Noise sculpture by Tobias Bradford.
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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One Nice Bug Per Day
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@muzzlesbian
Noise sculpture by Tobias Bradford.
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Maned Wolf
Katalina Krimson Wants to Try Human Flesh!! pages 124-131
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A Cop Is A Kind Of Human Trafficker, Or, Why Talking to the Liberals I Love Feels Like Grinding My Face Into Concrete
I was having a conversation with my dad a while back, and the subject of the police came up because my then girlfriend's abusive ex was squatting at her house and neither of us wanted to call the police. He knows I'm an abolitionist, its probably my single most vocal belief. And he says, "I know you've had bad experiences with cops but they're not all bad."
And thats when it occurs to me that he hasn't just disagreed with me during our past conversations on the matter, he literally was not listening. Or, he wasn't equipped to listen. I'll explain later on.
When I was arrested, I was not treated particularly bad by the police, and I've never claimed to have been. I was white, and I was in the closet. From the back of the van they loaded me into after cuffing me, I saw first hand how much worse they treated the black man they arrested on the way to taking me to jail, not even allowing him the dignity of stepping inside his home to dress.
When a liberal hears someone say ACAB, they think they're hearing someone say, in addition to being a police officer, every police officer is a bad person. They're all corrupt, they all beat their partners, etc. And thats closer to the truth than not, genuinely, but its still not what we have ever been saying.
Its not the fault of the acronym, that would be a goofy claim. But a more accurate one could be ACIAKOHT: A Cop Is A Kind Of Human Trafficker.
One of the main things a cop gets paid to do is traffick human beings to do forced labor. When they do this to trans women, this forced labor is sexual, it is sexual slavery, something that the vast majority of people I love will risk in every single interaction they are ever made to have with a police officer. Its a matter of policy, its called V-Coding, google it. Even in cases where no forced labor occurs, they are committing kidnapping.
I love my father, but he isn't equipped to understand this, even to understand that this is the position an abolitionist actually holds, no matter how directly it is stated, because he is white, cis, straight, and petit bourgeois. Every axis he exists on incentivizes him not to understand. Because to him, a cop is someone who exists to protect you and your stuff. Because for someone in his position, thats what they are. I could only hold a negative view of the police, in his mind, if I experienced some particular abuse at their hands. I didn't, except for the part where they kidnapped me. Which is what they get paid to do.
Every time I apply my oestrogen gel because of menopause I think "there is a trans woman somewhere who is also sitting in her underwear post shower waiting for the gel to dry before she finishes getting dressed" and I feel happy and a sense of kinship and camaraderie with her even though I am not a trans woman or even trans femme in anyway
But I know how to apply the gel because I saw posts from trans women how to apply it and I feel that even though are reasons for using it are different that we are not so different
So for any woman or non binary person out there who are sitting post oestrogen gel application and scrolling on their phone as they wait for it to dry...we are doing this together and this genderqueer person lovee you

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The pervert lesbian who is bad at getting hints is unsure whether this is a date or you're just being nice with her nose buried completely in your bush
give it up for girls with vaginas and boys with penises
pause i forgot cis people exist this was intended as a celebration of bottom surgery
problematic food chain gap
wanna nuzzle into someone’s hand like a dog

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Good morning kids today we'll be learning the extent of the cruelty that you are allowed to inflict once you find an acceptable target
Robot girl who refers to her bra as "tech support"
Her pronouns are she/IT
abandonment issues slayyyy
the bitemarks leaving cuddler would like to kiss you in many places very safe no chomps
She got the idea for the study while walking with her advisor at Stanford to discuss her thesis topic, and the paper she eventually published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology in 2014 is sharp enough that it should have ended the seated meeting on the day it came out.
She ran 4 experiments on 176 people. Same person tested twice. Once sitting, once walking. The creativity tasks were the standard ones psychologists have used for decades to measure how good a brain is at generating novel useful ideas.
81% of participants in the first experiment produced more creative ideas while walking than while sitting. In the second experiment, 88%. In the third, 100%. Every single person walked into a more creative version of themselves. On average, people generated 60% more novel useful ideas the moment their legs started moving.
The skeptical question is the obvious one. Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the scenery passing by. Maybe it was the change of environment doing the work, not the walking itself.
Oppezzo killed every one of those explanations with one experimental decision. She put people on a treadmill facing a blank wall. No scenery. No fresh air. No environmental change. Just legs moving in place while staring at white drywall. The 60% boost held.
Then she ran the experiment that closed the case completely. She took participants outside in two conditions. Half of them walked through a Stanford courtyard. The other half were pushed through the exact same courtyard in a wheelchair. Same outdoor stimulation. Same scenery passing at the same speed. The only difference was whether the legs were moving.
The walkers produced dramatically more novel high-quality ideas than the wheelchair group. The outdoors did almost nothing on its own. The walking did everything.
She also tested the opposite kind of thinking. Convergent thinking. The kind where there is one right answer and you have to narrow down to it. Word puzzles where 3 words share a hidden fourth word that connects them. The seated participants did slightly better on these. Walkers got slightly worse.
Walking is not a general intelligence enhancer. It does one specific thing. It opens up the divergent search inside your brain. The part that generates options. The part that produces unexpected connections. The part that takes a problem and finds five ways into it instead of one.
When you need to converge on the single right answer, sit down. When you need to find the answer in the first place, get up.
The mechanism is now well understood. Walking selectively activates what neuroscientists call the default mode network, the system inside your brain that runs when you are not consciously focused on anything. The DMN is where mind-wandering happens. Where memories cross-reference each other. Where ideas that have been sitting in separate folders inside your head finally bump into each other.
When you sit at a desk and force yourself to concentrate, you suppress the DMN. When you walk at a natural pace, the executive part of your brain gets just busy enough handling the walking that the DMN comes online and starts doing the work that focus was blocking.
The most useful finding in the entire paper is the one almost nobody quotes. The boost did not turn off the moment people stopped walking. Participants who walked first and then sat back down stayed elevated. Their next round of seated creativity work was still significantly better than people who had been sitting the whole time. The rest lingered for at least several minutes after the legs stopped moving.
You do not need to do creative work while walking. You need to walk before the creative work. The brain holds the state.
Edited down a long tweet. (x)

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reading books (especially adult fantasy, i think, though it extends to other genres as well) when you're aromantic is such a fucking minefield of inescapable doom because like. okay. imagine that you really hate cake--or, rather, that you just don't want to eat or bake cake. you respect other people who enjoy cake, you get why they like the process of making it, you just don't want to do it yourself.
and yet, you know exactly how to bake a cake and what every variation of cake could possibly taste like because in every single book you find interesting there is a cake recipe that takes up half the book. you pick up book summaries that seem promising and they instantly veer off into discussing the rich texture of a good sponge cake, or the creamy frosting of this author's favorite red velvet cake. you don't hate cake, you really don't, and maybe there are even a couple scenes of characters eating cake or discussing their latest baking ventures that you actually enjoy, but in the grand scheme of things, it just feels pointless because you literally cannot go five fucking pages without someone losing all their personality to repeat the same recipe for angel food cake you have been hearing about since you were ten years old and already sick of it. because, apparently, even when authors write characters who don't like cake, the book is STILL SOMEHOW derailing itself to discuss the novel idea of not liking cake every ten seconds INSTEAD OF BEING AN INTERESTING STORY.
and now writers are trying to create entire worlds where dragons are drawn to you based on what kind of cake recipes you've baked and what fucking color frosting your spiritual cupcakes are and you think at this point they MUST have lost the plot, surely this cannot be an applicable fantasy even for cake enjoyers, but you're WRONG because people are constantly asking you if you've read the new cake recipe featuring dragons because they know you like dragons and mean well so you can't just tell them that you'd rather die than read another fucking box mix cake recipe in your life. so you grit your teeth and go yeah i just don't think it's really my thing.
at this point, you've read enough cake recipes that you're pretty sure you could write your own damn extended frosting scene. but you still, after all these years, do not want to bake a fucking cake. and no amount of 50 page, in-depth baking grease scenes or descriptive frosting decoration will ever close the gap between you being constantly reminded that you fundamentally cannot relate to anyone describing the taste of cake. readers want to see the same box mix cake reheated another time because they're waiting to see if the author will add a dash of vanilla, or perhaps cinnamon this time, trying to guess what will change the flavor of the cake in the end so that they can imagine eating it themselves, and all of it is functionally useless to you because, again, You Do Not Want To Eat A Cake Ever Even In Your Imagination. and sometimes the author will insist that Baking Is What Makes Us Human and that it's The Most Important Thing In The Universe and you'll have to sit off to the side like well i don't think that's true, personally, because i do not like cake, but i guess i can understand how someone would maybe reach that conclusion. maybe they were talking about pastries or muffins. but even then you're still annoyed about the implication that People Who Do Not Like Baking Are Not People when you, in fact, know people like that.
now imagine this is ON TOP of everyone else constantly talking about their new cakes and their favorite cake restaurants and what they've been baking recently in your REAL LIFE and you will have created a maddening facsimile of the real aromantic torment nexus. if i see another fucking summary end with the words "dangerous attraction" or "will she find the strength to not kiss that sexy man" i don't know what i'll do. bake a cake probably