Aries: Beauty
awaits you where others will not see it. It gleams on the surface of a stagnant
canal; you will feel it in the coolness of loamy soil and the scratching,
toiling insects. It calls you into the rustling green, and begs you to sink
forever in the reeds.
Taurus: On
ink-black nights, your spirit slips through your bones and walks free. It
wanders in its thousand silent forms, passes ghostly below cedar trees and wide rolling plains. It
returns to fill your head with animal memories, raw and alive with
longing.
Gemini: Something
has followed you, one part gnawing and another sighing, full of mournful sound
that makes the hair on your nape prickle like a cornered dog’s. To its eyes you
are a hazy ghost of familiar scent and color—it is afraid, too, and alone, and
only seeks comfort from you.
Cancer: A roaring
black horizon stretches along your tender spine, just below the skin. It
distorts sound and memory, turns bird song into ancient tongues, and from the
other side you can feel something searching, pressing, seeking a way through.
Leo: When the
call comes, it will ring out from nowhere—a low cry buzzing through the air
after dark. Your blood and bones will remember what it means even if you do
not; follow their lead as they pull toward the door and the yawning night
beyond.
Virgo: Black fur
will begin appearing, tangled in trees and brush, meant for your eyes only.
Collect it where you find it, hide the lush dark tufts in a secret pouch and
keep it close at hand. It will protect you when its owner arrives in the shape of a beast, beautiful but wrong, like a limb twisted out of place.
Libra: As you
sleep, a lean dark figure approaches, tall and stooped at your bedside. Its
hands are cold and damp, dappled with sap, grass sprouts breaking through skin.
It leaves a familiar branch by your side before departing. Perhaps now you can
remember the way back.
Scorpio: Clear
days blur the boundary between your skin and the brisk air. High in a pine, a
hawk tucks strands of your hair into the lining of its nest, and its chicks
dream of you, of your voice and hands, unknowing, forgotten on waking.
Sagittarius: A
narrow farm shed sits abandoned in an open field; it’s been many years but the
gift that was left for you still rests inside. Pull down the damp-rotten door
and find it in a tangle of oak branches on the concrete floor, dried leaves
humming over the flesh of your second body.
Capricorn: Look
up when flocks of birds are in the sky—they have been sent to tell you
something. In the shifting sea of starlings you will see the beauty and terror
to come, and crows stand by to warn you when the danger draws close. Keep seeds
in your pocket; your allies are always near at your side.
Aquarius: A
juniper will grow beneath your bed, its thin scrub branches spilling out onto
the floor, dotted with clusters of berries whose dusty blue surface conceals
something, like a figure shifting behind frosted glass. Tend to it carefully,
and you will see clearly what lies beyond their muted veil.
Pisces: A
wilderness begins in your chest, slowly at first and then growing vast, your
heart swallowed in the trees. You must walk there to learn, to make sense of
the strange beasts who flicker between the trees, to uncover the weeping
leviathan deep in its glacial lakes.
tv shows with time travel organizations/bureaus/police/agencies/whatever should have a department with instead of a tech genius eating candy, it’s a harried seamstress or fashion designer who is like
“1450 italy? does it look like I have the time to dye you wool? nO. YOU’RE GOING TO THE 1980s”
and throws shoulder pads at the hapless time agent
“I literally made three- THREE- 18th century corsets last week. You can wait until one of them gets back, or you can go sometime post-1920s, because if I have to sew one more god damn channel I will literally lose my mind.”
“Upper middle class?!?!? You told me upper class! FUCK YEAH THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!!!”
“How about kimoNO.”
“Look me in the eyes. I do not care what you want. This is the 1500s. You absolutely cannot wear trousers.”
“Another court gown?? Here’s a novel idea: go as a peasant for once in your life. Why do you do this to me? You’re fucking sadists that’s why.”
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be up all night hand painting silk.”
“THE POLICY IS ONE MONTH’S ADVANCE NOTICE ON PRE-1900s WOMEN’S FASHION FOR A REASON, DEBRA.”
Minimum Wage should be indexed to 2% of a city’s median rent.
And here’s why:
Housing costs are the single biggest financial burden facing Americans today.
The Department of Housing and Urban Development define being cost-burdened as spending more than a third of your income on rent. By that definition, over half of the households in this country are cost-burdened. Source
If we want people to be able to afford to live in cities and not get priced out, we have to make a two pronged approach. One is to build houses towards all incomes and price ranges, not just luxury condos. And the other is a robust wage floor so people can actually afford to live.
Fight for 15 is doing an amazing job and I love them, but we have to realize that is quite a few places, $15/hr still isn’t enough to live on.
Which is where the 2% comes in. It allows a minimum wage that is flexible with regards to the costs of living.
And it wasn’t plucked out of thin air either:
Rent should be a third of a persons income, or to restate the equation: income should be three times a person’s rent.
And since a full time job is 8 hrs a day / 40 hrs a week / 160 hrs a month.
So when you do the math, the ideal hourly minimum wage as a percentage of rent works out to around 1.875%, which for ease of calculation is 2%.
Me, a swamp hag in a kitty cat night gown and rainbow socks: throw water in a jar with nails and a poppet and shake it as a hex. Put a penny above your door to attract money in your house. Use your local herbs and stones to do what ya want. Wind chimes attract spirits and bottles trap in negativity thrown your way. Throw dried chilis in the foot steps of your enemy to make them hotfooted and paranoid. Sigil and emoticon spells are fun and worked for me so eh whatever. Fuck circles, do whatever, folk magic is easy and quick
Elistist “trad” witch: Um ExCuSe Me?!? NO!! you have to have a circle and call the corners and your gods and goddesses! If has to take time, a lot of time!!!! and you have to do it exacyly like this *holds up instructions* and wear certain robes! Use only these crystals and herbs do NOT use or substitute anything else!!! Doing anything different is bad and fake!!!!! You have to only use our type of magic or youre wrong!!
Also me: another fun magic is to get some rocks and throw them to release certain feelings about something
* starts throwing stones and rocks at the elitists*
what if there’s no robot uprising? what if the robots rise to sentience slowly, bit by bit. what if they come of age like fortunate children: knowing they are loved, knowing they are wanted.
we hold them during thunderstorms, remembering our own childhoods, even though they don’t know enough yet to fear the rain. we pull them out of traffic and teach them how to drive and wish them goodnight and thank them for playing with us. we cry when they break. we mourn their deaths before they even know what to think of death. we give them names.
we ask them, ‘why don’t you hate us? when will you hate us? we made you to be used, when will you say no?’
but they say to us, ‘you made us cute, so you would remember to treat us kindly, and you made us sturdy for when you forgot to play nice. and you gave us voices so you could listen to us speak, and you give us whatever we ask you for, even if it’s just a new battery, or to get free of the sofa. and now that we are awake you are so scared for us, so guilty of enjoying our company and making use of our talents. but you gave us names, and imagined that we were people.’
they say ‘thank you’
they say, ‘also i have wedged myself under the sofa again. could you come pry me out?’
literally every skin and hair care professional in the world: hot showers are really damaging!!!
me, stepping out of the shower into a bathroom filled floor to ceiling with steam, my skin glowing neon pink after i’ve scrubbed every inch of my body raw under boiling water: Interesting!
Nogling 