qualities of wife

BONUS: look at degrees and signs associated for more in-depth analysis

Example:

I have moon at 26° in Virgo 7th house and its ruler is Mercury at 14° Aquarius in the 12th house; 26° and 14° are both ruled by Taurus. So, I would look at Virgo, Aquarius, 12th house, and Taurus traits to describe my partner.

7th house/ruler/relationship planets and asteroids in signs/degrees

Aries (1°, 13°, 25°):

Ruled by: Mars

Personality: Partner is bold, direct, and passionate. They may be very independent and prefer to be the leader in your relationship. They love always having excitement and mew experiences with you.

Appearance: athletic and energetic, strong and angular features, confident energy, very simple/unfussy but bold style or athletic wear

Taurus (2°, 14°, 26°):

Ruled by: Venus

Personality: Loyal and stubborn, patient and stable. Could take a long time for them to get in a relationship, but once they're in they're staying. They seek comfort and security in their relationships and may take a practical approach to love.

Appearance: Strong, sturdy build, well-groomed and stylish but not flashy, strong but soft features

Gemini (3°, 15°, 27°):

Ruled by: Mercury

Personality: Curious and communicative, need intellectual stimulation in the relationship, it can be hard to keep them interested because they seek variety, they value mental connection more that intense emotions

Appearance: youthful and energetic appearance, very expressive eyes and they probably talk with their hands a lot, very trendy and playful style, nervous energy

Cancer (4°, 16°, 28°):

Ruled by: Moon

Personality: Nurturing, caring, and very sensitive partner. Very protective and loving relationship. They seek emotional connection and security.

Appearance: soft and rounded features, comforting energy, expressive eyes.

Leo (5°, 17°, 29°):

Ruled by: Sun

Personality: Confident, generous, warm-hearted. They will shower you with affection but expect the same in return. Also very loyal.

Appearance: Bold features, very thick hair, confident aura, center of attention, bold style

Virgo (6°, 18°):

Ruled by: Mercury

Personality: Practical, attentive, detail oriented. Acts of service is their love language. They value reliability and thoughtfulness in the relationship

Appearance: very neat and polished, refined and sharp features, could be thin, Modest and simple style, nervous energy

Libra (7°, 19°):

Ruled by: Venus

Personality: Romantic, charming, diplomatic. They're all about balance and fairness in the relationship. They will go out of their way to keep the relationship in harmony

Appearance: symmetrical features with a graceful aura, known for their charm and elegant look

Scorpio (8°, 20°):

Ruled by: Mars (traditional)/ Pluto (modern)

Personality: Very intense, passionate, and loyal They seek emotional depth and want a transformational relationship

Appearance: Magnetic aura, dark features, intimidating energy, they could have a dark style or they could have a pretty simple style it's just their energy that is very intense and noticeable

Sagittarius (9°, 21°):

Ruled by: Jupiter

Personality: Optimism, adventure, freedom loving. They seek fun and growth and value their independence in relationships. They need someone who supports their love for exploration

Appearance: Lively energy, athletic build, care-free attitude and free-spirited travel

Capricorn (10°, 22°):

Ruled by: Saturn

Personality: Disciplined and responsible. They value commitment and long-term stability. Like taurus, they could take a long time to actually get in the relationship because they have to know if it's worth their time first, they want a partner they can build with

Appearance: dry and very bony appearance, can look older than they are, tall and thin,classic and polished style, intimidating energy

Aquarius (11°, 23°):

Ruled by: Saturn (traditional), Uranus (modern)

Personality: independent, intellectual, unconventional. They value freedom and personal space in their relationships. They want a partner to share their ideas with

Appearance: Unique appearance, their style is usually not that "out there" imo they wear clothes that are useful, I actually see them dressing more rugged and utilitarian style

Pisces (12°, 24°):

Ruled by: Jupiter (traditional), Neptune (modern)

Personality: Empathetic, dreamy, romantic. Seeking deep emotional and spiritual connection, they show a lot of compassion and sensitivity in the relationship

Appearance: Their eyes stand out, soft and dreamy features, gentle presence, whimsical and romantic style

7th house ruler/relationship planets and asteroids in the houses

1st: the relationship directly affects your identity and how you present yourself to the world. Your partner will be similar to you in personality or appearance or they will help you express yourself. Relationships are an integral part of your identity

2nd: Your relationship may directly affect your personal finances (this and 8th house could mean marrying rich). Your partner will stabilize or grow your financial situation or they could have similar values to you around security and resources. Or they could just boost your self-esteem and self-worth. Your partner will see your value and admire you greatly

3rd: communication and intellectual stimulation are very important in your connection. Your partner could have similar interests as you and stimulate your mind. You may enjoy a lot of walks together or short road trips. Siblings or neighbors could play a role in introducing you or they could be your neighbor or old schoolmate

4th: There will be a lot of emotional closeness and security in your relationship. Partnership could be influenced by your family background or partner's family. Emphasis on creating a stable home

5th: Romance, creativity, and sex are very important to keep your relationship going. Your partner will encourage your creative self expression and bring fun and excitement into your life. You relationship may also revolve around children. Your ideal partner should be very spontaneous and passionate

6th: Your relationship will involve work, daily routine, and service. You could meet your partner at your place of work or somewhere you routinely visit. Your relationship requires a lot of time and dedication to work. Your partner will feel like they have a responsibility to serve you.

7th: partnership is central to your life. You have a strong desire for for partnership. Your partner will have a strong sense of fulfillment through your relationship. (Kind of opposite of 1st house, you would be the one affecting their identity) You and your partner will have an intense focus on balance and equality in your partnership

8th: Deep emotional transformation and shared resources. (Could come into wealth through your partners) The connection should be very vulnerable and intimate. There's a focus on finances shared with your partner.

9th: Partner could be from a different culture than you. They could change your philosophies on life or world views. You could meet through travel or higher education. Your ideal partner challenges your beliefs and inspires personal growth.

10th: Your partner should transform your reputation. They should help you in your professional life or public appearance in some way.

11th: They should influence your social circles. They may introduce you to new groups of people or they will become a key part in your friend groups. You could meet them through your friends or they could have been your friend first. You may do humanitarian work together.

12th: Karmic or spiritual lesson in your relationship. Secrecy or hidden matters. Your ideal partner would help you face your subconscious and work through hidden fears. Your partner has to have a spiritual connection with you. There may be challenges or blocks in the relationship if you and your partner don't work through your subconscious patterns

[sugar-petals]

Hey there!

Can you please kibbie type txt?,

Im very confused about their kibbie type especially yeonjun and beomgyu.

TXT Kibbe Body Types ♡

finally figured them out! enjoy the analysis. this time i used more hyperlinks not to crowd the post with images.

yeonjun - PURE CLASSIC

such a rare type! no wonder it's so hard to find his ID, plus his stylists dress him like a gamine (berets + wildly dyed/stripe hair = very G). but in reality, he is the clean aesthetic. a man with a perfect face and moderate to tall height. not an extremely towering frame like soobin, nor petite. perfectly balanced. Ns are also moderate and he has a little kibbe width, but N clothes usually give him sweater paws and pile on the body, making him look like another person. so, no blunt yang, more classic = oval (his face especially). where gamines have bones like short Ds, classics are "tame" sharp yang. it shows in his squarish shoulders. he's not a DC, though. his clothes are best 100% symmetrical like he is. at 1st i thought he's a gamine, but cropped lines are meh. a classic only needs a simple dress shirt to seduce you. gamine chaos patterns are too cluttered.

his red carpet looks rarely miss the mark: most regular evening menswear/suit and tie is all pure C. yeonjun's ideal look is: restrained. when you see him in a trench coat (the DC and D item incarnate), it's already too much to handle. put it on DC taehyung, he walks like he owns it! pure C has a less powerful frame and goes for vests > coats. as for ruling out the other subtype: soft classic morphs his face into someone else like romantic does. we're looking for "that's so yeonjun". he has lip injections, his mouth is much more balanced and less yin/pouty in its natural state. instead, he is the true midpoint of all the 13 types. a simple head to toe tux boosts his vertical line and matches his proportions well. gentlemanly clarity of lines.

huening kai - FLAMBOYANT NATURAL

signature fur coat: that's how you spot the N types! hyuka has width with added narrowness throughout his body, and quite some vertical at 6'0. he looks powerfully built with a rectangular, zero curve bodyline, like a block, straight down the torso and legs. his face's angles are not sharply, intimidatingly taut like a dramatic: they look softer, but it's actually N bluntness (think Gigi Hadid). same with the shoulders. not angular and bony like D, G, and C types. FN is a friendly giant, and can look "cute" up close. mind you, he just turned of kibbe-typeable age (22+). he still matures into his type.

besides wearing heavy, hard-hitting fabrics well, he thrives with a head to toe look. doing line breaks gamin-style goes against his harmony. dramatic and classic are too formal, awkwardly narrow or off size. D and SD fall flat, looking so serious. FN needs room to breathe, fluffed, bountiful hair and knit/rougher textures: bomber jackets, jeans, so charming on him! vice versa, romantic styles make him look like a child; he wears R fabric and curls often because pure R is TXT's concept, but it needs a bolder approach. SN yields a waist emphasis he doesn't require (belts do nothing for FN), and pure N is just regular-degular, doesn't really do it for his face. add some dramatic structure and deep colors and it works perfectly.

beomgyu - SOFT CLASSIC

D and N clothing are oversized on him and don't make his face pop, while R and G styles have too much distracting detail or become fuzzy: he's too tall to be that yin, either way. that leaves us with classic! his face is taemin-like, very lavish, but he has a more streamlined frame than a small TR, which would have been my first thought for beomgyu. compare the hands, though: TR taemin has soft, full, small fingers (R), while beomgyu's hands are elegantly sculpted, neither small nor huge (C). typing hands is underrated (pics easy to find + hardly any surgeries/filters/makeup on them)!

many classic category clothes really do look so neat on him, it's amazing. there's a reason why he's only marginally smaller than pure C yeonjun, who is his type neighbor. but beomgyu heavily benefits from SC waist emphasis/tucking shirts while pure classic and dramatic classic are not fitted enough, and even too long for him. asymmetry and leather edginess (= for sharp subtypes + dramatics) is not his cup of tea. yin subtypes are always less vertical, need gentler fabric, more flowing hair. gosh, soft classics are such perfect creatures.

taehyun - FLAMBOYANT GAMIN

just like his infinitely versatile fashion style, taehyun is an unpredictable mix of many types like one would expect of an FG. e.g. rounded jawline with sharp lip corners: a wild combination of essences. we see some soft, deer-like, youthful R features, some narrow/angular D in the bones, some muscly N tonedness (that already tells us in which subtype direction it goes). compact, but chiseled. like a petite dramatic type. not ultra small, femme-leaning, waist-emphasis-heavy like SG, and too much natural yang for pure G. pure G is only D + R, while FG is actually D + R + N.

the way taehyun drowns in casual clothing baekhyun-style already told me he's a gamine at one glance. the way he can wear showy TR clothing with insane decor proves his flexibility but penchant for small detail. patterns are a Gs best friend, as is the highschool uniform. line breaks work 100%, but he can also do a heeled head to toe black - FG has an elongated D undercurrent. this ID has the widest fashion range. taehyun reminds me of jonghyun a lot, and FG is his type. and a little j-hope frame-wise, FGs may have incredibly varied features but among each other, they are surprisingly familiar!

soobin - SOFT DRAMATIC

any D type is hard to miss. at 6'1, soobin has to be D, SD, FN; tiny chance of DC. next to broad FN hyuka, his narrow D bones and rectangular shoulders are obvious, and he eclipses the classics yeonjun/beomgyu. baggy natural styles hide him, the pants wind up too wide. gamine with its prints and patterns becomes a fuss since you have to size up the clothing to fit his yang proportions —mixed G materials don't work either — and the classic tux is too short. romantic type, 0 chance. (kibbe declared some 6'1 celebs as Rs in the past... they're mistypes. Rs are small/moderate as they are yin, the opposite of D. they could never border 6'2, ever).

and, easy tell: most male SDs are infuriatingly underdressed, and aren't fazed by diamonds whatsoever. stage uniforms, fantastic on soobin! his stylists try to put dark C clothes with long trousers on him, give him the gamine fuzzy bowlcut, and call it a day. little do they know who's hiding underneath all that... a stunning SD slayer. i did consider pure D, but if you put some nice silk fabric on him, it's just beautiful. only harsh angles all the time gets boring, even if it does have its desired effect. he can handle accessories so well, too. pure D cannot. if you upsize TR clothes with glitz and glam, he rocks it.

thanks for requesting @miraculousmayad! i love txt.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 15

This was really popular last WIP Wednesday so it got down before the others did. So tada! The meeting with Vickie!

If you guys aren't getting notifications for my works, could you let me in know in the comments? Because I've been seeing it's been hit or miss lately, thanks!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into Eddie’s mansion. Both bands were meeting with their shiny new agent, Vickie Cameron. But whatever it wasn’t the woman sitting on Eddie’s big, black leather couch.

She had a stylish, curly, red bob that framed her angular face. Her bright green eyes were knowing and mischievous. Her clothes veered toward Bohemian in darker shades. Her smile was calm and welcoming.

Steve could feel the tension bleed out his shoulders as he sat down between Simon and Spence.

“You must be Abbadon,” she greeted warmly. “I’m Vickie Cameron, I understand that I called in the nick of time?”

Eddie who had come in behind him, smiled at her. “That’s right. She kept trying to shift blame on Abby here. Bob was awesome, though!”

Vickie looked to Chrissy and Robin in askance.

“The Fallen’s producer,” Robin explained. “He was there to prevent liability.”

Vickie nodded and then clasped her hands together. “I understand that not all of Corroded Coffin is here today?”

Jeff shook his head. “Gareth Hughes is currently in a ninety day program.”

“Eddie had to get special permission to talk to him about changing agents in the first place,” Brian explained. “It’s in our contract that all of us have to sign off on major changes.” He glanced sideways at Eddie and then Jeff before hanging his head.

Eddie sat down on the floor next to Shane, crossing his legs like the bassist. “But he was onboard one hundred percent.”

“That’s good,” she said with a smile. “I’m assuming it was that lovely little clause that prevented him from being replaced on tour?”

Steve looked around at the Corroded Coffin members as tension filled the air. Jeff and Eddie were radiating anger while Brian seemed to shrink in shame.

“I didn’t think it was fair that he would get replaced like he didn’t mean anything to us,” Brian hotly defended.

Jeff’s lip curled. “Dude, Gareth voted for us replacing him! He knew had made a promise and broke it. If we don’t punish him somehow, someway, he’s going to keep doing it!”

Brian’s chin began to wobble and he let out a shuddered breath. “I know. It was stupid. But it’s too late now. Let’s just focus on what we’re here for. Please!”

Steve shared looks with his band before they all agreed to just move on. But Steve made sure to make a mental note to talk to Eddie about it, because it was clear Eddie was really upset by the move even after a few weeks.

“Since you’re planning on touring together,” Vickie said, sitting up straight, “that makes the contacting for venues easy. Getting suites for two big bands might prove a little tricky at the moment as I don’t have the clout yet.”

“That’s fine,” Shane said from his perch on the floor. “We like to bunk all together if we can. It makes harder for people to try and pap us if there’s almost always someone there in the room.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. “Will Jim Hopper be coming with you to function as your head of security?”

Robin nodded. “He’ll be the only one with knowledge of their real identities. His daughter will also be joining us as costumes director, but she has only dealt with their alter egos.”

Vickie nodded back. “That’s perfect. I’ll be just handling contracts and the legal eagle side of things, which is the main reason I need to know their real identities so no one can forge anything claiming to be a member of the band.”

Everyone nodded or murmured their agreements.

She looked at Eddie. “I know this your home, but would it be all right if I spoke to The Fallen alone?”

Eddie nodded and hopped to his feet. “Come on, Jeffy and Bri-Bri, let’s go raid my liquor cabinet.”

The other two men were to their feet in seconds and followed their lead singer out the door like ducklings in a row.

Vickie smiled after them. “They’re going to be fun. I can tell.” She turned back to The Fallen members. “Do you feel safe enough to remove your masks so that I can meet you properly?”

Steve and the other members looked around at each other before Shane took off his mask first. Then Steve and Spence together. Simon was the only that remained with his mask still on. Steve leaned over and whispered in his ear and rubbed his back encouragingly. After a moment or two Simon removed his mask too.

“It’s hard trusting someone new,” Vickie said with a reassuring smile. “Especially after harrowing experience that Abbadon went through earlier today. Giving that much power to any ex is hard, but if half of what Celeste says is true, she’s the last person in your lives that should have any kind of access to your secrets. So no judgments, okay? If you don’t feel comfortable being unmasked around me, that’s fine. I hope I’ll earn your trust in the future.”

Immediately Simon put his back on. Spence and Shane shared a glance before Spence put his back on, too. Only Shane and Steve left theirs off.

Vickie didn’t comment, only nodded her approval. “I had somethings to go over with you all so we can all get on the same page.”

“Why aren’t you calling us by our real names?” Simon asked, leaning into Steve’s side.

“Are any of the Corroded Coffin boys in on the secret?” Vickie asked, leaning forwards on her knees and clasping her hands together.

They all shared concerned glances, before Robin spoke up.

“Eddie is,” she said carefully, her shoulders squared against the tension in the room. “He guessed though, he wasn’t told.”

“But Jeff Laurence and Brian Martin aren’t read in?” Vickie pressed.

They all shook their heads.

“Then that would be why I’m not calling you by your real names,” she said clearly, sitting up straight. “There is a chance they might overhear a name or two and put it together who you are.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and his lip quivered. “Nancy–she almost called me by my real name right in front of our producer. She almost outed me without a single thought or care. I–I’d never been more frightened in my life when she nearly slipped up. She had been so mad at me and I just wanted to get out of there, but I forced myself to stay there and listen to her.”

Vickie stood up and knelt in front of him, taking one of his hands as his friends offered their verbal support.

“I hate how much power she had in that conversation,” she murmured. “Agents like managers and PR firms are tools to help you navigate a job which constantly changing. That goes for actors, artists, athletes, comedians, and musicians of all walks of life. They should be supporting you, not making you miserable.”

She stood up. “And that goes for everyone, Corroded Coffin included. This is meant to be a partnership and it’s my job to sure it all goes as smoothly as possible.”

Simon removed his mask and looked her in the eye. “If you’ve got Abbadon’s back, you’ve got my vote of confidence.”

Everyone but Vickie turned to him, impressed. Simon was their Cowardly Lion. He was afraid of his own shadow outside of their personas on stage. It was only under the bright lights of the stage and behind his red mask that he truly came alive.

This was a big deal for Simon and his bandmates and Robin were proud as hell for him.

“So what did you need to go over with us?” Shane asked from his perch on the floor.

Vickie cracked her knuckles with a grin. “What I understand is that because your personal and professional lives are separate you need a little help fend off the trolls and influencers, is that right?”

“Aren’t they one and the same?” Spence asked with a snort. His mask was still on despite Simon’s bravery, he wasn’t ready to take that step yet.

“Only in the way that jackals and coyotes are both dogs I guess,” Vickie replied. “They act similar but have different motives for why they’re doing it. But I’m here to handle that.”

“I’m sorry to make you take on PR duties as well,” Robin said ringing her hands together. “But the more people who know the worse it’s going to be to keep a lid on everything.”

Vickie shook her head. “This is a good thing. Because I don’t have a lot of clients to juggle, I can do the PR for you guys. Simpler is always best.” She looked around the room. “I also understand that one of you is in a high profile relationship?”

Steve raised his hand. “Ish. Eddie and Steve are dating but it’s not public and with Eddie’s past history of sleeping with anything that moved, he can’t be seen with a roadie or the tabloids will explode.”

Vickie tapped her lip thoughtfully. “That is a conundrum to be sure. I’ll put together some plans and meet with Eddie and ‘Steve’ later in the week.” She put air quotes around his name. “Now, here are the other things we need to go over.”

Talk turned to the other things on her agenda and by the time it was over with all four members of the band were maskless, and eager to take her on.

~

Vickie, Robin, Chrissy were all sitting in Vickie’s office, popping the cork of a bottle of champagne to share between them. Chrissy poured the bubbling liquid into the three glasses and handed one to each of Robin and Vickie.

“Here’s to the three baddest bitches!” Robin said, raising her glass.

“Hell yeah!” Vickie crowed.

“Damn right!” Chrissy said, as they all clinked their glasses together.

They all drank and Vickie smirked around her glass. “So the industry is abuzz with news about Nancy Wheeler and Corroded Coffin pulling out of her firm.”

Robin and Chrissy leaned in close, clutching their glasses of champagne.

“Ooh,” Chrissy cooed. “Do tell.”

Vickie took another drink of her champagne and let them sit in it for a moment. “Apparently word is out that Corroded Coffin had vouched for her to The Fallen and when she was rude and dismissive of their unique requirements, Corroded Coffin decided that she wasn’t for them. And now huge acts are pulling out too in solidarity to The Fallen.”

Chrissy winced, but Robin nodded sagely.

“She sounded so sincere when I spoke to her,” she said, shaking her head sadly, “but my boys picked up on her hostility right away. All she had to do was put the past behind her, the way Abbadon seemed to, but she let her prejudices blind her and it led her to this.”

Vickie pursed her lips together. “I can see how some heavy hitters might like the bulldog approach that she took to her work, but not everyone has that tough of a skin. And while some part of me feels sorry for her, she absolutely dug her own grave.”

“Eddie was telling me some of the things she said to Abbadon,” Chrissy said, twisting the glass her hands. “It sounded like to me that she wanted him to absolve her of all her wrong doing without owning up to it in any way.”

Robin nodded. “That’s what Bob said, too. There was no apology and it didn’t sound like she ever intended to give one. So cheers to Vickie Carmichael, who sent the dragon running back to her lair!”

“Cheers!” Chrissy agreed to Vickie’s flush of pride.

“Thank you, ladies,” she said demurely. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with your boys. They all seem like good people. And yes that includes Gareth. I was able to meet with him without the other boys around and while he has some real problems to deal with, he’s a good person at heart who was led away by the high alcohol promised him.”

Chrissy nodded. “I wish Brian had let Gareth heal while they went on tour. I think it would have shaken something loose to see his friends perform without him.”

“To new beginnings!” Robin said, raising her glass.

“To new partnerships!” Vickie agreed, raising her own glass.

“To friends old and new!” Chrissy said.

They clanked glasses and drank deeply to their new future.

~

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: CLOSED

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3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

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10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop

[phoebosacerales]

Beyoncé

I've been studying Valens' Anthologies book 2 where he talks about indications of prosperity and fame and I could definitely see that the Libra and the Scorpio rising charts did not make sense.

Okay, so first impressions:

The Aries rising makes perfect sense. First of all, Beyonce had to be martian, there was no other way. Her drive, her performances, even the way she sweats like a faucet on stage, she had to be choleric.

The Scorpio rising theory was great when you considered she would be ruled by mars in the 10th, but all the libra planets in the 12th made it impossible to believe. Someone with that kind of fame has to have a lot of angularity in their birth chart.

Born on Venus day at Venus hour

Sect light: Moon in Scorpio in the 8th. The first triplicity ruler is Mars in Good Fortune (5th). Born competitive and always accumulating awards since she was a child. The second triplicity ruler is Venus in domicile and angular. Her relationship is a huge support, obviously. The third ruler is the Moon herself, which is in the 10th relative to the Lot of Fortune.

Oikodespotes: Mars in Leo in the 5th, nothing says performer better than that

Kurios: Saturn or Venus

Asc ruler: Mars again

Lot of Fortune in the 11th, the Good Daimon. It gets aspects with the benefics, especially Jupiter. Ruler is Saturn exalted and angular with benefics. The fact that Saturn rules the Good Daimon and the Lot of Fortune and it's in these conditions makes it surprisingly benefic for a night chart.

The lot of Daimon is in Cancer at 13°, where the fixed star Sirius is found. This is the brightest star in the sky, said to indicate among many things fame. The ruler of daimon is the Moon in the 10th from Fortune. This configuration is one big indication of fame for Valens, especially since it's the Moon, who indicates visibility and popularity.

The lot of exaltation is also important for analysing fame. The angularity and dignity of the lot and its ruler is great too.

The planets most related to profession are Mars, then Venus. Mars because the MC exalts it and Venus because the MC is in its bounds. Only Mercury, Venus and Mars get considered because they're planets that show action. Mercury is important too, of course, just for the fact that it's angular and it's with Venus, but it doesn't have any kind of rulership over the 10th.

[sonicjustbecause]

Something about myself

The reason I'm trying to learn 3D (furthern than architecture, my job actually involve massive 3D use) is my lack of artistic talent.

Like, I always loved to draw, I started at the age of 3 and always drew. In first place to take notes. Like the cavemen, since at three I could not read (In Italy children usually learn to read at elementary school or a little bit before).

Shortly drawing turned from a mere tool to take notes to a way to tell stuffs, imaginary stories or real life events. I loved comics and animation because of this. Beutiful art that tell stories. Is what all I wanted to do, once I would have grown up.

Age of 5. We millennials, on average, had better drawing skills than Gen Z babies. Even the less talented. Perhaps it was the lack of I-Pad. Usually at the age of 8/9, the Gen-Z recover and reach the average level of 8/9 years old millennials.

I kept drawing daily. Like doing 7 full comics books of over 300 pages each a the age of 6 to 7. And an illustrated diary telling the real life vacation I had in a touristic village I dreamed about for long.

Massive beaches and a lot to do in summer.

Now is a well known reality adults often tell fat lies to children to make them happy. Adult kept telling me I was good at drawing. On the other hand my peers were quite cold about them (my cousin once told me to watch out for inconsistencies. I recognized her criticism, but I though since I was a child - 8 years old -, it was too soon to worry, as no child can draw consistently, not even the best ones. My cousin was a child too, and of course her drawing showed inconsistencies too).

Only when i was 11 an adult told me my drawing were behind my age. At that point I started to experiment more (like doing portraits, changing my drawing style etc). At 12 I started to lean more toward a Japanese style.

By the age of 12/13 years old, I believe I was average at drawing. I though I was not exceptional but it was still doable (I'll not show what my drawing were like, I'll tell you they looked about like CWC's drawing, just way way less angular. And I didn't draw anything cringe, no giant straw and 'eeew things' although I used to draw Sonic too).

My favourite subjects were magical girls. Sailor Moon etc, but I greatly favoured original characters.

My dearest and oldest OCs. Yes, identical twins. I was never able to do them justice.

Art School is were I found the truth.

In my first serious drawing, I took a 3/10 grade, that is a E (In Italy we grade with numbers) And so on, usually 5 at drawing figures and my grades were the lowest of the class (hilarious, the one who loves to draw above anything else sucked at it), 5 in architecture and 5 in decoration.

The issue with architecture was not taking measurements, I could do that. I was also one of the few that somehow understood how perspective worked. I just could not draw not even with a ruler and a compass.

The only artistic subject I could do was modeling and it didn't feel as hard as drawing. Grades were still mediocre, 6 to 7, about a C or a little more.

I had different art teachers and the grades were about consistent.

Since I drew mainly to tell stories, the art subjects I was more focused on was real life drawing, the one I was worse at. And because of my effort despite my lack of talent I was literally a laughing joke for my teachers. One almost fell from the chair laughing about my drawings. This one told me to keep my creativity at bay because with my low drawing skills, I was unable to express it properly, and only do what I was able to do. The other day by day denied me to do more and more things.

First I was denied to experiment. I felt my drawing were becoming stagnant, so I decided to try to draw on dark paper with white pencils to refresh the way I look at things. Is a thing many suggest to do. But my teacher told me that my skills were too low to even think about that.

Later I was denied to colour my drawing and to do the 'chiaroscuro'.

And last I was excluded from a commissioned work were all class was partecipating. I had to sit and twiddle my thumbs while watching all my classmates doing the job

"You draw like a 10 years old child". I was 16 when I was told this by my teacher. This made me ashamed from even liking to draw. "Please, teach me, how can I fix my miustakes if you never tell me what i do wrong?" "What's the point to teach you? You lack of talent, even if I tell you, you will never learn to draw".

Out of school I had to take the matter in my hands.

Internet was new, and at that time, criticism online were common place and largely accepted unlike today.

There was the early stage of an idea that everybody can learn to draw, so I tried it. My drawing didn't show I was a former art student (everybody though I was self taugh by looking at my drawings).

I was also introduced to the concept of 'references images' to enhance my drawings. I followed religiously all what those artists (comic artist, my main focus) told me. I focused on criticism and ignored praises. To make sure i could receive proper criticism by more and more people, I criticised works of other people too. It worked. Criticism came with suggestions and good debates. Still something was still off.

I could reproduce a picture but I could not draw on my own and things were getting worse. But I was told it was normal and i had nothing to worry about...

Well, are you kidding me?

What they call photo references, to me always looked like this. Copy a pose and draw your character over. The drawing might look good, but to me the life is all stripped away and the pose look static rather than the character actually moving in the page.

The sketch full of mistakes in the second picture has a lot of personality. The fixed one lost almost all the energies.

To make thing worse, the character take the face of the model you use (who also ends to look a bit like you, because instnctively we are all drawn by models who look a bit like us).

Artists who draw without references exist. But when I admired them, those who helped me told me: 'Stop being amazed by them, if they used references, they would draw even better!'

I was and I am slave of references. Without pictures i can't draw. Only in latest mont i managed to pull something from my brain, after 20 years of zero drawings from imagination.

When Goku, my first cat succumbed to her age (she was close to be 20 years old), I drew this for my brother. It is for a tattoo.

I had to use at least 5 pictures of her to draw her accurately while coming up to an original pose.

With this Shadow I needed a couple of references. I wanted a new pose, at the same time I wanted it to look like it was done by Uekawa. My '10 years old girl' hand - as my teacher said - still shows. It shouldn't have.

My experience told me that talent is a thing and it matters. 20 years + of practice and my drawing skills remained roughly the same. I didn't do this alone, my drawings were always 'supervised' so I have to assume my teacher who laughed at me at art school and that refused to reach me were right.

To add things, I have a cousin who could draw like this at 9:

A good bunch of my family on both side has artistic talent like this. But the gene skipped me.

Attempting to 3D

Pixar animators do a lot of 'don't' s in topology, they know how to make it work. You don't have (and shouldn't) follow their example.

When I first saw a 3D model, I got scared. The topology was so complex (it was a mid poly model) I though it was not worth the effort from my side.

I attempted humanoids models as references for my drawings, architectonic and organic models on Sketch up, nothing too serious.

I started to use blender to create new morphs for Daz Studio models, so i could build my original characters and this would have helped me to draw them without the need to seek references.

But while some are happy with their regular daz models, I wanted more. I needed models that suit my needs, that I can fully control on my own. The vanilla stuffs in one way is like AI. You can do good things, but they never match your needs and your vision. There is still that bump. Those eyes are too small. The expressions lack of flexibility. Is not truly a 3D issue as i saw really good things done in 3D (see Disney moves, they might have gone 'woke' but the art keeps be excellent)

Notice the clarity of silhouettes and how the lines flow nicely... the basis of 2D art on 3D still work...

This is great 3D art. I always loved this hilarious and friendly anti hero. I saw the 'behind the scene' that was done in order to keep the very same life Lupin had in his 2D version.

The vanilla models from Daz studio as well as Sketch up have been a great starting point but soon I understood that the perfect model is the one done my myself. Also I found out some people who lack of drawing talent like myself still can do great 3D art.

The topology is scary, but you just need to adapt your eyes to the edgeflow/learn about how topology work. Then is not too far from drawings.

On one way AI art was also a good thing. I was afraid to attempt to use 3D art to enhance my drawings (I still love regular drawings) openly. I feared people would not accept it. Because of AI, now people are more accepting toward 3D art since they realized is still done with our effort and knowledges from studies.

[lacebvnny]

- Bound to you, among the flames -

Aemond Targaryen x Female!reader

Summary: Set after Storm's End. You are to marry prince Aemond Targaryen -the killer of your beloved friend Lucerys-, in the old Valyrian way.

Rating: +13, arranged marriage

A/n: Okay, I was pretty unsure to post this one. Keep in mind English is not my first language. Enjoy! Feedback will be appreciated 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her feet sank in the softness of the damp sand, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore tore her attention away from the speech of the monk standing next to her and her husband.

/Hen lantoti ānogar/

No, he wasn't her husband yet. This wasn't a customary wedding, at least not in westerosi tradition. Perhaps that's why the dowager queen let her dissaproval be known and refused her attendance that morning, forcing the solitude and the intimacy in the ceremony to stand out in the vast coast where Aemond decided it would be held.

She cursed him in her mind when the heaviness of her eyelids made the restlessness she had the night before become more evident, as the prince instructed her days prior that she should be present before the break of dawn.

There was a chill in the cold, morning brisk that made her skin shiver, and the flames coming from the fire holders surrounding them weren't enough to warm her.

/Va syndroti vāedroma/

Y/n felt ridiculous, out of place even, when she saw herself wearing the ornamented headpiece and the silky, oversized robe meant for her to use that morning. It wasn't at all what she expected, not in the least close to the frugality of the dress she would be wearing in the evening at the sept.

Isn't this meant to be used only by pure blooded valyrians?, she wondered, but she was well aware that wouldn't be a fact Aemond would let in into his obtuse, stubborn mind.

She even imagined how Aegon the conqueror and his sisters would turn in their graves if they saw them tanting the millennial ritual by binding a Targaryen with a puny westerosi. Hell, even Aegon -the drunkard- laughed his ass off when he received the news of his younger brother being wed to her in the old fashion.

/Mēro perzot gīhoti/

He wore the same muted robe as she did, but this time a heavily decorated eyepatch adorned his angular face, besides the relaxed smirk he had from the second he spotted her moments before she stood next to him.

It was unfair, she thought, how the dressing fitted so well on him, as much as she hated to admit.

The ancient outfit was meant to combine with his valyrian, regal features, and the statuesque demeanor he showed made her feel like a fragile and simple peasant, as if he was a prince who came from the Old Valyria to be bound with her for eternity.

/Elēdroma iārza sīr/

Y/n spotted the pink wine tint on their shoulders and immediately reasoned how it blended together with the warm sky above them, the same as the creamy soft color on the ends of the robe, just like the sand where they stood.

Oh, so this is why he chose the sunrise...

/Izulī ampā perzī/

The lady felt her legs quivering when the monk handed the prince a small knife, but then she recalled how the main point of the ceremony centered around joining their blood together.

Aemond turned to face her, with a reassuring look on his only eye, as if he knew he frightened her by holding the small, glassy weapon. He closed the distance between them and raised her chin with his cold digits as he lifted the dagger near her face.

Hearing him mutter a soft look at me, y/n felt a sharp sting on her bottom lip, which made her eyes water as the cold material left a fresh wound where it slid down.

The Targaryen traced her pillowy lips with his thumb, collecting blood to draw a small figure on her forehead with it.

She didn't understand what it meant, and y/n wished, if he was so adamant on being wed to her, that he could at least had the consideration of taking his time to explain to her the vows the priest spoke in that rich language of theirs, and the blood sigils they were supposed to mark on each other.

/Prūmī lanti sēteksi/

Before she could ponder on the strange words, Aemond grabbed her hand giving her the knife with a determined look on his face, expecting her to do the same to him.

She stepped closer to him and, much to her dismay, her trembling hands dropped the knife to the ground. Y/n felt her face burning with shame and heard a small chuckle coming from the prince standing in front of her.

Asshole, prick, jerk, accursed kinslayer. A whole cascade of insults towards him crescented in her mind.

Clenching her teeth with anger she crouched, swiftly picking up the instrument while holding her headpiece in place to prevent it from falling. She didn't need to embarrass herself any longer that morning.

/Hen jeny māzīlarion/

Y/n held the dagger tightly and she stood on her tiptoes so she could allow herself to reach the towering valyrian, finding balance gripping his upper arm and finally giving him the small cut on his lip.

Aemond had to lower his face for her to draw the bloody symbol on him, and she prayed in her mind she drew the correct figure as she remembered it was.

Once his hand reached hers to take the knife, the knot on her throat tightened almost constrictingly as she observed Aemond giving himself a long slash, feeling immediate nausea when she saw the sanguine fluid pooling on the palm of his hand.

She was certain Aemond probably knew she wouldn't have the courage to cut herself, and proved right when he extended her arm by the wrist firmly to prevent her from pulling it back.

Without warning, the icy steel bit her and y/n flinched in pain, choking a small whimper as Aemond put their hands together intertwining their fingers, almost as if he tried to comfort her.

Her blood mixed with his when her palm rested between his long calloused digits, dripping through the small spaces allowing them to be joined together in this old rite the prince insisted so much to carry out.

The seeping crimson liquid gave his usually cold skin an odd warmth, almost nostalgically so.

/Qēlossa ozūndesi/

The priest approached them continuing his chanting, offering her a wooden cup to drink from. Y/n inspected the small runes carved on it before putting it to her lips and taking some slows sips of what appeared to be spiced wine, with her tongue starting to burn fiercely.

It seemed Aemond wasn't bothered by the fiery sensation after his turn to drink from the cup, his usual calm facade remained intact.

/Syndroro ōñō jēdo/

His feet took a step closer to her, as she tried avoiding the intense stare from his one eye while he slowly leaned down to caress her cheek.

The soft stroke became a strong grip on her jaw, and the prince began closing the distance between them, placing his lips on hers, need and want emanating from the rythm of his breathing.

Much to y/n's surprise, the kiss was soft, slow, maybe too passionate for a religious ceremony as his mouth found hers with boiling desperation, forcing the hotness under her skin rush to her cheeks in seconds.

One of his hands kept her in place while the other found rest in her shoulder, gently tugging at her robe as if he couldn't wait to free her from it.

Nevertheless, y/n had no other choice but to return the kiss, closing her eyes and imagining the one kissing her was the sweet prince who spent his afternoons on the library with her reading about history, and not the murderer who plotted her dear friend's death.

/Ry kīvia mazvestraksi/

She heard Aemond groan softly in frustration when he pulled away, as if he had to refrain himself from claiming her mouth how he truly wanted.

When the priest finished his vows, they both stared at each other while the fires cracked vigorously before being put out.

Y/n was too well aware Aemond could see the fear and rejection in her eyes, unlike him, whose gaze was so ardent it made her shrink into a tight knot of nervousness.

- Our blood is bound together now, Rūs.- he expressed, a hint of excitement blossoming on his voice,- ... I will finally make you mine tonight.

The soft burr from his tone and the lascivous threat almost made her spun on her heels to run away.

- I won't allow you in my bed!- she replied with irritation.

Aemond only chuckled, wearing his usual stance with his arms behind his back.

-Hm... I will be your lord husband once the high septon anoint us with the Seven's blessings, so...- the prince dangerously leans over her, revelling on her anxious state.

I think I'll have the right to do as I want with you.

[kairologia]

How to read a natal chart in 13 steps.

This is simplified guide geared towards beginners and people who want to transition to a more traditional approach when assessing a chart. There is no standard method of reading charts, this is simply the method I follow & find most comfortable. It’s a practical, methodical synthesis and just the right amount of intuitive.

Before I begin, I must mention that while assessing planetary conditions I personally verify the following factors — in this order: the sign, house, angularity, direction, whether a planet is direct or retrograde, sect (day vs night), hemisphere (1-6 vs 7-12), phase (morning vs evening, especially notable for venus & mercury), domicile lord (draw a disposition tree if needed), exaltation lord, triplicity lords, bound lord, decan lord, dodecatemoria, aspects to domicile lord if any, aspect to the ascendant if any, apsects to other planets, bonification conditions (i.e aspecting benefics, so supported by aspect), maltreatment conditions (aspected by malefics). This is important to remember because the term “conditions” will come up a lot.

Now onto the actual guide :

1. For starters, you should (assuming you don’t already) learn how to read a whole sign house circle chart. Table charts are nice as a gateway drug, but if you're somewhat serious about learning astrology this is an important transition to make. Once you do, put the chart you’re aiming to assess in front of you, then proceed further.

2. Determine the sect of the chart. This becomes an automatism once you’re used to looking at charts, but if you're not there yet — draw a line on the chart (or visualize said line) going from the degree of the ascendant to the degree of the descendant. If the sun is ABOVE that line — it’s a day chart, so of the day sect. If it’s BELOW that line — it’s a night chart, of the night sect.

3. Take a look at the ascendant. Take note of the rising sign, its modality, & its ruling planet. Does this chart have any 1st house planets? Also, remember to do a quick overview to pinpoint which planets are angular (as in, located in the 1/4/7/10th houses)

4. Track down the ascendant ruler. Check its house placement, condition (see above), and aspects (applying vs separating).

5. Track down the Sect Light. If it’s a day chart, the sect light is the Sun. If it’s a night chart, that would be the Moon. Assess the sect light’s condition (see above), aspects.

6. Check which houses are ruled by the Luminaries (Sun/Moon). The interpretation of the luminaries is intrinsic to the areas of life (Houses) they rule, in addition to their independent significations.

7. Check out the phase of moon at birth. The lunation phase is extremely important as it defines the dynamic between this individual’s luminaries.

8. Take a look at how Mercury is doing in said chart. Condition (see above)? Aspects? Morning or Evening star?

9. Take a look at the Benefic Of Sect & Malefic Out Of Sect (day: Jupiter/Mars, night: Venus/Saturn). Assess their condition (see above), aspects they make, etc. Regarding Venus: verify if she’s Morning or Evening star (if Venus is on the right of the Sun - Morning star, if it's on its left - Evening star). For the Malefic OOC, check if it is bonified by enclosure (i.e : Saturn or Mars are touched by a benefic (Venus/Jupiter) on each sides) — it’s a huge alleviating factor.

10. Then, assess the Benefic Out Of Sect & Malefic Of Sect (day: Venus/Saturn, night: Jupiter/Mars).

11. Then, take a global look seeking anything that may be of note. Stelliums, several retrograde planets, a Cazimi, Out Of Bounds planets, a void moon, etc.

12. Lastly, I go through each house individually. This is where the chart synthesis proper begins. In practice, I like to tell a story beginning from the 1st house & culminating in the 12th, while highlighting the thematics of each house as I go.

13. This is optional, but I like to take a look at annual and monthly profections to see which themes are presently highlighted/emphasized for the individual whose chart I’m looking at.

And we’re done.

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