#neuroscience names

[noctuatacita]

I don't think he has a PhD. I wasn't able to find any reference to that online outside of social media posts starting in March 2023. He did work as a dental technician, and he does have a dental degree, but it's from a vocational school.

POV: you’re getting your teeth cleaned and your dental hygienist is acclaimed horror mangaka junji ito

[amalgamgooze]

the long night begins

We've spent the days under the sun preparing, training, refining our algorithms and sharpening our blades.

But now as the sun sets, and the shadow of the night creeps over the world, all our preliminary effort is put to the test.

The monsters come out, the world turns grim, we're forced to put our scripts and weapons to the test--not just to preserve the glory of our name, but the glory of all who have helped us prepare too.

May we find victory and prevail over the darkness during this long night.

Or, at the very least, survive.

[transmutationisms]

forgive me if I'm being obtuse, but isn't every medical diagnosis an artifact of human taxonomic schemes? I know I'm not treading new ground here and that diseases/medical conditions aren't like, drawn from thin air in the way a lot of psychiatric conditions are i suppose it just confuses me a bit

no, & this is ancillary in some ways to what i'm actually criticising about psychiatry. it's true there are non-psychiatric medical diagnoses that work analogously to psychiatric ones: think ME/CFS, hEDS, fibromyalgia, most things that have 'idiopathic' in the name. these are names given to clusters of symptoms, like the way that psychiatric labels are just names for a certain set of behaviours. we don't know what causes these issues, though people have various theories and there is (a varying amount of) research ongoing that aims to find the etiologies.

however, that's not the case for all non-psychiatric diagnoses. think about a viral or bacterial infection, a torn ACL, or Down syndrome. these are diagnoses that do refer to specific infectious agents, anatomical problems, genetic variants, and so forth. that doesn't mean the diagnosis is always easy to make, or that it's always made correctly, but it does mean that when you are diagnosed with one of these problems, a specific cause is being identified (& sometimes they might even be right). it's not just a convenient shorthand name for a group of symptoms, even though of course, most things that are diagnosed are done so because they cause and are associated with symptoms. (most but not all lol.)

psychiatry is distinct as a discipline in that all of its diagnoses function the first way i described. they are not referring to disease entities or processes; there is no credible hypothesis for a biological etiology. why? fundamentally, because the psychiatric diagnoses generally exist to pathologise socially unwanted behaviour: the taxonomy is a reflection of a political agenda and the priorities of clinicians. it's not even really an adequate framework for grouping patients together, because you get placed in a category based only on, again, external manifestations (behaviours). who says any two people who hallucinate or cut themselves are doing it for the exact same reasons? well, no one, because again, even getting the same psych diagnosis doesn't indicate anything about an actual etiology or underlying biological process or anything. there is no referent; the psychiatric diagnosis is only defined heuristically and circularly.

many people are confused by this because, in both popular and professional discourse, psychiatric diagnoses are consistently spoken about as though they DO refer to an underlying discoverable disease or disease process. despite hundreds of years of looking for such things, psychiatrists are yet to find any, and if they did, the condition in question would be reassigned to the relevant medical specialty, because psychiatrists also cannot treat infectious agents, anatomical problems, harmful genetic variants, and so on. (when i worked as a bibliographer we used to have extremely funny arguments over whether materials pertaining to the psychiatric search for biological disease processes should be categorised under psychiatry, neuroscience, medicine general, philosophy of medicine, 'science and society,' or just 'controversies and disputes' with no real subject label.)

to be clear, when i say psychiatric diagnoses aren't referring to known or discoverable disease processes, that's not a moral indictment. it's not an inherently bad diagnostic process, provided the patient understands that is what the process actually is. sometimes we just don't know yet what we're dealing with; sometimes a heuristic diagnostic label is just a way of billing insurance for a treatment that we know helps some similar patients, even if we don't know why.

however, with psychiatric diagnoses, evidence for such efficacy is widely lacking and often even negative; this is fundamentally because psychiatric diagnoses are not formulated on the basis of patient needs but on the basis of employer and state needs to cultivate a productive workforce and by corollary enforce a notion of mental 'normality.' all medicine under capitalism has a biopolitical remit; psychiatry has only a biopolitical remit. it has never at any point succeeded in making diagnoses that refer to demonstrable disease processes, because that's definitionally not even under its purview. these diagnoses have never been satisfactorily shown to be related to any disease process—and why should we expect that? historically, that's not what they exist for; it's not the problem they were invented to solve. they are social technologies; they're not illnesses.

[stemgirlchic]

why neuroscience is cool

space & the brain are like the two final frontiers

we know just enough to know we know nothing

there are radically new theories all. the. time. and even just in my research assistant work i've been able to meet with, talk to, and work with the people making them

it's such a philosophical science

potential to do a lot of good in fighting neurological diseases

things like BCI (brain computer interface) and OI (organoid intelligence) are soooooo new and anyone's game - motivation to study hard and be successful so i can take back my field from elon musk

machine learning is going to rapidly increase neuroscience progress i promise you. we get so caught up in AI stealing jobs but yes please steal my job of manually analyzing fMRI scans please i would much prefer to work on the science PLUS computational simulations will soon >>> animal testing to make all drug testing safer and more ethical !! we love ethical AI <3

collab with...everyone under the sun - psychologists, philosophers, ethicists, physicists, molecular biologists, chemists, drug development, machine learning, traditional computing, business, history, education, literally try to name a field we don't work with

it's the brain eeeeee

[eunandonly]

୨୧ — ANALYSING: ATTRACTION !

୨୧ ; everyone knows lee heeseung- he's the super cute psychology major! how did you find yourself holding hands with him? pairing! psychologymajor!heeseung x psychologymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: failed attempt at humour, probably cringe EN-

🖇 : this will be a full series for all enhypen members!

everyone has noticed lee heeseung in the psychology lecture hall, even you.

he's always sitting at the middle of the hall, furiously taking notes

this man explains freud's theories in a way that makes the professor pause and ask for his name

he's such a dork omg you sometimes see him doodling little brain diagrams on the margin of his notebooks with little text bubbles and smiley faces — more under cut!

you can't help but sneak glances at him like HE'S SO HOT

who wouldn't want to stare at lee heeseung rather than the mid fifties dude who can't seem to stfu

ok well heeseung's been eyeing you too because well DAMN you're face card is crazyyyy

and you're also really smart ACADEMIC WEAPON

so one day you two got grouped together for some kind of psychology project and you're just trying your best not to freak out

you've liked this guy since your freshman year of uni ever since you saw him at that shitty university party wdym you got paired up with him

luck is on your side this term (or is it fate?)

heeseung is so shy you're just too pretty for him to handle but he's still the first one to initiate conversation between you two

just walks up to you with his little notebook and pen in the lecture hall "so what are your ideas for the project?"

you don't even reply you just spend a moment or two taking in the godly sight in front of you and he just stands there like 🧍

it's so awkward for a moment but you finally start talking after blessing your eyes with lee heeseung's face

you two hit it off on the spot (you two are both nerds- cute nerds, mind you.)

you two spend a whole hour just discussing interesting psychology experiments before deciding you guys have to focus

“we really need to lock in."

"yeah we really should."

you guys move on from the stanford prison experiment to cognitive neuroscience

tbh you're really impressed with the amount of knowledge heeseung has on psychology

i mean sure it's his major but statistics show that over 54% of university students aren't happy with the classes they take

not heeseung he loves his little psychology life especially now that you're his project partner

this man is in the clouds he feels like he can fly

he keeps complimenting your psychology knowledge and you just brush him off

because heeseung's the one who just explained the flipping hippocampus like it's a ted talk.

poor boy is trying so hard to focus but he's kind of distracted bc he's busy stealing glances at you

he keeps stuttering whenever you ask him something

“oh, umm"

it's kind of giving loser but he's a cute loser ykyk

you pretend not to notice how he trips over his words and goes red in the face to protect his dignity and pride but you're dying inside as well

lee heeseung. stuttering over you.

SKJFGJDKK

you and heeseung meet up everyday to do your project together

most of the time you guys meet at the library or a cafe but sometimes he invites you to his dorm

i imagine his dorm to be like his room in enhypen's dorm

like it's spacious and clean and all that

but boy why's there a huge gaping empty space in the middle of the room

well that gaping empty space is useful to spread out the 2838484 notes heeseung has written on neuroscience

you two always seem to reach for the same paper at the same moment HMMMMM

everytime you touch in anyway you feel like you're about to pass out like OH LEE HEESEUNG'S FINGER JUST BRUSHED AGAINST YOURS

heeseung gets sooo flustered he feels the same way about you

he's so busy staring at you when you're not looking bc you're js so goddamn perfect

after the group project you and heeseung submit the most scrumptious project ever

you both get straight As the thesis you guys wrote together was so sexylicious oml

you're kind of sad when the project is all over bc what if you and heeseung go back to not speaking and just acknowledging e/o's presence with a smile and a nod.

well you have nothing to worry about because he confesses after a week of 'accidental touches' and stolen glances

this guy, he gives you a little peck on the cheek and both of yall blushing like crazyy

heeseung definetly blurts out random psychology facts about love bc he's a little geek

he says psychology pick up lines as well

"are you a serotonin boost? because just being around you brightens my mood" bitch what.

✉️: @icyy-hoon taglist is open!

[hellsitegenetics]

as a neuroscience major who is also very interested in tumblr history, i hope you know this is my favorite active blog. thank you for your service 🫡.

also, i’d love to know more about your process. how do you choose posts to use? is there a database where you can enter the text? do you do it all manually? inquiring minds want to know.

String identified: a a cc a a tt t t, t at act g. ta c 🫡.

a, ’ t at c. c t t ? t a ataa ca t t tt? t a aa? g at t .

Closest match: Macrobrachium nipponense isolate FS-2020 chromosome 21 Common name: Oriental River Prawn

(image source)

[missysverse]

𝓦HAT I'VE SCRIPTED IN MY 𝓦AITING 𝓡OOM

Feel free to use for inspiration for yours - i'll try to update this post for more new ideas if anyone is interested.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒:

✯₊˚༄ PORTAL ROOM — Each portal represents a different desired reality, with the name of the DR displayed on the arch above the portal. For example, one portal might read "Supernatural DR." When I step through a portal, I will instantly shift to the corresponding DR

✯₊˚༄ STUDY ROOM — a room where I can literally study for school relating to my CR, I have unlimited rescources available to me: textbooks, flashcards, notes all done (anything else I need I can literally just instantly manifest it), comfortable seating, big speaker I can use to play whatever music I want. I have a virtual AI tutor who can provide me detailed explanations for my subjects, orffer practice questions, mock tests, and instant feedback. I have an option to activate 'group study mode' where it will summon whatever people I want to If I want help with studying/get bored.

✯₊˚༄ THERAPY ROOM — Therapy room with Hannibal Lecter (he is not a cannibal or bad person is ANY way y'all.) He will give me good life advice, shifting advice etc anything I need help with - he knows me and my lifes well (only because I tell him about it), he also gives me good inspiration for scripting. He will also teach me a lot about neuroscience, psychiatry, psychology etc.

✯₊˚༄ LOUNGE ROOM — Here is where I can watch unlimited shows/films I want even if they don't exist in my CR e.g films I'm in from my fame DR, or completely new shows, or new seasons of my favourite shows that don't exist. There is also spotify on there and its the same concept as above - there are also playlists that are specific for my DRs and my relationships. There is also a section where I can go on that can play unlimited edits of me from my DRs, people from my DRs. All the edits are really well made and good. There are normal edits but also transition edits too. There is also a custom edit section where I can basically describe the edit and what song and it will make the edit. Not only that but I can also replay certain moments from my DR on the TV, I just have to think about the moment and then it can play or there are complimation videos of different moments from my DR. I also have unlimited games, books, vinyls.

✯₊˚༄ KITCHEN — literally where I can find unlimited food, any food I want will instantly manifest in the fridge.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒

credits to someone from reddit for some of these ideas (I'll try to find the post)

✯₊˚༄ LIFAGRAM — instagram but for shifters to access multiversally, I can share pictures and videos from my DR on here and can see other shifters. You want to share a cute picture of you and your friends to other shifters? well you can.

✯₊˚༄ SHIFTING SPACE — I have access to videos and photos from my DR and it is stored on my ‘Shifting Space’ and also just any moments from your DR, you can also share edits of your DR and yourself on here with other people

✯₊˚༄ LIFATOK — basically a less toxic version of shiftok lmao (jkJk) but the same premise as LIFAtok but its short video where people mostly share edits or moments from there DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — other people’s and mine DRs as tv shows, you can also watch yourself in other siutations that don’t have to be your DR but other realities that you want to be in but you don’t want to shift e.g a reality where I am spiderman(??) so there's a film based on that scenario.

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — again like the other social medias, you can share longer videos of moments from your DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFATUNES — basically like Spotify but you can share your songs from your singer DR, you can also find whatever song you want there are basically unlimited songs e.g you can change the language of songs and change lyrics or any certain features of songs you don’t like

✯₊˚༄ LIFABOOK — basically an instant journal with unlimited pages where it will insantly write out enteries of my DR experiences, the dates, everything in detail which I can read back if I want to (although I can always just replay the memories on the big screen)

Last updated : 05/12/2024

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | seven.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, girlies we are lying straight through our teeth.. 😭, we also got door code privilege so we can talk to professor choi about neuroscience papers in private more often!! 😙, making out, a shower together ouweeee, blowjob, handjob, swallowing his cum, more cute affectionate moments, watching a movie together and being domestic af basicallllly

—a/n: i just wanna say tysm for being down bad for prof choi as much as i am <33 ily!! there will be a 7.5! & tsbut!yunho will make his debut soon.. 👀

—FLASHBACK

The walk back to your building isn't that bad, especially when most people aren't quite up and about just yet. San drops you off in the same residential area, watching through his rearview mirror as you make the trek back. When he sees you enter through the side door, he pulls off and drives around to the usual garage he parks at for the day.

You make it back to your studio unnoticed, slipping in with ease and heading straight to the shower to get ready for your day. The events from last night replay over and over again in your head and you can't help but smile to yourself knowing how well San took care of you.

You long for him.

After a good, long shower to soothe your body, you try your best to go about your morning as normal as possible. You quickly dry your hair and dab on some blush, mascara, brow gel, and lip gloss— keeping it light before throwing on some baggy straight jeans, an oversized crewneck and a pair of 530 New Balances. The moment you slide your laptop into your bag, Felix comes knocking on your door.

"Morning sunshine!" He smiles. "What time did you get back from lab last night?"

"Not too late. Sunwoo dropped me off before heading to his place." You give him a toothless smile, hoping he'd buy it. And he does.

"Oh, cool. Glad it didn't seem too bad and that he was there to accompany you." You sling the strap of your back over your shoulder, swinging your door shut before locking it. You follow Felix down the hall and head down to the dining hall to grab breakfast; except, you aren't hungry.

"Eunchae and Jurin are still asleep, huh?" You nod.

"Yeah, they won't get up for breakfast anyway." You laugh, knowing the two will probably get up right before class, giving themselves enough time to grab coffee on the way over at one of the cafes. 

"Yeah, Jiung is fucking knocked out." You giggle. "Anyway, wonder what special they have for breakfast today."

"I'm actually not hungry."

"Not hungry? For breakfast?" Felix looks at you weirdly. "Since when? It's your favorite meal of the day."

"I dunno, I'm still full from last night. I ate pretty late." Felix shrugs.

"Well okay, then. I'm just gonna grab something real quick and eat it on the go."

"No, we can stay and eat. I'll probably just grab some fruit." Felix looks at you with a brow cocked up, watching as you fiddle with the strap of your bag.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He presses his hand to your forehead gently. "You're not feeling sick, are you?"

"No." You look at him with a small, reassuring smile. "I promise."

"Okay then." He shrugs, no longer questioning you about your appetite this morning even though the tiny change in mannerism is enough to have Felix wondering what's been going on with you. Maybe it's just a phase, maybe you are just overwhelmed like Jiung says. 

He won't ask, though. He'll let you come to him if you need him. 

At least, you look happy. There's a certain glow to you that he can't pinpoint.

—END

"School is awful." Jurin puts her head down to rest her eyes for a second. "I feel like I'm a robot, moving nonstop."

"Tell me about it." Felix yawns. "I have to TA in a few." Felix looks at his watch and hums. "Hm, I'll leave in like.. 5 minutes."

"You know, I actually enjoy TAing!" Eunchae pops a grape into her mouth.

"Honestly, I do too. It's pretty fun." You chime in, taking one of her grapes.

"Same, especially when the class knows how to interact. Otherwise, I kinda just stand there and look dumb." Jiung snorts. At this moment, your phone dings from an email. You furrow your brows when you notice it's coming in from the department, stating that your TA hours were gonna be split with Jeong Yunho's class.

To: yn@atz.edu From: bioeng@atz.edu Hi Y/N, Hope this email finds you well! I'm emailing you to let you know there's been a change with your TA assignment. Half of your hours will be split between Professor Hsieh and Professor Jeong, effective immediately. Professor Jeong's TA needed to take leave for a family emergency and will not be returning for the remainder of the quarter. He should be emailing you soon to discuss a little further, but please feel free to reach out in the meantime if you have any questions or need any clarification. Thank you, Erika

"What's wrong?" Jiung looks at you as you read through the email.

"Uh. Speaking of TAing, I just got an email saying some of my hours are going to Professor Jeong's class. His TA needed to take leave for the rest of the quarter cause of a family emergency."

"Oh, damn. Hope they're okay." Jurin says. "Isn't that cool to be helping him now too, though?"

"Yeah, I guess." You lie because no, it's not. You'll obviously keep it civil and do what you need to do. But at the same time, you don't respect him the same way you used to. You don't care if you're biased over San— you just don't do that to people you claim to love. "It'll be interesting." There's a slight pause in conversation until Felix chimes in again.

"It'll be fun, I'm sure you'll learn new things from him just like you're doing with Professor Hsieh and Professor Choi." Your heart skips a beat thinking about San, and you realize you really need to keep yourself under wraps better before you slip up and start smiling like a fucking idiot around your friends.

And knowing them, they'd never leave it alone if you give them even the slightest hint of something going on.

"Mhm." Is all you manage to say.

"What're you guys doing this weekend?" Jiung squints at all of you. "Should we head out if you're all here?"

"I think I'm gonna be gone on Sunday during the day, but I'll be back later that evening." Jurin says.

"I'm gonna head home tonight and just hang out with my mom for the weekend." You poke at your salad before forking it and taking it a bite. You also avoid eye contact because it's a lie, and you won't be seeing your mom. You'll be at San's.

"Okay, so we aren't hanging out this weekend." Jiung snorts.

"Yeah, I think my cousin is gonna come down to visit and sleep over." Eunchae says. "We'll probably go out and head around."

"Just us boys again! We should throw a little kick-it at the apartment and keep it lowkey." Jiung adds, with Felix nodding. "Eunchae, you can bring your cousin if you guys aren't too tired." 

"Yeah! We'll swing by if we have the energy." She turns to you. "What're you gonna be doing with your mom?"

"Just hanging out, relaxing." Jiung nods.

"Nice you're spending more time with your mom." You give him a toothless smile and quietly nod.

"Alright, I gotta head out. I might even be a little late." Felix laughs. "See ya'll for dinner later? Y/N if I don't see you before you go, please drive home safely and enjoy your weekend with your mom!"

"Thank you, Lix." You smile and tuck your things into your bag. "I should probably go too, actually. I should wrap things up sooner than later." Jurin, Eunchae and Jiung begin to pack their own things as well, waving their goodbyes as you all split to different ways; some going back to lab, to class, some going to the library to finish some assignments before the weekend rolls around so they don't have to worry about it.

You walk to the Harvey Center with a slight pout, unsure of how to feel being thrown into Yunho's class. Truthfully, it could be worse. You don't know what you'd do if you somehow had to work alongside of Iseul. You're still praying and hoping you don't ever have to collaborate with her, and this is probably all sorts of fucked up because it's based on your feelings for San. You can agree that they are both great professors— their work and contributions are widely known. You don't doubt that you'd learn something new from them. However, you just can't get past the idea that they did what they did to San. You can never fathom betrayal like that.

You sigh.

You can't wait to tell San about this.

As promised, Yunho emails you and asks if he can set up a time to talk and catch you up on everything that's been happening in class so far. He asks if he can see you before the day ends so that you're good to go by the time next week comes.

To: yn@atz.edu From: jeongyh@atz.edu Hi Y/N, I think you might've received the email from Erika already about the change in your TA hours. Thank you in advance for your help, and I'm excited to have you onboard! Do you have some time before end of the day to quickly meet and go over the course? I can bring you up to date on where we're at. I'm on the east wing of the Harvey Center, room E122. Let me know what's good for you and I'll carve out the time. Thanks! Yunho

"You look unhappy." Sunwoo says as he plops down in the empty chair next to your desk, watching as you stare at the email through your laptop. "What's wrong?" You snap out of it and chuckle.

"Nothing." You pause. "Well actually, I'm short on time today so I might not get much done. I'll come in over the weekend if needed."

"Dude, it's fine. Take your weekends." He chuckles. "Why, though? Is everything okay?"

"Mhm. My TA hours are just getting rearranged."

"Oh, more or less?"

"Hm. I'm cutting down on Professor Hsieh's since she has two other TAs, and those hours will go to Professor Jeong instead."

"Oh, cool. That'll be a fun class! I've heard good things about it."

"Yeaaaah. I have to go meet him before the end of the day." You start typing your response to Yunho, letting him know 4:30pm was the best time for you— that way, you still have time to get through some of your work before heading out. Coincidentally, at this point, San walks into the office area, along with three other people. They're conversing in good spirits, and they make a turn towards your direction to head to the small conference room situated near your desk.

"Yo, what's up Professor Choi!" Sunwoo nods.

"Hey Sunwoo." He smiles at him before looking at you. "Y/N." He subtly licks his lips and smirks, returning his attention back to the group as if it never left. You almost forget about Yunho entirely.

He'll be the death of you.

"I'm going to work on some data analysis before I see him. I don't think I'll have time to slice and image today." Sunwoo shrugs.

"All good. We have time next week in between surgeries."

"Don't remind me." You smile at him playfully.

"Assuming you'll listen and take my advice about not coming in on the weekends unless absolutely necessary, what do you have planned?" 

"Mm, just hang out with my mom. What about you?"

"One of my good friends is visiting so I'll be taking him around and letting him sleep on my couch." You snort.

"Sounds fun." 

"Alright, I'm gonna finish some imaging from the slicing we did earlier in the week." You nod and wave. "Have fun at your meeting with Professor Jeong, and have a good weekend!"

"You too, Sunwoo." You give him a toothless smile before returning your attention to the data on your laptop. You spend a good few minutes typing out your analysis, only turning when you hear San's voice as he passes by. He gives you a small, tiny smile before returning his attention to the group, walking out of the basement to who knows where. 

You continue to keep your head down, bouncing between small assignments and your data analysis up until the very end. When 4:20pm hits, you quickly pack up your things and head out, giving the basement one last look. San hasn't returned after leaving with the group, so you assume he's busy for the rest of the afternoon until he heads home. You let out a small sigh, power walking over to the east side of the building. You tap your badge and hold your breath, hoping the badge reader will turn green and pop the door open; which, to your luck, it does. You follow the room numbers until the end, finding Yunho's office in the corner towards the back end of the first floor. You press your ear to the door, making sure there isn't an ongoing meeting before you knock. Once it's clear, you give his door a good, hard three knocks, not even having to wait for Yunho to respond with a 'come in!' 

"Hey!" Yunho smiles at you as you walk in, and you give him a simple, toothless smile. "Nice to see you again!" He's standing, just about to slip a book back onto the shelf next to him.

"Hi Professor Jeong. It's nice to see you again, too."

"Please, take a seat. I'm just kinda fiddling through books right now."

"Are you working on something in particular?" You gently set your bag down and watch as he grabs another book off of the shelf and sets it down on his desk. The book has different images of the mouse brain— the anatomy, from different angles.

"Ah, I'm just trying to make sense of some images, that's all." He smiles again at you. There's no denying that Yunho is also very attractive. He's charming in his own way, very witty and outgoing. You see him bouncing around campus pretty often, with or without Iseul in tow.

"I see."

"How's your day been?"

"It's been alright. Had two classes before I finished up work in San's—" You pause. "Professor Choi's lab."

"That's right, you're rotating in his lab this quarter?"

"Mhm." 

"How's it been?"

"Amazing." You tilt your head and he nods.

"That's good. He's a good guy. If it's anybody you'll learn the most from, it's him."

"Yeah, I agree wholeheartedly." You chuckle to play it off a bit. "So.. I'm sorry to hear about your TA. I hope things are alright with them."

"Hope so, too. I'm just glad they're taking the time they need." He pulls out a copy of his syllabus and slides it over. "You're probably familiar with the format since Professor Hsieh follows a similar one. I usually do about 4 lectures and take care of finals at the end. I've got about three other professors doing guest lectures, and one of our postdocs handles the hands-on lab portion and some other classes." You skim the document. "My TAs usually handle journal club-led discussions. I'll pop in for a few if I can, but I let my TAs have the floor." You nod.

"Oh yeah, this is similar to Professor Hsieh's class. Shouldn't be too bad." You continue to flip through the syllabus.

"No. It shouldn't be." He chuckles. "I may need you to assist with one of my lectures and labs, too."

"Okay, no problem."

"I'll send you the journal club papers and add you to our discussion board. They'll submit assignments and post any questions there, and we can upload lecture or reading material there as well. You can set up office hours for however you'd like, whatever works easiest for you. Just let me know what day you decide to do it."

"Sounds good." You look at him, and he looks at you. You can see the way his brow subtly cocks up before he lets out a small laugh. He's probably unsure why it feels a little tense when trust, you're trying your hardest to not let it slip.

"Any questions? Feeling overwhelmed?"

"No, I'm—" The door suddenly swings open and it's Iseul. Her eyes land on you for a quick second before she diverts her attention back to her husband and apologizes for interrupting. "I'm good, I think we're all set here." You stand and grab your bag. "Thanks, Professor Jeong. I'll see you next week?" He nods. 

"Alright, well feel free to reach out if anything comes up. Have a great weekend, Y/N."

"You too." You give him a short and curt bow before slipping past Iseul. You feel her eyes on you as you pass by, up until the very moment you slip out the door.

And finally, it feels like you can breathe.

"Is that your new TA?" 

"Y/N, yes." He stands to give her a hug and kiss on the top of the head. 

"She looks familiar."

"Well, she's in the bioengineering department and has rotated in Christopher's lab. She's in San's now."

"Hm." She hums. "Interesting." There's something about you that rubs her the wrong way and she's quick to trust her gut. It's not that she doesn't trust you around Yunho, no. But, she doesn't know you and something already feels weird.

"So, hungry? Where should we go for dinner?" He sits back down while Iseul leans against his cabinet behind him, scrolling through her phone.

"I'm feeling sushi tonight."

"That sounds good. Let me finish this up real quick and I'll get you out of here, okay?" He squeezes her hip before returning his attention back to the images on his screen.

After you meet with Yunho, you walk back straight to your studio to pack up for the weekend. You wash up and grab a few things, changing into comfier clothes per usual. When you leave, you shoot San a quick text, waving goodbye to a few friends you run into on your way out.

you: i'm about to head to your house!

san: sorry baby, just wrapping things up but i'll be there ASAP. feel free to get comfy and do whatever you need to do. code to the door is 9583.

you: waoow i have door code access now 🤭

san: lol you sure do, pretty girl. i'll see you soon, okay?

you: mmkay, hurry ☹️

San smiles to himself as he sets the phone down and powers through a few more tasks. When you get to San's house, you park off to the curb and head straight inside, hoping to avoid any confrontation with neighbors at this moment. You slip in and step out of your shoes, sighing a sigh of relief when you've made it safely. You head upstairs to drop your things, noticing San's bed fixed nicely. Rings spread across the drawer, cologne lightly lingering in the air. 

You can't wait for him to get home.

You head back downstairs and turn on the tv for background noise, lighting up a candle on the island. You take a few moments to snack on some fruits before you [slowly] start prepping ingredients for dinner, scrolling through Instagram and getting lost in the social media rabbit hole. You lazily walk over to San's fridge and quickly skim the shelves to see if there's any ideas that'll pop up for dinner. He's got just enough groceries, but nothing too overwhelming. You walk over to the pantry, also taking your time to skim the shelves. The TV is unexpectedly playing a show on unsolved mysteries, which distracts you to a great extent as you hang out beneath the door frame of the pantry.

"Hm." You pull up random recipes in between glancing at the tv. It isn't long before you hear the garage door open, the soft, muffled audio creeping through the walls. San walks in shortly afterwards, airpod in one ear while taking a meeting on Zoom through his phone. 

"Yeah, I know. I agree. Maybe they should work on it together and try a different approach? Have you asked Russ to try some computational analysis on their data?" Is all you hear him say as he walks into the kitchen with a smile on his face seeing you there. You reciprocate the smile and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for the right moment to kiss him and welcome him home. "Mhm." He says before muting himself. "Hi baby."

"Hi." You tippy-toe to kiss him, allowing San to deepen the kiss despite his Zoom call still going on in the background. "San." You giggle in between, pointing at his phone.

"They don't need me right now." He chases after your lips, hands sliding from the small of your back down to your ass and giving it a good squeeze. You squeal, indulging in a few more seconds of kissing San— fingers tangled in the ends of his hair, gently biting onto his bottom lip and causing him to hiss in response just as you pull away.

"Go finish up your meeting."

"Tease." He mouths out before unmuting himself. "Yeah, I'm here. I hear you." He keeps his eyes on you with a small smirk. He points upstairs, mouthing out a quick 'i'll be in my office.' You nod, giving him one last peck on the lips before he disappears up the steps. You rummage through his fridge to grab those mushrooms, bokchoy, and tofu he had sitting around to whip up a quick udon stir fry. Before chopping up your ingredients, you let the udon sit in a hot water bath while you pop in some shrimp tempura you found in his freezer in the air fryer. Once the noodles are ready, you toss them in as you fry the vegetables, along with your wet ingredients— whipping everything up in a matter of 25 mins. 

After his meeting, San quickly finishes some emails and follows up on a few pending items before calling it a day. He's trying to balance his time better now that you're around because the last thing he wants to do is make the same mistake again of unintentionally pushing someone he cares about away. And it's a little scarier this time, a little different, because San feels himself falling deep [and fast] for you. He doesn't wanna run you off or scare you in any way, and he surely doesn't want a repetition of his last, but he truly cares about you and wants this to work no matter how tough it might be.

He just wants you.

He sighs when the thoughts flood his head, locking his computer and setting his things aside. Since he hears you whipping up dinner, he heads to the room to change and quickly shower. He tosses his clothes into the laundry and steps in, leaving the bathroom door cracked open. When you head up the stairs after making dinner, you find San drenched underneath the piping hot water. Steam is rising out of the shower and into its surroundings, fogging up the mirrors. You watch for a few moments through his bathroom mirror— catching 'lil peeks and admiring his pretty, honey-dipped skin, wet black hair. You find the sudden urge to join him, to just be with him, and before you can even think twice, your feet are already taking you to San. You tread over in front of the shower door, San curiously looking at you with a small smile on his face. His eyes are glued to you while he watches you strip down in front of him, beautifully bare and raw. He pops the door open for you to step in, hands instantly coming to your waist to pull you flush against him.

"Wasn't expecting you to join."

"Thought we could save some water."

"Yeah?" He laughs. "I'm not mad about it." You tippy-toe to peck him on the lips. He doesn't let you go, though. He deepens the kiss, tongues fighting for dominance slowly, sensually. His hands are roaming all over your body, giving your breasts a good squeeze. You moan, the need, desire, to please San becomes overwhelming. He lets out a small sigh when he feels your hand wrap around his hard cock, his breathy moan causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your lips press chaste kisses down the column of his neck, tongue swiping across the surface before you gently nibble. You're careful not to leave any marks, softly sucking on the base of his neck, collarbone; just enough to make him feel a way without having the proof littered on his skin.

"Fuck, princess." He chokes out. "Feels so damn good already." You pick up the pace as you continue to stroke him, slowly crouching down to come eye level with his member— kissing and sucking away at his angry, red tip to start it off. Your tongue swipes from the base upwards, pressing tiny kisses across the surface. "Don't be such a tease." He pouts as he watches from above. You smirk, taking half of him inside your mouth. You work your hand at the same time you bob up and down, pulling back with a pop. The string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip drives him insane, his hand coming to the back of your head to slowly guide you down his length the next time you've stuffed your mouth full of him. "Doing so well, love. You can take all of me, yeah?" You nod. He feels you gag when he eases it all down your throat, causing San to groan a little louder— the tone echoing off the bathroom walls. He keeps his cock down your throat, determining on his own terms when he'll give you time to catch your breath, take a breather. When he pulls your head back, you look up at him with those doe-eyes. And it goes from one moment of sticking his cock back down your throat, to the next moment of you constantly bobbing your head; sucking him off so fucking well. 

"Aw—fuck—" San hisses before moaning loudly. "So fucking sexy, baby. Made just for me." He breathes out. "Fuck, fuck— gonna cum—" It takes that one last moment of taking him fully before San keeps your head there as he shoots his cum down your throat. When he's finished, you slowly pull back and wipe at your mouth, throat feeling all sorts of sore and battered but you could careless.

As long as you made San feel good, that's all you wanted.

"Okay, maybe we need to finish up in here."

"Do we have to?" San smirks, hands rubbing at your waist. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Just wanted to make you feel good, Sannie." The nickname rolls of your lips so naturally San feels his heart soar. It just feels like you were meant to say it, like you're the only person on this Earth that is deserving of so. San doesn't even realize he's still smiling down at you until you kiss him on the lips tenderly and finally taking the lead with getting washed up.

When you get back downstairs, San still can't keep his hands off of you. You sit on the edge of the counter while San washes a few of his containers from lunch. After he finishes, he slots himself in between your legs, admiring you from where he stands. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands are resting on your thighs. He presses cute, repeated kisses along your chin and jaw, causing you to giggle.

"So, I forgot to tell you. I got an email from the department today about my TA assignment."

"Is everything okay?" 

"I think so."

"You think?"

"I, um." You look at San. "Some of my TA hours are going to Yunho. I had to meet with him really quickly earlier."

"Oh. That's cool, baby." You shake your head and he chuckles. "No?"

"No."

"Don't think about the things that happened. He's still a great professor and someone you'll learn a lot from." You scoff.

"Like what, how to be a bad, homewrecking bestfriend?"

"Baby." He smirks a bit and gently pokes your nose. "Don't do that."

"You're right, sorry." You roll your eyes playfully. "He is cool, I guess." He chuckles.

"Promise me you won't let your feelings get in the way, hm? Look at him as a professor, not from what you know about me." Truthfully, San is a little afraid that you'll be working closely with Yunho now. Not because he's insecure, no. But, working with Yunho meant there was a chance he'd learn more about you. And obviously San wouldn't hide your relationship if he didn't have to, for the sake of rules, policy, his lab, Namjoon even. The fear is stemming from his past, coming back to haunt him all over again. He doesn't trust either of them one bit.

"I should be looking at you as just a professor too, you know?" You tease.

"Oh yeah? Wonder what happened there."

"Kinda like you better like this, though." You giggle, allowing San to swoop you into his arms. You cling on, wrapping your legs and arms around him while he walks you to the couch and sits you on his lap. 

"Damn, so the whole professor charm didn't do much?"

"Kidding." You laugh.

"Your laugh is so cute." San says, looking up to you all smitten. He rubs at your sides, kissing you sweetly before he's back to just smiling at you.

"What, no?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"You're just so beautiful, that's all." You smile. "Hm, so. What do you wanna watch? What do you wanna do this weekend since I have you all to myself?"

"Well, we can watch something cute? Because I've been watching this and it's making my mind work overtime with all the possibilities." You look back at the TV and San chuckles.

"I thought you liked stuff like that, baby."

"I do, but tonight, I just wanna relax."

"Fair enough. I'll watch whatever movie you wanna watch."

"Even if its A Walk to Remember or The Notebook?" He nods, bottom lip poking out.

"I don't mind."

"Wow, you're a little too perfect." He laughs.

"Far from it, actually." 

"And, I don't know. I'm down for whatever this weekend."

"I'll take you around some places away from here."

"Sounds good with me."

"Let's grab our dinner and watch a movie?" He kisses you once more before tapping you on the hip. "Thank you for making dinner, angel."

"Of course." You smile and hop off his lap. You fill your bowls with the udon stir fry and tempura you made, laughing and joking around mid-convo with San as you both walk back to the couch while he's telling you about his day. You pop on the classic Titanic, not really in the mood for anything else popping up on Netflix. San compliments you on dinner, smothering you in more kisses all over your face. You joke about how he didn't have much to work with, so maybe grocery shopping needed to go on your list for this weekend's festivities.

When you're done with dinner, San cleans up in the kitchen while you continue to watch away on the couch, answering to a few texts in between until San comes back to keep you company. Mid-movie, his phone dings, signaling a text coming through.

It's Jongho.

jongho: trying to play tennis this weekend? me and yeosang were thinking about going to the courts then hanging out at his house after. 

jongho: chris is gonna be busy with his sister this weekend so he's out 

jongho: and i asked mingi but i don't think he wants to play lol

san: sorry my guy! sounds fun but i'll be occupied with some things this weekend.

jongho: like what??

san: i'm just behind on a few things, needa wrap it up before the NAS conference.

jongho: hm ok, well the invite is there if things change!

san: thanks! have fun lol

And with that, San locks his phone and continues to watch the movie while your head is on his lap. He looks down at you and smiles a bit to himself, his hand coming down to thread through your hair and give you a gentle head massage. He feels a bit guilty for lying to Jongho, but at the same time, he doesn't.

He's content, he's happy.

Right now, things couldn't feel any more perfect and he'd be damned if he did anything to mess it up.

—read 7.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world

[whiskeyandwant]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader| | 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist} {last chapter}

Chapter 2: Purple Rain | wordcount | 3.2k {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

You twist the moth pendant between your fingers, thinking about the gruff ‘Seek the light I think’ from that birthday replaying. He’d texted you after, ‘Moth girl, huh?’ flirty. Now? He’s a brick wall, and you’re clawing at it, desperate for that Joel again. Dad would kill him. Sarah’d hate you. Still, you want it.” | note | This is for the yearners, I promise we will make this old man want us. there WILL be smut and it WILL be filthy. what you think so far???? tell me

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, sexual tension, mild alcohol use, explicit language ,emotional manipulation (implied), family dynamics, unresolved feelings, no smut (yet) series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory.

Purple Rain. You’ve spent the last hour under interrogation by your dad about your social life—or lack thereof back at school. His way of making small talk, you guess. You’ve been home less than a day and he’s managed to ask about you dating life atleast four times. “What about that guy from your brain class? Didn’t he take you out?” he asks. “Neuroscience, and yes he did. He was nice, but It didn’t go anywhere,” You force a laugh, he catches it. “Why’s that Bird, he too brainy for you, he got shit-for-brains?” He pokes your side as he says it, like hes proud of his awful dad ‘joke’. You want to say, “Dunno Dad, maybe It didnt work out because he wasn’t the 46 year old construction worker I was smiling and kicking my feet about for months… till he fucking left me on read permanently for no damn reason.” Instead, you settle on, “We just didn’t really have much in common outside of school.” You twist the moth pendant between your fingers, thinking about the gruff ‘Seek the light I think’ from that birthday replaying. He’d texted you after, ‘Moth girl, huh?’ flirty. Now? He’s a brick wall, and you’re clawing at it, desperate for that Joel again. Dad would kill him. Sarah’d hate you. Still, you want it. The slam of a car door outside breaks through the conversation, pulling your attention away. You glance toward the window just as Joel steps out of his truck, making his way toward the house, brooding, but sexy as hell.

Oh shit.

Even though you see him coming, the sudden knock at the door still makes you jump. You shoot your dad a questioning look, but he just shrugs.

“Forgot to tell you Joel’s coming over to watch the game. That okay, Birdie?”

You cringe at the nickname. Sure, maybe it was kind of cute, but it still feels juvenile. From what you remember, your mom was the one who started calling you Bird or Birdie—not because your name was Bernadette or Beatrice, but because you were always singing when you were little.

Guess some things never die.

You sigh dramatically, smirking as you push off the couch.

“Do I even have a say in it? Or am I supposed to just close the fuckin’ door in his face?”

Your dad chuckles, but you barely hear it, your heart too loud in your ears.

You take a quick, deep breath, and prepare to put on the unphased act. Then open the door.

Oh fuck.

How is it possible that Joel Miller only gets hotter every time you see him? Like some kind of benjamin button bullshit.

The evening sun is casting a golden glow around him, backlighting him like a damn angel. A tall, dark-haired, scruffy, middle-aged angel. He’s still in the same black shirt and green flannel from earlier, but now it’s unbuttoned, framing his broad chest. His dark jeans fit way too well, and his hair, pushed back slightly to the side—looks just messy enough to make you wonder if he ran his fingers through it before walking up.

And the smell.

Cologne? Aftershave? Whatever it is, it’s woody, warm, and laced with something soft, vetiver, lavender maybe. It’s familiar. Comforting. Intoxicating.

Joel smiles at you, rough edges turned all soft and easy, you hate it.

“Hey, kid. How you been?”

You roll your eyes.

“Not a kid anymore, Joel. I’m twenty-five, remember?”

He huffs a laugh, reaching out to pull you in for a hug, the case of beer in his hand swinging around your back. His arm’s solid around you, but it’s stiff, like he’s scared Dad’s watching. He pulls back too fast, eyes dropping. ‘Hey, kid,’ like you’re still Sarah’s shadow, not... Whatever you are. 

You hear something crinkle, and he’s pulling something out from behind his back.

A bouquet.

Sunflowers.

Your favorite.

Wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, a small piece of cardstock tucked inside reads ‘Welcome home’ in delicate gold script.

This feels like a joke.

The warmth rising in your chest spreads up to your ears, but somehow, your voice comes out smooth instead of shaky.

“Thanks, cowboy. You really shouldn’t have.”

Joel’s gaze tracks over you, something hiding behind his eyes, but before he can say anything, your dad chimes in from the couch.

“I think there’s still room in the fridge,” he says, nodding toward the beers. “Don’t let ‘em get warm.”

Joel chuckles. ��Ten-four.” He salutes your dad before glancing back at you.

“You gonna let me in, Tweety? Or just stand there gawking?”

You wince.

Both at the nickname and the realization that you’re still standing in the doorway, gripping the flowers like an idiot. With a glare, you step aside, muttering, “Don’t call me that.”

Joel steps past you, smirking. Then, just loud enough for you to hear—

“Don’t call me cowboy.”

And with a wink, he’s gone, disappearing into the house like he didn’t just turn your insides to liquid. //

The afternoon stretches on while the three of you lounge in the living room, half-watching the game, half-draining beers. By golden hour, your dad and Joel are both half-cut, and you’re not too far behind them.

You haven’t been drinking much lately. It makes you too brave. And maybe a little too emotional.

A few weeks ago, your roommate convinced you to go to some country bar in the city. After two beers and way too many tequila shots, you ended up on the mechanical bull in the center of the place. Because, apparently, defending the great state of Texas’s honor was your problem.

Your dad would have been so disappointed. Not that you got on the bull to begin with, but because you lasted a grand total of five seconds before being violently launched onto the sticky floor below.

The rest of the night? A blur. All you remember is every single person calling you cowgirl in the worst Southern accents until you finally left.

You shake the memory off as the game drags on, Joel and your dad yelling at the TV like they’re personally coaching the team. You sigh, stretching out your legs.

“Do you want me to start on dinner while you guys have some alone time?”

Your dad barely glances over.

“Sure. I cooked some noodles earlier, threw ‘em in the fridge. If you wanna chop up some veggies, make a pasta salad, that’d be great.”

You nod and push yourself off the couch, heading into the kitchen. //

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the sky in bold sweeps of orange and pink. Sunsets in Vancouver were breathtaking—like mixed-media paintings of industrial buildings and mountain ranges; beaches and city lights. Austin’s sunsets aren’t exactly unlike them, but the sky here feels bigger. Like it stretches forever.

You slip your headphones in and scroll through your iPod, settling on an oldies mix your dad helped you make when you first got it.

Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Pink Floyd, Queen— classics.

As you start chopping, you realize just how good it feels to be in a real kitchen again. Even having a proper sink is a luxury after years of making do with a microwave and a single hot plate. The music and comfort of cooking settle into your bones, and soon you’re half-dancing between washing and peeling vegetables, swaying in time with the rhythm.

When Purple Rain comes on, you close your eyes and start twirling, lost in the sound, convinced you probably look just as good as the dancers on Dancing with the Stars.

Until you slam into something solid.

“Hey— what the fuck?”

Your eyes snap open.

Joel.

His hands are on your waist, steadying you before you can completely wipe out over his feet. You silently gasp as you register how close he is, his face just inches from yours; warm brown eyes lock on you, and they flicker dark for a beat. His breath is hot on your neck. You see him hesitate, he lets go like you’re a livewire, and you’re sent stumbling back until your spine presses into the counter. Heart hammering.

Joel raises his hands, palms out in mock surrender.

“Sorry, kid. Just came in for another beer.”

You exhale, trying to steady yourself, and nod toward the fridge behind you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you mutter, clutching your chest. “I was having a moment.”

Joel smirks.

“Dancin’ queen, huh? Who knew.”

His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something in his expression—something lingering just beneath the humor. He leans against the counter beside you, eyes still flicking over your face.

“What are you listening to, anyway?” he asks. “Justin Bieber?”

You scoff.

“So close. Actually, it was Prince. You’ve probably heard of him… because you’re old.”

Joel huffs a laugh.

“The hell you listenin’ to Prince for? Sounds like a bullshit lie to me.”

You pull your iPod from your pocket and hold it up, showing him the screen.

Purple Rain.

His eyebrows lift in surprise.

Before you can react, he reaches out and snatches one of your earbuds, popping it into his ear as he shifts even closer, leaning one arm on the counter beside you. You try to ignore the closeness and press the back button on the iPod, restarting the song.

The opening chords drift between you, both of you silently nodding along.

I never wanted to be your weekend lover

I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey

Baby, I could never steal you from another It’s such a shame our friendship had to end…

Joel hums under his breath, eyes fixed somewhere on the counter.

When the song ends, he pulls the earbud out and hands it back to you with an approving nod.

“Man knew how to write,” he says simply.

You tuck your iPod back into your pocket, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Dad always played that album,” you say, glancing toward the living room. “I think the CD got stuck in the car or something. We listened to it every morning on the way to school for years.”

Joel chuckles.

“That checks out. Your dad’s got taste.”

You nod, smiling to yourself, and for a brief moment, the kitchen is quiet.

Just you.

And Joel.

And something unspoken between you.

A booming voice breaks the quiet moment.

“Don’t burn the place down, Birdie—I’m countin’ on that pasta salad!” His chuckle drifts from the living room, warm but frayed, the kind that used to bounce off Mom’s harmony before it all went quiet.

You glance back, catching him sprawled with a beer, grin fading as he stares at the TV, lost somewhere else.

“No promises, old man,” you mutter, shaking off the pang of those silenced rides, thinking about easier times. The sun’s dipping lower now, streaking the kitchen with hues of pink and orange, casting even more shadows in the house.

Joel’s voice pulls you back in.

“Bet you miss it, huh?”

You tilt your head. “Miss what?”

His gaze flicks toward the window, where the last streaks of sunset paint the sky.

“Mornings like that. Home.”

You exhale, leaning back against the counter.

“Yeah. I do.”

Austin always felt big to you, bigger than you knew what to do with. But back then, in those fifteen-minute car rides, your world was small. Just you, your dad, and the same Prince album playing on repeat.

You were grateful for that. For him. For now, though, you’re just grateful for this. Standing in the kitchen, a little buzzed, stomach full of butterflies for reasons you really shouldn’t be thinking about.

And for Joel.

Standing too close. Smelling too good.

Making home feel like something else entirely.

Joel grabs a bottle opener from the utensil drawer and pops the cap off his beer. Instead of heading back to the living room, he lingers more, settling into a stool at the kitchen island.

You keep your attention on the task at hand, but if you arch your back just a little extra when reaching into the crisper drawer for the dill, well—who could blame you?You can feel his gaze, heavy, tracking your movements as you move around the kitchen.

You focus on dicing vegetables, making small talk until Joel, much like your father earlier, decides it’s his turn to interrogate you.

“So,” he drawls, “you been seein’ any hosers over in Canada?”

You snort at the slang.

“Nope. No hosers for me, cowboy.”

“Good.”

Your knife pauses against the cutting board. You glance up.

Good?

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you challenge, brows raised. “Good?”

Joel shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“Mind your language, kid.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Again—grown woman. And you don’t get to chastise me for swearing in my own house, Mr. Miller.”

He exhales sharply, a half-laugh through his nose.

“Touché.” Then, with a teasing smirk, he adds, “You gotta learn French over there too, right?”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh.

Joel takes a slow sip of his beer, watching you.

“Still. Means you ain’t distracted, can keep focused on your psychology.”

You pause for a moment, pretending to consider.

“Mmm, maybe. But on the other hand—” You tap your temple with the tip of your knife, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t seeing people technically count as studying psych?”

Smooth, for real this time!!!.You convince yourself you can see the warmth creeping up his neck, flushing his skin.

“You got me there, little bird,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

Your lips twitch as you glance up at him through your lashes.

“Studying,” he echos, voice light with amusement, but there's something else there too.

Joel pushes back from the island, the stool squeaking against the tile as he stands. Before he heads back to the living room, he pauses—just long enough for you to catch the way his gaze lingers.

Then, casually, almost too casually—

“Glad you’re back home for a while.” He lifts his beer, a subtle toast. “Missed seein’ your pretty face.”

Your breath falters.

Am I hearing shit? Or did he really just say that? You must have some kinda look on your face because he steps back, muttering, “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” like he’s punishing himself.

You shake it off as best you can, grabbing a beer for yourself before heading back into the living room. You flop down beside your dad with a sigh.

“Dinner’s ready. Hurry up. They’re gonna lose whether you’re watching or not.” You jab him lightly with your elbow. “Steak ain’t gonna cook itself, big guy.”

Your dad gives you a flat stare before groaning as he hauls himself off the couch, his old man knees creaking audibly.

“You know, maybe I didn’t miss you that much. It’s barely been half a damn day and I’m already sick of your attitude, darlin’.”

“You love me,” you shoot back with a cheeky grin. //

Dinner is easy. Comfortable.

You sit outside as the sun hides below the horizon, warm hues fading into a deep navy. Your dad mans the grill, you’re chatting with Joel about school, asking him about work. You ask about Sarah even though you already know—probably better than he does. You call her every week, staying up to date on her life, but you still like hearing him talk about her.

And he does.

Joel trips over his words when he talks about how proud he is, and even in the silence between sentences, you can hear it. Feel it. He misses her. It’s sweet, seeing him like this; so unguarded. He worked tirelessly to give her a good life, and it shows. Sarah is a light, and so much of that glow was his doing.

By the time you’re all painfully full, the night settles deep and dark around you. You clear the table, bringing the dishes inside before grabbing yourself another beer. You slip your headphones back in, letting the music hum through you as you turn on the tap.

You don’t hear the back door swing open over the water, but you feel the presence behind you before you see him.

Joel moves into the kitchen, heading for the fridge to grab another drink himself, but instead of leaving, he steps up beside you. Without a word, he reaches past, plucks the dish towel off your shoulder, and starts drying the plates.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

Your chest tightens.

The easy silence between you is only cut by the quiet clink of dishes and the occasional rush of water. Until suddenly—

Bzz. Bzz.

Your whole body jumps at the sound. Your phone. No—it’s Joel’s.

The ringtone is sharp, jarring. You recognize it immediately.

Same as your damn alarm clock.

Joel exhales, long and slow, before tugging the phone from his pocket. He answers hesitantly, his voice tight.

“Yeah?”

You watch the change in real time.

The frustration. The slow shift into anger.

He nods, lets out a clipped, “Mhm.” Then a gritted, “Yup.”

Finally, he sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll head out now. Thanks for callin’.” He pulls the phone away, muttering, “Not even fuckin’ Friday yet.”

“Tommy?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Tommy’s been a fuckup since he totaled Joel’s truck chasing some girl. Joel bailed him out, then stole her anyway. The grudge never died.

Joel nods, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Sheriff’s office this time.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “Asked me to pick him up from the bar before they do. How kind of ‘em—fuckin pigs”

You shrug, forcing a fake smile for him.

“On the bright side, at least you don’t have to pay his bail.”

Joel just shakes his head, already heading for the back door. You rinse off the last dish and follow after him. By the time you make it outside, he’s tossing his empties into a grocery bag, apologizing to your dad for cutting the night short.

“Next time, I swear I’m gonna let him figure it out the hard way,” Joel mutters. “I swear to god, Kev.”

Your dad laughs, unimpressed. “You and I both know that’s a fuckin’ lie. You’ll be cleanin’ up his messes ‘til the day you die.” Then, softer, “You’re a good brother, Joel.”

Joel huffs. “Yeah. Probably too good.” He shakes his head, and looks down at the ground. “Anyway—I’m sorry to run out on ya so soon.”

“It’s no big deal, man. Go get your shithead little brother before he causes a bigger problem for you.” Your dad gestures vaguely toward the gate, beer in hand.

You follow Joel to the fence, pushing it open for him. He steps through, then turns back to you —hesitating just for a second.

He pulls you in for a hug, reaching around your waist with a touch that feels impossibly soft for such a rough guy, it feels different than the welcome he gave you earlier. He gives a tight squeeze and kisses you on the head, your knees nearly buckle. “See you soon, Bird,”

Joel pulls away, nods once, and disappears into the night. You stand there, syrup-brained, and swear he won’t stay a stranger. You’ll drag that old Joel out, make him feel it too. series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights. chapters will have specific warnings. @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115

[peachetteprice]

CW: dark themes, kidnapping, assault.

Neuroscientist!Price wishes to explore the established neurological link between sex and fear, to better understand the heightened state of sexual arousal present in abduction victims who have experienced symptoms of Stockholm syndrome at the hands of their kidnappers. 

He files an advertisement in the morning paper and tapes his research proposal form onto the faces of street-lamps, urging women who may be interested in his project to rip a strip of paper from the bottom, a phone number – his phone number – advising anyone who fits the criteria of his sample to call it; it states you must be over thirty and under forty-five, have been sexually active for the previous five years, and have natural brown hair. You don’t quite comprehend enough about neuroscience to discern the relevance of asking a woman for the colour of her hair, though you assume it is the simple reasoning of an intellectual with much more expertise than a lowly accountancy firm receptionist, and, fitting the description with enough accuracy and curiosity to wish to take part: you call the number.

Three days later, you receive a voicemail asking if you’re available to meet him in his office. The man's voice is warm, woody; it has the exact qualities that would warrant you fantasising about him requesting that you get on your knees, like the good slut you are, and keep your hands to yourself as you throat him. His office is in the centre of London, you learn, within a building you’ve never heard of before, though it seems to be across from a quaint café that requires you stop off at an hour before the scheduled meeting, arriving in the building's empty foyer with a latte and a croissant. 

The research will take place not far from his office, he explains, and leads you down a set of stairs, indented from the rear of the caretaker’s workroom, though you’re hardly paying attention to his words, nor the path you’re taking when his hips are swaying so seductively, biceps flexing against the constraints of his lab coat as he opens door after door, descends step after step, all the while a fragrant and tantalising scent keeps your mind hazy.

Poor thing. You don't stand a chance. Neither did the four other women before you.

By the time your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, to puzzle together a set of metal chains and leather straps hanging from the ceiling and a cold, wet, stone interior, you’re thrust to the floor with a deft slap, nostrils free from the smell of his cologne to settle, instead, on the faint, rustic scents elsewhere, coalescing together much as the damp and mould in the corner of the room, that not a soul would be able to guess incorrectly: blood, sweat, and cum.

No one quite understands what Doctor Price does in the evenings: why the back-up generator in the basement ticks overtime long after every employee has left the building, why his office remains vacant and his name and photo stripped from every company poster and website listing, or why he has such a friendly rapport with the building's sole cleaner, a man who goes only by the moniker of Ghost, but they know exactly how he elicits such darling noises from the women he passes in the street during the daytime – for he has the sort of mind that drives women insane.

| Masterlist |

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Quinn and crammin’ (dp x dc)

Jazz had seen the girl around before. She was a pretty girl, with blonde hair in a ponytail and soft blue eyes behind her glasses. That hadn’t been why Jazz noticed her at first though. Well, mostly not.

It was the books under the girl’s arm that had caught her eyes: “An Introduction to Psychopathology”. It was a book Jazz had remembered was for PSYCH 231 which was a class they didn’t have until their second year, and Jazz remembered seeing the girl in her introductory psychology class earlier this week.

The pretty girl was reading ahead.

Jazz looked back down at her own book on Cognitive Neurosciences and smiled wryly. A kindred spirit, she thought somewhat ruefully.

As Jazz looked to the girl who was sitting all alone at the library desk in front of the big manual, she felt a burst of impulsiveness take over. She gathered her things and walked determinedly towards the girl.

“You mind?” Jazz said as she indicated the chair in front of the stranger.

The girl lifted her head and blinked before she smiled. “Not at all.”

”Thanks,” Jazz replied with a bright smile. “I’m Jasmine Fenton.”

The girl’s grin widened as her eyes creased slightly. “Nice to meet you,” she answered happily. “My name’s Harleen Quinzel.”

[somesecretpie]

I am looking for a human host!

Are you bored?

Are you lonely and bored?

Do you have a lot of time on your hands?

Do you have hands?

I’m offering you a proposal, with potential financial compensation for your troubles. It may sound off putting at first blush, but hear me out. I am looking for a human host. And I mean a “willing” human host who might be willing to give up some of their time to help out an odd fellow that doesn’t have hands or blood.

Am I asking to control your body? Yes. Sometimes. You’ll still be there, but taking the backseat. Now you’re probably thinking “That sounds no fun! I don’t want to spend all my time riding shotgun.”

And that’s valid.

But you all spend about half of the day unconscious anyway. Your body is just there, doing nothing—a complete waste. As for me, I don’t sleep (haha), so we could have it so that during the day, I will graciously let you do fun human things, and at night, I’ll do whatever. And by whatever, I mean perfectly safe, perfectly reasonable activities.

I don’t drink, and I rarely go outside.

I enjoy baking, I look at pictures of birds online, I’ve been getting into neuroscience lately. Very interesting stuff. You’re all very interesting.

And maybe you’re still thinking “Hey now, I don’t want some random mind-controlling thingy hauling my body around in my sleep, “Weekend at Bernie’s Style” to which I say, you’re no fun and you’re not the kind of person I want to live with anyway.

“But I’m a light sleeper!” you say.

Don’t worry! I can isolate your somatosensory cortex so you can’t feel anything.

“But my family will think it’s weird!” you say.

Don’t worry! You don’t have to tell them.

Actually, I would prefer that you don’t tell anyone. Please.

And should anyone question me, I’m not bad at impressions. I’ll get really good at a “you” impression, it’ll be the first thing I do!

I know this all sounds very strange and potentially unpleasant, but remember the financial compensation that may or may not be happening. Hell, I’ll even do some of your chores if you like, while you sleep. You can wake up and the dishes will be done, laundry folded and coffee made. Doesn’t that sound nice? And then you open the fridge and oh, what’s this? Someone baked banana bread last night (that was me, I baked banana bread last night.)

Now I should say, I don’t have a lot of standards, I really don’t. But I do (unfortunately) have some, so let’s just get them out of the way before I waste your time.

Please do not contact me if you have any of the following:

- Anemia: Sorry, it’s just not going to work out. I can pay for iron supplements, but I can’t work miracles.

-A weak immune system: I don’t like getting sick, I’m sorry. It’s gross, sick people are gross. I mean I know it’s not your fault, but healthy folks only please.

-A strong immune system: Yes, I know what I just said, but I also don’t want to be attacked by your immune system. So maybe you’re not the picture of health, but you’re just kind of okay. I’m looking for someone who is just kind of okay.

-A penchant for alcohol: It makes me feel strange…

-A name that starts with a P: I’m not the greatest at “speaking.” It’s hard, moving air through your throat and moving your tongue and your mouth at the same time. You all do it so easy—can’t say I’m not envious! I’m the worst at making the “P” sound.

I intentionally avoid any "p word" in conversation, and get by well enough, but I’ll look pretty foolish if I’m cavorting about, pretending to be you, and I can’t even say your name!

Those are my standards, but really, other than that, I’ll take anyone.

I don’t care if you’re male or female or anything in between.

I don’t care if you’re gay.

I don’t care if you’re smart.

I don’t care if you don’t have a lawyer.

There are so many things that I don’t care about.

Now, I’ve specified all the ways in which I could compensate you and how our relationship will be not in any way problematic, but I want to stress that, above all things, I am looking for a friend.

Someone I can spend quiet evenings with.

If you want to hang out with me during the day, that’s great! I can give you fun hallucinations. Or you could have hallucinations the normal way, like by reading, like what you’re doing now. I love to read! I love doing funny voices. I wonder what you think I sound like?

I hope I sound nice.

And one of the best things about me is I’m very quiet. No one else will be able to hear me except you. I’ll be like your own personal friend that only you know. Like a secret friend. And you don’t even have to talk to me because I can read your thoughts.

I suppose I should tell you a bit more about myself, since you’re still reading.

I was born in the Everglades, I think. It’s been awhile.

But I remember being so cold…

And so alone...

But then I met this sweaty man in a colorful tee-shirt, with a camera, and half a granola bar, and with blood so hot.

So yeah, he was my first host, and I’ll admit, we weren’t the best of friends. It was a confusing time for both of us. I was confused. He was confused. What happened was really both of our faults, you could say…

He was a bird watcher, if I recall correctly. Just watched birds all the time. I thought it might have been out of jealousy—watching those little things flying around makes you feel kind of stuck. I felt stuck.

So I decided to be a bird for a while to see if it was really all it’s cracked up to be. Squished myself into the body of this lovely American crow. We settled down, built a nest, and laid several nice, healthy eggs with a man-bird by the name of “Richard Baxter.”

He was a very proud bird, very large. And he gave me so many wonderful gifts. Like children, and also small pieces of plastic.

I still have all of them.

The plastic, not the children.

I’d never been so happy, all these hormones had me consumed in the joy of motherhood, but the crow’s health was failing. I could not sustain myself—it’s pathetic little heart beat weaker and weaker.

I tried starving, I tried everything I could, I wanted to be a bird so bad. But it just wasn’t working out.

The bird stopped working.

The other crows held a funeral service for me, even though I was still alive. I tried to tell them, but I’m not good at speaking, you remember.

It was all just a big mess.

I haven't seen Baxter since, but I still think about him a lot.

Is that weird?

I’m totally over it though, haha.

After that incident, I got kind of depressed... I possessed a lot of trash animals—gulls, racoons, and salespeople. I did what I could to survive. That’s kind of where I am now.

I am currently living in Miami florida—been body surfing almost every day (haha). Right now I’m using a library computer and a librarian. She does not like being possessed, boy howdy are these fingers twitching. But you can thank her for my halfway decent grammar.

I’m tired of feeling like a parasite.

I want to try a different approach.

I want to be friends? Like with Richard Baxter except I also live in your brain and drink your blood sometimes. But I’ll make you bread in your sleep, so it’s okay.

It’s been really hard finding someone willing to put up with me.

I’ve tried everything.

So I thought I would put up an advertisement online, why not?

Can’t say the P word in real life, but you can hear it in your head loud enough I hope.

I know I kept saying that I would compensate you financially, but I’m going to be real with you, I don’t have much. I’ve got like twenty bucks, some small pieces of plastic and a book about...finance....

But I’m a real hoot! ;D

So,

(P)lease,

If you are interested, leave your comments below. I would love to get to know you :)

I need to go now, the library is closing soon, but I’ll get back as soon as I can.

[smoketransformer]

The MAN Experiment

This report details the process and results of the Marlboro Addiction Neuroscience (MAN) experiment performed by the Fumo Transfigurator Institute (FTI).

Observation

Can addiction be formed if the subject believes they cannot become addicted?

Hypothesis

If the subject thinks they cannot become addicted to nicotine, they will not become addicted to nicotine.

Experiment

The subject will take a placebo drug each day over a hundred days. They will be placed on a strict smoking schedule over the hundred days, as follows:

Evaluation will be done to determine whether the subject is addicted. Subject is required to log with video evidence that they have smoked the required daily limit. The subject can smoke anytime during the day, but must smoke right after waking up and right before going to bed.

Log

Day 0

We met with the subject (male, 27yo). We went over the expectations of the experiment and made sure he was aware of the risks. Communication is as follows:

FTI: “Have you ever smoked before?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do your parents smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have siblings that smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have friends that smoke?”

Subject: “Just one.”

FTI: “What is their name?”

Subject: “His name is -redacted-.” (Friend will be talked about further in the report. From this point forward, friend’s name will be referred to as Alpha.)

FTI: “How long have you known Alpha?”

Subject: “We were friends in high school, so about 12 years. We have stayed in touch.”

FTI: “How often do you see Alpha?”

Subject: “Not often. Maybe once a month. Since he smokes and I don’t, I don’t invite him over a lot. I don’t really care for the smell. He also drinks a bit and I’m not much of a drinker.”

FTI: “You are aware of the expectations of the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “Our drug helps prevent addiction. Do you want to be a smoker?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you believe you will become an addicted smoker?”

Subject: “No. Not with your drug and my willpower.”

The subject began the experiment the following day. Next check in

Note: Subject was paid $1,000 per week for their willingness to participate in our experiment.

Day 11

We met with the subject after the first 10 days. We went over the daily log videos. We noted that the first three days included a lot of coughing and resistance. The subject did not want to smoke them. The remaining days appeared to be easier for the subject, but the subject said he still did not want to smoke.

We noted the subject had grown a beard. We asked the subject if it was related to the smoking. Subject stated: “Smoking first thing in the morning has interrupted my morning routine.”

Prior to our meeting, the subject had smoked just one cigarette. We reminded them that he had to now smoke four a day. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject rated a 1. He didn’t feel like he wanted to or needed to smoke.

Day 21

We met with the subject after another 10 days of smoking 4 cigarettes a day. We went over the daily video logs and verified the subject complied with the requirements. We noted the subject rarely coughed. The subject schedule was smoking two before work and the remaining two in the evening. We noted that the subject had gained 5.6 pounds since the start of the experiment. His comment in regards to the weight gain: “I found it is easier to smoke if I’m having a beer in the evening. Also, I guess I have been splurging a little more with junk food. Guess I justify a bad habit with another. Like, what’s the point?”

The subject had already smoked two prior to the meeting and was aware he had to smoke four more today to meet the expectations. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject still rated a 1.

Day 31

We met with the subject after 10 days of smoking 6 cigarettes a day. We went over the video logs. We identified that the subject appeared to enjoy his smoke breaks at work and provided a sense of relief. The subject stated when we pointed this out “I guess I like to be able to step outside and the rest of the world kind of stops.”

We noted that the subject had cut his hair shorter. He stated that he was receiving comments at work about him smelling like smoke. He didn’t want them to know that he is participating in this experiment, so he thought shorter hair would prevent this as there would be less hair for the smoke to stick to.

The subject has also gained a total of 10.1 pounds since the start of the experiment. He has increased his beer and junk food intake.

The subject had already smoked 4 cigarettes prior to our meeting. He said he knows that he is expected to smoke another 4 today. The subject rated a 2 out of 10 in regards to addiction. We asked if the subject would like to quit the experiment and he said he still wants to “stick through it”.

Day 41

We met with the subject after smoking 8 cigarettes a day over the last 10 days. We observed the video logs and noticed the subject was smoking a few with someone else. This individual was his friend Alpha. The subject was spending more time with Alpha. Conversation regarding this change is as follows:

FTI: “Why have you been spending more time with Alpha?”

Subject: “One reason I didn’t hang out with Alpha was to our different lifestyles. Now that I am smoking, spending time is more enjoyable as we both outside for smoking.”

FTI: “Do you enjoy smoking with Alpha?”

Subject: “If I’m being honest, yes. It is like an added connection with our friendship.”

FTI: “Did you tell him about the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “What were his thoughts? Did he think the drug was working?”

Subject: “He didn’t think it was, but I believe that it is.”

The subject had only smoke 2 prior to our meeting but knew he had to smoke 10. He stated: “Alpha is coming over for a few beers later this evening and wanted to save majority of my daily limit today so I can smoke when he smokes.”

We identified that he refers to his daily smoke expectations as “limits” now. When asked if he would smoke more than his set scheduled expectations if allowed, he said maybe. We ensured him to stick to the schedule.

Subject’s beard has grown larger.

Out of a scale of 10, he stated he was still at a 2. We are not sure if he is being honest or is in denial.

Day 51

We met with the subject. He smelled like cigarette smoke. He said he didn’t notice the smell anymore on him. He even said he was starting to not care anymore if he smelled like a smoker. The subject even said he started smoking inside his house for convenience. The subject said he quit his job as he didn’t like having to wait for smoke breaks at work. His friend Alpha is getting him a job at his road construction company. The subject has been spending most evening drinking and smoking with Alpha. We asked the subject the following questions:

FTI: “Do you see yourself as a smoker?”

Subject: “I guess. I am planning on quitting once this experiment is over.”

FTI: “Have you enjoyed smoking?”

Subject: “Honestly, yes. I see the appeal.”

FTI: “Do you think the drug is working?”

Subject: “Yes. I can quit anytime.”

FTI: “Do you want to quit now?”

Subject: “No. I want to finish the experiment.”

We asked the subject if we could call his friend Alpha. He agreed. Our conversation went as follows:

FTI: “Good afternoon, Alpha. This is FTI - we are the ones conducting the experiment on your friend.”

Alpha: “Hi there.”

FTI: “Do you think your friend is addicted to smoking?”

Alpha: “Yeah, most definitely.”

FTI: “What makes you say that?”

Alpha: “He always suggests we take a smoke break. He lights up whenever he wants or needs to.”

FTI: “Our drug prevents addiction though.”

Alpha: “Well, your drug don’t work.”

FTI: “When the experiment is over, will you support your friend on quitting?”

Alpha: “Probably not. The man’s a smoker. I don’t see him quitting anytime soon.”

We asked the subject what he thought about his friend’s answers. He had no comment.

The subject is starting 14 cigarettes a day. When reminded of this, the subject said “Sounds good. I’m already halfway through for the day.”

The subject had gained additional weight and has shaven his head. He said his friend Alpha suggested it.

Day 61

The subject appeared hungover. He said he had a late night with the co-workers, including Alpha. He admitted that he smoked more than his “limit”. We told him he had to stick to the set schedule and he was displeased, but said he would try his best.

The subject had gained more weight from his drinking. He said he enjoys the “taste of a cold beer and a Red.”

The meeting was short. He acted like he was in a rush. As soon as we dismissed him, we watched him light up a cigarette when exiting our facility.

Day 71

The subject initially did not appear for the meeting. When called, he said he didn’t see the point anymore. He knew he wasn’t addicted, but didn’t need to prove it. He reminded us he could quit anytime. We reminded him of the payment, but only agreed to come in if we supplied him with the cigarettes he would need for the next 10 days.

The subject came in and grabbed his 8 packs of Marlboro Reds.

The subject smelled of smoke and his voice was starting to sound raspy. He coughed occasionally. We asked him why he continued to grow out the beard. He said he can sometimes smell the smoke on it and that he likes it.

Day 81

The subject told us that he thought the drug was still working, but wondered if FTI would be interested in a longer study to really prove the effectiveness of the drug. We said that the 100 days will be more than enough data. The subject appeared disappointed and said, “Oh - guess it is just 20 more days of this then.”

We asked him how addicted did he think he was. He thought about it for a while until he said “5 out of 10, but I think I can still quit.”

The scientists conducting the experiment discussed after the subject left whether it was moral and ethical to continue on. We discussed whether the subject should be given the option to quit before he became even more addicted. Our lead scientist stated, “To be honest, it is probably already too late. At the end of the experiment, we will give him resources to quit.”

Day 91

We showed the subject a photo of himself at the start of the experiment. We asked him what advice he would give himself at the start of the experiment.

Subject: “Do it man - the drug works and you get to try smoking for 100 days.”

We asked the subject if he truly believe the drug worked. He said, “Sure. I’ll quit eventually.”

We asked him if he was ready to quit after the next 10 days. His reply was “I will quit, eventually.”

Day 101

The subject came in. He still smelled like he was smoking. We asked him if he had smoked today and he said, “Yeah - but I kind of forgot the experiment ended.”

We told the subject the truth and that the drug was a placebo. We expected him to get angry, but he wasn’t. After delivering the news, we asked him to honestly rate how addicted he was. He said “10 out of 10”.

We provided him resources to call and offered him nicotine patches to help him quit. He refused both. He said he will probably quit eventually, he he just wasn’t ready. He enjoyed his new life and that he had never felt more free or manly. We asked him how many he had smoked so far today. He stated he had already smoked a whole pack and that he was looking forward to not having a limit anymore. He said he only was friends with Alpha and that his friends disapproved of his new smoking habit.

He said he needed a smoke and left the meeting. We followed him to the parking lot and said we needed one final photo. He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and smiled.

Conclusion

We conclude that a man will become addicted even when he thought he couldn’t. We stand by our research ethically because the subject did not regret starting. He even thanked us for the pleasure.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

First Brazilian to win global prize for young scientists studying psychotic disorders

Fabiana Corsi Zuelli, 34, stands out in a competitive selection process with nearly 90,000 global candidates

When Fabiana Corsi Zuelli traveled to Plovdiv, Bulgaria, in November 2024, she had no idea her trip would result in such a life-changing recognition. At 34, the Ribeirão Preto-based researcher is no stranger to accolades, having received six prestigious awards from international scientific societies. Yet none have been as impactful as the one she received at the Medical University of Plovdiv.

The Universal Science Education and Research Network (Usern) presented its ninth annual award, designed to honor the academic achievements of researchers under the age of 40 in five scientific fields. Winning in the Medical Sciences category, Ms. Zuelli made history as the first Brazilian to be named a laureate, emerging from a competitive selection process that drew nearly 90,000 candidates worldwide.

Since her win, Ms. Zuelli has been overwhelmed by the attention her work has garnered, including multiple media interviews. She attributes the increased visibility to the credibility of the Usern board, which includes over 600 renowned scientists, including 20 Nobel Prize laureates. “I was thrilled because this recognition highlights the importance of scientific work. Many people aren’t aware of what happens in academia, so this is a chance for us to share our research,” she says.

Ms. Zuelli’s award recognizes her research conducted between 2016 and 2024 during her master’s and doctorate studies in neurosciences at the Ribeirão Preto Medical School of the University of São Paulo (FMRP-USP). Her work focused on uncovering the biological and environmental mechanisms behind psychotic disorders, which affect approximately 1% of the global population.

Continue reading.

[dwellordream]

Parents Should Ignore Their Children More Often

By Darby Saxbe, clinical psychologist and professor of psychology at the University of Southern California

I recently spoke with an anthropologist named Barry Hewlett who studies child-rearing in hunter-gatherer societies in Central Africa. He explained to me that children in those societies spend lots of time with their parents — they tag along throughout the day and often help with tasks like foraging — but they are rarely the main object of their parents’ attention. Sometimes bored, sometimes engaged, these kids spend much of their time observing adults doing adult things.

Parents in contemporary industrialized societies often take the opposite approach. In the precious time when we’re not working, we place our children at the center of our attention, consciously engaging and entertaining them. We drive them around to sports practice and music lessons, where they are observed and monitored by adults, rather than the other way around. We value “quality time” over quantity of time. We feel guilty when we have to drag our children along with us to take care of boring adult business.

This intensive, often frantic style of parenting requires a lot more effort than the style Professor Hewlett described. I found myself thinking about those hunter-gatherers last month when I read the advisory from the surgeon general, Vivek Murthy, warning that many parents are stressed to their breaking point. There are plenty of reasons for this worrisome state of affairs. One is that we don’t ignore our children often enough.

The modern style of parenting is not just exhausting for adults; it is also based on assumptions about what children need to thrive that are not supported by evidence from our evolutionary past. For most of human history, people had lots of kids, and children hung out in intergenerational social groups in which they were not heavily supervised. Your average benign-neglect day care is probably closer to the historical experience of child care than that of a kid who spends the day alone with a doting parent.

Of course, just because a parenting style is ancient doesn’t make it good. But human beings have spent about 90 percent of our collective time on Earth as hunter-gatherers, and our brains and bodies evolved and adapted to suit that lifestyle. Hunter-gatherer cultures tell us something important about how children are primed to learn.

A parenting style that took its cue from those hunter-gatherers would insist that one of the best things parents can do — for ourselves as well as for our children — is to go about our own lives and tote our children along. You might call it mindful underparenting.

Children learn not only from direct instruction, but also from watching and modeling what other people around them do, whether it’s foraging for berries, changing a tire or unwinding with friends after a long day of work. From a young age, that kind of observation begins to equip children for adulthood.

More important, following adults around gives children the tremendous gift of learning to tolerate boredom, which fosters patience, resourcefulness and creativity. There is evidence from neuroscience that a resting brain is not an idle one. The research tells us that the mind gets busy when it is left alone to do its own thing — in particular, it tends to think about other people’s minds. If you want to raise empathetic, imaginative children who can figure out how to entertain themselves, don’t keep their brains too occupied.

An excellent way to bore children is to take them to an older relative’s house and force them to listen to a long adult conversation about family members they don’t know. Quotidian excursions to the post office or the bank can create valuable opportunities for boredom, too.

Leaving kids’ screens at home on such trips can deepen the useful tedium. It also forces parents to build up their tolerance to their child’s fussiness, an essential component of underparenting. Parents too often feel the need to engage their children in “fun” activities to tempt them away from screens. But by teaching children to crave constant external stimulation and entertainment, intensive parenting can actually worsen screen dependence.

To be sure, when kids are upset, in danger or require guidance, parents can and should swoop in to help. But that is precisely the point: It is only by ignoring our children much of the time that we conserve the energy necessary to give them our full attention when they actually need it.

In recent years there has been a lot of hand-wringing about so-called helicopter parents and their hopelessly coddled children. But we rarely talk about what parents ought to do instead. In an ideal world, we would set children loose to roam free outdoors, unsupervised. As a small-town Ohio kid in the 1990s, I spent hours with my brothers playing in the creek behind our house, with plenty of time to get good and bored. When that sort of “free range” experience is not an option, however, mindful underparenting is the next best thing.

This approach can take the form of bringing children with you not just on boring errands, but also when you work, socialize or exercise. I was at my gym the other day when a father came in with his 4-year-old son. The two of them took turns working out with a trainer teaching them martial arts moves. When it wasn’t his turn, the 4-year-old scrambled around the gym and, when he got tired, lay on his belly on the mat and watched his father practice kicks. Observing the boy, his big eyes taking in a ton of social information, I thought about all the parents who say that they have no time to exercise because they’re too busy with their kids.

At the same time, I thought about all the gyms that bar small children. Even as parenting has gotten more intensive, public spaces, especially in the United States, seem to have become more hostile to the presence of children. I wrote most of my Ph.D. dissertation alongside my toddler in a coffee shop in my neighborhood that had a mini play area with stacking toys, board books and room to park a stroller. That coffee shop is gone now, replaced by a sleeker cafe where it’s hard to picture a stray plastic toy, let alone a rambunctious 2-year-old.

Parents have it easier in countries such as Germany and Spain, where you can find beer gardens and tapas bars situated right next to playgrounds, or in Denmark, where parents routinely park their infants in strollers outside cafes while they socialize. In such places you can relax and catch up with friends while children romp around — a reminder of how much easier parenting gets when we enjoy the social trust born from shared investment in care.

In other words, underparenting requires structural change, and not just the obvious changes that we think of as parental stress-relievers, such as family leave and paid child care. It also requires that as a society, we build back our tolerance for children in public spaces, as annoying and distracting as they can be, and create safe environments where lightly supervised kids can roam freely. In a society that treated children as a public good, we would keep a collective eye on all our kids — which would free us of the need to hover over our own

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Between the Pages - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the university library, shy PhD student Spencer Reid has an unexpected encounter with Y/N, a popular classmate. Despite their differences, a shared interest in neuroscience sparks a captivating conversation, leading them from strangers to friends (and possibly more…).

The university library was always a sanctuary for Spencer Reid, a place where the overwhelming noise of the world faded to a hushed whisper, allowing him to lose himself among the stacks of books and journals. As a child prodigy , he was no stranger to the pressures of academia, often engrossed in his research and studies. With his signature mop of messy hair and glasses perched precariously on his nose, Spencer was the epitome of the dedicated scholar.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when the serenity of his beloved library was disrupted. The usual ambient noise was replaced by a slightly louder, distinctly feminine laughter that seemed out of place amidst the studious atmosphere.

Curiosity piqued, Spencer looked up from his book and noticed a group of students huddled together a few tables away. Among them was Y/N, a classmate whose name Spencer had often heard whispered in hushed, admiring tones around the campus corridors. She was effortlessly charming, her charisma drawing people in like moths to a flame. Spencer had never spoken to her before; he doubted she even knew he existed.

Returning his attention to his work, Spencer tried to drown out the unfamiliar noise. Yet, despite his best efforts, his mind kept wandering, intrigued by the unfamiliarity of Y/N’s presence in the usually quiet library. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself discreetly observing her from behind the pages of his book.

He was mesmerized by the way she interacted with her friends, her laughter infectious and her smile radiant. Despite being surrounded by people, she seemed completely at ease, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around her. It was a stark contrast to Spencer's own introverted nature, his shyness often making social interactions a daunting prospect.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer failed to notice when Y/N's gaze wandered in his direction. When he finally looked up, he found himself locked in a pair of curious eyes. Flushing slightly, he quickly averted his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.

A few minutes passed in awkward silence before a soft voice broke the stillness. "Hey, you're Spencer, right? We're in Dr. Harrison's seminar together."

Startled, Spencer looked up to find Y/N standing in front of him, her smile warm and inviting. "Um, yes, that's me," he stammered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... uh, I mean, hi."

Y/N chuckled softly, her laughter putting Spencer at ease. "No need to apologize. I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all by yourself. Mind if I join you?"

Swallowing nervously, Spencer nodded, gesturing to the empty seat opposite him. "Of course, please, have a seat."

As Y/N settled herself across from him, Spencer couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He had never been this close to her before, and the proximity only heightened his awareness of her presence. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, a delicate floral fragrance that was both intoxicating and comforting.

"Working on your thesis?" Y/N asked, nodding towards the screen of his laptop.

"Yes, I'm researching the neurobiological basis of memory retrieval," Spencer replied, his passion for his work shining through despite his nervousness.

"That sounds fascinating," Y/N said sincerely, her interest genuine. "I'm majoring in psychology, but I have to admit, neuroscience has always been a bit daunting for me."

Spencer's eyes lit up at her words, his confidence growing. "Well, if you ever need any help or want to learn more, I'd be happy to explain it to you."

Y/N smiled appreciatively, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might just take you up on that offer."

As the afternoon went on, the initial awkwardness between them melted away, replaced by a comfortable closeness. They discussed everything from their shared academic interests to their favorite books and movies, discovering unexpected common ground along the way.

By the time the library began to empty, the two of them were so engrossed in conversation that they hardly noticed the passing time. As they gathered their belongings, Y/N turned to Spencer with a smile.

"Thanks for today, Spencer. I had a great time getting to know you."

Spencer's heart soared at her words, a warm glow spreading through him. "The pleasure was all mine," he replied, his shyness momentarily forgotten.

As they walked out of the library together, Spencer couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of connection with Y/N. Though they had started the day as strangers, their chance meeting in the library had blossomed into the beginnings of a friendship - and perhaps, just maybe, something more.