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hollandroos · 5 years

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By the way, I still hate you | Tom Holland Oneshot

Here’s my masterlist for more Tom Holland content

Summary: You and Tom don’t like each other at all and everyone knows, so why not make things more complicated by sleeping together not once.... but whenever you can get within range? You find out why that’s a bad idea, someone always gets feelings.

Words: 3715

Warnings: No actual smut but NSFW themes and references, drinking and I know some of you hate this but... a stubborn reader.

This is a song fic for the song ‘enemies’ by Lauv for Lena ( @petalparker ) and Myras (@moonkissedtom ) writing challenge!!! I love both these girls so this one’s for them :’) Words that are bolded and in italics combined are song lyrics!!

He lay beside you with reddened cheeks and hair in brown tangles, scattered across his sweaty forehead. Tom held a certain post-sex glow that made you swoon– not that you’d ever tell him that. Outloud, he was just a casual fuck. An easy release.

You had recently moved from supply cupboards and pub bathrooms to your beds, sometimes his and sometimes yours always behind the backs of the media, cast mates and friends. Sure, it was dirty– but it was even dirtier when it was your little secret.

But before all of this… before the first time that had you hooked, addicted, you shoved each other (never hard enough to make the other fall) when they were holding a coffee or lunch and your hard glares could be spotted from across the room. The tension could be felt all over set but maybe it wasn’t the kind of tension everyone else had suspected.

Because in front of the camera and fans smiling faces, you adored each other. In front of mates and towards each other? Absolute frustration.

That’s all it had been since the start of filming, all up to that party to celebrate yet the end of another film. It was a small celebration, only the closest cast and crew only earning invitations. You happened to be a part of that. You all shared booze, pizza and laughs. Harrison shared the most embarrassing set stories making Toms' cheeks turn almost as red as they were now and the director to nearly fall back in his seat.

You had to put on a front for the media because after all, you were the personal assistant to the director. You did coffee runs and made sure everyone was on time and the place wasn’t collapsing around everyone. Behind closed doors, you and Tom could hate each other as much as you wanted.

You didn’t know what it was exactly about the actor that made you despise him first thing, and him you. You just didn’t seem to click. Your personalities clashed and you picked up on each of his flaws and decided you couldn’t stand him. He decided the same.

You had been the last two there, everyone else had cleared off only minutes ago. You were slightly tipsy and waiting for a cab, Tom had claimed to be doing the same. You both expressed how stressed you were, tired and needing some kind of release after the entirety of creating the film.

Soon you found yourself on his lap, grinding yourself down on his clothed thigh and trying to catch even a seconds worth of air as he sucked blue and purple marks down the side of your neck. You were a free canvas and he took advantage of every inch. Soon you were painted.

Tom found himself leaving small, fingerprint sized bruises on your hips and spewing more loved up nicknames then he knew possible and you found yourself being able to deal with the boy that night. But when you finally got off… clambering back to your feet and throwing your dress shirt over your head you felt a twinge of remorse.

For two people that hadn’t seemed to get along until that day, you got along well that night.

“It’ll never happen again, it can’t. This is just a one-time thing.” You had told him.

But one night wasn’t enough and you soon found yourself slipping into his lap time and time again, opening your messages to find his contact already open or marching into his front door at any hour of the day. He was always waiting, always ready.

You hadn’t had much time to debate if what you were doing was wrong or right, choosing to ignore it and bask in the pleasure that came with it. You bathed in the attention and affection he handed you, floating in the way he took care of you whenever you were alone.

Now, Tom had the plush white comforter around his waist, arms extended above his head making the brand new scratch marks on his chest visible. You smirked at his handy work and he smirked at his.

“Good?” He asks with hopeful eyes.

“Want me to boost your ego even more, Holland?” You tease, throwing the duvet off of your body. You were still covered in a thin layer of sweat, legs aching from your previous activities but you don’t give him the pleasure of knowing what he’d done.

He cranes his neck, glancing over at you, warm breath fanning across the side of your face. “Depends on what the answer is.” The boy sits up, toned chest on display even more and you struggle to find your items of clothing between his. “You were screaming my name pretty loud so I’d say–”

You stop him by chucking a pillow at his face, making the rest of the words come out muffled. He only chuckles and you ignore your warming cheeks. You mutter a small ‘Shut the fuck up’ but doubt he heard. He did.

You barely get to pull the layer of cotton over your head before he’s speaking again, babbling like a fish. God, does he ever shut up?

“That’s my shirt.” He points out, face morphing from amusement to… something still unreadable. You nearly miss the comment, too busy thinking about how annoying he was when he wasn’t sitting pretty between your legs.

“Oh– fuck.” You curse.

The thing was a simple, grey shirt that hung down, beyond comfortable though you hadn’t realised that it was the one you’d slid over your body. You extend your arms and go to peel it off.

Tom stops you hurriedly. “Keep it on for now– just until I leave.” He liked the way the thing looked on you, feeling a twinge of something in his chest. It was his more domestic side– one he wouldn’t admit out loud that had begun to come out around you. He eyed the way you played with the ends, slipping your bottom lip in between your teeth and coughed awkwardly, holding the paper he’d previously been eyeing out to you. “Have you seen this?”

You take the paper and flop down on the bed, the shirt riding up exposing your underwear and the boy has to force his gaze away.

“Another article? I didn’t know we were that big of a deal.” You scoff, eyes running past the unflattering photos they’d picked of the two of you.

“Apparently the media feeds off of two celebrities that hate each other, read what they said.”

You cough gently. “The two were always at each other's throats, making snide comments and arguing often like kids. The two couldn’t stand to be near each other.” You stop to giggle gently. “An anonymous source? It’s a shock Y/L/N or Holland didn’t end up quitting halfway through the production of the film,” While you were laughing about the article and how true it happened to be, Tom, your so-called enemy watched with a blank face. “Well they got one thing right, I can’t stand you.”

He tries to ignore the way the statement made his chest ache, leaving an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach and takes the daily paper from your hand. And of course he doesn’t miss the way the sun shines in through a small slit in the curtains, illuminating your features.

“You’re still coming to that party tonight, right?” He says, ignoring the fact that he purely felt deflated by your reaction to the article. You never were a fan of the media, claiming it spewed only bullshit.

“Hell yeah.” You stand up, the shirt falling down again. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers and sway your hips lightly. “Why’re you asking? You gonna miss me?” He watches as you smirk down at him, the plush comforter slipping off of his lap as he stands up and if before was his turn to stare, then now was yours.

“No, just asking.” He remarks thickly.

You scoff, throwing off his shirt and chucking it at his still bare chest. “Please, you’ll be calling me the second you can’t find a girl to get you off.”

“You think?” He raises a brow, sliding the shirt over his bare chest after tugging his boxers up.

This was messy, quick, dirty. But somehow you always basked in each others presence for a little longer then you needed. Making small talk beneath the sheets or throwing insults about how much you hated the length of his hair or how he despised the way you complained about nearly every little thing.

“I know so.”

He kisses you swiftly and in an instant you find your back up against the wall, arms stiff as you adjust but before you can, he’s distanced himself, a small, coy smile plastered over his slightly swollen lips and you glare.

You didn’t know if that kiss was his way of stating that you were right or wrong but you knew you were right. He always came back to you.

Now came the part Tom had long hated the most, sneaking out of your place and back into his own. He could only hope the boys wouldn’t tease him this time, pestering him about where he’d been and more importantly, who he’d been with.

He heads towards the door with a jacket slung over his shoulder but you can only see a faint mark down the side of his neck.

You couldn’t stand him, you didn’t know why you did this.

“Tom.” You state, tugging the boy in after bunching up his shirt in your fist. He waited patiently, a small part of him waiting for the words ‘I actually like you.’ or something along those lines, but they never came. Instead, all he got was a strong, rather heartfelt…. “By the way, I still hate you.”

I know it hurts cause I feel it too

And things continued like that for a solid few weeks. Whenever you were in the same city, you were jumping each other's bones while spitting harsh comments and reminding each other that this was nothing more, that it was just sex.

But maybe you should’ve spent less time reminding each other and more time reminding yourselves. Because every time Tom found himself saying ‘I despise you.’ he swore somewhere deep down he felt a pang of guilt that only seemed to intensify every time he placed a hand over your bare thigh and every ‘this means nothing’ started to mean ‘this means more then I care to admit.’

And you barely noticed. It was bad, it was horrible and you would’ve felt awful if only you knew that Tom was getting dragged in. If he’d told you before that his heart was fully involved then you would’ve ended things straight away. Because you may claim to hate him in front of the camera, sworn to hate every tick and atom that kept him together but you weren’t a monster. You were aware that Tom was a human being

And maybe somewhere beneath layers of denial and doubt, you actually fell for the actor long ago. For every quirk and every flaw.

You both dodged the cameras and the press and the outdoors when you were together, choosing only to creep up to each other's doorsteps or meet in the darkest corners of the quietest clubs. There were a few instances when you were caught together and those died down quickly– you were shocked, considering the entire world seemed obsessed with Tom Holland's love life but you were known as the girl that hated him. That also swept in worlds of hate.

‘How can she treat him like this?’

‘You don’t deserve to be around him.’

‘Why would Tom want to spend more time around someone like her?’

A lot of it made you roll your eyes and throw your phone down. Once it hit your bedside cabinet and now there was a crack right through the middle. You even debated deleting the Instagram app and thanked the lords you got rid of twitter long ago.

There were a few people that apparently ‘shipped’ the two of you though. God knows why. The whole concept made you uncomfortable. But not the concept of being shipped, not at all, it was the concept of other people– strangers ‘shipping’ you.

It was parties that were hard for both of you, however. Because most of the time you both got invited and most of the time you found it hard to stay away from one another. But this time the party was his and this time you turned up and didn’t drag your eyes off of the man for most of the night. He looked dashing and made sure to send you teasing winks and lip bites that only made you glare in return because he knew exactly what he was doing.

And for a while it was all fun and games. It was all fun and games when the two of you tumbled up to his room and messed up the bed sheets. It was fun and games when with alcohol running through your veins– not enough to make you drunk but enough to make your head slightly fuzzy, you tore off your clothing and refused to part until you were both done.

And it was fun when you laughed about the night and forgot about your long-running feud as you always did when it was just the two of you behind closed doors, naked and wrapped up between thin sheets after a fair amount of drinks. You never slept together when you were drunk, however. But tipsy yes.

When the two of you were tipsy you tended to lay next to each other for a few more moments then if you didn’t have alcohol sprinting through your veins. You tended to allow him to trace soothing lines up and down your arm or lay his head on your chest and giggle about the little things.

The fun of it all stopped when you sat up and went on a hunt for your garments that’d been tossed god knows where. That was when his face fell and a familiar feeling of dread seeped into his chest. He recognised that feeling for sure but didn’t shove it away this time.

“Don’t go. I think we’re past that now?” He stops you, grabbing your shirt before you can pick it up.

You scoff, not understanding what he was trying to say and move to take it from him. “Past what?”

“Past the finishing and leaving stage. Why don’t you stay for a little while, have dinner with me or something.” Tom twiddled with his fingers nervously but he was almost certain you were going to say yes.

“I can’t.” You sigh. “I have a thing.”

So when you didn’t, he was confused. You take your shirt from his hands, sliding it over your bra-clad chest and tug it down until your chest is covered and Tom is shaking his head in your direction.

“A thing? What thing?” he teases, waiting patiently for a valid answer. He knew when you were lying, it wasn’t too hard.

“Mhm, I have a date later tonight.” It was the worst lie you could think of and Tom saw right through it. “He’s taking me out for drinks and a late movie… you know, we’re going to see into the Spider-verse.”

Tom slips his bottom lip between his teeth and tries to hide his disappointment. Even though he knew you were lying, he felt crappy. You slip into the bathroom and he follows behind, something urging him on this time.

You’d both found yourselves in this situation many times before but this time was different for both of you. This time he didn’t want you to leave and this time you desperately felt the need to slip out of the door before he could confess that he actually liked you. The thought was a scary one.

His hands rest on either side of you on the counter as you freshen up, peppering your neck with warm kisses. “Don’t leave, just stay here.”

“Tom, this is nothing. Why would I stay?” You shake your head, placing the item down and gaze at the both of you in the mirror. “Go down and see Harrison or something.”

You both screamed ‘sex’ with sex hair and marks scattering the both of you. But that wasn’t the part that made you feel dirty. It was the fact that slowly you were breaking his heart and deep down you were aware. It was also the fact that this had been going on for a little too long and you still weren’t able to admit your feelings.

He finds himself at your collarbones. “Because I think you know by now that it’s not nothing.”

“This is nothing.” You reply and maybe it hurt you more then it hurt him. But fuck, he felt that.

“Don’t say that when you know it’s not true. You’re the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met.” He smirks and finds your hands. You stiffen and realise that somewhere while you were deep in thought your eyes got hazy. “I really like you and I think it’s time we drop this act.”

You shake your head blindly and turn to him, waist still pressed up against the counter.

I thought we said we’re good

And he kisses you again. This time he was able to taste your salty tears and the hesitation in the way you kissed back. He didn’t try and touch your hips that he’d become so familiar with, already having traced every curve many times– but it was never enough. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d get the opportunity too with the purest of intentions.

“Tom.” You whimper, need wheezing its way between every word. “C’mon, don’t be like this. This is just… It’s just sex.” You met his lips again, leaving kisses in quick, short pecks. With every kiss, he grew stiffer, less responsive.

You’re the one that tugs him closer by his shirt and the one that’s practically begging with your eyes. You’re asking him for this and you convince him that it’s not because you need this– need him, but because you want this. You needed the reassurance that things weren't going to change between the two of you but he needed reassurance that it was.

You were scared of what would happen if things did change and he was scared of what would happen if it didn’t.

“No.” He says abruptly, stepping back.

Before you know it, you’re standing, lower back pressed against the bathroom sink alone. He’s barely inches away but it feels like he’s worlds apart and you need him closer. You can still smell the lasting stench of cigarette smoke and visibly see him there, so it’s obvious he’s there but he’s not touching you so it doesn’t feel like enough.

“No?” You ask, voice soft, broken, on the verge of being non-existent.

“No.” He repeats. There’s an echo, Tom wanted to remark. “I won’t do this, not anymore unless you can be honest with me.”

You’re looking at me so cold

Because it hurt. And he wouldn’t admit that it hurt because he didn’t want to make things awkward, or admit his feelings if they were only one-sided. So he kept his mouth shut and didn’t say anything and let the hurt simmer in his chest.

“This? Tom, there’s no this to begin with. It’s just two people, using one another. That’s how we work.” You reach out to tug him closer by the sides of his coat but he jerks back, nearly making you trip forward. You don’t want to admit that the reason you’re so desperate to touch him again is that you’re afraid that if you don’t hold in, he’ll slip between your fingertips.

And there it is again. Using one another. He feels sick.

“It stopped being that for me a long time ago, so I guess it’s just you using me at this point.” He breathes out a sigh. “You still hate me with a burning passion and I stopped hating you a long time ago. No one else is enough for me anyone if they’re not you. It’s always you.”

I don’t hate you, you want to scream. But you only let out something between a sob and a hiccup.

“If you hate me that much then I don’t know why I still stick around. Maybe because– because waking up in your bed, or in my bed with you next to me was good enough for a long time but not now.” Tom hated showing emotion but sometimes he wore his heart on his sleeve and sometimes he ached to feel listened too. “I gave you a chance to be honest and… and to let us have more.”

“Don’t be like this.” You mutter. That was code for ‘Don’t leave me, not now, not ever. Don’t walk out that door without me under your arm.’ “We can forget about this– that this happened.”

And Tom only waited once more.

The brown haired, wacky actor who in the past picked up girls like stones waited for you to stop him from walking out the door and admit that you felt the same. He hoped, he really hoped that this wasn’t going to end the way he felt it was. A small part of him still believed that you liked him back.

He waited for something that never came.

And he was branded with little blue and purple marks down either side of his neck and nail marks that left trails down his back all the way to the waistband of his jeans that spoke stories of what’d happened only that morning. He guessed that all the small talk and arguments over who was more annoying over am mugs of tea were all nothing. They meant nothing.

And Tom Holland felt his heartbreak.

You glance up through wet, hooded lashes and sigh. “I don’t even know you.”

After all that we’ve been through how could you pretend I’m someone that you don’t know?

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canvasofthecosmos · 6 years

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Neptune in the Houses

Neptune is the planet of illusions, spirituality, and escapism. It's your dream world, where you never feel dragged down by the droll of reality. The house it's placed in shows an area of your life where there is a foggy haze, a mirage, and nothing is quite as it seems.

**Also consider the signs! So if you’re a 3rd house Neptune in Sagittarius, you can look at the 9th house as well as the 3rd. Also include the sign that rules your 12th house(the sign before your ascendant.) You can also apply these descriptions to any pisces placement you have.**

1ST HOUSE– Unbridled neptunian traits. Here, the person morphs to every twitch of change in their surroundings, but doesn’t realize they’re doing so. Open martyrs. There is something mesmerizing about this person- they look at everyone as if a bit awestruck. Their eyes are wide-open, glossy, and unreadable. There’s a tendency towards rounded features and glisteny cheeks. Soft golds and shades of pink and orange suit them, as well as foamy green. Dissolving is their IDENTITY, which is a difficult thing to muster. Body dysmorphia is common. They tend towards escapism, pushing things a little too far(look at the sign of Neptune to see in what way. A Cancer Neptune would personify their home environment, whereas an Aquarius Neptune would morph to fit social groups.) They compulsively agree with people, and change their minds later. Losing themselves in their identity, they are the world’s dream.

Ex: Marilyn Monroe, Freddie Mercury, Paris Hilton, Jim Carrey, Bjork, Courtney Love, Andy Warhol

2ND HOUSE– The body is the outlet for Neptune. Self-image is incredibly fluid, with no sense of object permanence, often forgetting one’s own face until they look in the mirror. Their faces have a strange symmetry, as if the two halves are about to merge. The second house symbolizes self-worth, material belongings, and eating habits; all of these lack solidity with Neptune placed here. Very inconsistent eating patterns, judging the worth of objects based on sentimentality, and blending of self-worth with other people are common tendencies. Major identity merging, with a knack for drawing more rigid people out of their shells.

Ex: Donald Trump, Katy Perry, Jennifer Lawrence, Isaac Newton, Tom Hanks, Carl Jung, Marie Curie

3RD HOUSE– Childhood/early school life was likely very strange. They child had a habit for daydreaming and knew way more than they could verbalize. As a result, communication is now an enigmatic thing. This placement points to an excellent ability to visualize, and to freely move between realms within one’s thoughts. Very poetic. They can paint complex pictures with their words. However, clarity is not a strong point. Miscommunication is a frequent issue, with people just not -getting- what they’re saying. They’re way smarter than they often get credit for. Words come out backwards- and forwards- and seem to have a kaleidoscopic life of their own. This may point to someone who experimented with drugs at an early age, or was just subjected to heavy themes. They may be too surrendering to their friends or siblings, or have friends who are dreamy themselves.The dreamlife is chattery. Neptune is a mutable planet and the 3rd a mutable house, so these people are very changeable.

Ex: Leonardo DiCaprio, Beyoncé Knowles, Keanu Reeves, Kurt Cobain, 14th Dalai Lama, Friedrich Nietzsche

4TH HOUSE– ‘Home’ is illusive with this placement. They have a great sense of devotion to their family(whether this be flesh and blood or not), but they can never seem to get things just -right-. Their inner world is cavernous and ever changing- the sense of security that they long for evades them. A feeling of being left behind, a ghost in their own home. Childhood memories may be hazy and idealized. They’re hypersensitive to their own emotional currents, often getting swept away in the tides. They spend a lot of time feeling their inner world out, and the physical home is often an outlet to that. It’s halls can feel like a sanctuary or a tomb depending on their mood. They can be a martyr to their family, sacrificing themselves as the glue that holds it all together.

Ex: Johnny Depp, Uma Thurman, Emma Watson, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Marilyn Manson, Sigmund Freud, Cher

5TH HOUSE– Neptune expresses especially creatively here, with the planet of dissolvement and art in the house of childlike creation. Love can take this person to a different world. This person can easily get swept up in dramatic love affairs. They can be very idealistic, expecting everything to work out without any effort- their intention is enough. Love is the end all be all viewed through hazy pink shades. Nothing feels more divine than to create life- whether it be through art, romance, or even children. Their relationship with children can be mystical, as they raise children who are dreamy themselves. This is someone who loses themselves in the everyday celebration of living.

Ex: Martin Luther King, Drake, Tyra Banks, Charles Manson, Fergie, RuPaul, Jack Black

6TH HOUSE– This is interesting! It’s Neptune placed in its opposite(virgo) house. The 6th house rules health, routines, taking care of other people/pets, and work. Neptune adds a whole other dimension to all of this. This could be someone who treats daily work like a spiritual task, purifying everything with Neptune’s dewy glow. They could also treat their sacrifice as the ultimate burden. The thing about water planets/signs/etc is that they can be the most healing OR the most destructive. Neptune can raise things to the highest dimension possible, or it can simply cause rot. 6th house Neptune unhinged can let daily details slip away. The house is rotting- there’s mold in the walls and the sink is crawling- the fish haven’t been fed in days, you can’t remember the last time you ate. Surrendering yourself to what -needs- to be done will overcome this.

Ex: Mahatma Gandhi, Kanye West, Alexander the Great, Billie Holiday, Gordon Ramsay, Sigourney Weaver, Malala Yousafzai, Jackie Chan

7TH HOUSE– A tricky one. This person may not notice Neptunian traits in themselves, but simply because they project them on others. They draw sirens to them like a sailor, wide-eyed and dressed in silky scales. Interacting with people is a direct outlet to divinity. Their romantic partners could be in the occult community, artists, or medical professionals. They could be unstable, bottling substance abuse and hysteria. Loved ones may be institutionalized, or lead the 7th House Neptunian to hysteria themselves! Wherever Neptune is placed, infinity is wide open, and as such static ‘reality’ is hard to cope with. Their partners are adaptable to the extreme. Relationships may appear out of nowhere, shockingly perfect, and then slink away just as quickly. This is someone who interacts with spirit in their daily exchanges.

Ex: Mother Teresa, Amy Winehouse, Charlie Chaplin, Paul McCartney, Cate Blanchett, Jean-Paul Sartre

8TH HOUSE– Suspended in the murky waters of the 8th house, Neptune seeks new depth. It scrapes the bottom of reality, a mere splash of its tail causing turmoil. This person surrenders themselves to touchy subjects, whether it be sex, crossing emotional boundaries, or the mere act of being openly intimate wherever they go. They keep themselves wide open to be explored, which can make some uncomfortable. Whereas 4th house planets swim in their own emotional well of ancestry/family, the 8th house subjects anything it contacts to its probing, pulling precious insights to anyone and anything. With Neptune here, there is no plug. The individual can resort to escapism and self-destructive behaviours to escape this flood of information. Periods of intense obsession are one way to purge and breathe freely again. They experience intense highs and lows, many all-encompassing ego deaths that spit them out as a stronger being than they could ever before imagine. It’s possible this could include real near-death experiences. Spirituality and self-sacrifice is an all or nothing affair.

Ex: Adolf Hitler, Shakira, David Bowie, Lana Del Rey, Kristen Stewart, Whitney Houston, J. K. Rowling, Snoop Dogg

9TH HOUSE– Neptune is always searching in this house. The 9th house is explorative, no longer in the mental way of the 3rd house, but physically. The planets in this house get your legs moving and your heart pounding. With Neptune here, one is wide open to new experiences. They absorb others’ viewpoints like a sponge, with a heart calling for adventure. They collect artifacts that bring them closer to their ideal spirituality- shells, crystals, tarot cards, quotes. They may seem a little stereotypical in their spirituality, but that’s just because they’re so eager to learn! Surrender is a great adventure to them, and they humbly accept every opportunity. The biggest problem comes from an overzealous zest for exploration, which results in not traveling down any single path long enough to truly absorb it. I could see religious fanatics falling in this category, over-excited students who preach half-information on street corners. Regardless, their pure enthusiasm is contagious. Neptune is especially boundless here.

Ex: Rihanna, Elvis Presley, Brigitte Bardot, Heath Ledger, Vincent Van Gogh, Bob Dylan, Carrie Fisher

10TH HOUSE– Neptunian traits are broadcasted here, as the 10th house is where you stand on the world’s stage. The public’s perception of you is always a little -off-. These folks can be viewed as more perfect than they actually are, because they serve as a reflection of the public’s desires. They morph to fit the structure they’re given. Being publicly known as a savior, a star. Publicly known substance abuse. An overly-empathetic boss.. A lazy boss. Long term goals that slip through the hands like sand. They dream of being in control, utterly in charge of their fate. They may create the illusion of having power over others, while feeling entirely helpless. Jobs in customer-service, cinema, body modification, the medical field, and spiritual work. Feeling pressured to be forgiving. Having an absent father. Hypersensitivity to criticism and nonexistent boundaries. Everyone views you as something different.

Ex: Princess Diana, Napoleon, Bruce Lee, Pablo Picasso, Bob Marley, Russell Brand, Patti Smith

11TH HOUSE– A feeling of confusion and mysticism surrounds friendship. The 11th house rules group associations and with Neptune they come and go freely, as if connected to one’s moods. An experimental spirituality, with robotic dreams. Dreams are discussed in group settings. Their inner world is electrifying and detached, morphing into crystalline images of the future. Losing your identity in groups. Sacrificing oneself to humanitarian causes. Dreams that never match up with reality. Using groups to escape mundane reality- role-playing, fantasy games, book clubs, night clubs, group drug usage. Using the internet to escape. Sharing art on the internet… only making art with others. Electric guitar/synthesizers. Space-age music. Shocking talents. Illusive friends. Having vague feelings of mistrust towards humanity. Sticking out like a sore thumb. Being quiet in groups, yet omnipresent. People have vague feelings of mistrust towards you. Getting walked all over. Having clear boundaries is important. Don’t feel uncaring for being direct– your security is important and most aren’t as open as you!

Ex: Albert Einstein, Hillary Clinton, Mozart, Nicki Minaj, Robin Williams, George Harrison, William Shakespeare, Frida Kahlo, Shia Labeouf

12TH HOUSE– This is Neptune in its home, so these people can accidentally be the most Neptunian of all. Whatever is in the 12th house is a “big secret”, subconsciously repressed, but the thing about secrets is that they seep into everything. Neptune in the 12th house is secretly hypersensitive. Part of them wants to slip away and never be seen again. The 12th house is everything- a reflection of every sign and then some- so EVERYTHING is a sacrifice with this placement. They’re easily absorbed into what’s going on around them, but nothing really compares to their inner world. The inner world is soft and warm and always morphing into some new kaleidoscopic shape. It’s never stagnant like reality, utterly predictable in its dull human colors and rigid shapes. It’s not surprising for these people to be shut-ins, allowing them a boundary for self-reflection. They feel guilty for how content they are entirely alone(the rest of the chart interferes ofc.) Hiding away from everything uncomfortable isn’t the answer, but neither is blind sacrifice. Finding a way to express this private sea of symbols in a way that is tangible to everyone around them and, most importantly, to themselves is important.

Ex: Prince, Salvador Dali, Nikola Tesla, Winona Ryder, Hillary Duff, Joan of Arc, Erykah Badu, Sid Vicious

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canvasofthecosmos · 6 years

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Neptune in the Houses

Ruler of Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, Neptune contains a lot in its waters. It takes mutable sign complexity to the max. In a chart, it shows where you see infinite possibility and have difficulty forming boundaries. This can be very spiritual, of course, seeing the ether(Pisces) from which life is born(Aries). Neptune causes you to hear faint things nobody else can- it’s the most direct connection to whatever exists beyond this world. This inspires transcendental art, unconditional compassion, and reasons to continue living earthly life, but there can be too much of a good thing. What was once an occasional break from reality becomes a full-time gig, and a refusal to face anything head on. In my opinion, Neptune is the most difficult planet to channel into reality, because that’s exactly what it’s not. A bottomless well is tapped into.