Leo sun, Libra moon.

You want to be adored and to deserve it, in that order.

Fire warms, air arranges: the monarch with a diplomat's moon. You radiate best in partnership and measure yourself in the mirror of the room. The crowd's opinion is weather; choose whose review counts.

Discord costs you double what it costs the others.

A Libra moon refuels on harmony you can hear: beauty, fairness, a room with no live argument in it. You can host a war and never show it, but the invoice arrives in your body later.

People read patience; tell them the truth before the tide does.

You hold steady on the outside while the tide underneath is already leaving for somewhere new. Your exits are decided long before they are announced, and by then no argument reaches you.

You are not a typical Leo; nobody with this moon is.

The internet writes Leo off as vanity in a warm coat. Your Libra moon rewrites the chemistry: the needs underneath are narrated, argued, and footnoted. What looks like feeling less is thinking about feeling, at length, in private.

Feed the moon first: say the inner weather out loud, to one person or one page.

Unspoken it becomes static; spoken it becomes weather you can fly in. Keep one correspondent who receives the unedited forecast.