#Department of Neurosciences

[minilibrarian]

This week I had the privilege of visiting the oldest federal library in the country! I got to see some really cool historical documents up close (a chronicle signed by Thomas Jefferson, a pamphlet written by Alexander Hamilton, & George Washington’s personal dictionary) and learn more about the library’s unique, global work. Who says field trips should end after K-12?!

[luxe-pauvre]

Have you seen https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/andrew-huberman-podcast-stanford-joe-rogan.html ?

Yes. Today has been a day of notifications.

"A spokesperson said, “Dr. Huberman is very much in control of his emotions.”" is an absolutely incredible sentence.

[jcmarchi]

Three MIT professors named 2024 Vannevar Bush Fellows

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/three-mit-professors-named-2024-vannevar-bush-fellows/

Three MIT professors named 2024 Vannevar Bush Fellows

The U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) has announced three MIT professors among the members of the 2024 class of the Vannevar Bush Faculty Fellowship (VBFF). The fellowship is the DoD’s flagship single-investigator award for research, inviting the nation’s most talented researchers to pursue ambitious ideas that defy conventional boundaries.

Domitilla Del Vecchio, professor of mechanical engineering and the Grover M. Hermann Professor in Health Sciences & Technology; Mehrdad Jazayeri, professor of brain and cognitive sciences and an investigator at the McGovern Institute for Brain Research; and Themistoklis Sapsis, the William I. Koch Professor of Mechanical Engineering and director of the Center for Ocean Engineering are among the 11 university scientists and engineers chosen for this year’s fellowship class. They join an elite group of approximately 50 fellows from previous class years.

“The Vannevar Bush Faculty Fellowship is more than a prestigious program,” said Bindu Nair, director of the Basic Research Office in the Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Research and Engineering, in a press release. “It’s a beacon for tenured faculty embarking on groundbreaking ‘blue sky’ research.” 

Research topics

Each fellow receives up to $3 million over a five-year term to pursue cutting-edge projects. Research topics in this year’s class span a range of disciplines, including materials science, cognitive neuroscience, quantum information sciences, and applied mathematics. While pursuing individual research endeavors, Fellows also leverage the unique opportunity to collaborate directly with DoD laboratories, fostering a valuable exchange of knowledge and expertise.

Del Vecchio, whose research interests include control and dynamical systems theory and systems and synthetic biology, will investigate the molecular underpinnings of analog epigenetic cell memory, then use what they learn to “establish unprecedented engineering capabilities for creating self-organizing and reconfigurable multicellular systems with graded cell fates.”

“With this fellowship, we will be able to explore the limits to which we can leverage analog memory to create multicellular systems that autonomously organize in permanent, but reprogrammable, gradients of cell fates and can be used for creating next-generation tissues and organoids with dramatically increased sophistication,” she says, honored to have been selected.

Jazayeri wants to understand how the brain gives rise to cognitive and emotional intelligence. The engineering systems being built today lack the hallmarks of human intelligence, explains Jazayeri. They neither learn quickly nor generalize their knowledge flexibly. They don’t feel emotions or have emotional intelligence.

Jazayeri plans to use the VBFF award to integrate ideas from cognitive science, neuroscience, and machine learning with experimental data in humans, animals, and computer models to develop a computational understanding of cognitive and emotional intelligence.

“I’m honored and humbled to be selected and excited to tackle some of the most challenging questions at the intersection of neuroscience and AI,” he says.

“I am humbled to be included in such a select group,” echoes Sapsis, who will use the grant to research new algorithms and theory designed for the efficient computation of extreme event probabilities and precursors, and for the design of mitigation strategies in complex dynamical systems.

Examples of Sapsis’s work include risk quantification for extreme events in human-made systems; climate events, such as heat waves, and their effect on interconnected systems like food supply chains; and also “mission-critical algorithmic problems such as search and path planning operations for extreme anomalies,” he explains.

VBFF impact

Named for Vannevar Bush PhD 1916, an influential inventor, engineer, former professor, and dean of the School of Engineering at MIT, the highly competitive fellowship, formerly known as the National Security Science and Engineering Faculty Fellowship, aims to advance transformative, university-based fundamental research. Bush served as the director of the U.S. Office of Scientific Research and Development, and organized and led American science and technology during World War II.

“The outcomes of VBFF-funded research have transformed entire disciplines, birthed novel fields, and challenged established theories and perspectives,” said Nair. “By contributing their insights to DoD leadership and engaging with the broader national security community, they enrich collective understanding and help the United States leap ahead in global technology competition.”

[girlypsyop]

AHHHHH!!!!!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dreams

Dreams - images, emotions, or sensations the brain produces during sleep.

While dreaming can occur during any stage of the sleep cycle, rapid eye movement sleep (also known as REM sleep) produces the most memorable and vivid dreams.

There are many types of dreams, including healing, prophetic, recurring, lucid, and nightmares.

You can have multiple dreams per sleep session, which can be as short as 10 seconds and as long as 45 minutes.

Types of Dreams

People can have several types of dreams. While the possibilities are limitless, some common categories include:

Flying dreams: Many people dream they can fly. These dreams are often pleasant and even euphoric. Dreamers might associate these dreams with sensations of freedom, fearlessness, and empowerment.

Lucid dreams: The sleeper becomes aware they are dreaming while in a lucid dreaming state and can retain some control of their body and thoughts within the dream.

Nightmares: These are fear-inducing dreams. In this case, the dream state might be the brain’s way of processing daily stressors. Common causes of nightmares or bad dreams include poor eating habits, traumatic events, illness, sleep deprivation, sleep disorders, or medication.

Prophetic dreams: In prophetic dreams, people see future events occur before they happen in real life. Some believe these dreams mean a person has predicted the future, while others believe prophetic dreams are the subconscious preparing you for a likely outcome.

Recurring dreams: These are dreams a person repeatedly experiences over a sleep session or multiple sleep sessions. Recurring dreams contain the same or similar imagery and sensations in prior occurrences and can also occur as recurring nightmares. Various theories suggest that recurring dreams result from risk avoidance, internalized fears, or other unresolved issues.

Stress dreams: Another common dream phenomenon involves stress. While not outright nightmares, stress dreams are often tense and unpleasant. Many people report dream content that involves tests for which they are unprepared or other situations that are confusing or difficult.

Dream Theories

There is no clear scientific explanation for the function of dreams, but there is a range of theories.

Sleep expert Matthew Walker says, “The origin of dreams or the belief of where dreams come from has a very storied history and past.”

The study of dreams is a large and growing field of scientific inquiry, and theories continue to emerge from neuroscience, psychology, psychiatry, and cognitive science.

Some notable examples of dream theories include:

Emotional processing: One theory is people dream to process emotions. Dreams can often be emotionally charged, and by dreaming, people might work through emotional challenges and better prepare themselves for the difficulties of everyday life.

Learning assistance: Some researchers suggest the purpose of dreams is to learn new skills and sharpen problem-solving abilities. When a person focuses on learning a new skill or working through a challenging problem, they might dream about the activity to help them complete the task.

Memory consolidations: Another dream theory holds dreams are instrumental in forming new memories. While the precise mechanism remains mysterious, some sleep experts believe dreaming in the REM stage helps the brain consolidate short-term memories and store them as long-term memories.

Mental organizing: Some sleep experts believe dreaming is a way to organize mental space. During sleep, a person’s mind sifts through the sensory data they encountered while they were awake, making important neural connections where necessary and editing out extraneous information.

Otherworldly communication: Many religious traditions maintain dreams are a way to connect with other worlds or dimensions. Many believe dreamed encounters with departed loved ones contain great significance. “Back in ancient Roman and Greek times, they believed that our dreams were being gifted to us from on high, from in the heavens, from specific gods,” Matthew says. “And then other cultures, for example, Eastern Asian cultures, believed that dreams were coming from somewhere in our soul, perhaps somewhere in our body.”

Random noise: Some researchers believe dreams don’t have any particular purpose and are a byproduct of an active brain. This random brain activity might not have any other special purpose.

Unconscious desires: Austrian psychotherapist Sigmund Freud’s theory posits dreams are expressions of the unconscious mind’s desires. If people cannot express desires in their waking life, the unconscious mind might enact them as fantasies during sleep. “[Freud] made, in some ways, the science of dreaming a brain science [or] a neuroscience,” Matthew says. “Because it was Freud who suggested that it was somewhat in the mind of each of us that our dreams were coming from. That was the repository of dreaming.”

How to Remember Dreams

Everyone dreams at night, but few people can remember their dreams. Consider the following tips for recalling your dreams:

Establish a good sleep routine. Having a regular bedtime and waking time is a good way to practice healthy sleep hygiene, which might help you recall your dreams.

Focus on recall right after waking. The memory of a dream fades fast, so you are most likely to recall your dreams right after you wake up.

Keep a dream journal. By recording your sleep stories in a dream journal, you will build a habit of recalling your dreams more often. As you write down the details of your dreams, you might strengthen your ability to remember even more.

Wake up gently. If you wake up abruptly, you are likely to jolt into your waking mindset, and any fragments that might remain of your dreams will quickly disperse. Try using an alarm clock that has gentle sounds. Soft, low-volume music or voices can also assist in a smoother transition to waking life, making dream recall easier.

“Dreams are visual. They're filled with motor activity. We tend to be doing things. Are they filled with past autobiographic memories? Yes, very often. Are dreams sometimes emotional? They can be, very much so. Are dreams irrational, illogical, or bizarre? Yes, very much. And so brain science has given us the first neural evidence for describing the way in which we experience this strangest of all things called the dreaming state.” — Matthew Walker, neuroscience professor

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[comphy-and-cozy]

Teacher's Pet - Adrian Kempe

Pairing: professor!Adrian x student!Reader (f)

Summary: On your farewell tour at USC, you visit your favorite professor one last time before you graduate.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Age gap, forbidden/taboo relationship, a little bit of faux bribery. Smut (18+ ONLY). Semi-public/risque sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie. The usual.

Masterlist

The warm, April Los Angeles sun shines down on your skin. Blossoming Magnolia trees line the brick-paved path; underneath them, students gather on knit blankets on the neatly trimmed grass. Spring on USC campus is one of your favorites. It’s one of the things you’re going to miss the most when you graduate in just a few short days, finally receiving the most expensive piece of paper you’ll ever own.

Adjusting the canvas bag over your shoulder, you suck in a deep breath of fresh, California air. As you admire the beauty of the campus you’ve called home for the last four years, your mind drifts to the man that sits in your final destination.

He’s only 30, the youngest professor you have by at least a decade, but he’s still almost a decade older than you. He’s smart, he’s well-spoken, and he’s gorgeous.

You first met Professor Kempe when you took his Behavioral Neuroscience class your junior year. Of course, there was a running joke that Professor Kempe was the heartthrob of the Psychology department—and for good reason—but your crush really grew when you became his student.

Now, almost a year and a half later, you’ve taken three more of his classes (he is a really good teacher), including your capstone class which you conveniently just turned in your final for two days ago.

You’re going to miss Professor Kempe: his accented drawl, neatly trimmed facial hair, that sexy man bun that accentuates his high cheekbones, the dark ink that peeks out from beneath his sleeves. He has genuinely become your favorite professor, but you’d be lying if you said that it’s just for his academic prowess.

It’s safe to say you have a crush on your professor. Innocent in the sense that it’s harmless, though quite the opposite could be said for the less-than-sterile thoughts you’ve had about him. It happened gradually, starting with a flush in your cheeks when he’d look at you and a familiar flutter of anticipation stepping into his classroom, until you found yourself daydreaming—fantasizing, really—about him during class, those thoughts leaking their way into your bedroom late at night.

Your heart thudding in your chest has nothing to do with the trek across campus as you approach the large brick building. Your feet take you down the familiar hallway, admiring the art on the walls and reminiscing on the countless times you’ve walked through this building before. You’ve never been to your final destination, though, the wing of offices at the far end of the building, and you read the name plates on the wall until you reach the one you’re looking for.

A. Kempe, PhD Psychology

He’s deep in the throes of an essay for his Human Sexuality class when he hears the gentle knock. Marking his place with a sticky note, he clears his throat before calling, “Come in.”

Your smile is shy as you open the door. His hair is tucked into a bun at the back of his head, though a few strands have fallen out of the hair tie. Your eyes move straight to his exposed forearms where his dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos covering his right arm before clearing your throat and asking, “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he says, setting his pen down and looking up at you. “I always have time for you.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. He always makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“I read your paper,” he says, gesturing to the stack of papers in a folder beside him.

Your eyebrows raise. “And?”

“It was one of the best written research papers I’ve read in four years of teaching.” He says it with a small smile and a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. Pride swells in your chest and your lips curl up in a grin.

“Really?”

“Would you like to read the comments I wrote?”

Earnestly, you nod, and he searches through the stack of binder-clipped papers before finding yours and handing it to you. Blue ink is scrawled in the margins, various sections bracketed and underlined, and he watches you read his annotations with a tentative smile. While he waits for you to finish, he takes the opportunity to study you.

There’s been the occasional student who has caught his eye, more than a handful showing up to office hours with batted lashes and suggestions of a private tutoring session. Despite their false sense of subtlety, he knows the effect he has on some of his students. But none of them have ever truly tempted him enough to risk the potential repercussions of engaging with a student.

Until you.

You’re intelligent, with bright eyes and big thoughts. A model student, you’re organized, timely, and consistently bring constructive and thoughtful discussion to class. And, there’s the fact that you’re a 22-year-old college student, with all of her youth yet before her; he’d have to be blind to say you aren’t attractive.

And he’d have to be stupid to not want to fuck you.

He’s pretty positive you’ve been teasing him on purpose for months. Hair and makeup done for every class—when he’s seen you around the department much less done up, though still just as attractive. It’d be difficult not to notice the way your eyes linger on his for just a few moments longer after you’d ask a question or bid farewell to him after class.

And the skirts. Fuck, those damn skirts. Ever since the weather got warm enough to wear them, you’ve been prancing around in all kinds of outfits that show a distracting amount of leg. As much as he enjoys when you sit in the front row, seeing your big, inquisitive eyes gazing up at him, he curses how difficult it is to avoid staring at your skin.

You’ve been driving him mad.

And now here you are. Today, your skirt is plaid and painfully—impossibly—short. Bare legs bloom beneath the fabric that he can’t help but imagine wrapped around his waist. You’re wearing a thick knit USC cardigan, a sliver of your white tank top peeking out from where the top two buttons are undone.

“Wow,” your voice says, pulling him out of his internal reverie. His eyes flick to yours, a broad grin on your face. “Thank you, Professor Kempe. This is really… I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a nod. “And you can call me Adrian.”

Adrian. You repeat his name with a smile. He likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth.

“But I don’t think you came here just to read my chicken scratch.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “I’m just dropping off some gifts for my favorite professors before I graduate. I saved the best for last.”

Adrian’s smile is feline. “I’m flattered.”

Your cheeks warm again as you hand him the gift bag, scarlet with gold and white tissue paper. The gift—a leather folio, with his name embossed in neat, gold text, and a candle that you made at a sorority sisterhood event—makes him smile.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is really generous of you.”

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you say, resting your hip against the edge of his desk. “You’ve really enriched my time in this program. Your class was easily one of my favorites that I took.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s always nice to know you’re appreciated by your students.” He swears your eyes flash when he says it, like maybe you’re resisting the urge to say whatever it is that popped in your head.

You hum, unbuttoning your USC cardigan. He does his best not to stare at the exposed skin of your chest and the shadow of cleavage. Then your eyes move back to the ink on his arm. “I’ve never seen your tattoos before.”

Out of instinct, his hand moves to touch his forearm. “Oh, yeah. The dean prefers that I keep them covered up in class.”

“I think I prefer you better this way,” you say. “They suit you.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken just slightly at your words. There’s a brief hesitation in the air, a silent question as he debates the intention behind your statement. An innocent compliment, or something more? Paired with your choice of attire and the way your voice has dropped to a sultry sort of purr, he’s inclined to believe the latter.

It’ll be important to proceed with caution.

“You think so?” he asks.

You nod before you’re leaning over to brush at the skull with your fingertips, admiring the shading. His skin is warm beneath your touch, though you note the fine dusting of goosebumps that trail in your wake. “I like this part the best. The shading is really well done.”

Professor Kempe’s amused chuckle comes in the form of an exhaled breath. His dark eyes, so powerful, look up at you through his lashes. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs.

“Do you have any? Tattoos?”

Another nod, and you’re pulling your hand away. He feels coolness on his skin from the place where your fingers just vacated. Then, you’re letting your cardigan slip off your shoulders and he can feel his pulse leap into his throat before you angle to show him the wildflowers on your shoulder blade. “For my sisters.”

“Very sweet,” he says. “Do you have any others?”

Your smile turns coy and he can see in your eyes that you’re hurtling towards an invisible line in the sand, with no sign of stopping. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t make fun of you. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” you say, holding out your pinky. It’s silly, a college senior just days away from crossing the stage and graduating, asking her professor for a pinky promise, but he finds himself wrapping his own pinky around yours anyways.

You step around the desk, coming to stand beside his chair until you’re within arm’s length. Turning around, you lean forward slightly and he has to use every ounce of self-control in his body to not look at the fluttering hem of your skirt.

And then you lift your cardigan and he nearly chokes on his own breath when you reveal the tender skin just above the waistband of your skirt. A simple butterfly floats there, and he lets his eyes trace over the details of the wings.

“I got it when I was eighteen,” you explain. “Freshman year. A bunch of us from my dorm went during welcome week.”

Professor Kempe hums and you turn back to face him, feeling the heat from his gaze still burning into your back. “Do you have any others?”

He clears his throat. “This—this is a full sleeve,” he says, gesturing up his arm.

“All the way up here?” you ask, feeling bold enough to trail your finger up his bicep to his shoulder. His eyes are practically black, like pools of molten lava. He glances at the door to his office, which you’ve left partially open. Following his gaze, you say with a quiet whisper, “I can be quick.”

He stands then, rising to his full height, and your heart flutters in your chest at the way he towers over you. Stepping away from you, he walks toward the door and your heart sinks, preparing yourself to be ridiculed and ordered out. Hot shame washes over you.

This was foolish, you think. And stupid. What if he reported you? What if you got expelled before you had a chance to graduate?

But then you hear the door close. And lock. Your head shoots up, looking at him as he turns back around to face you. He’s back in front of you in a few short strides, his voice low as he murmurs, “I don’t want to be quick.”

He doesn’t give you time to moan at his words before he’s surging forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss. It catches you by surprise, but he isn’t deterred, and it only takes you a beat before you’re kissing him back, pressing your body into his. His lips are soft despite the harsh intensity of his kiss, teeth grazing over your lips and seeking entrance to your mouth with his tongue.

You allow him in, and his hands find purchase on your hips, tugging you closer to him as he kisses you deeper. The kiss is desperate, almost frantic, like you both need to make up for lost time. His frame is tall over yours, caged between his body and his desk. When he feels you meet the resistance of the wood surface, his hands lift you onto it. Without a second thought, your legs spread for him and he steps between them.

A hand reaches up to support the back of your neck while his mouth moves along your jawline, over the pulse point behind your ear, down your neck. A moan slips out when he bites down on the tender skin, the sensation enough to make your toes curl.

“Professor,” you sigh, and he groans deeply into your neck. He likes the way you call him that.

You shrug off your cardigan, exposing more skin in the hopes that his lips will explore more of your body. He does, mouthing his way over your collarbones, sucking bruising marks along his path. Behind you, his free arm swipes at the stack of papers and his planning book, sending them crashing to the floor. Between the pressure of his kisses and the gentle guidance of his hand on your back, he eases you down until you’re lying across the surface of his desk.

Before he can pull away, you tug at the hem of his sweater vest, pulling the material up his torso. You need to see, feel, touch more of him. Painstakingly, he tears his own hands away from you to lift his arms over his head and allow you to pull the knit garment off his frame. A worn, white button up is all that’s left, and you realize you’ve never had such a thin layer of fabric between you and him.

The way your hands run up his body is sinful, your touch hot through the thin material. He resists the urge to shiver, instead channeling his energy at drawing his own heated caress up the bare legs he’s been doing his best not to stare at since you walked in his office. They’re soft, sinfully sexy, and he feels like he’s drunk as his hand moves up underneath your plaid skirt, meeting the delicious handful of ass that waits for him there—God, how long he's dreamt about your ass.

The action elicits a delicious moan from your pretty throat, and he can’t help but repeat it, massaging the flesh with a large hand. Your spine arches into his body, every nerve seeking out more; your senses are on fire, adrenaline coursing through you in your forbidden tryst with your professor.

Large hands tug your hips toward the edge of the desk, the apex of your thighs bumping directly against the tent in his khakis. It’s embarrassing how loud your moan is just from the gentle brush against your center, but Professor Kempe’s fingers tighten their grip on your waist. You can feel the way his lips curl up into a smile against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face. “Been thinking about this for a long time.”

It’s your turn to smile, your laugh exhaling into his mouth. You let your hips roll, grinding yourself against him. “Yeah?”

A purr sounds from his throat, his strong hand gripping your hip to cease your movements. He pulls away to give you a silent reprimand, an expression which you can’t help but innocently shrug at. His reply is to trail wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, chest, all the way to the patch of skin between your tank top and your skirt.

He hears the way your breath hitches, smiling to himself before glancing up at you from between your legs. When he finally does push up the hem of your skirt, you let out a full laugh when he freezes.

Adrian was expecting to see white lace, maybe a red g-string if he was lucky, but instead he finds himself face to face with a bare, naked, dripping pussy. And fuck, if it doesn’t look like the most appetizing dessert he’s ever had.

“Fuck.” He leans forward, dragging wet kisses along the inside of your thigh. Your breath catches in your throat, pussy throbbing at his proximity to where you want him most.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts you.

“You can’t expect me not to eat this cunt after all those times you ‘forgot’ to wear panties to class.” His voice is stern and his words draw more heat to your cheeks, called out for your antics.

“I just wanted to get your attention.”

Hot breath teases your center, making you shiver. Your back arches off of the desk, desperate for something—anything. From between your thighs, two brown eyes peer up at you. The desire inside them is molten, and you have to actively resist the urge to melt.

“You have it.”

Though you didn’t notice anyone else in their office, you aren’t confident in the wall’s ability to muffle any sound, so you’re quick to slap a hand over your mouth when you cry out after feeling his warm tongue swiping up your center. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take him long before he’s tongue-deep, moaning at the taste of you.

When you thought about this before—because you definitely had—of course you imagined he’d be incredible at oral sex. But realistically, you knew, he was a straight, white man and the odds were low that he would blow your mind with that gorgeous mouth of his.

You’ve never been more wrong. He eats you indulgently, like you’re a five-star, award-winning dessert at a Michelin restaurant in the swankiest part of Los Angeles. It’s sinful, the way his mouth licks and kisses and sucks—no, slurps—at your essence*. The shaggy hair of his beard scratches deliciously against your most sensitive area, combining with the soft, smooth movements of his tongue to have you grasping frantically for the edge of the desk.

It doesn’t take long before you’re gushing against his face, cries muffled by your own knuckles between your teeth to stifle the sound of your orgasm. You’re sweeter than he expected, like a deliciously sweet treat from the ice cream truck on a hot summer day, melting underneath his touch just like a popsicle.

Professor Kempe rises to his full height, his chin glistening with your nectar, and you have to swallow your moan at the sight. You sit up and slide off of the desk, moving to standing in front of him. Molten eyes look down at you, and you press your palm against his zipper, watching the flames flicker in his irises.

“You want it?” he asks. “Student hot for professor.”

Pressing up on your toes, your tongue sticks out and you lick up the juices on his chin on your way to his lips. Your tongues meld together, sharing the taste of your orgasm in a searing kiss. His breath catches in his throat when you give him a squeeze, rubbing your palm over the length of him. “Seems like professor might be hot for student, too.”

Adrian’s dick twitches at your quick wit and he watches you sink to your knees, admiring you from this angle just as much as he admired you from between your thighs. He helps you undo his belt and zipper, twitching when you pull him out of his chinos.

He’s just as big as you imagined—big dick energy is real—and your mouth waters as your eyes trail over his length. Even his cock is pretty: smooth skin, a thick vein along the underside, and a pretty, flushed shade of mauve at the weeping tip. Your hand strokes him, feeling him beneath your fingertips, and you glance back up at him, already watching you intently.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” you say, putting his words back at him. “Thought about failing an exam just so I’d have to beg you to give me a better grade.”

He smirks down at you. “You know, I haven’t put your final grade in the system yet.”

Your tongue swipes up the base of his shaft and you blink at him with his tip pressed against your pouted lips. “Please, Professor, I need to pass this class to graduate.”

Once your mouth is on him, he curses every missed opportunity he didn’t take to make it happen earlier—could’ve been doing this for years. He should’ve known you’d be good at this given how you’ve been eye fucking him for a year and a half, but he still chokes out in surprise at the way he disappears past your lips. Your tongue, wet and warm, strokes along the bottom while your cheeks hollow.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth, the tightness of your throat when you take him deeper—fuck, so tight—wondering to himself how the way your throat contracts around him compares to the way your cunt will feel wrapped around him. At the thought, a burning need in his gut has him stopping you and tugging you to your feet. He needs to be inside you. Now.

Adrian helps you to remove your tank top and your bra, pausing for him to grasp each breast in his hands, massaging them. While he steps back to undo the buttons on his own shirt, your hands move to the zipper of your skirt.

“Leave it,” he commands, his eyes flicking up to yours with a feline smile. “Teased me for long enough with this fucking thing.”

“Me?”

Professor Kempe gives you a knowing look. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why you never wear anything underneath these short, slutty skirts? You’ve been hoping I’ll bend you over the desk and take you right there after class.”

Well. He’s not wrong, you think, shrugging innocently, but your snarky retort dies in your throat when he reaches the last button on his dress shirt, shrugging it off. Adrian smirks at the way you gape at him, your eyes running over the cut of his muscles, up the black ink that dances up to his shoulder.

Your pussy throbs with need. So much that you’re backing up to the desk, lying against it and spreading your legs in a silent invitation. He looks down at you from between your legs.

And then he purses his lips and drops a wad of saliva right onto the apex of your thighs. He watches the way his spit drips into your already wet folds, melding with your juices. You moan at the feeling.

“Flip over, baby,” he murmurs his command.

A low purr sounds in your chest and he watches as you do as he asked, pressing your hips backwards until your ass backs up against his length. Your hips swivel and roll, earning a groan from him. If you had more time, he’d let you give him an entire lap dance, make you ride him until your legs are jelly and his balls are empty.

But he doesn’t. You’re already on borrowed time, both with your looming graduation and the very less-than-private venue for your rendezvous. So he flips up your skirt, bunching the plaid fabric around your hips, exposing your ass and bare, dripping pussy, just waiting to be fucked.

When he slides into you, a breath shudders from him and your eyes flutter blissfully shut. Your delectable heat wraps around him snugly, nearly taking his breath away. Fuck, he knew your pussy would be perfect.

His hips begin to move, pressing deeper into you. He watches you bite your lip at the way he stretches you so deliciously, wanting you to feel every single inch of him buried in your cunt. If this is the only time he'll ever have you, he wants you to remember what he feels like inside of you.

“Fuck, Professor,” you whisper, fingers digging into the edge of the desk. The heat of him alone makes it infinitely better than you imagined all those late nights beneath your sheets, not to mention the sinful press of his hips against your ass and his firm grip on your waist and the low, ragged sound of his breath. He's pressed so fucking deep, filling you to a capacity you didn't know was possible. Why did you wait so long to do this again?

Professor Kempe pulls you back against him, punching his length into you sharply. The jab sends a wave of pleasure down your spine, your pussy already alight with his touch. It’s sinful, wrong, and so, so right.

The fire inside your belly roars, the bundle of nerves between your legs burning with pleasure with each thrust of his hips. Professor Kempe fucks you with a ravenous energy, the kind that tells you neither you or your pussy would survive a full night with him. He’s responsive, in tune with each moan and throb of your walls around him, like he’s speed-reading the manual to make you see stars.

“Taking it like a perfect little slut,” he grunts. “Just like I knew you would. You know how many students have tried to get me to do this before?”

A smile forms on your lips. “Are you saying I'm your first, Professor?”

“First student to be so tempting and delicious I can't help but take you over this desk,” he says with a low growl.

Large hands grip at your shoulders, tugging you backwards until your back is pressed against his warm, muscular chest. The angle draws him even deeper, until the tip of him is pressed directly against the spot that has your vision going blurry. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. Between his relentless rhythm and his sultry praise, your impending release nears its boiling point.

It’s the lilting of your voice, steadily rising in pitch, that makes his balls tighten. You’re close, and he knows he won’t last through an orgasm, not with how long he's wanted this, not with fucking tight you are, gripping onto his dick like a vice. His voice drops an octave. “Not gonna last.”

A jumble of words leaves your mouth in a breathless sigh, but he has no idea what you said; all he knows is your hand reaches for his, tugging it toward the place where you two connect. When his knuckle brushes against your clit and you squeeze him, he knows what you’re asking for.

Professor Kempe’s thumb rubs steady, knowing circles, sending you hurtling to the edge, but it’s his low command that pushes you over it.

“Gush on it and I’ll give you an A.”

The world in front of you disappears, the only thing you know being the pleasure radiating through you as Professor Kempe fucks you through an earth-shattering orgasm. All at once, your legs are shaking, his hand clapped over your mouth and his roar of ecstasy is loud in your ear as you feel the hot pulse of him inside of you.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come to, his office fuzzy as it comes back into clearer view. He’s panting, breath hot against your shoulder, and you are too, your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. Your skin tingles where his touches you, the feeling remaining even after he pulls away. Gingerly, he pulls out of you, and he watches his cum seep out of your spent, used pussy—and damn, if it doesn’t make him want to fuck you again.

But you’re sliding off of his desk onto shaky legs, retrieving your clothes and putting them back on. There’s a slight awkwardness in the air, the guilt and shame of what did we just do sinking in. For a moment, Adrian panics—he could get fired for this.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you say, like you can read his mind. He wonders if the worry shows on his face. “Our little secret.”

Adrian knows—he knows—he shouldn’t feel disappointed, but he does. You’re graduating, leaving USC in just a few short days, and it’s highly probable that he’ll never see you again unless it’s in a published journal or some Psychology Today article online. He musters up a smile anyways.

“Our little secret.”

Once both of you are clothed, you gather your things and make to leave. Adrian clears his throat. “I’ll have your final grade in the system tomorrow.”

You smile. “Thank you, Professor Kempe.”

By the door, you pause, turning to look at him like you want to say something. He’s still standing beside his desk, papers scattered on the floor. “I forgot to tell you—I got accepted into the Cal State program. I'm staying in Los Angeles.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

Summary: Healthy adults who contracted COVID-19 had subtle but measurable declines in memory and cognitive performance lasting up to a year. These differences were found through sensitive testing under controlled conditions, though all scores remained within normal ranges, and none of the participants reported lasting cognitive symptoms.

The research highlights how even mild COVID-19 can impact brain function and points to the potential need for treatments to mitigate these effects. Further studies are needed to explore how COVID-19 compares with other respiratory infections, like flu, in terms of cognitive impact.

Key Facts:

COVID-19 can cause subtle cognitive changes in memory and problem-solving for up to a year. These effects were detected through sensitive cognitive tests, not self-reports. Participants in the study did not experience any noticeable long-term cognitive symptoms. Source: Imperial College London

A new analysis from Imperial’s human challenge study of COVID-19 has revealed subtle differences in the memory and cognition scores of healthy volunteers infected with SARS-CoV-2, which lasted up to a year after infection.

The researchers say all scores fell within expected normal ranges for healthy individuals and no one reported experiencing any lasting cognitive symptoms such as brain fog.

The findings, published in the journal eClinicalMedicine, show a small but measurable difference following highly intensive cognitive testing of 18 healthy young people with infection compared to those who did not become infected, monitored under controlled clinical conditions.

The team explains that incorporating such sensitive cognitive testing into future studies could help reveal more detailed insights into how infections may alter brain function and could help to find ways to reduce these processes when they cause symptoms.

Senior author Professor Adam Hampshire, from the Department of Brain Sciences at Imperial College London and now based at King’s College London, explained, “We know that COVID-19 can have lasting impacts on our memory and ability to carry out common cognitive tasks.

However, much of the scientific evidence we have comes from large studies based on self-testing and reporting, or where there’s a range of variables that could increase or reduce these effects.

“Our work shows that these cognitive effects are replicated even under carefully controlled conditions in healthy individuals—including infection with a comparable dose of virus—and further highlights how respiratory infections can impact specific aspects of brain function.

“We were only able to detect some of these effects because of the trial design, which used very sensitive tests and controlled conditions, with participant performance compared to their own pre-inoculation baselines. This enabled us to pick up on subtle changes of which the participants themselves appear not to have been aware.”

COVID-19 and cognition Previous studies that included patients with a wide range of severities have shown COVID-19 can have a lasting impact on people’s brain function. One such study, led by Imperial and involving more than 140,000 people, found small deficits in the performance of cognitive and memory tasks in people who had recovered from COVID-19, with differences evident a year or more after infection.

In the latest study, researchers analyzed findings from a small group of healthy volunteers who were part of the world’s first human challenge study for COVID-19 in 2021. The findings reveal subtle differences in how they performed on the same tests, which lasted up to 12 months although later testing could have been affected by other and later factors.

During the trial, 36 healthy, young participants with no previous immunity to the virus were infected with SARS-CoV-2 and monitored under controlled clinical conditions. They were carefully monitored and remained at the facility until they were no longer infectious. From the group, 18 participants became infected and developed mild illness, one without symptoms.

Participants also performed sets of tasks to measure multiple distinct aspects of their brain function, including memory, planning, language and problem solving, using the Cognitron platform. Participants took the tests before exposure to the virus, during the two weeks they spent in the clinical facility, and then at multiple points for up to a year.

Analysis showed that those who became infected with SARS-CoV-2 had statistically lower cognitive scores than uninfected volunteers—compared to baseline scores—during their infection as well as during the follow-up period. The main differences in scores were seen in memory and executive function tasks (including working memory, attention and problem solving).

Differences in scores between groups were seen up to one year after infection, with the uninfected group performing slightly better on tasks overall.

The researchers note that the observed differences were small and that none of the volunteers reported prolonged cognitive symptoms. They also highlight limitations of the study, including the small sample size and that the majority of participants were white males, and so caution is needed in extrapolating the findings to the general population.

They explain that future research could examine the biological links between respiratory infection and cognition in COVID-19, and even show how this impact compares with other conditions, such as Respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) or influenza.

Co-author Professor Christopher Chiu, from the Department of Infectious Disease at Imperial College London, who led the COVID-19 human challenge study, said, “These latest findings from our study add more fine detail to the picture we have of COVID-19 and other respiratory infectious diseases.

“Challenge studies can offer a tool to help us better understand how infections disrupt a range of biological functions. Here, by showing biological effects that fall below what could be considered symptoms or disease, we were able to identify the smallest changes in these pathways.

“This could ultimately help us to develop new treatments to reduce or even block some of these effects, which we know on other settings can have lasting impacts on people’s lives.”

Study Link: www.thelancet.com/journals/eclinm/article/PIIS2589-5370(24)00421-8/fulltext

[hiseyeisonthesparrow]

Would you recommend going to BYU? What would you say are the pros and cons

Ooh good question. Overall, Yes!!

Why Yes:

- BYU is a private university. Private universities generally have more control over their curriculums and programs than public universities.

- Exceptionally affordable. It was definitely the best college that me or my parents could afford. [I did get full ride to a few public universities, but I still think that BYU gives you a consistently better education than many public universities.]

- Pretty safe! I have never felt like I was in danger on campus or that men were acting creepy towards me, and I often walk outside alone at night. However, I imagine this may not be true for other people on campus.

- Decent accommodations. I, at least, have managed to get a lot of helpful accommodations. The folks working there want to help you!

- I love the professors so much. Truly there are good people at this university. So many of them have been willing to mentor and help me grow!!

- Great public transportation. UVX and Frontrunner my beloved <333 [you get free public transportation as a BYU student]

- Solid dating culture. The lack of hookup or party culture means that it's more likely that you'll find people with your standards. Plus we basically have our own dating app [Mutual]. Unfortunately every guy I think is cute ends up being married 😔

Why No:

- It might not be a good fit for your major. I'm a neuroscience major, and we hardly exist at the university 😅 We're like... a department with only one major, but we don't really count as a department. We're not really tied to one college -- we used to be shared by the FHSS and Life Science colleges, but I think the Life Sciences took us. So consider your major and the resources you'll have if you come here!

- So many white cishet people. If a diverse campus is the most important factor for you, this may not be the place for you. I have found my people -- a group of neurodiverse STEM majors that love trivia and natural disasters. There are TONS of very niche clubs for you to find people like you!! But it may take some effort.

Toss-Ups: [factors that can either be good or bad depending on who you are]

- Church doctrine is imbedded into actual education. This REALLY threw me off at first -- I'm more of a "just tell me the science and let's be done with it" person. I've gotten used to it though, and sometimes I enjoy being jumpscared with a scripture verse or two.

- Church culture is big here. Your ward will probably consist of 200 white 18 year olds. That was weird for me. But not bad. Church is a two minute walk from my bedroom, which I liked.

Overall, BYU is probably one of the best colleges I could have gone to. It's different for everyone, and I invite you to pray about it and read your patriarchal blessing and talk to people you trust! The Lord has a plan for you 🫡

[skyddish]

choosing which Aaron HC i think is better-

Because it could be , despite Aaron's dreams to become a neurosurgeon, it's near impossible for him to retain information. Because of this he's never not thinking about what he's studying, spends hours and hours at the library, and prerecords lectures, playing them in his headphones like a podcast , Because class is not enough if he doesn't. he could always have his belongings misplaced, hardly able to read, and notoriously cannot plan for shhhittttt. Everyone's biggest pet peeve is that he's SOooooo time blind . (clock UNSEEN!)

When they have to be ready for something *importanttt* the monsters alr know they have to LIE. Colombia at 9:00? No. Colombia at 7:00. He's the only one unable to plan around this flaw– somehow everyone else knows exactly what time to tell him to be ready by and he's good to go. and part of him hates them for lying to him but also hates that they have to. He finally has to put a stop to it when Neil catches on. Aaron is fine totally fine being called out by Kevin, but he will drop out before Neil can lecture him on time management.

Despite all this— he's dedicated to being a doctor and he's extremely hard on himself in order to create routines that work for him because neuroscience makes him happy, and the burnout will be worth it eventually.

OR: his memory is exactly like Andrew's. Especially since the bonus content came out i feel like this is the more probable outcome. He doesn't breeze through his subjects by any means —(remembering all the facts doesn't mean you know how to apply them) but he has a lot more free time because as long as he pays attention his memory is perfect. This is the Aaron i'd most likely ship with Kevin. I think he wouldn't Know how good his memory is, or he'd just think everyone's brain works the same way his does. Aaron asks, "are you slow?" at least three times a week.

this has less comedic potential in my mind, and also i'm kind of fond of Andrew taking all the memory and leaving Aaron with some type of deficit in the brain cell department — but this has been stewing in my drafts so if i don't post it now it'll never see the light of day

[bpod-bpod]

Love is Deaf

From birdsong to love songs, sound can play an important role in any romance. In some species removing that ingredient can even stop a relationship in its tracks, according to researchers investigating the impact of deafness in mating of disease-carrying mosquitoes. A study examined neurons (brain cells) that express a particular gene essential for hearing in the dengue- and zika-transmitting Aedes aegypti mosquito. The neurons (shown in green) protrude into the brain's auditory centre (pictured), and help transmit sound-induced movement from the antenna. When the gene was silenced, rendering the mosquitoes deaf, males were unable to mate at all, failing to modulate their patterns of wingbeats in sync with females as they normally would during mating. Hearing is therefore not just important, but essential, to mosquito reproduction, which could present a new route to population management and attempts to slow the spread of deadly diseases.

Written by Anthony Lewis

Image from work by Yijin Wang, Dhananjay Thakur and Emma Duge, and colleagues

Department of Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology, and the Neuroscience Research Institute, University of California, Santa Barbara, CA, USA

Image originally published with a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Science (PNAS), November 2024

You can also follow BPoD on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook

[seeingivy]

elevated heart rates 

levi ackerman x f!reader

levi’s a mind reader and you’re a love expert 

content: grad student levi, brain researchers, nile being a weirdo freak (sorry yall), mentions of drinking, levi is shirtless at one point, reader has claustrophobia 

an: started my big girl brain research fellowship today. hence - brain jargon and GRAD STUDENT LEVI

- 

The room is small - the nineteen of you cramming into the small space of the conference room. You’re located directly at the front, sitting next to your advisor, Dot Pyxis. A leading expert in the field, one of the first neuroscientists you had met at a conference when you were a freshman in college. 

You saw it - the way his eyes lighted up, the way he was stumbling over his words because he was so excited to explain what he did everyday that you wanted that. To be that excited about something. And here you were, sitting next to him about to make it happen. 

You moved to Marley two months ago for this very moment. Your first day at the Brain Consortium - one of the best neuroscience research labs in the country, led by Pyxis himself. He was going to co-advise your thesis, guide you into becoming an expert in the field. Unlike any other, this lab was barely limited to one field, instead equipped with researchers from many different departments, the projects, the papers entirely interdisciplinary. 

There was no other place like it. You can feel your hands shaking as you hand over your hard drive, your presentation loaded on to it. Pyxis had explained it all - there were weekly lab meetings where everyone came together, presenting their research. Everyone gave feedback, asked questions to help further expand and build on the projects. 

And it was your turn. On your very first day, you were expected to explain. What you were going to research, what you were going to contribute, what you were excited about. 

It’s fucking nerve wracking. Pyxis stands up, giving you one last shoulder squeeze, before introducing everyone in the lab to you. He points everyone out - the other assistant professors, post-doctoral researchers, and the other PhD students. 

“Hange Zoe, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Petra Ral, and Nile Dok. The other PhD students. I want the five of you to give her a tour of the lab after.” 

They all nod, a few of them giving you encouraging smiles as you start. Pyxis turns to you, taking your seat at the table as you take the pointer in your hands, starting your presentation. 

“Right. Um, I’m F/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you all. I, um, completed my undergraduate studies at Shiganshina University. I got a b-bachelors in applied neuroscience and computational biology. I’ll be presenting my thesis project pr-proposal.” 

You hate this shit. You’re stuttering over your words and they’re all staring back, completely uninterested in your work. The PhD students in front of you aren’t even taking you seriously - the girl with glasses nearly stumbling off her chair from sliding around on it and the guy with dark black, grey steely eyes more interested in his cup of fucking tea than what you were talking about. 

“Right, so. My project aims to study interoceptive signals - like heartbeat, respiration cycles, blood pressure - and use them to predict and decode intentions. These small biomarkers, entirely unconscious to us, are consistent during decision making, unbeknownst to us. We can exploit that - to understand higher level cognition.” 

You’ve got their attention - you can tell. This is always the easy part, drawing them in - the woman from before stopped sliding on her chair, instead leaning forward with her eyes shining at your slides, the guy with the tea momentarily flickering his eyes up to the screen. 

“You can use it to predict how people act, how they feel. Especially for something like heart rate, which is what I want to focus on, you can understand so many things - anxiety, stress, companionship, sexual attraction, romance.” 

You see one of the PhD students murmur under his breath, interrupting you in your stead. Nile, they said his name was. 

“So you want to be a…love expert?” 

The entire room laughs, giving you smiles as you continue on. You give him a smile, responding. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

You continue on - highlighting how the brain regulates these signals, what equipment you’ll be using to record all of it. 

They clap when you’re done. Success. 

 - 

You feel fully settled into the lab, a few months later. You’ve decorated your tiny cubicle, directly in the middle with the other PhD students, with a few knick knacks - a picture of you and your best friend, a tiny little green figurine your parents gifted you, and a rack for your headphones. 

You’re located in the section with the other PhD students, who are…interesting. 

On the first day, they lead you to take the cubicle directly next to Hange, which you realized was a bad idea. Because they set you up. Hange’s a biochemist - doing research on the brain tissue at the molecular level, trying to understand how glioblastomas progress. Meaning - they’re always playing with chemicals at their desk, sometimes too lazy to walk over to the lab, which leads to some interesting smells and…smokes in your area. 

They never get in trouble, because Erwin and Petra always come to save the day. They’re both leading policy experts, studying volition and decision making in hopes to use in applications to the law and judicial systems. Figuring out why criminals commit crimes, using it for to serve justice. They cover up the evidence, distract Pyxis and Shadis, and talk their way out of it on Hange’s behalf. 

And that leaves Nile, who isn’t particularly your favorite. He’s a bit hard to get along with, not exactly personable per say. He’s researching microdosing and addiction - trying to figure out how we can manipulate medicines or drugs into being more or less addictive. 

You almost forgot about him. Levi, who's currently leading you to the MRI room on the other side of the building. Definitely the most intriguing of all of your colleagues - using transcranial brain stimulation to decode intentions. In less jargony terms, he read minds. 

He puts the decisions made on the tests into algorithms, correcting it until the machines can predict the decisions being made perfectly - that can be applied to anyone, not just singular participants. He’s coding human thought into machines. And doing it successfully. 

Levi’s quiet, perplexing, and intelligent. An enigma. He’s stood out to you, more than anyone else, for the simple reason that he’s the only one who doesn’t want to talk to you. Hange invites you out for drinks, Petra introduced you to her boyfriend, Erwin bought you a birthday present even though you didn’t tell anyone it was your birthday, and Nile asked you on a date (which you obviously declined). 

But Levi doesn’t care. You don’t either, but it does intrigue you at times. Why he’s so quiet, so closed off, what he’s always doing on his laptop, who he texts on his breaks. This was the first time you were alone with him - getting roped into participating in his newest study. 

“Newbie has to do it.” 

“Do what, Hange?” 

“Levi likes to experiment on all of our brains. You’ve never done it and he needs someone, so we’re volunteering you.” 

Hange and Erwin pull you up by the wrists, all but pushing you out of the conference room into Levi’s cubicle, where you almost trip and fall over him. He looks up - already deeply uninterested with the three of you standing in his space - as he removes his hands from his keyboard. 

“What, brats?” 

“I’m not participating. She is. Take her away!” 

He looks between the three of you, clearly unamused with how nonchalant Hange was being about the whole thing, as they knocked over Levi’s stack of books on the floom. They nearly shake his entire frame in their hands as they thanked him profusely for not making them participate. 

Erwin picks up the stack of books - somehow shuffling them all out of order as Levi gets even more frustrated - shooing the two of them out of his space. After successfully removing them, you and Levi walk towards the MRI room, all the way across the building, in silence. 

When you get there, he taps his hand on the platform, signaling for you to sit on it. You obediently follow, still not uttering an entire word. You watch him mill around the room - pressing switches, using the intercom to communicate with the operator, turning the lights off. 

“Wearing any metal?” 

“My necklace. I’ll take it off.” 

You reach up, awkwardly fumbling with the clasp as he watches you, his hands pressed to his sides as he waits. You’re not sure what it is - how sweaty your hands are, the way he’s looking at you, awkwardly waiting for you to finish - but you can’t get the clasp off, your hold shaking behind your hair. 

“I can help you.” 

You meekly nod, getting off the platform. Before you can, he reaches forward, his slender hands gathering your hair before placing them across the side to your shoulder. You feel his knuckles against your nape, quickly unlatching the necklace and fixing your hair back into place. 

“I’ll hold it for you.” 

You get back onto the platform, lying flat, as Levi uses the intercom to signal to Armin, one of the undergraduate students who worked in the MRI building. You can feel the platform sliding you into the tube and you suddenly feel it. 

Your claustrophobia. Every horrible thought you can imagine is running through your head as the machine starts whirring, your heart pounding in your chest. An earthquake - the machine would crush you. The magnets can be too fast, the machine malfunctioning while you’re stuck inside it. There could be a fire and you would be left here, everyone leaving you and locking you out of the room. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-yeah, Armin. Sorry. I get a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” 

“Okay, take your time. Try to stay still so we can get better pictures.” 

You nod, trying to still your breaths as the machine whirrs on again. You can feel your nails digging into your palms, as you try to calm down, the panic still sitting in your chest. You feel a hand circle around your ankle, squeezing twice, as the machine keeps going. 

“You okay, Newbie?” 

“Yeah, Levi. I’m okay.” 

“I’m here. Get out if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll just drag Shitty Glasses by the scalp to do it instead of you.” 

You laugh, his hold still firm on your ankle. You try to focus on it - the fine print on the machine, your back against the platform, his fingers on your skin as the machine keeps going, your panic still writhing in your chest. The MRI finishes - Levi giving you one last squeeze before the platform slides out and you nearly jump out of the machine. 

You and Levi walk back to the main lab, in silence. When you get there, Levi gives Hange’s ponytail one big yank before settling back into his cubicle, giving you a soft smile before you return to yours. 

-   

It’s Levi’s turn to present for the lab meeting. The lab is going to Hizuru for Sigtuna, one of the largest neuroscience conferences to date. The PhD students are all presenting posters, except Levi who was invited to give a talk. 

You had been helping Levi as of late - working with him to identify the sulcuses and the lobes on all of Levi’s MRIs. He had no experience in magnetic resonance imaging whatsoever - something you had spent years learning during undergrad. So the two of you had worked out a system - you helped him with identifying the images and helped you troubleshoot your code for your tasks whenever you needed it (which was often). 

You spent a lot of time together - even if it wasn’t direct. You’d sit in silence in the main conference room, working for hours. He’d bring you a cup of coffee and you would pick up dinner, talking through ideas as you finished off your projects. 

You had helped him write the grant for the talk instead of the poster, helping him with all the physiological portions. He taught you how to do all the analysis for yours - the two of you often the one’s leaving the lab latest, Levi walking you to your car in the dark before walking off to his own. 

You were friends. Project partners. 

He gives you one last look before starting the presentation and you shoot him a thumbs up under the table, which he returns with a smile. He’s explaining - using your brain and Hange’s as the sample templates to explain what he was doing - what parts of the brain he has to use for his machine learning. 

“This is Newbie’s and this is Hange’s brain. In theory, each part of the brain is slightly bigger, depending on what parts of your brain you exercise more. For example, Hange is involved in more motor-dexterity - running all their projects by hand. This part of the sulcus is more developed, bigger because of it, compared to Newbie.” 

Nile nudges you on the side, whispering something about how he can give you something to do with your hands if you needed it. You roll your eyes, awkwardly shuffling farther as you refocus on what Levi was saying. 

“This part of the brain is more developed for Newbie, the Brodmann areas - associated with critical thinking, higher level cognition, decision making. Good thing I didn’t use your brain, Dok. We wouldn’t even be able to catch it on the image if we used yours.” 

The entire room laughs - Nile sulking in his chair as Levi continues. You don’t miss the look he gives you afterwards, his eyes uncharacteristically soft when he meets yours, as he continues the presentation. 

When he finishes, Pyxis goes over the room assignments, mentioning that there were three rooms for all the PhD students - meaning a few of you would have to pair up. You turn your neck to look at Petra, who's already nodding and agreeing with Hange that they would room together. You deflate, watching Erwin and Levi pair up. Which leaves you next to Nile, who's all but too excited to be your partner. 

He slings his arm around your shoulder, saying that you guys can share the bed if it gets cold at night, which leaves you shooting dangerous looks at Hange. Levi catches on first, immediately dragging Erwin over to where the two of you were standing. 

“Dok. Erwin is going to room with you.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me. Don’t argue with me today, I’m already sick of you.” 

Levi grabs you by the wrist, dragging you towards the other side of the room as he rambles on. 

“What a fucking idiot. First he interrupts me during my talk and then starts saying perverted shit like that. Someone’s going to smack him upside the head one day and I surely hope for my sake it’s me.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him twice before letting go. 

“Thank you for that - I was literally going to vomit if I had to room with him.” 

“Well, I told you before. I’m here if you’re uncomfortable.” 

You nod, the two of you walking into the conference room to make edits to your presentation. 

 - 

You and Levi come back to your hotel room after the conference, positively plastered. He’d all but given his talk perfectly and your poster won an award at the end - which meant you and Levi were celebrating well into the night. 

You had your arms slung around each other, your weight uneven, as you both slide back into the hotel room, falling onto the singular bed in the room. You and Levi were greeted with the unpleasant sight earlier in the day - you and Levi both insisting that you would be the ones to sleep on the couch. 

You’re both lying face up on the bed - your cheeks flushed, your chests heaving up and down, the only sound in the room being your shaky breaths. Your hands are still locked together, your brain fuzzy from the events of the night. 

You and Levi amble up after a few minutes, both attempting to change into your pajamas and go to bed. You ogle Levi as he takes his shirt off, watching from the side of the mirror. He catches you, walking closer to you. He still reeks of beer, still shaking on his feet. 

He leans over, pressing his forehead against yours as you hold onto his arms, grounding your fingers into his biceps. He’s still not wearing a shirt, his bare chest on display. You fight the urge to stare at him full on. 

“You’re smart, Y/N.” 

“You’re smart too, Levi.” 

“Did you pay attention during my talk?” 

“Y-yes. You code the information, like a puzzle, to figure out what people’s intentions are.” 

“Hm. You be me. I’ll give you the information and you figure it out, okay?” 

You nod, barely understanding what he was getting at as you lean into him. You can feel the buzz dying down, the tiredness setting into your bones. 

“I’m not a mind reader like you, Levi.” 

“You’ll get this one. You’re my smart girl.” 

He reaches down, securing his hands around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. Your hands and frame are pressed against his chest, his skin cold to the touch.

“You caught my eye on the first day, with your perfectly pressed hair and that stupid black skirt.” 

You can feel your breath catch in your throat, the sound not leaving your throat.

“You take the cubicle two feet down from mine and I can’t help but watch you - reorganize your desk, get up to get water, scribble things on the whiteboard.” 

You can feel his heartbeat get faster against your hear, his grip on your waist tightening. You’re suddenly too aware of what’s happening - Levi, PhD Levi, is shirtless, hugging you in a hotel room. The lights are dim, there’s only one bed, and he’s holding you. 

“I don’t work with other people at the lab, but when you ask, I do. I leave the lab way past the required time, willingly spending more time in a room with that idiot Nile in it just because you’re in it too.”

“Levi.” 

“I’m not done.”

“It drives me crazy, every time Nile talks to you, touches you, looks at you. I want to sock him in the face - because he’s not nearly good enough for you. Not that anyone could be, but for some idiot like that to think he stands a chance is next level infuriating.”

He releases his hands from your face, lifting his hands to cup your face. His touch his soft, his thumb caressing the burning skin on your cheeks as his eyes meet yours.

“I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I eat my breakfast. When I’m not with you, I just want to be around you. And when I’m around you, I want to be with you.” 

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips are pillowy soft, his breath tickling the edges of your forehead. 

“What does it mean? Figure out my intentions, smart girl.” 

You can feel your entire body burning, your head still spinning - from the alcohol, Levi’s touch, his words ringing in your ears. 

“You…like me.” 

“That’s a fact. Not an intention.” 

“You…want to kiss me?” 

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm, the taste of the beer still hanging on his lips. You can feel his hands moving, carding through your hair as you reach up to press your hand against his shoulders. He kisses you for a long time - your body burning at the entire sensation. He breaks apart, still smiling against your lips. 

“Smart girl.” 

“Do you…remember my research, Levi? From the first day?” 

“I’ve memorized every single thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flushing, Levi’s hands returning to squish the sides of your face. You grab one of his hands, opening up his fingers and placing it flat against your chest. You move his hand around, until you’re sure he can feel your heart - which is pounding in your chest. 

“Heart rate can give away a great deal. The biomarker can help you understand a lot of different emotions. Figure out which one I’m feeling, Levi.” 

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses all over your face as he starts asking. 

“Anxiety?” - a soft kiss, right on top of your head. 

“No.” 

“Stress?” - a light kiss, right on your closed eyelids. 

“No, Levi.” 

“Companionship.” - a sweet kiss, right on your lips. 

“Yes. But that’s not the one I was looking for.” 

You watch a smirk spread across his face as he leans down, spreading soft kisses all along your neck. He murmurs against your neck, a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Sexual attraction?” 

“Levi. Quit being a tease.” 

“Shut up, brat.” 

“No. You missed one, Levi.” 

“What was it?” 

“Love. A heartbeat can give away a great deal - can even be used to indicate and understand romantic feelings.” 

He press his hand against your chest again, your heart still hammering. 

“It’s fast. What does that mean?” 

“That I love you.” 

You see a big smile spread across his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. You see him now and you think it’s the best he’s ever looked - messy black hair, pink cheeks, squinted eyes. He reaches down, opening your fingers and placing them against his bare chest. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Fast.” 

“Yeah. Means I love you too, smart girl.” 

- 

[mindblowingscience]

“You can actually estimate the movement of the eyes, the position of the target that the eyes are going to look at, just from recordings made with a microphone in the ear canal,” says senior study author Jennifer Groh, a professor in the departments of psychology and neuroscience and neurobiology at Duke University. In 2018, Groh’s team discovered that the ears make a subtle, imperceptible noise when the eyes move. In the new study, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, the team now shows that these sounds can reveal where your eyes are looking. It also works the other way around. Just by knowing where someone is looking, Groh and her team were able to predict what the waveform of the subtle ear sound would look like. These sounds, Groh believes, may be caused when eye movements stimulate the brain to contract either middle ear muscles, which typically help dampen loud sounds, or the hair cells that help amplify quiet sounds. The exact purpose of these ear squeaks is unclear, but Groh’s initial hunch is that it might help sharpen people’s perception.

Continue Reading.

[i-am-minty-fresh]

I’ve always viewed myself as someone with a poor memory. Someone who isn’t smart. Someone who lies because they are afraid of not knowing and being seen as stupid.

Today I went to a lab to shadow a graduate student in the neuroscience department. She’s doing research on the effects that anti-aging supplements have on pregnant mice. She’s whip smart.

Since she’s also my TA in another class, she noticed that on an introductory assignment I wrote down that I know a lot of ocean animal facts, so she asked about what I knew. I told her what I knew. I told her about the biology of sharks, the evolution of whales, the controversy around carcinization, how sunfish got their name, the reasons that dolphins are fucked up, the importance of isopods in deep sea environments.

She asked me what my major was and I told her I’m a psych and political science major. I explained my interest in learning behavior not just in isolated events but rather throughout history in the form of worldwide policy. I informed her on Milton Friedman and the role he had in fucking up South America, and on Classical liberalism v. Modern liberalism and the common arguments.

I informed her on how caffeine negatively interacts with adderall and how people with ADHD commonly report that caffeine in fact makes them tired, on auditory processing disorders and what makes them distinct from being hard of hearing, on how/why autistic people have a hard time regulating volume.

I told her some of the steps in preparing a body, I informed her that you can ask for a taping of your own surgery, I told her different toxic paints, I told her the proposed uses of a spinosaurus’ spines.

She called me smart. She called me impressive.

The minute I learn something is the minute that knowledge becomes assumed. If it makes sense than, to me, it’s not impressive to know.

But to her knowing all of that makes me smart. It makes me impressive.

I think I like her view of things better.

[transmechanicus]

Oh boy another queer event organized by the Neurosci department, ostensibly open to all bio programs, that sounds fun, sure would be a shame if i had first hand experience that it sucks shit to be there if you're NOT in the neurosci program. Ex plode.

[neurocleansed]

Dr Psalm, accredited inventor of Sanitization and previous head of the Department of Sanitization — current head of the Department of Neuroscience at the Kamabo Corporation

[luxe-pauvre]

"But this isn't serious," she says. Skill or no skill, there is one other element of this whole thing that bothers her. "It's only a game. How can you be serious about a game?" She wants me to be a professor - now that's serious business. A real job. A skilled job. Until it isn't. The more I think about it, the more I start doubting just how much of a gamble-free endeavour it could be. Imagine me going down the academic path. What did I choose to study? Social psychology. Ah, but neuroscience is having a moment. I may have followed my interest, but not the job market. With whom did I study? Good luck to me getting a job in any psychology department where the Big Five personality traits are still big - I studied with Walter Mischel, and he and the Big Five are not on speaking terms. What about academic publications? Who might get assigned to review my manuscript someone with a sympathetic ear or someone who thought my research was so much hogwash? I'm not going to get kicked out of a poker tournament for choosing a style of play that goes counter to the strategy of the bigwigs of the day and may challenge their ascendance. But if I were to go against the head of a department or hiring committee or even one of the celebrity hotshot professors? Bye-bye, job prospects. In may ways, poker is the skilled endeavour. The job market is the gamble. How did my job talk go? Where did I go to college? To grad school? Did I rub someone the wrong was in an interview? These details, all subject to a big dose of chance, can make or break me. At the table, I play how I play. And I rise or fall on my own merits.

Maria Konnikova, The Biggest Bluff