Rising tend to have a strong vibe overall, maybe even dominant. Is expressive and might appear to have a temper or be opinionated.
Rising has a very comfortable, friendly, and attractive vibe. Is easy to get along with and commonly appears artistic too. I typically feel comfortable around Taurus Moons and Risings.
Rising vibe can be hard to pin point because they give a variety of impressions. Common ones are talkative, intimidating (when I was younger), and energetic. I click with many Gemini Suns but not so sure about the Risings.
Rising comes off as shy or reserved, has a friendly side, is nonthreatening but might also act tough and biased. Some can be mysterious.
Rising is obvious! Good fashion, confident, some are loud, some are playful and funny, likes to show off, smiles a lot, heated vibes.
Rising has an earthy appeal. They come off as nice, helpful, and easygoing. Their criticism comes out in sarcasm or unexpected quips. Some Virgo
Risings have a clearly seen judgmental side but many try hard to fit in or at least give off a specific, purposeful impression.
Rising is friendly, charming, and flirty. They create chemistry with others easily. Subtly shows off, knows how to make others like them. Personally there is always something recognizable to me when I encounter a Libra Moon or Rising.
Rising usually has confidence, intensity bubbles to the surface time to time, has a strong sex-appeal. Many show an edgy identity. Many Scorpio
Risings have a combination of a reserved aura + magnetism.
Rising- VERY friendly, many are funny, is blunt, a lot have an open and naive persona, is energetic, loves to try new things. I easily click with a lot of Sagittarius Risings and sometimes the Moons and Suns.
Risings try to relate on a basic or shallow way to many, has an earthy reliability, their responsible side will find a way to show. They
can be witty and sarcastic. Some can be blunt in a “call it how they see it” way. They can have an unshakable aura too. Likely will never see one cry.
Rising will always come off as “different” somehow. They attract people, some can be charismatic, are hard to understand. Will always keep their distance, is someone who has many unusual views or morals.
Rising can be hard to identify. The vibe is chameleon-like. Many are passive and artistic. Some are on a search to define themselves.
The extrovert's guide in dealing with introverted personalities
SUBMITTED by Steve
-They can come off as … weird. Very subjective term because really, who’s to say what’s weird and what isn’t. But given that INxJs are arguably the rarest types and usually out of touch with the physical and concrete, it can definitely make the more down-to-earth extroverts out there feel as though they are alien in some way. But don’t be fooled, because behind those ambiguous stares there is a storm-load of activity going on in their minds.
- Their hunches can be incredibly valid. Unlike what the stereotype will have you believe, Dom-Ni is NOT a future-predicting function. For one thing, it’s very personal and subjective to each Dom-Ni user and some of them would probably disagree with each other on their hunches. However, they do have an ability to see things that a lot of us will miss. Not through any kind of mystical gift, but rather well thought out speculation. Even if they’re off, chances are they were still very wise in their assessment of things.
- There are usually your typical law-abiding citizen. (Good advice for everyone, not just extroverts) In complete contrast to the first point, INxJs may be way harder to spot than the stereotypes say. INTJs are not scientists working on a cure for cancer or world domination (depending where their Fi is at) and INFJs are not the next coming of Jesus Christ. A lot of them probably work in everyday jobs and there’s a good chance you’ve mistaken them for their S counterparts. Get to know them personally and you’ll see the difference.
- They are hard to get excited. Inferior Ne can be a bitch sometimes. Throwing fun suggestions at an ISxJ may often result in “Meh…” or “I don’t know…” Of all types, they are usually the hardest to pull out of their comfort zone. If you suggest something to them and they start bombarding you with questions such as ’‘What time? Who will be there? How does it work?” etc. don’t get irritated because that actually means you’ve tickled their interest and now they’re just trying to cover all their bases.
- They are experts in their fields. Si-Doms tend to have very few interests in life, but what does interest them, they probably know the insides and outs of it, like no other. They love to study at length what peaks their interest and in this case, their factual knowledge about things is usually second to none. They are the definition of “vested interest”. Also note that they are geeks in disguise, so just like NP types, do not criticize old stuff they have an attachment to. They still like something from the 80’s? Then so shall it be. Telling them it’s stupid for them not to move on is actually much more hurtful than it looks.
- Their loyalty and commitment cannot be doubted. If an ISxJ say they’ll do something, they’ll do it, ‘nuff said. Hell, even if it turns out that it’s actually an inconvenience to them. They just cannot back out of commitment. Of course, stuff can always come up at the last second, in this case, you’ll receive a rain check or heart-felt apology. If an ISxJ actually does flake out, that’s … not okay, but they were probably hesitant about it from the start.
They are blunt. You want an honest and direct opinion? IxTPs will give you that faster than any other type. In many cases, it can actually feel brutally honest, so more sensitive types may wanna steer clear. Of course, if their opinion is splattered with insults and an impatient tone, then you’re dealing with an unhealthy type and that’s not okay.
- They are “dispassionate.” Sounds like a really negative trait but what it really means is they are the embodiment of “objective.” IXTPs very rarely take things too seriously with a burning passion flowing through their veins. As of such, cynicism and sarcasm is very likely. Don’t take it the wrong way though, because underneath that, they can offer the most practical advice or at least see things as they are, with no bias and emotional tones tainting their view. And while that can definitely be off-putting, and it can also be extremely useful.
Don’t try to turn a frog into a prince. I’m sure there is a better way to say this? What I mean is that Inferior Fe, even if healthy and mature, will always find it draining to keep up social appearances. You either appreciate this trait of theirs or keep looking elsewhere. But don’t expect to turn your IXTP love interest into a social butterfly overnight.
- They march to the beat of their own drum. If Dom-Ni can be hard to decode, prepare yourself for Dom-Fi. Like a fire, it is burning, passionate and unpredictable. Sometimes, even IxFPs themselves can’t pin-point the reason they feel so passionate about a given subject. Don’t try to constantly size up a Fi-Dom, you’ll get exhausted. Even their closest friends and family often have a hard time reading what’s going on in their mind. Respect their privacy and their inner world and don’t force them to lay out how they feel on the table.
- Support their causes. If an IxFP feels strongly about something, then this is unwavering to them. They will fight for what they believe in to the bone. You either support it or stay clear but telling them they’re wrong or it’s a waste of time may turn you into an “enemy” in their eyes.
- Do NOT attempt to control them. Offering sound advice? Sure. But any shade of “You should do this…” not only falls on deaf ears but may actually cause them to do the exact opposite out of spite. Dom-Fi is the ultimate free spirit who wants to experience life on its own terms and Inferior Te does NOT want to be told what to do. This can be pretty hard at times though. You see an IXFP loved one acting recklessly (ISFP) or acting on a crazy idea (INFP) it’s only normal for you to want to steer them on a straight path, but in actuality it will be counter-productive. Just stay clear and let them learn from their mistakes, IF it’s actually a mistake to begin with. You’d be surprised how many times acting on one’s own accord can pay off in the long run. There’s many world-renowned musicians and artists who could probably vouch for that.
Honestly it’d just be nice for non-ace/aro exclusionists to at least acknowledge that for a lot of trans or non-het aces/aros, the act of excluding cis hetaces/aros is to demand the silencing of ace/aro issues within what should be safe spaces.
I cannot talk about being bi without also talking about being ace. I just cannot. I might use the split attraction model, but that doesn’t decouple the experiences I face. When I navigate dating as a bi person, I cannot simply sweep asexuality under the rug. And when I talk about my experiences with biphobia, the intersections with acephobia don’t go away.
I cannot talk about being trans without talking about how confusing the interaction with dysphoria and asexuality is. Without the acknowledgement that my low-sex drive and unwillness to interact with others sexually comes from both ball parks, and then I will probably experience erasure of one of the two many many times during transition. That because of the medical processes and the counselling involved, it’s highly likely my asexuality will come into play as a talking point - and I don’t have high hopes for it being taken seriously.
I cannot talk about my experiences in the lgbt+ community without talking about being ace, because being ace is what lead me there in the first place. Discovering asexuality was the easiest to pin-point because of what a keystone it was to identifying everything else. Knowing that exclusionists would have rejected me when I was alone and afraid and struggling just because I was too “cishet”? Scary. Because I was effectively welcomed in by a single person. And I was lucky they were welcoming.
If I am in the lgbt+ community, I will need to bring ace/aro issues to the table at some point. And if you look at cis hetaces/aros and see those issues as a nothing to them, you also dismiss my problems and make the space I am in inherently unsafe for me.
You can’t pin point when. Somewhere between the steady typing and the flipping of pages, between the constant supply of french fries and chocolate milkshakes, between the occasional eye contact and the brief smiles. Somewhere between the hours of three and seven o'clock, you fell.
To be specific, you fell in love with Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s resident tall dark and handsome, at least in your opinion.
It started one afternoon when Pop’s was busier than usual, every booth and table full except one.
“Do you…do you mind if I sit?” You ask, rocking slightly on the balls of your feet. “Everywhere else is full.”
You expect him to say no; he is, after all, Jughead Jones, and this is, after all, Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world and everyone at least knew of everyone else, and you definitely know of Jughead and his preference to being alone, especially when he’s writing.
Jughead ceases his typing, locking eyes with you. He glances around the diner, almost surprised at how many people were in it.
“I’m not the best conversationalist,” he says, looking back at you, “I can’t promise anything good.”
This surprises you, you expected a flat out no or for him to even just ignore you.
“I’m not looking for conversation,” you say, shrugging, “just somewhere to sit and read my book while enjoying a milkshake.”
“Depends,” he smirks, folding his hands in front of his laptop, “what flavor milkshake?”
“The best one of course,” you smile back, “chocolate.”
Jughead smiles, actually smiles, and nods.
“Yeah, yeah you can sit,” he says.
You thank him, sliding into the booth and setting your bag next to you. You pull out your book, thanking the waiter as he set down your milkshake.
“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way,” you say, stirring the drink a bit.
You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.
“You know who I am?”
You remind yourself again that this is Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world, where everyone knows everyone.
“I know more than you think,” he smiles.
“You take this dark and mysterious thing seriously don’t you?”
“I thought you weren’t looking for conversation?” He raises an eyebrow, half a smirk on his face.
“Touché,” you say, opening your book and settling into the plush seating, sipping occasionally at your milkshake.
This continues for days. Regardless of whether Pop’s is bursting at the seems or it’s just you and him, you always sit together. The two of you sit in that booth, you with a book in one hand and a milkshake in another and Jughead with his laptop on the table and fries next to it.
“You know,” Jughead says one day, fingers still whizzing across the keyboard, “you can sit somewhere else if you want.”
“And ruin the work we’ve been doing?” You smile, “I’m good.”
He stops typing, you feel his eyes on you.
“And what work are we doing exactly?”
“Bonding, Jug,” you say, turning the page.
“Is this what bonding is?”
You look up at him, shrugging.
“What would you call it?”
Weeks pass, the time you spend at Pop’s growing from a one or two hours into several, your time together stretching into early dusk.
“Hey Jug?” You ask quietly one day, closing your book for once.
He notices, he stops typing, he even half way closes the top of his computer.
“How’d you know who I was?” You ask, stirring your milkshake. “That first day…you said you knew who I was before I told you. How?”
“This is Riverdale,” he says, “I think it’s physically impossible to not know someone in this town.”
Jughead opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. You can see the wheels turning in his head.
“I notice things, I notice people,” he resumes finally, “I notice when people are different and you’re different. A good different, but different.”
With that, he raises the lid of his laptop, eyes focusing back on the screen.
“You noticed me?”
He looks back up at you, a smile on his face.
“Course I did.”
When you get to Pop’s one day about a week later, Jughead’s not there, Archie is.
“Oh um…hi,” you say, stopping short in front of the booth.
“Hey, Y/N right?” He asks, motioning for you to sit.
“Yeah, that’s um…” you shift your weight slightly, feeling uncomfortable, “that’s me.”
“Sorry, this must be awkward,” Archie says with a smile, “I’m Archie.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” you say before you can stop yourself.
Archie’s eyebrows scrunch up slightly in confusion.
“Sorry, that sounded weird,” you rush, “I just mean, you’re a sophomore on varsity football, the whole school knows who you are.”
Archie smiles a bit, nodding.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs, “anyway, Jughead sent me.”
You feel your shoulders relax involuntarily, leaning back into the seat.
“He had to stay after school, make up a test or something,” Archie explains, “he told me to come tell you that he’d be here though, just a bit late.”
“Thanks Archie,” you nod, “that’s really nice.”
“Anytime,” the boy replies, smiling, “look uh…this may sound super weird but um…you and Jughead…is that anything more th-”
“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “no we’re…we’re just friends. At least…I think we’re friends. We just…we sit together and we do our own thing. That’s all.”
“I know Jughead, that’s definitely a friendship,” he smiles, “okay, I gotta head back to practice before I’m missed but yeah, he’ll be here.”
With another smile he scoots out of the booth.
“Archie,” you stop him, looking up at his face, “look um…god this is going to sound crazy but…is Jughead…is he seeing anyone o-or som-”
“No,” Archie cuts you off with another smile on his face, “he was, for a bit but…not anymore. Do you like him?”
You’re surprised by his bluntness, your eyes widening a bit.
“I uh…n-no I was just curious,” you shake your head, pulling your book out of your bag, “you better get to practice, don’t want coach to bench you.”
Archie smiles again, always with the smiling, and walks out of the door just as Jughead walks in.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, sitting down across from you.
“I didn’t know we had a set schedule,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly, “nice of you to send your friend though.”
Jughead looks at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.
“Didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” he says, pulling out his laptop.
“Don’t you have to be on a date to get stood up?” You ask, sipping at your milkshake as Pop places a basket of fries in front of Jughead.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replies, shrugging.
“So are you telling me that these are dates?”
This time you surprise yourself with your own bluntness, and Jughead as well. He recovers quickly though, the shock on his face only evident for a few brief moments.
“You tell me.”
There it is, his smile, his actual smile. Not a smirk, not some no effort half smile, an actual, full blown, Jughead smile.
Looking back on it, you think that’s when you first knew, when you first realized that you were falling for him.
The rest of the night is spent in silence, well, besides the sound of Jughead’s typing and your book pages begin turned.
You arrive at Pop’s the next day to see Jughead already sitting at the booth, typing furiously. That didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, however, is the chocolate milkshake already sitting on the table in front of your side of the booth.
“I didn’t see you at school today,” you say, sitting down, “did you skip?”
“Yeah, yeah I um…” he pauses, finishing the sentence he’s typing before looking at you, “I got here this morning because I forgot one of my notebooks and I sat down to finish this paragraph I was on and uh…next thing I knew it was one o'clock in the afternoon so I…figured I’d just stay here.”
“Archie asked me if I knew where you were,” you say, “he came up to me during lunch and asked if I knew if you were sick or not.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth,” you reply, “that I didn’t know.”
Jughead nods, looking back down at his computer screen.
“Jug?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.
He continues to type, oblivious to your calls of his name.
“Juggie!” You exclaim, finally drawing his attention.
“Sorry, got caught up in the story,” he shakes his head, “what’s up?”
“What’s going on with you?” You ask, sliding your book off to the side. “You seem…I dunno, off.”
“Sorry just um…a lot of stuff on my mind I guess,” he says, shrugging.
“About Jason or…other things?” You ask.
“It’s nothing important.”
“Juggie,” you say softly, sliding your hand across the table to touch his arm, “if it’s bothering you this much, it’s important. You can talk to me, always.”
“We’re friends right?” He asks, closing his computer all the way.
“Yeah, yeah course we are Jug,” you nod, “please, tell me what’s going on.”
And he does, he tells you everything. About his parents splitting up, about his dad being part of the Serpents, about his mom taking his sister and leaving, about living at the drive in, about living at the school, everything. And you let him talk, you let him go on for as long as he needs with no interruption, just listening.
“Sorry if that’s a lot but um…I needed to get that stuff off my chest,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, “thanks though.”
“Come stay with me,” the words are out of your mouth before you even think them through, but you don’t take them back, “seriously Jug, my dad’s away on business and my mom won’t care, we’ve got room.”
“No Y/N I can’t expect that from you I do-”
“Juggie, you’re my best friend,” you say, cheeks burning slightly, “please, let me do this for you.”
Jughead looks down, staring your hand touching his, both of your fingers practically intertwined on top of the table.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks after a minute or two silence, looking around the diner. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“I’m absolutely positive it’s okay,” you reply, catching his gaze, “but I’m not going to force you.”
“As long as you’re sure,” he says, nodding, “I’d really like to not live under the stairs like Harry Potter.”
You were right, your mom doesn’t care, she even convinces your dad that it’s okay for Jughead to stay with you, and after three weeks of it, you’re convinced it is the single best idea you’ve ever had.
The two of you still spend most of your time at Pop’s, something about the neon lights and plush seating and the constant supply of chocolate milkshakes makes you feel more at home than you do at your actual house. Or maybe Jughead does. Maybe Jughead makes you feel like you’re home.
“Do you ever wonder how some people end up with the worst luck?” He asks one day, eyes never leaving his computer screen as he chews on this thumb nail.
The two of you are going on four hours at Pop’s that day, and you notice that Jughead has barely written anything.
“Are we talking about Jason?” You ask gently, closing the book you were reading and placing it on the table.
“We’re talking about everyone,” he says cryptically, “how some people are born with everything they could ever want available on a silver platter and others are born with nothing, but somehow the golden boy ends up with the worst kind of luck.”
Jughead rarely ever spoke directly about Jason Blossom, you knew by now how to read between the lines of his novel-ish tone of voice.
“I think that it doesn’t matter what you’re born into,” you reply, “I think what matters is the choices we decide to make throughout our lives, and that that’s how we end up with good or bad luck, by the choices we make and by how we live our lives.”
“Jason never had to make a choice though,” Jughead exclaims, closing his laptop and sliding it out of the way, “that’s the thing, he never in his life had to make one choice for himself and somehow he still ended up murdered.”
His bluntness surprises you, this being one of a few times he directly tells you he’s talking about Jason.
“He did make choices, Jug,” you explain calmly, “everyday, just like you and me. He made the choice to let his parents give him whatever he wanted, he made the choice to follow that stupid book Chuck made up, he made the choice to be with Polly regardless of what his parents said, he made the choice to try and fake his own death so he could be with her without fear of them, he made hard choices, some of them more tough than you and I will ever make in our entire lives.”
Jughead stares at you, and for a minute you think he’s going to get up and leave.
But then he grabs his computer, mumbling a quick thank you under his breath and he begins to type furiously.
That night you’re laying on your bed, Jughead in the guest room across the hall and you can’t help but feel like he’s a million miles away.
You can’t sleep. Grabbing your phone, you squint at the brightness before you’re able to turn it down, looking at the clock.
“He’s probably asleep,” you whisper to yourself as you unlock the device, fingers moving almost on autopilot to Jughead’s message thread.
Can’t sleep, you awake?
You lay the phone on your stomach, staring up at the dark ceiling and willing your body to sleep. The vibration of the device pulls you out of your thoughts.
You smile, two simple words causing happiness to bubble up in your stomach.
Yeah, just can’t seem to sleep.
You want to come talk?
If you don’t mind.
You’re always able to come talk to me.
You don’t reply, instead you get up out of your bed, quietly opening your door and then closing it behind you. You take three quick steps across the hallway, opening and closing Jughead’s door as quietly as you did your own.
“Hey,” you say softly, standing in front of the door.
Jughead props himself up on his elbows, the first thing you notice is the lack of a grey beanie upon his head.
“Hey,” he says back in the same tone, “you okay?”
Those two words again, this time sounding even better as you can hear him say it in his own voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, pushing some hair behind your ear nervously.
Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as Jughead motions for you to come join him. It’s only Juggie.
You slide under the covers, but only because the room is cold, and you’re next to him, but only because it’s his room, and his arm is around your shoulders, but only because he’s a good friend and he wants to comfort you.
“Why can’t you sleep?” He asks, rubbing his eye with one hand.
“Did I wake you up?” You ask.
“No I was working on my book,” he explains, pointing at the computer on the bedside table, “don’t change the subject.”
“I dunno…overthinking I guess,” you reply, shrugging a bit.
“Everything I suppose,” you say, “about how if Pop’s wasn’t full that one day or if I had decided not to go then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. About how if I hadn’t continued to sit there we probably wouldn’t have become best friends, about what Archie sa-”
“Archie?” Jughead cuts you off. “What about Archie?”
You curse yourself silently. You didn’t mean to say anything about Archie.
“Nothing, nothing,” you reply quickly, but the look on Jughead’s face told you that he wasn’t going to let it go, “okay um…back that one day when you sent him to Pop’s to tell me that you were going to be late uh…he said that you had been seeing someone but that you weren’t anymore and I was…I guess I was just thinking about who it could’ve been.”
He’s silent, more silent than you’ve ever experienced with the many months of knowing him. Minutes pass, they feel like hours. Finally, you decide to break the silence.
“Juggie?” You whisper.
“Sorry I um…” he shakes his head, raven colored hair flying everywhere, “why were…why were you thinking about that?”
“Curious, I guess,” you explain, “sorry if that seems intrusive or weird or whatever bu-”
“No no it’s…it’s okay,” Jughead replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a bit tighter, “it…it was Betty. We had a thing for a few weeks but in the end we decided we were better off as friends.”
“A few weeks?”
“Before I met you, we stopped about two days before that day at Pop’s”
“And are you?”
“Am I what?”
“You and Betty, are you better off as friends?”
You nod, falling into silence once again.
This time Jughead breaks it.
“Look I’m not…I’m not good at this whole feelings thing,” he says, “Betty was the first girl I ever really had those types of emotions for but it wasn’t…it wasn’t what I’m supposed to feel. Or rather what I want to feel.”
“Do you know what you want to feel?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at his face.
He looks almost angelic in the pale light streaming through the semi-closed blinds.
“Do you know anyone that makes you feel like that?”
The answer comes quick, almost too quick.
“I can’t say.”
Your stomach drops on slightly, but enough for you to feel it nonetheless.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, running one of his hands through his hair, “it’s just that I don’t really know how to.”
“You’re a writer, Jug,” you say, “I know you’ll figure out how to tell her. You’re good with words.”
“Not when it comes to these kinds of words,” he laughs lightly, “I don’t want to mess up.”
“Don’t psych yourself out,” you encourage, regardless of the weight on your heart, “maybe you don’t need your words this time, maybe actions is the way to go. I believe in you, I know you’ll figure it out.”
Jughead finally looks at you, dark hair falling in front of his face as it’s still free of the infamous crown beanie.
“Actions?” He repeats.
“Yeah, you know what they say,” you smile, “actions speak louder than words.”
He blinks a few times, it’s almost like you can see the thought processing through his brain.
And then suddenly his hands are cupping your face and his lips are on top of yours, your eyes closing as if they had minds of their own. You’re shocked, who wouldn’t be, but it only takes a fraction of a moment for your mind to kick into gear and then your kissing him back, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.
If I’m dreaming I hope I never ever wake up.
He pulls away too soon for your liking, both your chests rising and falling little faster than usual.
“That thing you said about actions,” he says breathlessly, “I believe it.”
You smile wide, Jughead pressing his forehead against yours.
“You were talking about me?” You ask, still a bit shocked.
Jughead nods a few times, a smile on his face as well.
“I like you, Y/N,” he finally says, “I know that’s not poetic or artistic or anything like that but I just…I don’t have any other words. I really like you.”
You think your face is going to split in half by the giant smile you can’t keep off your face.
“Juggie,” you bite your bottom lip lightly, shaking your head, “god I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.”
Jughead’s smile widens and you swear the room brightness a bit.
“I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly.
“Me too,” you smile even wider, if that’s possible, “Juggie I’m…I’m really really happy right now.”
“God I am too,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “do you maybe want to have dinner with my friends tomorrow? I know they’re going out after the game, I can finally introduce you, properly too.”
“Ooh, dinner with the friends,” you say sarcastically, “I don’t know, you think our relationship is ready for that? We’ve only been together all of five minutes.”
Jughead laughs loudly and you shush him, the two of you falling silent to make sure your parents were still asleep.
“My dad will kill you if you wake him up and he finds us like this,” you whisper, shaking your head, “but in all seriousness, do you think it’ll be awkward for Betty? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything I know you guys ar-”
“Y/N,” he stops your rambling, a soft smile on his face, “it’ll be fine. Betty and I are good, like I said, we’re better off as friends. Trust me, she’ll be okay. I wouldn’t bring either of you to meet each other if I didn’t think she’d be okay.”
“Okay, I’ll come to dinner with your friends,” you say, “on one condition.”
“Oh god, what?”
“I get to wear the infamous beanie,” you rush out, reaching over Jughead’s body and plucking the hat from on top of is computer.
“Y/N!” Jughead exclaims, trying to grab the hat back from you.
“Hold on hold on,” you say, pushing his hand away.
You put the beanie on your head, smoothing your hair out under it and looking back up at him.
Jughead stops struggling, half a smile on his face.
“Well you do look adorable,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair off your cheek.
“I wear the beanie tomorrow,” you ask with raised eyebrows.
“You can wear it to dinner,” he compromises, tilting his head to the side.
Jughead keeps his word, and when the two of you leave your house that evening and head for Pop’s, he takes the beanie off his head and places it on yours, shaking out his hair. Jughead intertwines your fingers together, smiling at you and at how happy you look.
Jughead explains his friends to you, telling you a bit about each one of them as you both walk towards the diner.
“They’re probably going to say something,” he says, “about the beanie.”
“Have any of them ever seen you without it?” You question.
“Archie has a few times, Betty once or twice,” he explains, “but other than that, no.”
Jughead’s warnings were a bit understated. In fact, when the two of you walk into Pop’s and find his friends at a booth, it seems all conversation in the entire diner ceases.
“Jug,” one of the girls, Veronica, says, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, “you made it, we thought you weren’t going to come for a while.”
“Yeah, yeah we left a bit late,” Jughead shrugs, “guys um…this is Y/N. Y/N, this is…well this is everyone.”
Once the awkward formalities were out of the way and Pop had brought over everyone’s celebratory milkshakes (the football team won that night), everything felt normal.
You laugh at all the jokes, even tell some of your own. You feel like you’ve been part of this group for years, and you know Jughead can tell.
“Hey um…sorry guys I gotta take this,” Jughead says after he pulls out his phone.
“Juggie?” You ask. “Everything okay?”
“What? Yeah,” he replies, “it’s just…it’s my mom. I should take it.”
“Yeah, yeah of course go ahead,” Betty says, “we’ll keep her company,” she smiles at you.
Jughead thanks them, walking out the door to the diner with the phone up to his ear.
“So,” Veronica says, holding her head up with her hands, “you and Jughead.”
You furrow your eyebrows.
“Oh come on, don’t make her spell it out!” Kevin says, “he’s letting you wear his most prized possession for pete’s sake!”
You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, looking down at the half empty milkshake in front of you.
“I think you guys make a cute couple,” Betty says, licking some whipped cream off of her straw.
“Thanks Betty,” you reply, smiling again.
“This is going to sound awkward but uh…” Archie trails off, “has Jug told you anything about what’s going with his family an-”
“Yeah,” you cut him off, “he has. About everything, including his dad and that stuff. He’s um…he’s staying at my house. Has been for a couple weeks.”
Veronica smirks, Betty elbows her in the ribs. Archie and Kevin rolls their eyes at the two girls.
“Hey, I think he’s talking about you,” Kevin says, nodding in Jughead’s direction.
The four of you look over at him, you watch as he talks into his phone with a huge smile on his face, running a hand through his hair to push it back every couple of seconds.
The night draws to a close all too soon, everyone heading back to their houses as you and Jughead walk hand in hand down the asphalt road.
“I think that went really well,” you say, smiling at him.
“I agree,” Jughead says, stopping you both from walking and standing in front of you.
Before you can ask what he’s doing, he places his lips on yours, cupping your cheek with one hand while simultaneously tilting your head up. You feel him lift the beanie off of your head, but honestly you don’t really care. He pulls away with a smirk, fixing his hat back on his head.
“Archie,” you say, looking over Jughead’s shoulder.
“Really?” He asks with semi-wide eyes, “that’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”
“No, god you’re an idiot,” you shake your head, pointing over his shoulder, “Archie’s window, which happens to show Archie watching us right now.”
As soon as Jughead turns around Archie slides his curtains closed, causing you and Jughead to burst out in laughter.
“Did you kiss me just to steal your hat back?” You ask in a fake shocked tone.
Scorpio Sun- Intense exterior, magnetism is flaunted and possibly known about, intuition is learned, is assertive, daring, and self-inclined.
Magnetism is purposeful and developed through confidence, observation, and expectations.
Scorpio Moon- Intense and passionate interior, emotional magnetism, naturally intuitive and perceptive, secretive, sensitive, and receptive. Magnetism is hard to pin point, it comes from a “mysterious” source. Has natural or low-key sex-appeal. People easily trust them.
Typically more reserved than Sun or Moon. Has a mysterious and sometimes subtly sexy mask.
Harry sat at the dinning table, a cup of whisky in front of him. His long pale fingers gripped the glass. He had only had a couple, he wasn’t much of a drinker but getting lost in the glass was better than getting lost in a bar where camera’s would be. He hadn’t moved from the spot in the last couple of hours, every time Anne and Gemma hoped he would be done, but he wasn’t.
“He’s so sad,” Gemma frowns, pulling her suitcase out from under the bed, Anne sits in a chair, her eyes on the ground, “you should apologize mum.”
“He’s already upset with me,” Anne shakes her head, “the damage is done.”
“You were too harsh on her,” Gemma sighed, “I was too, we should’ve been nicer.”
“He’s had his heart broken too many times, that Haley girl, and Jen, they all used him and left him so heart broken,” Anne says.
She thinks back to Harry’s past relationships. She never met Taylor, and Kendall was nice, but they both agreed it wouldn’t work out. Then came Tess, that ended quicker than it started, then Haley showed up. Harry was happy, buying her gifts, showering her in money, and he found her four months later in some other man’s bed.
Along came Jen, she did some damage. She had taken so much from Harry, his time, his love, his money, and his happiness. Anne remembered reading it on twitter, Jen’s texts were exposed, texts where she stated all she cared about was the money and fame. Harry didn’t leave his house for days, he promised to never date again, until Y/N came along.
Anne remembered how excited he was telling her the story of how they met. She was working in her small diner, she had the overnight shift, eleven pm to seven am. Her books were scrambled on the counter, notes everywhere, it was just her and the chef. Harry was hungry and when he googled a place to eat at three am it was the first to pop up, he figured it was nice and no one at this time would be there, but there she was.
He sat across from her, asking her questions. She was so tired from working and studying she couldn’t even pin point where she had seen him before, and when she did she got all nervous. So nervous she started stuttering and he noticed her hands shaking, but she tried to hide it.
Harry helped her with her flashcards, and ended up staying there all night talking to her. She asked him if he went to college what he would do, and he asked her what she was studying. Something about her made him feel normal, it made him feel happy. And for the next month anytime he had an hour or so he went to visit her. And Anne liked how happy her son sounded, but when the news leaked how he paid her tuition she quickly disliked Y/N.
“Apologize to her,” Gemma says, “give them your approval.”
Before Anne can respond they hear the door shut downstairs, “Y/N, baby, you’re back,” they hear Harry say.
He struggles to stand from the table but he does. Y/N is a mess, her make up smudged, her cheeks pink and puffy, her hair is in a pony tail, “I just-well I don’t have anywhere to go, I’ll leave in the morning,” she says softly.
She looks drained, “how did you get back?” Harry asked, rushing towards her.
“I walked,” she responds, stepping away from him, “I’ll take the spare room.”
“No, please, we can work through this,” Harry begs, tears in his own eyes.
He embraces her, his arms tight, not wanting to let go. He can smell the fries and coffee off of her uniform, and she can smell the whisky on his breath. She’s tense in his arms, not relaxed as she usually is.
“Harry I can not come in between you and your family,” she says softly, “I’m sorry.”
Upstairs Gemma closes the door, but her and Anne have their ears pressed against it, listening, “you need to go down there and fix this,” Gemma whispered.
“Please Y/N,” Harry says.
She shakes her head, pulling away and making her way to the stairs, “I want to marry you,” Harry yelled, making her freeze, making Anne and Gemma’s jaw drops.
“I want to marry you, I was going to wait till you finished school because I wanted you to be focused on your career, not a wedding, not more fans, not the media. But I want you. I see my life with you, I see myself waking up next to you, I see our kids, I see us being old, I see it Y/N. I do,” he says, walking towards her.
“And when you left today I felt empty, not the empty I did with the others, but a cold and dark empty. I didn’t see you anymore and that hurt, I can’t-I mean I know I can live without you, but it won’t be the same. I’ll be breathing, I’ll be living, but I won’t be alive,” he adds, “don’t you want to marry me?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She sighs, her eyes closing, “of course I want to marry you. I love you, I wouldn’t care if you had a dollar to your name, I wouldn’t care if you didn’t pay for anything, I couldn’t care less if you were Harry Styles from One Direction, I care about you, I love you. But I know how much your family loves you Harry and you will regret this later on when your mother won’t come to the wedding, when you want to have an event and your family won’t be in the same room as me, and I can’t do that to you.”
“Things change,” he pleads, coming to a full stop in front of her, “don’t leave me.”
“Don’t leave him,” Anne says through the door, she pulls it open, taking in the sight of her son.
Harry’s eyes are red and he’s standing in front of Y/N, his hand wrapped around her wrist. “I was rude, and judgmental, and it was not okay the way I treated you,” Anne stated, “but after his past girlfriends I was scared. I was scared of getting that call again, I was scared of him getting further away from love, from happiness.”
Anne’s own eyes start to water, “I’m sorry Y/N, I was looking out for him, in the wrong approach, but I was. But you’ve done nothing wrong, and if you take him back I promise to open my heart up to you, I promise to take a step to know you, the real you, not what the damn media writes.”
“It’s okay,” Y/N wipes her eyes, “I understand what those other girls did, but I’m not them. I love Harry so much, and I would never even think about hurting him.”
“Then please,” Anne begs, “don’t go, please.”
Y/N looks over at Harry, “I’ll stay,” she says.
“Really?” Harry asks.
Y/N nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah,” she smiled.
Harry picks her up causing her to laugh, burying her face in his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” Anne says once she has her feet back on the ground, “if Harry loves you this much you must be amazing.”
“She’s pretty great,” Harry says, a smile on his face as he kisses her cheek.
“Why don’t we all go to bed, it’s been a long day. Do you work tomorrow y/n?” Gemma asked, leaning against the door.
“No,” y/n answered.
“Well why don’t we all go for brunch?” Anne asked, “you can tell us about yourself.”
“I would love that,” Y/N nods, her hand squeezing Harry’s nervously.
“Thank you,” Harry says to his mum, “for opening up.”
The Navicula pendant lamp is another nature inspired design by the New Zealand based designer, David Trubridge. The lamp, that just recently got recommended for the Darc Award 2017, is inspired by the many microscopic diatoms that float in the ocean. It is illuminated by a row of LED pin point lights at the inside of the skeleton, that is made of CNC cut Bamboo-Plywood.
I think I’m best at self portraits and I paint the faces hard, lonely and morbid. They are hard because they reflect what goes on in my head. It’s difficult to pin-point what inspires these – one day, I was clearing my shelves and came across a beautiful, smiling picture from an old film. I looked at the mirror and said, “I don’t smile like that any more.” That’s when a visual flashed in my mind and I began painting the woman in ‘Main Zinda Hoon’, the scene where she is in the mental asylum in the last scene, sitting in a daze, on the swing, in her imagination, talking to her dead father. I put a placard in her hand that read, Lapatta, on which was stuck this beautiful sparking sepia picture.
A/N- Hey! So I’m finally finished all my exams, thank baby Jesus!! Anyway, I’ve been playing around with this for a while. And I’m excited to show this to you all. There will definitely be a part two for this.
You got up and did your daily routine, have a shower, eat breakfast and go to work. You loved your job. You worked really heard and it payed off, you were now the CEO’S right hand man in Kim’s industries. Seokjin your boss and close friend, was taking a step back. He was doing so in order to spend more time with his growing family. You were said cause he was a really good friend of yours, and the thought of working with someone who wasn’t him scared you. What if the new CEO didn’t like you? What if you didn’t like him? So many questions and it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning.
You got in to the lift and pressed the number of the floor you worked on. There was a soft melody playing in the back ground, the doors began to close. Suddenly someone stuck there arm in between the closing doors, stopping them from closing and re-opening them. It was a man. He was a masterpiece, he looked like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad. He was wearing a black tailored suit, which was obvious because it fit him like a glove.His hair was jet black, swept to the side to show off his fore head. He reminded you of someone, you just couldn’t pin point it. He stopped and stared at you for a moment. You moved a side to let him in. He walked past you and leaned up against the railing. You could fell him staring at you. You felt hot under his gaze. You felt arms snake around your waist. His arms. The beautiful man holding close against his hard chest. You could stay like that forever, but who was he and why did he want to cuddle in the lift?
“E-excuse me, Sir. But I think this is really inappropriate, could you please let me go.” You were a little shaky, you didn’t know who he was. But you could stay in his arms like that forever. Was he going to offer you sex? Like you’d consider it, he was really good looking and you’d say he’d be like a god between the sheets. Y’know what sayin. He chuckled, it was like music in your ears.
“Really, Y/N/N (Your nick name)? You don’t remember me? He rested his chin on your shoulder, he was pouting. You’d know that pout anywhere.
“Jeon Jungkook, you’ve turned into such a man.” You turn around his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and giving him a tight squeeze.
“Handsome, I know right?” He smirked down at you.
“I think fucking hot. OH MY GOD! Did I just say that out loud.” You try to pull back from him, to embarrassed. But he just pulled you tighter against him, his hands trailing lower down your back. He lowered his face down to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.
“I think your fucking hot, too.” He whispered in your ear.
*Flash back* -
You met Jungkook when you were eight. You became friends pretty fast, never staying a part for too long. It was when Jungkook got his girlfriend that you realised you had feelings for him. As the years went by you understood that Jungkook would never look at you in that way. But why did he have to be so big on skin ship. He may look all innocent and shy, but no, not at all. He was a clingy motherfucker. He was big into cuddling, holding hands, a lot of times his hands would slip onto your ass and he would feel it up. Not that you minded, but you never really thought anything of it, because he was also always touching Jimins ass too. But it’s glories so who wouldn’t.
The last time you saw Jungkook was at the end of year party, at graduation. He told you he was going to get both of you drinks and to stay right there. When it was hour later and he still wasn’t back, you went to look for him. He was basically fucking the girl that you hated most in the world, she called you nasty names and told you that you would never be good enough for the likes of jungkook. What a bitch. She was the definition of bitch. But your 17 year old little heart broke at the sight, and you ran away. The next day Jungkook texted you, but you didn’t reply. He called, you didn’t answer. He saw you walking down the street home, but you walked faster and pretended not to hear him. Jungkook was a great friend, but you could no longer hold it in. You had to let him go, even if that meant your friendship was ruined. It had to stop.
*End of flash back*-
“So how have you been?” He asked. You were relived he wasn’t bringing up the past.
“I’m good, you?” He smirked, leaning down to your ear again. Does he know what hes doing to you right now?
“I’m great, now that I’ve seen you.” He whispers. Your breathing hitched in your throat. He smirked…. little cunt. The lift opens, you pull apart from him.
“It was good seeing you, Kook!” The old nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. He smiled bright, you missed it.
“Oh, I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” He leans back against the railing, smirking. The doors slowly close.
You get to your office and sit back in your chair with a sigh of relief. Why did he have to be so good looking. Your heart was pounding and that was eight years ago that you were in love with him. You can’t still have those feelings, right? Right.
A knock came to your door, and in pops Seokjins old assistant.
“Miss Y/N, the new CEO is here. There will be a meeting in five minutes up stairs, in the conference room.” She informs you.
“Okay, thank you.” You sigh taking off your coat and making your way to the board room. You take your seat next to your friend Namjoon. You chat to him till the meeting starts. You were anxious to see whom the new CEO will be. The man you’ll be spending a lot of time with.
“All right everyone, settle down.” The room comes to silence, the door opens. Your looking at your schedule for today. Someone clears there throat. You look up.
“Good morning, I’m Jeon Jungkook, the new CEO of Kim industries.” Your gobsmacked. No fucking way. This can’t be happening! He can’t be the new CEO. The meeting starts and everyone is in awe with Jungkook. Where as you are counting down the seconds till you can leave. And you thought work was a great place to be….
When the meeting finally ends, you practically run back to your office. You want to try. You lay your head on your desk. You heard a faint knock at your door. “Come in.” You shout, not lifting your head from the table.
“Wow, your office has a great view!” You shut your eyes tight hearing his voice. He was no where for eight years, when you longed for him. And now he’s everywhere. You straighten yourself up.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr Jeon?” His smile fades at your words.
“Y/N, you don’t have be so formal with me. We used to be so close.” He smiles taking a seat in front of you.
“That’s true, but I’d rather if we kept this a professional relationship.” You give him a light smile.
“And we will. But before that, I want you to answer a few questions for me.” Your heart starts to pound. Why is this happening to you? Why did the world hate you?
“Okay.. go ahead.” You play with your fingers, a nervous habit. Jungkook smirks at it.
“Why did you stop talking to me eight years ago?” You sigh.
“Do you want the truth or the easy white lie?”
“The truth would be preferred.” You take a deep breath.
“Okay, well.. I was in love with you.” You laugh. “I am, I saw you making out with that fucking cunt that I hated, and it broke my heart. I didn’t want to put myself through pretending that I was okay with it, when I obviously wasn’t. So when you called and text I ignored them, and eventually you stopped. I never wanted you to know, so I stopped talking to you.” You sigh, it was nice getting that out after all those years.
“Did the boys know?” You finally meet his gaze.
“Just Yoongi and Jimin.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Things could of been different.” He states.
“I told you I didn’t want you to know. I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, with my one sided love.” You giggle. “It did anyway.” You laugh again, not really knowing why.
“Y/N, things would have been, could be different, because I-” Jungkook sentence gets cut short as your assistant comes in.
“Miss Y/N, Mr Lee is here.” You sigh.
“Already?” You get up smoothing out your skirt. “I’m sorry, Mr Jeon. But I have work to do.” You grab Mr Lee’s file and leave Jungkook in your office.
“I love you, too.” Jungkook sighs.
A/N- So message me if you want a part two. I’m quite happy with this. Hope you all enjoyed. Thank you from reading and for reaching 200 followers!! I love you all, thank you xx
listen to your heart, if it tells you it hurts then try to patch it up! eat nice things, breathe, go for walks, talk, hold hands platonically, do things for yourself, that you enjoy. if it’s anxious then breathe and make your environment better. try to pin point why you’re anxious and not just the fact “oh, i feel so anxious.” (i do that) it’s okay. it’s a bump on the road. i’m telling you this because it’s true. i’m here cheering for you. it’s going to be okay. there’s so much life to live still.