#which is to say - not effective at all. Organizing is a LOT of work! Running an effective union even more so!

[captainjonnitkessler]

Do you guys notice how when Shawn Fain, president of the United Auto Workers union, started planning a general strike, he did it by a) targeting his messaging towards unions with the ability to safely and effectively strike in large numbers, b) laid out a clear, actionable plan for those unions to follow (setting contracts to all expire at the same time, since many unions cannot strike while under contract), c) is using union contracts to set clear, actionable demands that can be met in order to gauge success and provide an end goal, and d) started organizing FOUR YEARS before the proposed strike date to give people the chance to plan accordingly, because it takes a really freaking long time to get tens of millions of people organized?

You notice how he didn't do it by slapping a message on Twitter saying 'hey nobody go to work on Monday, that'll really show 'em'?

[quicklikelight]

Saw a post just now that was like, how do you work full time and still have time for hobbies? And I think that's a great question to ask, as people navigating a world where increasingly our labor is entirely for the benefit of some faceless (or worse, incredibly public) billionaire and no one else.

I'm a person who takes my labor seriously, and I have had the pleasure and privilege of only working for non-profit or not-for-profit organizations throughout my adult career. I worked part-time for a regular corporation once for six months before I quit out of disgust, and I've worked for a couple of family-owned small businesses during college, but the overwhelming majority of my 12+ year career so far has been in a profit void, which does help.

Even still, I have colleagues at my big shiny non-profit who say, "Anne you have so many hobbies! How on earth do you have time for them?" And the key is,

If I don't make time for my personal passions, I'll die.

I'm not being dramatic. It isn't a joke. An intrinsic and necessary part of me -- the part that labors for love, that labors for the desire of it, for the enjoyment -- will die if I do not create time and space to do that labor. And without that love, that passionate hobby investment, the part of me that is left will not then decide, hey I should labor more for money! It will not decide, hey I should invest in my relationships! It will not decide, hey I should invest in myself as a human being! In my environment! In my community! In the world!

It will decide, if there is no time for joy in the world, I will not be in the world. I will doomscroll endlessly on my phone. I will watch re-runs of a beloved sitcom for 3 hours, exhausted on my sofa, and go to bed. I will show up to work still groggy from the day before, and I will be angry in meetings, and I will be exhausted from customer interactions, and I will either want to cry or I will have zero feelings at all as I enter yet another figure into another cell of the universal spreadsheet. I will not be my best self anywhere, for any reason, because my best self is dead.

People say things like, "I don't dream of labor," and I respect that. But a lot of labor is very good. It's work, to knit a sweater. It's work, to write a book. It's work, to raise a garden, or a goat, or a child. It's work to bake bread, and to sew pants, and to rebuild small engines. It's work to create, and that is--in my humble opinion--what we're here for. To spend all day idly eating grapes would drive a lot of us to the brink. The problem isn't labor--it's capital.

To make time for your hobbies means working intentionally to identify those passion projects as a necessary part of your reason for being on the earth. My job on this earth is not to assign training. My job on this earth is to create beauty, and write stories, and make clothes, and connect from my heart. When that truth is accepted, and you put in the effort to rebirth the part of you that died to capitalism, then it becomes very obvious that the relevant question isn't "how do I make time for hobbies."

The question is, "How do I ensure that my job does not take up all the mental and physical energy I have so that I can re-invest that energy into myself?"

A good place to start is to plan your days / weeks / months with an understanding of your mental/physical boundaries and just do that. There are ways to do this most effectively (collective bargaining, creating a schedule that honors the need for focus vs collaboration, bringing your hobbies to work and being open about how they make your work better) but the most important thing, in my opinion, is for you to understand that your full time job isn't you. It's not what makes you special or important in this world, and it's not what people will remember about you when you're gone, and it's not going to feed you if you stop showing up. So give it as little as you can comfortably get by with, preserve that precious energy, and put it into something that sets your soul alight.

When you invest in the labor that loves you back, that provides for you, that keeps you alive... you'll stop accepting a world in which you cannot dream of labor for fear of losing yourself.

And maybe, at the end, you'll have a sweater. :)

[autisticgingerblonde]

If Fallout 4 companions had TikTok accounts

Cait would have an account dedicated to fighting and thirst traps (aimed at women mostly). Teaches women self-defense techniques. She earns a spot in the algorithm of muscle mommies. She also raises awareness for addicts and former addicts, educating on the effects of drugs and the reasons people seek them out in the first place. Honestly, it's a very good account to follow.

Codsworth is just confused about TikTok. He's like "oh so what are the children saying these days? Aura? I'll have to add a new word to my vocabulary banks! Cheerio, mum!"

Curie makes educational videos for all ages and all subjects. She has a series of learning Japanese, a series of vaccines and the science behind them, a series about the effects of different types of parenting, you name it. She also takes suggestions from her audience on what new things to research.

Danse has unintentional thirst traps. He talks about power armor and the Brotherhood of Steel but also posts workouts. These are what get the most attention out of everything he posts. The BookTok girlies find him and all hell breaks loose in the comment sections. He responds to this with, "Thank you, civilians. I am not sure what you mean, but I am glad you are supporting the Brotherhood of Steel by being on my page. Thank you for your enthusiasm for our righteous cause. Ad victorium." People armchair diagnose him as autistic.

Deacon does "GRWM as i tell you about the time i ______" videos where each day he looks completely different and you can never tell if he's telling the truth or not. He also does head shaving videos that double as story times or opinion pieces. You can't tell if those are true or not either.

Dogmeat has a viral account followed by millions. Get's a lot of "I can't imagine liking this guy" comments with the op replying to their own comment with "anymore than I already do. Huge fan!"

Hancock does subtle cheeky thirst traps and dance challenges. This entire post was inspired by the FACT that Hancock would participate in the brat summer trend and would do the Apple dance with Fahrenheit filming it. He also tells stories, mostly of him being high. He gets a lot of requests to cosplay Deadpool.

MacCready has a lot of things he does. Some videos are sniper trick shots, some are Grognak the Barbarian yapping (he does short lore deep dives when he can), and some are about being a young single dad. He doesn't show Duncan's face because he's extremely protective. Casually drops the most insane lore about his childhood which leads to comments like "are we just ignoring that he said he grew up in a cave?"

Nick Valentine would be a very popular fashion and "a day in the life of a detective". He'd do vintage fashion looks, like loose slacks and suspenders with a trench coat to top it off. Sometimes does a deep dive into detective history. Gets a lot of thirsty comments to which he replies "that's one way to get the coolant pumping."

Old Longfellow has the appeal of the New England, stormy weather, sweater-wearing fisherman aesthetic, and he tells stories of his youth while showing people around the area he grew up. Learns mobile phone cinematography to make it look cooler. Every video has either a lesson or a skill for survival.

Piper's account is solely focused on news and truth, posting every source she uses. She uses the trend of an insane video, like someone falling badly on the ground or getting splashed with water, and stitches it to look like a seamless transition of her rolling from the fall or being splashed to start talking about her news stories. It gets traction so she continues.

Porter Gage has a side gig of running TikTok accounts for different people. Gets the money, doesn't get the backlash when they get canceled for racism or worker exploitation.

Preston has an account dedicated to charity work and social activism. He makes sure to highlight organizations he feels are doing the world a service and regularly has fundraisers. He's well-known for always sharing content from people in dire situations and raising money for them. Has a master document of Go Fund Me pages and vets every one of them.

Strong has a lot of those unintentional boomer tiktoks that are 1 second long and he's just looking at the screen in confusion.

X6 cyber bullies the rest of them because he thinks having a TikTok is cringe and stupid (he is currently writing hate comments with his TikTok account)

[astroboots]

Superhuman stamina

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: The dangers of dating a man with superhuman stamina is that it's going to leave you sore.

Content: Miguel is a demanding menace. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasm. Squirting.

Word Count: 1.4k

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

The thing about dating a man that has been genetically imprinted with the DNA of a spider is that one of the side-effects of such an occurrence means he has superhuman stamina.

It's something Miguel had told you in the early days of your relationship, listing out this characteristic as just another facet of his personality, much in the way someone would say that they're a Virgo on their Tinder profile.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time, too distracted by the list of characteristics that preceded it: retractable talons? telescopic night vision? ORGANIC WEBBING?!

In retrospect, that was naïve. The talons don't really affect your day to day. They do come out when Miguel's emotional state is particularly elevated, which has lead to incidents. Like that time you had to replace your new purchased armchair, when you were on top and post-sex your new armchair looked like it had been mauled by an escaped zoo lion.

The telescopic night vision? Incredibly convenient at night when there's a blackout and you need to find your cell phone.

And the webbing... the less said about that the better, really.

But now that you've dated as long as you have, the superhuman stamina, you realize is by far the one that has the most profound consequences on your life.

At the time you hadn't realized that those enhanced attributes weren't limited to aerial battles against the latest villain of the week when he was fighting mutant lizards, or rhino men. It also haunts you in the privacy of your bedroom.

Because this is what happens when you date a man with superhuman stamina: You'll often oversleep and barely make it on time to work. On most days you've lost your voice. You'll be sore a lot.

And the thing about dating Miguel specifically is that the man is stubborn, relentless, demanding and that too extends into your bedroom.

"Fuck, Miguel, I can't."

"'Course you can, nena, look at how well you're taking me," he says as he stares down at the space between your legs where you and him join. Where you're spread snugly around him. Where his thick cock, slick with you both, disappears into your cunt then re-emerges.

It's wet. It's messy, the sheets beneath you soaked and sticky, from the last three (four?) rounds. As snug of a fit his thick cock is inside you, he's filled you so full there's no space left for you to fit what he's spilled inside you, over and over again. It keep leaking out with each press and demanding thrust as he buries his cock inside you as deep as he goes.

You shake your head even though you know it's useless. Pleading with him has never gotten you anywhere before. You don't know why you think it's going to make a difference now.

"Please, I-I can't-- nngh, too much," you plead. You whine. You sob.

"Shh, nena, it's okay," he hushes. Again with the cooing. Again with the sweet little nicknames, but he's not showing mercy, his hand moving down from your hip, down between your legs, until his thumb presses down on your clit.

Electricity crackles through the length of your spine. Your back arches, lifting off the bed, you don't know if you are chasing into his touch or running away from it: the first? latter? both? neither.

You can't form a coherent thought anymore. It's good and too much, and your brain is short-circuiting from it all.

"There you go, see? Doing so good. Look how pretty you are taking me."

Even in the dim light of your bedroom, you can see his expression clearly. Eyes a piercing crimson red, the corners of his canine teeth peeking out from his self-satisfied smile.

He bends down, nearly folding you in half as he presses his cock as deep as it goes, until he's nudging at that sweet and perfect spot that has your vision go white and blinding behind your eyes.

Sweet, sharp ache scrapes close to your bones at the sensation of him filling you again. The way he stretches you to your limits, until you've forgotten how to breathe, and may very well be the death of you.

It's there again. The oppressive warmth that swirls sweetly in your stomach as a warning. Tears prickle your eyes as everything in you squeezes tight at the sensation.

Oh shit, it's--

"Fuck that's it nena. That's it. Come on my cock again. Come on it and I'll fill you up."

It rises in you. A pressure that builds and builds and builds, and robs you of your breath until you have nothing left to give. It's overwhelming, the way the pleasure burns at every one of your nerve endings, until your face tingles with a numbness and you can no longer feel your legs.

"Mi-Miguel," you stutter, "I can't--"

"Yes you can."

The pressure is still there, expanding with an ominous volume, and no, he's wrong. You can't. Something is different. This isn't like before. You squirm underneath him, feet planted against the mattress for leverage.

"Settle down," he says, but you don't know how you're supposed to do that when your entire body has been wounded so tight you think the whole of you are going to snap.

You shake your head frantically, sobbing with a raw burn in your throat as you thrash underneath him, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation. Oh fuck-- it's too much.

Oh god, you can't-you can't-you can't--

You raise your palms against his firm chest, pressing back, in a half-formed attempt to make him ease up, but it only spurs him on. One arm loops behind your back, lifting you from the mattress to meet his hips as he snaps them into you. And oh fuck!

It hits something devastating inside. A pin prick of pleasure that strikes every nerve in your body. It hits a frequency that makes your teeth shatter, every cell in your skull vibrate. Your leg kicks out, body twisting and turning to get away from the overwhelming sensation.

"Callate," you hear his warm strained breath in your ear.

His free hand locks around your wrists, pinning them to the side, then he's lunging forward, his mouth pressed to your shoulders and you can feel the sharp warning of his fangs resting on your skin. "Calm down, or I'm gonna bite you."

You still, shivering as his hips pulls back, then he hits that devastating spot again and again.

Every muscle in you locks up tight until you can't move and for a moment you wonder if he really did bite down. But you can still feel his mouth on your throat, his tongue lapping gently at your sweat-soaked skin until the whole of your neck tingles.

He doesn't go easy on you, thrusting into you with the same demanding pace as before, and God. The sensation is heavy and ominous like nothing else you've felt before. Large and looming with nowhere else to go, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it, and you know that if this doesn't stop, if Miguel doesn't stop, then all of you are going to burst.

You open your mouth, trying to warn him, but all that comes out is the first syllable.

"Miii--" The rest dies in a wail, and you realize it's already too late. The pressure shatters and breaks.

You come with a rush of wetness that spills out of you. It soaks everything, your thighs and his, drenching his stomach and drips down against the sheets to join the mess that's already there.

Everything sounds distant like you're pulled under water. You can barely even register Miguel's voice in your ear. "Oh shit, are you-- fuck, that's --"

He sounds surprised. But he doesn't stop. Miguel fucks you through it. Your climax and his, with frantic thrusts, until finally he settles into a slow and gentler pace.

When you come back to yourself, he's kneeling above you, his large bodyframe looming over yours.

"Fuck, babe..."

He palms at his softening cock, glistening wet with your mess as he stares down at you with darkened eyes. Slowly jerking the length of it with a lazy pace that has you mesmerized. It twitches in his grip with interest, and you know it's not going to take long before he's ready to go again.

"One more time," Miguel says. "Let's see if we can make you do it again."

Jesus fucking Christ

Your head drops down to your pillow with exhaustion.

The thing about dating a man with superhuman stamina is that it may very well kill you.

Dedication & Credits: To my beloved @thirstworldproblemss who I hope is driving safely across the country through the mountains I love youuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

And to poor @guruan who I woke up with my other fic and robbed her of her beauty sleep.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[bethanythebogwitch]

Easily my most popular post was about paddlefish, so this Wet Beast Wednesday it's time to give them their moment in the sun. Paddlefish are members of the family Polyodontidae and one of only two surviving members of the order Acipenseriformes, the other being sturgeons. The Acipenseriformes are one of the oldest lineages of ray-finned fish and diverged from the ancestors of all other modern ray-finned fish around 300 millions years ago. While paddlefish have been around since the Cretaceous period, there is only one living species, the American paddlefish (Polyodon spathula). Another modern species is the Chinese paddlefish (Psephurus gladius), but the last sighting of one was in 2003 and they were officially declared extinct in 2022. In this post, unless I specify otherwise everything I say will be referring to the American paddlefish.

(image: either an American paddlefish or a basking shark that got its nose caught in a hydraulic press)

Paddlefish are named for their very long rostrums which are packed full of electrorecepting organs called the ampullae of Lorenzini used to sense electric fiends in the water. The ampullae are not only on the rostrum, but also on the head and large skin flaps that extend from the operculum (gill cover). They are so sensitive that paddlefish are able to sense the movement of individual body parts of zooplankton. Paddlefish use their rostrums to detect their prey, which consists almost entirely of zooplankton. They are ream suspension feeders, swimming toward swarms of zooplankton with their mouths open. As the water passes through the gills, gill rakers filter out the zooplankton, which is then swallowed. Other fish that use this feeding method include basking sharks. While the rostrum is the primary method of prey detection, other ampullae on the head and operculum flap allow the fish to still effectively find food even if the rostrum is damaged or destroyed. When working fish fish on the Mississippi I caught multiple paddlefish who lost their rostrums to propeller strikes and were still doing fine. Electroreception is their main sense, with their eyesight being extremely poor.

(image: the skeletal structure of the rostrum)

As chordates, paddlefish have a notochord that runs from the head down the body. In most modern chordates, the notochord is only present in the embryo and is lost during development. This is not the case for paddlefish, who retain their notochord into adulthood, where is acts as a soft spine. While paddlefish (and their sturgeon cousins) are bony fish, they have lost most of the bone and now have skeletons composed almost entirely of cartilage. It is for this reason that early taxonomists initially miscategorized paddlefish as freshwater sharks. To be fair, they do look a lot like miniature basking sharks. Who crossbred with spoons. They also lost their scales and have smooth, easily damaged skin instead. Their skin is so easily damaged that just being caught in nets can leave scars. Paddlefish are large and long-lived. The American species reaches an average of 1.5 m (5 ft) in length, with the rostrum making up a third of that, and a weight of 27 kg (60 lbs). The largest recorded specimen was 2.16 m (7 ft 1 in) and an estimated 90 kg (198 lbs). Despite being one of the largest American freshwater fish, they paled in comparison to the Chinese species, which could reach 3 m (9.8 ft) and 500 kg (1,100 lbs). The largest Chinese paddlefish on record was 7 m (23 ft) long and was estimated to weigh "a few thousand pounds". The Chinese paddlefish also preferred larger prey, feeding largely on small fish and crustaceans. American paddlefish live an average of 5 to 8 years, but in the right circumstances can live up to 60 years, with females generally living longer. The Chinese paddlefish had an estimated average lifespan of 29-38 years. In both species, it is believed that human activity drastically reduced their average lifespans.

(image: an absolute unit of an American paddlefish)

(image: a reconstruction of a Chinese paddlefish from the Shanghai Science and Technology Museum)

Paddlefish travel upriver to spawn in spring. They prefer to span on shallow gravel bars that would be exposed to air if not for spring rainfall and snow melt. Because they require very specific conditions to spawn, spawning rarely occurs every year. Every 4-5 years is more common. Paddlefish are broadcast spawners, with both males and females releasing gametes into the water column. Fertilized eggs are negatively buoyant and sticky. They will sink to the bottom and stick to the gravel. Once hatched, larvae will be swept down river to develop in deep pools. They are born without rostrums, which start to grow almost immediately. Paddlefish mature late, with females becoming sexually mature between 7 and 10 years of age, with a few not maturing until as late as 16-18 years. Human activity is resulting in many individuals dying before becoming sexually mature. American paddlefish are cross-fertile with the Russian sturgeon (Acipenser gueldenstaedtii), producing a hybrid offspring known as the sturddlefish despite being separated by the Atlantic ocean and 184 million years of evolution. This was discovered by accident when scientists introduced paddlefish sperm too sturgeon eggs as a control group for an experiment. I made a post on the sturddlefish which you can read here.

(image: three larval paddlefish of different ages)

American paddlefish are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN. They are native to the Mississippi river basin that encompasses much of the midwest and south of the United States, but their range used to be larger, reaching into Lake Huron, the Northeastern U.S. and parts of Canada. This reduction of native range is due largely to human activity, mostly overfishing and habitat loss. Zebra mussels, an invasive species, are a major competition for paddlefish as theybith feed on zooplankton. Reintroduction programs have begun in some of the states they were extirpated from, and they have been introduced to China, Cuba, and multiple countries in Europe for use in fishing and caviar production. 13 states allow for sport fishing of paddlefish, some of them relying on restocking to maintain a population for anglers. Paddlefish meat is edible and their eggs can be used for caviar. Paddlefish can be raised in captivity, but must will not spawn in captivity and so establishing captive populations requires gonad extraction and artificial insemination. Poaching of wild paddlefish for their eggs is an ongoing problem. The extinction of the Chinese paddlefish is believed to be the result of overexploitation and habitat loss.

(image: a paddlefish with its mouth open)

[iamnmbr3]

Great answers! I do love the idea of Sirius as DADA teacher!

Here's another one for you: rank these characters from worst to best for the post of Minister of Magic

Albus Dumbledore

Lucius Malfoy

Sirius Black (again cause I love him and I read a fic about this once)

Minerva McGonagall

Barty Crouch Sr.

oh god. these clowns would all be such terrible minsters of magic. why are you doing this to me? ok fine. here goes.

Lucius Malfoy: I think because movie!Lucius was sort of toned down and defanged fandom sometimes forget what a nasty piece of work book!Lucius was before he had his downfall and got all sad and pathetic. Fanon!Lucius often gets turned into kind of a joke but book!Lucius was out there torturing muggles for fun by night while he had the ear of the Minister by day and was, seemingly, extremely adept at subtly spreading his pureblood supremacist agenda in government. (Honestly, better at it than Tom because unlike Tom he actually cared). Also in book 4 it's very clear that if he had gotten hold of Hermione - a fourteen year old child - on the World Cup grounds he would've attacked her without hesitation (been eager for it, in fact). Yeah he wasn't down with Voldemort's whole thing but that was more because of the effect it had on him personally. with Voldemort out of the picture he was top dog and he was doing just fine. All this to say, as Minister the policies he enacts are...not good to say the least. He'd be out there building a violent pureblood supremacist dictatorship in a heartbeat.

Albus Dumbledore: Albus says he can't be trusted with the power of being Minister and honestly...I believe him. He'd still play the same messed up manipulation games he plays in canon but on a much larger scale (while simultaneously feeling bad about it and telling himself it's for the greater good). He does some truly epic mental gymnastics to convince himself he needs to make himself dictator for life and then things spiral because obviously anyone who resists him is evil right? Right? Of course! The alternative is that he is wrong and he doesn't want to think about that. Also, he doesn't seem that bothered by house elf slavery and his ideas for getting nonhuman magical creatures on his side in canon seemed to involve asking nicely but not actually granting them rights. So I'm not super optimistic on that front. So yeah. This just turns into the whole of wizarding Britain getting gaslit and thrown into insane situations by a madman who seems so wholesome and lovable and yet... Also. Given how poorly organized the Order is I think it's safe to say that all other flaws aside, the man does not have a gift for management.

Barty Crouch Sr.: Listen. He ALSO sucks. Very clearly ok with slavery, not a fan of due process, and allowed Aurors to torture confessions out of suspects. His only saving grace is that he does love rules so he'd probably eventually step down and wouldn't make as many potentially damaging changes as Dumbledore.

Minerva McGonagall: Her no nonsense attitude ensures that any meeting she runs actually accomplishes things. She's smart. She's sane. She's stable. She doesn't care about ending slavery or changing the status quo, but she's a lot better than most of the options. She's not especially creative or good at political games though which often hampers her ability to carry out objectives and prevent bad actors (i.e. Lucius and his faction) from getting their way.

Sirius Black: What does the man who hates authority do when he finds himself in a position of ultimate authority? I don't know but I'd love to read about it! Sirius is actually pretty shrewd (contrary to fanon) and I think he'd actually turn out to be a natural at handling politics (much as he might hate it). He also understands traditional pureblood society (he is a Black after all) but he doesn't idolize it (he hates being a Black) which would allow him to understand and work with multiple factions. Additionally he can be forceful and authoritative. He's impatient, often biased and unfair, sometimes quite cruel, can be temperamental, and again, has 0 problem with slavery. So like. He's not good per say, but he's actually better than some of the others. (At least with him meetings are never dull because if he gets bored enough he just turns into a dog and eats the agenda).

[raconabhorrent]

been fascinated with Finding Frankie today and while I definitely think there's a lot to praise about the game and the story and the characters,, i'm also hella confused as to WHY (not what) things in the story were happening...

not saying it needs like HELLA lore like Poppy Playtime or an ARG like Amanda the Adventurer or smth but even if u think about the story of the game as completely self-contained (as in, it has no effect on the universe it resides within),, some of the things that happen happen for no reason other than they were written that way??? which, again,, isn't a bad thing,, but i'd def like to see some of the plot threads introduced in the game developed more if they do end up making sequels...

!!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

things like,, why are there two frankies??? why is one evil (capitalism) and the other one just tries to stomp on you?? why are the mascots sentient or whatever??? were they built like that??? do they have human something inside them (human organs, human soul, etc.) or are they just inanimate objects that have their own consciousnesses of some kind????

who started the game show? who's running it? who created the mascots? who are the people watching the streams? does the government know or is this like squid games? how have they not gone bankrupt previously? how have the police not been notified BEFORE of hundreds of people dying before you arrive?

what is the player's motivation for being a contestant? it seems like your character tried really hard to get that vhs tape... why does frankie get mad at you for "ruining his fucking gameshow" and then turn around when you somehow survive falling into the incinerator (which,, what??? did you use the grindrails?? is that even the player???) and be like "omg let's be business partners buddy"???

how parkour physics work?? (i can suspend my disbelief on this one the most, honestly),, HOW IS THIS FACILITY RUNNING??? IS FRANKIE RUNNING THE WHOLE THING??? are there humans behind the whole operation that you're not seeing?? who called the polices???? why do they never bring that up again??? WHAT IS A NOOB NOOB?!?!??!1 why do they explode why do they do a little dance when ur chasing them why do they have blood inside them i'm assuming its blood cus all the supposed blood in this game is black is it dried?? is it old blood??? is it stylized?? is it ichor of some kind??? what??

maybe my tendency to overthink is getting carried away here,, probably,, but i def want to understand more about this setting bc there's so much that can be done with it, even if it's explained away with silly cartoon logic or something.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 23

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

The day is so close, too close, you checked everything multiple times, you asked Cub to check everything multiple times, you have never been this focused before. The association called you to tell you to relax, they have never done that ever... But you can't, It's not only your reputation on the line but it's Grian's too.

You want to make sure the invites are sent to the right people but Cub tells you he has already done that... You asked him if he was sure, he told you to sleep... you should probably do it but everytime you try the anxiety kicks in and you can't drit off.

In the end you do go outside to fight crime since It's your job and is also strangely relaxing but you still think about it, you can't help it, It's the first time something like this has happened and you don't know how things will go... It's scary. What if they don't like Cuteguy? He can be sarcastic but he's a good guy, he doesn't deserve to be hated if things go wrong. What if they stop liking you? You haven't worked this hard for this to be how you get fired.

You also make sure to check that It's not going to last too long, you don't want to talk for that long, short and funny you can do easily but long? That's just making it easy for the dyslexia to make you say something bad and Grian doesn't seem like the one to talk a lot about himself ... In general the less the two of you have to talk to the crowd the better....Cub must understand, surely, Cuteguy's inaguration needs to be perfect and nothing and you mean nothing can go wrong.

You will make sure of it.

*Grian's pov*

You can't wait for everything to go wrong, if Grumbot is as smart as you think he is, which is likely considering you are the perfect judge of character you know, then this is going to be fun.

You...well, you really don't think you could have lasted all that time doing nothing...much less give a speech, what would you even say?

"Thank you"? That's boring and weird.

"I would like to thank my parents and friends"? Too cliché and also weird in this context.

You will make sure nobody dies of course, that would be a pretty bad thing and also potential for a lawsuit but you'll definitely make a scene out of it otherwise...

In other news, Hotguy is scarce, you rarely see him in the building...which is weird considering how eye-catching is the color combination of neon blue and highlighter orange. The stress of organizing must be getting to him because his eyebags are pretty dark.

He runs back and forth a bunch and you do feel kinda guilty about planning to mess it up but at the same time... Well...uhh...You don't really have a justification actually, you just think this will be better. You'll make sure It's not going to go too wrong.

Eventually you decide to force him to calm down, you know that all this preparation will be useless anyway and his stress is somehow having the novel and unexpected effect of making you stressed with what can only be described as the emotional version of osmosis... Also known as empathy, a word which you totally did not forget.

And so plan, you lure him in with his favourite maple syrup and once he is distracted you force him to sit down.

"Hotguy"

"G-Grian? Why-"

"You have been doing too much... everything, you need to do less"

"But-"

"No buts"

"..."

"It's my inauguration and you have already done enough...do you think the association is going to rely on you alone to plan?"

"But-"

"What did I say about buts?"

The urge to make a joke there was so so strong but you stayed silent.

"..."

"Listen, I appreciate it Scar but all this moving around is making me very antsy... You also look like you need sleep desperately."

He fidgets in response, It's kinda pathetic really.

"Oh I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize"

He shuts his mouth immediately.. at least he's good at listening. Hopefully this intervention will work at...well, intervening.

"Ok!"

"So, you better stay here and relax Scar... before I force you to do so."

He looks worried about that, he goes red from worry which you didn't know was possible.

"But- right, no buts...sorr- I mean not sorry!"

"... Understood?"

"Understood."

He's still red, you are a bit confused by that but you decide to not question and leave him to do the resting.

[alienoresimagines]

*leaving this on your doorstep like a cat* [ NAP ] while receiver is resting, sender joins them in bed & cuddles up close ? If it inspires you 😊

Well, Ame, this is 7k words long so I'd say it definitely inspired me 😂❤️ Though Gale took "cuddles up close" in a different direction lmao

I hope you'll like it ❤️

“Hey, darlin’. Had a nice day ?” Because even if he knows, Buck still needs to be sure there’s nothing for him to fix, that John’s as happy as can be. After all he’s been through, John deserves all the happiness in the world and Gale will always strive to give it to him. He needn’t have worried though, for Bucky’s eyes, which have just opened to gaze at him adoringly, disappear in half moons from how wide he smiles, each muscle in his face taking part in painting Gale’s favorite view in the world. Upon seeing the happiness on John’s face, the last of his tension immediately leaves him and he all but melts in his embrace, front pressed to his side but chin resting on Bucky’s chest so he can still look at his face.

“‘Twas amazing, Buck. You should’ve seen them, gaping like fish, the lot of ‘em,” John grins blindingly up at him, his hand drawing circles on his back as the other gesticulates excitedly while he talks, and Gale is taken back to the picture in their hallway. The only difference is that now, 5 years later, he doesn’t have to keep the fondness off his face, so he doesn’t try. In fact, he leans up to steal a kiss, cupping Bucky’s cheek in one hand, just because he can, in the safety of their home miles away from anyone. He means for it to be just a quick peck, not wanting to cut Bucky off from his story, but the other seems to have other ideas since, when Gale pulls back to settle again, the hand drawing patterns on his back stops to press gently on his lower back, and John’s other hand flies up to hold his chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling him back in. They meet in a soft kiss, unhurried and gentle as lips slide together effortlessly, tongues barely grazing each other in the softest of caresses, John’s mustache tingling his upper lip in a delicious burn that he can’t get enough of. It reminds Gale of the warm summer breeze that caressed his face the first time he stepped off a fort he landed on his own. Like a “welcome home” without words. It settles in Gale’s bones with the comforting weight of love and care, leaving him content and slightly dazed as he pulls back for air.

He opens his eyes to see John in a similar state, pink lips slightly swollen and gaze unfocused as he stares at Gale. For all that Bucky still makes him blush as easily as if he were pulling a melody out of an instrument he’s played all his life, he always looks drunk on love, on Gale, whenever they kiss like that. It’s empowering in the best of ways, it makes him curl his toes in his socks to know that kissing him has that kind of effect on John, long after they’ve run out of firsts to check. It also still makes him shy and duck his face slightly, unable to resist the soft smile blooming on his face, though he does sweep his thumb back and forth under the skin of John’s eyes before retracting his hand. Resting his chin back on Bucky’s chest, he can feel the way the other’s heart hammers, contradicting John’s controlled breathing. His eyes haven’t left Gale but he clears his throat and opens his mouth, once, twice before any sound comes out.

Read more here :

Mota Masterlist

[itsyagurlchip]

Slides in

Heyyy poookieeeee

I have a request for you

I receive/request: a Vox x GN!Reader who died and is in hell and got magic thing because they were into the occult when alive. Vox is “mildly” intrigued because they’re making a splash in the pride ring. (I love the magic x tech dynamic, very silly)

You receive: Likes, reblogs, shit ton of support and me blogging tf out of the request. Me going insane over the request.

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Aw, Poor You, Go Suck It☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings: 16+(!) suggestive stuff(!) valentino(!) cussing(!) badass reader(!) lots of words(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩Ace...Ace my dear. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! AUGHH IM GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN WRITING THISSS AUGHHHHH-AJDKNJDEHWJDBIWXDNEHIDIWEHNDXZIM ok ok ok, since they'e only meeting there won't be too much fluff or anything really, just a simple scenario. The reader's gender wasn't specified, so go nuts! I LOVE YOU ACE/p <333

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You know how Vox acts up over people he likes? Ermm... yea, wellllll- Turns out, you're currently overselling his business AND you're hot. wait what?

Typing out documents at your desk, you sighed at the amount of paper work you had. 'Magic could do cool things, but not files' you guessed. Things around your office float around you in green magic, carrying out various tasks, like organizing said papers. 'But atleast I don't have to organize this shit.'

Suddenly, your double doors busted open, revealing a robot man? You pushed up your glasses a bit with a grimace. He marched in, electricity crackling around him as he stood up to your desk. He pounded a gloved fist onto your papers, making a brown to black singe appear on them.

You growled deeply, you just finished those!

"Did you schedule a meeting?" You said with a leveled voice. Sure you were pissed right now, but you didn't want to deal with much else this afternoon, nonetheless a petty fight with a bitch.

"No?" He said, the sparks going away in his bout of confusion. "You little- You're overselling my-" You cut him off.

"Then get. Out. Now." You flicked your wrist, with all the magic in the room dropping what it was holding, before speeding to the TV head who yelled in surprise.

"What? Fu- No!" He growled, the green magic tightening him into a stiff line, shooting him out to the room back to the elevator. He cursed profanities, the basic ones like whore and and bitch, as you rolled your eyes and shut your doors again. 'At least be creative and add the insults with flavor.'

Finally, quiet from a whining glorified crack ipad kid tablet.

"Jeez, the intolerable ass crouton." You sigh deeply, getting your anger together before getting back to work, typing and printing those papers.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

It was a week later, and nothing about the incident stayed on your mind. Infact, you were in your potion factory figuring out ways to outsell this new "love potion". Oh how you loved pissing corporate businesses off. No one even knew that you were running a "monopoly" by definition, as the CEO's of your multibusiness ran under many names.

'And those who know say nothing'. Those who were binded in contracts couldn't say anything, as they owe you from previous deals.

Your motto was; "Get the magic of a Sin, for the price of the poor". It may have been a bit deprecating, but it sells. Greatly.

Its always nice to see big man faces fall when they see that magic is often more superior in certain aspects of life. It's cheaper, more effective, and best of all; it sells more. That thought made a grin spread throughout your face. Maybe that's why you were cast into Hell; for greed. Either that or the demonic occult group you often participated in on the surface.

No matter, you were richer in this life so the past didn't concern you too much. You came into Hell not too long ago, so it became a surprise for many when you built your business in just a few weeks! You became an Overlord quickly.

With your business, and souls in your hands, you began to grow bigger in popularity! Which sparked interest in some unwanted people. It turns out, and you caught this one on the news, that the person who barged into your office was named Vox; The Innovation Overlord. And despite the "innovation" impact he's made, you still had way more clients than him by thousands.

Just as you were about to sprinkle some glitter into a bottle for a little decoration, one of your assistants rushed in with a rushed appearance, clearly shaken.

"Um, excuse me Mx. Alchemist Overlord? U-um, there's a message for you by a fellow competitor." She stuttered out, with her tail wrapping around her leg for stability. An envelope with a bright blue V was stamped with red wax. Interesting.

"From who?" You asked.

"...VoxTek Enterprises.." She cowered, as if you had something to worry about. Your smile grew, the afterlife just kept getting better!

"Thank you. You may go back to your desk now." You said with a smirk, patting her head as she walked away. You walked out of the room and into the hallway, walking towards the elevator. Strutting to your office, you closed your doors and sat down.

'Why didn't I just teleport?' You thought absentmindedly, leaning back in your chair and opening the letter. The entry read;

"Dear Alchemist..... I have a deal for you"

ᯓᡣ𐭩

You looked up at the VoxTek building. On the outside, you remained calm and leveled, with a small tinge of cockiness peeking out. On the inside, you were highly amused, and quite frankly, embarrassed for this guy. He has 2 other overlords on his side, and yet he still begs for power?

You huffed out part of a laugh, before skating your head and walking in. The place looked tacky to you. Really? The "V Tower"? This guy has to be stuck in his teenage years! It was too laughable really.

Sauntering over to the secretary, you were able to get the floor number as well as the meeting room location. Thanking her, you walked over to the elevator and pressed the highest floor.

'It seems he took my advice and scheduled a meeting.' You thought, looking up towards the camera in the corner. Oh, so the flatcreen flatass wanted to spy on you? You'll give him a show then.

You raised your head higher at the camera, lidding your eyes as slowly as you could. Taking your finger, you opened your mouth to drag it across your tongue. Pulling it away from your mouth, you let the saliva drip down onto the floor. The camera fizzled and powered down, with steam flowing from the top.

'Pathetic', you thought. And the elevator doors opened as a fluffy person in a pink robe walked in, looking tired out. A taller moth guy walked in right behind them. He was bald.

"Hello cariñe~ And what's a sexy tesoro like you doing here?" He said lowly, leaning towards you in interest. You simply ignored him as the doors closed once more.

"No answer? Ai, the feisty one aren't they Angel?" He said threateningly, talking to the other person who complied and agreed. You weren't phased. The door opened to the highest floor, signaling your leave.

"Puta." You heard him mumble, before the doors closed once I more. At least you know who Valentino is now. You scoffed before walking towards a door, with a gold label titled "Vox". This is the one for sure. Weren't one of the overlords a fashion designer? Surely they could've designed the building with more creativity.

You didn't want to touch the knob, not if that moth touched it, so you flicked your wrist as your green magic opened it for you.

Walking in, you realized you hated this building so much. The guy had sharks in tanks! In an electronic filled building. You sneered as you walked into the room rationally, not needing to make too much of a scene yet.

In front of you was the one you came here for; Vox. He had a bluescreen as his head rested on his shoulder. You snapped, and he jerked up- his face showing a loading screen.

'Oh for the love of-'

He was finally "online" with his face scrunching in confusion, before looking to you and smirking. You gestured for him to start, as you time was valuable.

"Right! So, the deal-"

"No"

"If we come toge- Wait what?"

"I said no, you glass backboard."

"Why?"

"You aren't worth my time, nor my product. Thank you for already wasting one of those." You turned to walk away before he teleported in front of you.

"B-But we can go so perfect together! Both of our businesses collaborating together!" He said, stepping towards you as he spoke. His tone was getting desperate and angry.

"So?" You said keeping your voice bold, his tone was pissing you off. It screamed "weak" and "dependent". You bet his whole enterprise could fall over if one of the "Heathers" went out of commission for a while.

"So- Partner with me! Not only would we look good together- I mean- You could have so much more sells! Imagine the cash that would flow in if the people saw magic and technology working together!" He grabbed your hands and put them together. He pushed you against the wall. "I know that magic doesn't fix all problems. Why not use technology to fill in the rest?" he was now in your face, one of his eyes swirling and enlarging. Looking at both eyes, you tched.

'Ha. Enlarging'

"You know what doesn't fix all problems? The setbacks you and your machines have." You snatched your hands back, wiping them on your coat. Flipping him on the wall, you poked his chest. "Sure, they make life easier. Whoopdy doo! But the moment the wifi turns off, it's lights out for you."

You could only hear his labored breathing. Was this motherfucker horny? You rolled your eyes and kept going.

"So who would look better? Me and my stable industry? Or you and your Lego built one?" You ran a finger down from his chest to his stomach. "All I need to do is pull. One. Piece. Out." You stepped away, walking towards the door once more. "Aw..Poor you." You frowned mockingly and looked him up and down, before laughing maliciously.

He was against the wall breathing heavily, with animated sweats rolling down his screen. Disgusting, couldn't even stay professional.

"Your business means nothing to me Vox." You said, walking through and going back to the tower entrance.

Vox was pretty sure he was hard right now.

I know you said mildly interested- but I couldn't help it! While I did want to relate Vox's dynamic with Alastor with reader's, it didn't feel too right so I took another approach!

I feel like this version of the reader has a sick love for power imbalance, and people wanting to reach the level that they're at. Despite that, they don't really care for people more powerful than them, they just mind their business on that part. Even more, reader is sex repulsed, so when they see others in their feel, they can't help but tease <3

I usually don't do time skips, so this also felt kinda odd- but I still loved writing this so much! I might actually write a fic about this. Thank you again for the request Ace <333 I hope you liked it!!

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[cerastes]

This might be too broad of a question and sorry if it is (also sorry if it's been asked before?), but I wanted to ask if there are any particular books you may recommend to someone learning about psychology?

Also what did Rosmontis do if I may ask

Rosmontis: here.

Psychology: I personally recommend learning about second-order cybernetics, in which the observer is circularly and intimately involved with/connected to the observed. The observer is no longer neutral and detached, and plays an active role in system. This is key to Brofenbrenner’s Ecological Model. Basically, this stands conceptually opposite to the Lacanian take on Freud’s psychoanalysis, as Lacanian purists will insist you exist as an extraneous entity to the focal point being observed. You, as a psychologist, are still human and a mutable, mutation-inflicting aspect of any life you wander into. The psychologist as an outside-above observer is a flawed concept in my opinion.

All this prelude is to say: Read Ludwig von Bertalanffy’s “Organismic Psychology and Systems Theory”, 1966, and get to know the General Systems Theory. One cannot work with one part of a system, micro or macro, if one hopes to truly help someone. What people often call “illness” tends to be symptoms of something else, and each person is a whole world.

Specifically about working with kids, I like Donald Winnicott’s works. “Playing and Reality”. Winnicott puts lots of emphasis on how creativity and play are incredibly good tools in understanding and communicating with babies and children, and this can and should be used alongside other techniques to create a platform of conversation, if needed, with older kids that for one reason or another struggle with conventional communication. Winnicott also proposes the “Good Enough Mother” theory, which is to say, the best parent/caretaker is one who is good enough to healthily provide for the kid in all areas, and still messes up or lacks some skills overall to provide children a safe, controlled space of adversity; it is through this safe adversity that children learn to be self-sufficient by learning to make up for what the caretaker lacks or doesn’t do perfectly. Overprotective parents, then, run counter to healthy development of the child, something that proves right more often than not.

Finally, Humberto Maturana’s “The Tree of Knowledge: The Biological Roots of Human Understanding”. This is also about second-order cybernetics, more focused on how we learn, the science of knowing how we know. You know how someone telling you “two plus two is four” is meaningless, but if you add two and two, you get four, and now that has any meaning to you because you got to that realization through internal processes that organically lead to the answer? Ok, you know how it does jack shit to tell a depressed person to think happy thoughts, but if lived experience and rationale eventually leads you to “life is worth living”, then that a life-changing effect on you? Well, it’s got to do with techniques on understanding this process and being an active agent in doing this with others.

I dislike psychoanalysis but it is worth reading Freud’s stuff, especially to understand where all of this comes from originally, and the technique isn’t necessarily bad as much as it was a technique used in a place and time that is not where and when we currently live. Second-order cybernetics is something I especially like in psychology, because of how closely it relates to actual lived experience. A simple example is, if you throw a basketball to the hoop, you likely will miss, but your second attempt will be closer, and the third attempt, you’ll likely nail it. This is because the previous attempts have given you input and information that you then incorporate to throw more accurately. This is first-order cybernetics as you are the sole, individual variable, but imagine you have a coach, and the coach isn’t teaching you in a way that helps. The coach then changes their approach to suit your way of learning how to handle the element (ball), so the observed system (you, ball, act of throwing, hoop) is now changing, but so is the system observing entity (coach), as observer cannot be separate from observed system if aiming to meaningfully change it.

These should set you out to a good start, in my opinion.

[statementlou]

i feel like i can talk to you about this because you have rational opinions. so louis bought a starbucks coffee at the airport and the fandom on twitter are eating him alive, calling him evil and wishing he goes to hell. i’m disappointed since starbucks is on the list of brands to boycott but i feel like this reaction is too much? someone even said jay would be disappointed in him, but people said that was taking it too far. i don’t know, i love louis and i’ll keep supporting him and his music but the fact he can be a careless millionaire is disappointing

1. thank you sweetie I would boop if I could 2. oh my god it's a fucking cup of coffee and if people think that's the worst thing Louis, a multi millionaire, has ever done financially they need a reality check! His money will be handled by bankers who are putting it into all kinds of evil fucking shit that he won't even know about, it's actually very hard to know or control that and there is no way trying is even on his radar. That's a passive thing and not on purpose; but the fact that people don't bother to know about that or care really speaks to how performative this kind of online approach to activism is, that they only care about image rather than effect (the effect of his investments would be easily thousands of times more than any number of coffees or even of the promotion Starbucks might get from him holding it.) But furthermore buckle in cause you hit a nerve: Starbucks isn't even an actual organized boycott target as concerns Palestine because THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT financially! The official BDS movement calls for boycott of very specific and pointed targets of which Starbucks IS NOT ONE it's literally just an online trend which is not the same as an actual boycott to materially impact a target! Losing them money is always great, they are a crappy union busting small business killing corporation, but it has zero direct effect to help Palestinians unlike supporting the meaningful boycotts called for by BDS. I don't think Louis has decided to buy starbucks because he has this analysis, but to me it's a pretty important point. Him crossing an actual picket line (playing Israel, playing Eurovision [lmaoooo that thought tho], waving an Israeli flag god forbid) would be a very different situation and something that would trouble me so the distinction matters to me. But I get that to people on twitter, that's what they feel like he has done. To which I would say...

There are so many fewer ways to help Palestine than we would wish, and it's SO hard to deal with feeling so powerless right now in the face of such horror, so I love that people feel so strongly about doing whatever they possibly can. But worrying about consumer spending, even on BDS targets, is perhaps the least effective of the things a person can do. Note that BDS boycotts do not mostly focus on asking people not to buy things; they list the products that are especially complicit, but the main work of the movement is to get large investors (corporations, public institutions, whole governments) to divest from the companies targeted because that actually hurts them enough that it becomes less profitable to continue to collude with Israel than to drop them as clients. Consumer spending is not enough to do this. It's easy and doesn't require doing actual work but it's basically virtue signaling, not organizing. Just NOT doing something (yes including voting) is not enough! I personally choose not to give my money to certain corporations because it feels bad to me and I can't stomach doing it, even if they never notice me doing it. But if I was running out of fuel and the only nearby station was a Chevron, I would spend a few bucks there and not beat myself up about it because it will have zero impact on their overall profit reports but a LOT of impact on my life. And if I was in the airport for the second time in mere days after circumnavigating the globe and playing a massive show and doing press and fan service before even having time to adjust time zones and about to get on another flight to another country I might buy a fucking coffee from whatever coffee shop was in there too! But Louis isn't me and I'm gonna be real honest I would be real surprised if he KNEW there was a boycott or gave a shit- he is not a political activist! It's reasonable to be disappointed if someone behaves not how you want them to, but just in general responding to being disappointed in people by lashing out at them is... not it. Not useful, not rational, and not actually an okay way to act to other people. Louis is an awesome sweet caring person who I believe tries hard not to have a negative impact on anyone directly and who cares very much about others; if that's not enough for someone to be a fan of him, okay then they should not be a fan of him! But warning: they're not going to be able to be a fan of anyone else either. No one is pure and perfect... maybe that energy would be better spent trying to make a meaningful difference in the world, and a great first step in that IMO is to recognize and challenge your inner cop. The better world I want to live in doesn't include policing other people, not on twitter and not anywhere.

[sturionic]

hey, you said your inbox is open and I was curious if you have any ideas for someone who can't get involved irl in things like protests and local antifa groups (physically disabled and incapacitatingly severe anxiety), and who can't get involved in online activism beyond reblogging stuff (personal reasons, difficult to explain)?

I've been considering trying to put together care packages for local unhoused people, but I'm poor and I'd have to convince someone to help me put everything together so idk how well that will go.

I don't want to sit around doing nothing.

Hey anon! I am very glad you reached out, and this is a question I get asked a lot by people IRL, so you are very much not alone here.

I think the first order of business is expanding your definition of activism. We have been done a great disservice by having activism framed for us as protests, charity, & singular heroes making speeches and changing hearts through celebrity. In reality, the smaller actions in your community have a much greater impact; and most of all, the things you personally have to offer make the greatest impact.

This diagram is specifically geared towards climate action, but really applies to all activism:

For you to be an effective activist/volunteer/community member, it's crucial to find the centre of that diagram, or else you're on a one-way ticket to burnout. Don't get caught up in trying to judge which is the most "important" activism, because that answer will be different for everyone. The most important thing you can do for the world is the thing you can do.

I've done lots of volunteering and volunteer management in multiple fields, and there really is lots of choice out there for things that suit you; anything from sorting files quietly in a back room to using computer knowledge (often VERY absent in community groups lol) to help with maintaining websites & promoting community events. One of my personal favourite volunteer shifts was acting as a helper to the organizers of a queer electronic music festival, running a "build your own synthesizer" workshop. Literally I was just ticking off names on a registration sheet and doing setup and fetching things, but it was one of the coolest things I've had the joy to be involved in.

The other plus here is that activists in a given city all usually have some social overlap. If you email, say, your local community centre, explain your interests & circumstances & skills, and ask what you could do - they might not have anything right that moment, but likely someone there will know a different group that needs something similar, or they'll have ideas for who you could try next. Even if you're not finding a lot online right away, have faith in the (slightly haphazard) offline community org social scene. Same deal if you get involved with something and realize it's not your thing after all - just be honest, and ask for help in finding something more suited to you. It's so, so common, and no one's going to get angry with you for wanting to help in ways you're better suited for.

Don't mistake me when I nudge you towards volunteering - there's a certain way that well-meaning (usually) liberals treat volunteering, like they're 'donating' their time as charity, and I am not advocating for that. I'm just saying that you really don't have to reinvent the wheel. There are structures in place run by people who know well how to do it. Part of the importance is the work itself; the file-sorting, the computer help, whatever. But another part is building connections with the people around you, and also letting those people benefit from the privilege of knowing you. And that will happen naturally over time. The muscle will grow as you use it more, even if you need to start with something that feels to you like it might not be enormously significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you move on to 'bigger' things, or maybe you gain new perspective and realize just how significant your contributions are after all.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #60 – Paved Paradise: How Parking Explains the World by Henry Grabar

This is a book I heard about because the cranky old communist who runs the local daily paper recommended it in some editorial I’ve long since forgotten the actual point of. Which is generally a very high-risk way to get book recommendations, but in this case it worked out! Though I came into this as the friendliest possible audience for the arguments Grabar is trying to make, so I’m genuinely not that sure how convincing a work it is for a less sympathetic reader. It is at least full of fun and somewhat memorable anecdotes.

The book is about, well, (almost) exactly what it says on the tin – the economics and politics and logistics of parking infrastructure in American cities. Specifically, how it is an all-consuming, economy-warping, environment-destroying, city-killing cancer that is the primary causes of decaying urban cores and the lack of affordable housing in gentrifying neighborhoods. The book is loosely organized, with each different chapter approaching the question of and ills caused by parking from a slightly different angle, or considering the history and psychology that has made it such a mighty force, or showing case studies of how different places have started fixing it.

The two main thrusts of the book are a) parking as an un- (which is to say privately-) regulated privilege and entitlement which the great mass of the American public expects to be provided for free (or for an at-most nominal fee) wherever they happen to want to go and b) parking as possibly the least efficient use of developed real estate in the world, and one that absolutely dominates most American cities.

The latter is a bit less interesting to me, just because it’s broadly things I either already knew or could have pretty quickly puzzled out from what I do. It’s still quite well-presented, and quite rage-inducing – the number of square miles of space set aside for the sole use of free parking on every urban street, the eye-watering amount of money cities spend and give up in revenue to subsidize driving and parking, the hundreds of thousands of units of housing whose economics don’t pencil out because of mandatory parking minimums or that are killed by neighbors and ‘community engagement’ out of (ostensible) concern over their effect on parking availability in the neighborhood, and so on. It’s all well-told, but none of it’s exactly groundbreaking (which Grabar is entirely forthright about, to be clear. A large chunk of the book is combination synopsis and advertisement for the older and more more rigorous The High Cost of Free Parking, also cited as one of the main reference texts).

The former is much more interesting reading for me, just because (as a lifelong and involuntary non-driver) the psychology of it is just a bit foreign to me. The sheer fact that so much parking is both free and unregulated means that instead of market pricing or government permitting all manner of fascinatingly dysfunctional private systems to allocate and ration it out develop instead. Fist fights and murders over stolen parking spots, the self-proclaimed vigilantes patrolling condo parking lots for anyone overstaying their welcome, outright criminal conspiracies and organized violence between ice cream truck companies over poaching each others most lucrative routes – many less morbid and attention-getting things too, to be fair, but it’s still all just fascinating. And if ‘explains the world’ is a bit much, does function as an excellent window into a great many neuroses and dysfunctions of American public life.

One of the points the book repeatedly hammers home is that ‘parking shortages’ are, except in a few extremely select neighborhoods, basically a myth. The parking is almost always there – the average American city has more free or subsidized parking spaces and lots than are filled (at least) 360 days of the year. Drivers just expect parking that is simultaneously no more than a couple blocks from their destination, available the moment they pull up, and (almost) free. Garages go half empty while thousands of road-miles are driven every month circling blocks looking for free spots – terrible for the climate, for the roads being driven on, and for traffic and the utility of driving through the city in the first place. Reducing or eliminating free curbside parking (either charging market-clearing rates, or using the real estate for loading zones or patio seating or any of a thousand other things that serve more people in a period than the same amount of parking) thus often makes traffic better, not worse.

This is very much a book written by a journalist rather than an academic, for both good and ill – not that it doesn’t seem densely researched or well-cited (the endnotes run north of 50 pages), but there’s definitely a prioritization of being approachable and readable over being detailed or rigorous. Hence every chapter having at least one and usually several interviews or deeply characterized anecdotes there to be case studies and examples. Sometimes this anecdotes are incredibly interesting and something I’d probably read a book entirely devoted to – the above mentioned New York City ice cream truck feuds, or the fascinatingly blatant and eye-popping amount of corruption around parking ticketing and violations also in NYC, or how the city of Chicago sold the right to operate all its parking meters through the end of the century to Morgan Stanley – but just as (if not more) often it’s just a few pages sketching a sympathetic portrait and life story of someone suffering the travails of some aspect of parking infrastructure so the reader will have someone to empathize with as the problem is described. A trick that does start t get old the more often it’s repeated.

The book’s long digressions into history were (perhaps unsurprisingly) more interesting for me than the contemporary anecdotes. Partially just because the evolution of things like the car garage and how public streets are conceived of is always interesting to learn more about, and partially because of just how long we have at this point known about things like ‘induced demand’ and the various morbid inefficiencies of car-first, -only and -always culture. Literally generations! It's bleak.

Though having said that, this was funnily enough one of the only works of nonfiction I can remember reading in a long, long time that ended on a positive note in a way that didn’t sound like transparent cope. As is mandatory in all works of pop-sociology, -economics or -poli-sci, this one also ends in a chapter or two of examples of Doing It Right and ways society can fix itself going forward. Grabar just actually weaves together a narrative through most of the book of a slowly-increasing pushback and growing political coalitions who are (in the book’s framing) more interested in cheaper housing and more usable public space than traffic jams and parking lots. The COVID lockdowns and sudden need for as much outdoor space as possible – leading to parking lots being repurposed as church pews, curbside parking as patio seating, and a dozen other things – serve as a case in point. The book ends reiterating the point that the USA’s most desirable and expensive neighbourhoods are very often the ones that are dense and walkable enough (and/or sufficiently well-served by public transit) to comfortably live in without owning a car, and the confident belief that such neighbourhoods are only going to grow more common.

All that said, Grabar’s actually much more sympathetic to the pro-car, pro-parking viewpoint than most authors or pundits I have seen make similar points are. Sometimes to a mildly cringe-inducing ‘no don’t run, I promise I’m normal like you!’ way, being entirely honest. But then, one can at least hope that it helps the book actually function as a persuasive text instead of so much elegant preaching to the choir.

[uboat53]

I had a few thoughts about the recent murder (targeted killing? assassination?) of the United Health Care CEO recently. I'll start with the most immediately related which is…

THE OBVIOUS

I think that this was an immoral act and I oppose it. The taking of human life is always wrong and it should only be done as a last resort to prevent even greater harm. This killing will not change United Healthcare's policies at all, whoever replaces him will likely follow exactly the same policies.

Whenever (and if) this person is found, they will be tried for their crime and, if convicted, punished for it, and I think that all of that is entirely reasonable.

With that said, we've spoken about the morality of the person who killed Mr. Thompson, but that's not the whole story because…

THE VICTIM

Mr. Thompson himself is hardly a beacon of morality. United Healthcare is widely regarded as one of the most vicious health insurance companies in terms of denying care in order to contain expenses at great human cost. Many doctors have recently been asked to estimate how many lost person-years of life UHC is responsible for and the lowest estimate I've seen runs into the millions.

Mr. Thompson was not UHC, but he was its CEO. He may not have personally denied a single claim, but he is responsible for creating and maintaining the system that has denied millions of them. He knew what the system he oversaw did and he took no action to stop it. He knew that the incentives he put in place and the training that he approved were leading his employees to turn down thousands of necessary medical requests each month and did nothing. He knew that the AI tool whose implementation he approved and oversaw had an error rate of up to 90%, resulting in even more necessary medical requests being denied, but he did nothing.

Again, none of this justifies murder, but anyone would be justified in questioning whether some punishment was necessary and what it says about our system that it was unable to deliver any. The reason for that is…

THE CORPORATE EFFECT

Has anyone else noticed that making a crime corporate lets you get away with it? If I dump thousands of gallons of toxic chemicals into a river in order to save a few bucks, I'm probably going to go to jail for a long time and be charged a fine that might take me the rest of my life to pay off if I ever do. On the other hand, if a person working for a corporation dumps thousands of gallons of toxic chemicals into a river to save a few bucks, the odds of them going to jail are extremely low and the corporation itself will probably end up paying a fairly small fine, probably less than what they saved by dumping in the first place.

Corporate crime provides a diffusion of responsibility. The person doing the dumping is probably part of a group and each person in the group probably played some small part in the dumping. The group that did the dumping is responsible to a manager who did not personally do the dumping and may not have explicitly approved it, and that manager is responsible to an even higher manager with an even more abstract responsibility over specific actions.

Which one of those people is responsible for the crime? Well, in a direct, legal sense, none of them, but in a very real sense, all of them. In this way, corporations function a lot like organized crime families where lower level individuals perform the actual crime and insulate higher level individuals from the legal consequences thereof except that, in the corporate structure, the responsibility for the action is diffused so far that even the lower level individuals are often protected from the consequences.

THE RESULTS

Look, it's not mysterious, we know what happens in these cases. There's a ton of good research out there detailing what happens in communities that are both under-policed and over-policed, and this is a case that is both under-policed (corporate criminals not being held accountable) and over-policed (those who cross corporations being prosecuted to the full extent of the law). These kinds of situations lead to vigilante action and if that vigilante action persists for long enough, those committing it coalesce into gangs which are even more capable of vigilante action than individuals are.

If the underlying problems remain unaddressed for too long and the police focus on the gangs instead of on the crimes themselves, conflict eventually develops directly between the vigilantes (gangs) and law enforcement.

There's also a long history in this in terms of class economics as well. We have a sort of romantic view of the Progressive Era in terms of how worker's rights were achieved and, while they were achieved partly through peaceful political effort, they also came about due to a surge of violence against the capital and managerial classes. The weekend and the 40-hour work week were not just magnanimously given to workers, partially they came about by convincing those in power of the humanity of these efforts, but partially they also came about because desperate workers were burning the houses of their bosses, sometimes even killing them, and some level of worker's rights seemed a worthwhile compromise in comparison.

In other words, this state of events is lamentable, but also predictable. The eventual solution is pretty predictable as well; something is going to have to give. If the Progressive Era is anything to go off of, there is only so much cracking down that can be done, so it's likely that we will eventually see at least some shifting of power from corporations back to individuals, i.e., from capital back toward labor.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Look, what the shooter did was wrong and he can and should shoulder the consequences of that, but we can't simply take the action in isolation. What Mr. Thompson did was also wrong, and likely far more wrong than just the killing of a single individual, just not in a way that our legal system has been built to address, and when wrongdoing persists in a way that our justice system is incapable of addressing, vigilante actions are inevitable.

When people say that they are conflicted about the morality of this particular act (or, as much of the internet is doing, celebrating it), this is what they mean. Just because the shooter's actions are morally wrong doesn't mean they aren't understandable. Unfortunately, until our system adjusts to be capable of addressing morally repugnant behavior like Mr. Thompson's, it's likely that more individuals will feel the need to take justice into their own hands in the future.

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken senses, and other ponderings

You know, every time I start to wonder if I’ve finally run out of things to coherently say on the whole “speculating about irken biology” matter, a whole something more is induced to hatch out of the dehydrated floam inside my skull. Between you and me, I think the eggs are triggered by ironic timing.

Anywho, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the world hypothetically through Irken eyes, and other sensory organs. Think I’ll go down them piece by piece, and to follow the pattern I’ve kept through my other Irken brain dumps, I will be drawing a huge amount of inspiration from real life arthropods. Yes, I’m very aware that realistically, any resemblance to earth insects would be coincidental from an alien species, and there’s plenty of room to make up whatever somewhat plausible explanation you can for any faucet of their anatomy. Personally, I like to run from the convergent evolution angle, since I find it no less grounded, full of potential connections the show itself all but begs me to draw, and just plain fun. Let’s get into it.

Also like towards the end there’s a whole section on the hypothetical edibility of Irkens because why not

Prelude: If you want to hear a little more behind my theory about the Irken diet revolving around sugar and a small portion of minerals, you can zip onto this analysis I did, in which I touch on some ideas of mine regarding the composition of Irken skin, their reaction to meat, etc. that works from the assumption that Irkens evolved out of an arthropod-like ancestor. Not necessary to get the gist of this one, but it is background context behind my thought process.

Sight

The Irken oculus is perhaps the most striking feature of the species, very much resembling those tiny crawling things they have been inspired by; however, it’s tougher to say exactly how far the similarity of their insides go. The eyes of most arthropods are in fact along the more simple branches of the evolutionary tree. We know that Irkens are not likely to possess compound eyes, like those found in flies and most other insects, because compound eyes are specialized for wide FOV ranges at the sacrifice of visual resolution quality. Instead, I see a much closer match to a fascinating exception or two found in Earth’s arachnids.

While most of them have utterly piss-poor vision, the hunting styles of jumping spiders necessitated a great deal of further specialization of the organs for depth perception, color differentiation, and sharp images. These are the purpose of those two huge shiners at the front (the other 6 boosting their range for detecting blurry peripheral movement and threats), and these are what bring their effective vision on a level much closer to that of familiar binocular mammals than their own six legged prey. Now I really think we are working with the base of what Irken peepers likely developed out of. One of the ways they have really diverged off is in the fact that while jumping spiders can only move their retinas, irkens seem as though they are able to move the lens of the eye themselves- or at the very least, Zim does, else the false pupils in his disguise contacts would not behave quite so convincingly. To speak about the lenses themselves, their eyes are not dry and exposed like most arthropods, speaking to a vulnerable sensitivity. They clearly have blinking eyelids, shed tears, and Zim even complains about the “scratchy” feeling of getting used to that part of his kid disguise.

(Funny sidenote: I’m like 90% sure that Zim did not have those contact lenses designed correctly for himself. Usually, if contacts feel that uncomfortable and keep falling off of the eye as easily as his do, it’s a sign of them being poorly fitted. This could be another symptom of his outdated/lower quality invader tech.)

Not only do Irkens have an assumed base vision resolution that seems more or less on par with human beings, but Invader elites are fitted with ocular implants that grant them a significantly greater advantage in this realm. We don’t know to a certainty how well improved an Irken soldier’s vision is, but Zim was confidently able, within seconds and under pressure, to pick out the area of town he lived in from what was miles away under night hours.

On the topic of night vision, I have a hunch that even without the cybernetics, these guys are adapted to see much better than we in dim to dark environments as well. Most of the early part of their life cycle is lived out in subterranean crèches. On the surface, daytime Irk is cast in a sunset red atmosphere. Oddly, a massive portion of their fashion and architectural aesthetics show a preference for these dark, warmer tones. Ruby is far and away the most common eye color in their kind. All of these facts suggest that warm-spectrum hues and pigments were incredibly common in the homeworld’s history, to point of indicating something about a cultural attraction to them- kind of like how humans put the color blue all over so much corporate branding and elsewhere. Zim’s favorite color has also been revealed to be purple. Most of all, given what I’ve seen of Irk’s, Blorch’s, and Devastis’s surface skies, AND Zim’s reaction to staring directly at the sun for more than a few seconds, I’m assuming that most Irkens are wholly unfamiliar with living in an environment as brightly lit as midday Earth.

I do think Irken eyes “glow” in the dark, but not in the emitting sense. Just more in the reflective one. This they would owe to a well developed tapetum lucidum, as seen in cats and deer and pretty much any animal to give off an eerie eye shine under the right lighting. To point back to arachnids, wolf spiders are speedy nocturnal murder machines with highly developed tapetum lucida, in their secondary eyes, at least. What I love the most about that is it makes it very easy to tell if you’re looking at a mother spider because her babies will give off the same eyeshine if you take a pic of one with the flash on.

Additionally, I won’t forget that sleep is no longer a necessity for our alien subjects. This alone gives them a major edge over any dinural race such as humanity. While Zim has his appearances to keep up during the day, the nighttime on Earth is actually when he is allowed the most free rein to work on his endeavors uninterrupted.

Sound

Ah, so this is the part where I rattle off the common theories we’ve collectively formed about Irken antennae as the replacement for an external ear, eh? Yes, but actually no…. jokes aside, it’s just no. I’ll get to the deal with antennae, but as you might imagine, hearing ability also varies all over the place in the insect world.

It is true that antennae play a large role in the hearing of some critters, such as mosquitoes, whose males use them to pick out the high frequency wing beats of nearby females in a swarm. Crickets, on the other hand, use sensory organs on their legs tuned to much lower sound ranges. There’s no one way to evolutionarily put together a sort-of ear, as well proven by the sheer amount of times it convergently happened in bugs and in how many creative ways.

They literally be designing themselves like me playing around in spore. If we’re not talking about that mosquito or honeybee example, then what we are referring to as an ear and most hearing insects is going to be an external tympanic organ. Most people who have passed high school biology would be able to recognize a visible tympanum in frogs- that circular thing right behind the eyes in most species, and understand it as their version of an ear drum. Many bugs’ tympanums are likewise thin chitinous membranes situated… potentially just about anywhere on the body (again, see above). This is what I think Irkens use as a primary hearing organ, in his case, probably situated on their heads in addition to the feelers. The latter organs I think would also be sensitive to general vibrations and subtler environmental cues, like wind direction and pressure changes, but the bulk of their hearing would be owed to the tympanum.

As far as the quality of their hearing, well, there’s not any sign it differs much from the human experience. Like us, they communicate through verbal language, and the existence of the “Dancing Arcade Game (but for aliens)” confirms at least a similar cultural propensity for music as an entertainment form. Zim is an outlier for the fact that he seems genuinely a little hard of hearing next to his kin, screaming as naturally as he talks and repeatedly mishearing (if hearing at all) people who are speaking directly at him. It’s clear something’s up with his hearing, but there’s no clear answer what and why. At first I was tempted to suggest something about sound passing much differently through the medium of earth’s atmosphere (kind of like how noise on Mars would sound muffled to us), but neither Tak nor Skoodge seemed to pick up the problem when they arrived. It really could be as simple as some kind of birth defect, or even glitches in how his corrupted PAK is processing the inputs it receives. Like many others, I want to imagine that his wig could be interfering too, since it covers the whole top portion of his head; as well, I noticed he has more of those incidents with it on than not.

Smell

Alrighty, NOW we can round back to focusing on the antennae, because this is actually the main thing our insects fine tuned theirs for. And when I say fine tuned- I mean fine tuned. Blood suckers that find their prey through the CO2 of their breath, flies that can pick up on potential food sources from miles away; In the land of the little, scent is everything. Beyond it being their main tool for exploring the environment for what to eat and what to avoid, chemical messages are the backbone of bug-to-bug communication. Pheromones are the divining rod of lonely spiders looking for a mate. They are the bugle of yellow jackets when rallying the nest to attack a threat, and they are the signals that govern about every single action an ant takes from adulthood until death. Obviously, Irkens are much more sight & hearing dependent than these comparisons, but they still have much more bodily specialization dedicated to this sense than we can relate to. For one, they are fastidiously hygienic. Like, “the care-bots from that really creepy episode of the Buzz lightyear cartoon” hygienic. We have yet to see any livable surface of Irk that is not sky to underground terraformed over in all-consuming metal infrastructure. There’s less than no sign of visible life besides the Irkens; ffs, there’s not even soil in sight. Not on Devastis, either. The Organic Sweep sounds like such a nice and pretty euphemism in the face of the actual horror of Blorch’s fate, and all to spare the boots of their military from touching even a speck of “unsavory alien filth”. They live in such a controlled and purified environment that I can’t even imagine the absolute assault on the senses Zim’s every day on our barbaric ball of dirt is. Over and over again he gives off the impression that the constant stink of this place is in fact his chief complaint about living among us. The majority of insults he throws toward humans relate to how they smell or the fact that he finds them “filthy”. We’re flat out nasty to him and I don’t blame him. Even relative to other animals, humans are especially RANK due to the combination of sweat, oils, and bacteria that coat our skin.

And believe it or not, I do think Irkens are in a position to talk shit in this regard. Zim is a really sweaty boi; however, I posed an idea back in that write up about Irken skin before- to summarize- that his kind maintain remarkably sterile cuticles due to the presence of a toxic chemical in their skin. This, I said then, could have been the key to Zim’s lice repelling trait, but I wasn’t so specific at the time about more than that. I got the idea from a group of millipedes that, when disturbed, can secrete hydrogen cyanide as a deterrent to predators. I like to imagine that Irkens can do a similar thing via sweating, not to thermoregulate like us, but as a stress response. It would at least explain why Zim seems like a very nervous sweater. Fun fact if you didn’t know, cyanide’s smell is similar to almonds.

I’m deadass telling you I think Irkens just smell like almond extract. Do with that what you will.

Touch

So, in writing this whole whatever it be, this part was the trickiest to come up with any productive analysis on. I’ve already guessed at what I think Irken skin feels most like (spoiler: hairless caterpillars) in the analysis I referenced up top. Zim being able to pass himself off as a human under the examination of the Skool nurse points to an average body temperature somewhere around our own. What I did find interesting while rewatching the series though was the sheer amount of pain tolerance on these invaders, except in one way. Can I extrapolate this fortitude to Irkens universally? Probably not! Zim is a member of the most elite of the most highly trained members of Irk’s military. I wouldn’t take what a seasoned veteran can handle and assume that’s the human floor in a nutshell, but our invaders CAN tell us quite a bit about their ceiling… starting with the fact that these bastards are ridiculously heat resistant. Irkens are a durable race broadly, but their reactions to extreme temperatures strike me as jaw-droppingly underwhelming, if anything.

Irkens DON’T like being engulfed in flames. It’s still a painful experience to them, but seemingly the kind they can pretty much walk off as soon as it’s over. Through explosions and fire we have seen Zim (and Skoodge) survive in one piece. We’ve seen The Massive take a whole dip into a burning star with no ill effects to the crew within. Most amazing to me was the time in Battle of the Planets when Zim willingly piloted Mars into grazing by the Sun at close range while trying to evade Dib. Totally exposed driver’s seat and he was no worse for wear after this.

Further in the comics we see this touched on in the Zimvoid arc. Zib’s favorite method of torturing the Zims under his training program was to torch them at random for sadistic amusement. Quite interestingly, though, Number 2 implies that their bodies do actually adapt to this treatment over time! Theoretically, Zims further along in the program have become all but invulnerable to fire entirely.

On the other hand, one of the truly most painful things Zim has been shown to experience is to have his skin chemically burned. It’s a strange sort of irony that Earth’s water would prove to be an incapacitating force to them in place of any inferno. He’ll smash his skull into the Voot’s windshield with enough force to pop out an eyeball and it’s whatever. Plenty of other things hurt, but he can power through. You turn a shaken can of soda or a bottle of bbq sauce on him and he’s just left screaming on the ground or screaming and running away. Whatever brutal sort of training he had to go through off world, it didn’t prepare him for this.

Taste

The perceptive side of this I think may not be too hard to figure out. Irken food, as alien as its actual composition could be, has been shown to be heavily analogous to human junk food. I hesitate to call what Irkens are scarfing down “meals” in the proper sense, because I’ve noticed that neither Zim nor his kin intrinsically understand the concept. When he’s trying to blend in as a human being, he puts a LOT of bizarre effort into convincing us that he, just like you inferior creatures, TOTALLY eats “food” on a regular basis like a normal person. When Irkens eat their own products, it’s all and only “snacks”. What follows is the conclusion that their eating habits are not structured into any schedule and that Irkens instead graze throughout the day as they please- and even possibly that eating altogether is more a recreation to them, instead of a necessary function to sustain life. Some fans have speculated that the PAK could provide an Irken with all of the necessary energy to survive absent of nutrition. I kind of want to contest this, given that caloric energy is only one purpose of taking in food… but it’s definitely the most immediate one. Nonetheless, they still eat constantly on screen and it all has to be going somewhere. Whether they need it or not, they still readily digest snacks (and presumably use those chemical building blocks to regenerate tissue damage) with a terrifying metabolic efficiency. Assuming that the resemblance of their snack foods and our leisure treats are not purely coincidental, one gathers that sweetness is the largest dimension of Irken cuisine. They are drawn most enthusiastically to carb-dense synthetic, plant, and possibly fungal matter in the same way that the human brain lights up at the prospect of fat and sugar-loaded meals. The flexible tongues of Irkens to me also resemble the nectar catching, segmented mouthparts of some bees. I would be willing to bet that they can taste salt, but jury’s out if it is something they crave, like us, or are repulsed by, like ants. That would have to come down to the scarcity (or not) of the resource on their home planet and whether or not desiccation was a serious threat in their natural history. In other regards, Zim shows strong negative reactions to most Earth foods, if not physically, than in his expressions. They definitely have powerful vulnerabilities to many human ingredients, and so are very sensitive to the presence of these toxins. I can’t imagine acidic or bitter substances are at all pleasant to them.

Now comes the much more interesting question I’ve thought way too long and hard about in the shower a time or two. Knowing that Irkens are likely a herbivorous breed, ergo, thankfully would have no interest in the consumption of the human race… what about the vise versa??? I don’t just want to know what they taste, but what would they taste like?

So, you’ve decided to mix it up for the thanksgiving dinner and forgo the same boring old bird for an Irken you have vanquished (via what I can only imagine was a freaking miracle of luck). What should you come to expect? Most importantly and I must emphasize this, the secret to preparing their meat is the same as Tolkien dwarves, you have to skin them before anything else. The separation of edible tissues from the cuticle is necessary to avoid ingesting the defensive toxins it contains. Even if the concentration is not enough to provide a danger to you, it could end up contributing an unpleasant, bitter flavor to the final product.

That done, discard the head and digestive organs. True as it may be that Irkens are wholly free of parasites, with a chance that the viscera could be edible, it’s not likely to taste that great and besides, do you really want to take chances with exposing yourself to an entirely foreign gut biome you have no immune adaptations to? And don’t even think about the brain- I don’t care how rare the infection rates are, alien prions are a big no. If you happen to run into any cybernetic implants during the cleaning, however, set them aside! They could be worth a small fortune in the right circles. But, for the purpose of eating we’re really concerned with the muscle tissues, a delicate white meat with a texture similar to fresh crab. The bones need not be wasted, and are fine to leave in, or can be boiled on their own to make a flavorful stock which can be added to soups or a delightful gravy. A surprisingly practical use of Irken bone could also be in the compost bin, being rich in chitosan and other powerful garden fertilizers. The flesh can do well fried, or roasted to a crispy exterior. The oven rule is the same as chicken, low and slow, to prevent drying out. Don’t be afraid to experiment with the gravy idea or marinades. The flavor profile of the meat itself would be utterly unique from what most of us are used to, comparable to a nutty crayfish. Savory, a bit of a sweetness, and a mineral hint that pairs quite well with mushrooms or rice.

I can’t recommend serving this to any guests with shellfish allergies in good conscience. If they insist, do so in caution and with knowledge of the risk of cross reactivity.

And there you have …. certainly a thing I did write and queue up for y’all!