the moment gluteus maximus peeks over the horizon, aries rises (or aßcends) like a shining star, ready to pick a fight & to eat aß for breakfast (at 2 in the afternoon).

taurus quit their job, booked a ticket to a spiritual retreat, downloaded headspace & decided to become vegan. until it found a delicious, meaty aß in the horizon.

gemini's multiple personalities can't agree on anything, except the location of tonight's snack: the bedroom of someone other than the person they're dating.

cancer loves eating aß so much that it'll take it on dates under the moonlight, cry into it softly, and then ghost it for six weeks because it felt it too much.

leo doesn’t spin the wheel. they are the wheel, handcrafted by the stars for back-row worship and front-page drama. its sheer size commands such gravity, the entire universe forgot its plot and started revolving around it instead.

virgo didn’t plan to seduce. but every time they bend over to realign the furniture, a nation gasps. small ego, big booty, bigger delusion about how normal they look from the back. they’re not flirting. they’re fixing. alphabetically.

libra didn’t mean to be bisexual. they just couldn’t decide. they weighed the pros, the cons, made five lists, then cried about it for 45 minutes. a balanced diet, they said, while holding hands with two people and texting a third.

scorpio’s aß got so intense, the zodiac intervened. astrologers wept. planets trembled. and from the smoke rose a new name: aßcorpio. it's not just a sign. it's a warning label. do not enter unless emotionally insured.

sagittarius said they were on a journey of self-discovery. turns out the destination was your aß. they’ll ghost you mid-peg to catch a flight, then send a postcard that just says “lol.” adventure is real. and so is the harness.

capricorn’s aß used to be tight-laced and morally upright. then it hit retrograde and quit its management consulting job. now it’s wearing fishnets, going on raves, and thinking about snorting some of sagittarius' magikal horse powder.

aquarius doesn’t hustle. they just think about something really hard until it shows up, half-naked and emotionally unavailable. and now it twerks at their frequency, disrupting norms, group dynamics, and at least one friend’s sexuality.

pisces gave their cloaca to daddy poseidon and he gave them a trauma kink and seasonal depression. now they carry the weight of the ocean in their hips, offering emotional support aß to lost sailors and sad situationships alike.