#online phd psychology

[prashasconsulting]

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[expertacademicassignmenthelp]

 How Does The Brain Work?

The brain stands as a marvel of biological engineering, Composing of a multitude of bodily functions ranging from cognition and memory to emotions and sensory perception. Together with the spinal cord, it constitutes the central nervous system (CNS), the command center of the human body.

Composition of the Brain

Weighing approximately 3 pounds in adults, the brain’s main structure comprises about 60% fat, interspersed with water, protein, carbohydrates, and salts. Unlike muscles, it houses a complex network of blood vessels and nerves, including neurons and glial cells.

a) Gray and White Matter

Within the central nervous system, gray matter and white matter occupies distinct regions. In the brain, gray matter forms the outer layer, rich in neuron somas, while white matter constitutes the inner section, primarily composed of axons unsheathed in myelin. Conversely, in the spinal cord, this arrangement is reversed.

b) Brain Functionality

 The brain operates by transmitting and receiving chemical and electrical signals throughout the body. These signals regulate a myriad of processes, with the brain disseminating each input. Some signals remain confined within the brain, while others traverse the spinal cord and nerves, disseminating information across the body’s expanse. This composes neural network relies on billions of interconnected neurons.

Major Brain Regions and Their Functions

1.Cerebrum

Dominating the brain’s landscape, the cerebrum encompasses the cerebral cortex and underlying white matter. It governs a spectrum of functions, including motor coordination, temperature regulation, language processing, emotional regulation, and sensory perception.

2. Brainstem

 Serving as the bridge between the cerebrum and spinal cord, the brainstem comprises the midbrain, pons, and medulla. It regulates vital autonomic functions such as heart rate, breathing, and reflexive responses.

3. Cerebellum

Nestled at the posterior aspect of the brain, the cerebellum coordinates voluntary muscle movements, posture, balance, and motor learning.

 Brain Coverings

a) Meninges

 Three layers of protective membranes, collectively known as meninges, enshroud the brain and spinal cord. These layers — dura mater, arachnoid mater, and pia mater — shield the delicate neural tissue from physical trauma and infection.

b) Lobes of the Brain

 Each hemisphere of the brain comprises four lobes, each harboring distinct functional domains:

Frontal Lobe: Governing executive functions, motor control, and higher cognitive processes.

Parietal Lobe: Integrating sensory information, spatial awareness, and perception of pain and touch.

Occipital Lobe: Specialized for visual processing and perception.

Temporal Lobe: Involved in auditory processing, language comprehension, and memory consolidation.

Deeper Brain Structures

 These encompass important structures such as the pituitary gland, hypothalamus, amygdala, hippocampus, and pineal gland, orchestrating hormone secretion, emotional regulation, memory consolidation, and circadian rhythms.

Blood Supply

The brain receives its oxygenated blood supply through the vertebral and carotid arteries, ensuring adequate perfusion of neural tissue. The main network of blood vessels, including the Circle of Willis, safeguards against ischemic insults and facilitates intraarterial communication.

Cranial Nerves 

The twelve pairs of cranial nerves, originating from the brainstem, mediate a diverse array of sensory and motor functions, encompassing olfaction, vision, facial expression, and auditory perception.

Comprehending the anatomy and functionality of the brain fosters a deeper appreciation of its complexity and facilitates advances in neuroscientific research and therapeutic interventions aimed at diminishing neurological disorders.

Understanding the detailed anatomy and functionality of the brain is crucial for medical students embarking on their journey of study. Expert Academic Assignment Help offers invaluable assistance in navigating the complexities of neuroscience and related subjects. By leveraging expert guidance and support, students can excel in their medical education and contribute to advancements in the field of Medicine. Email us at expertassignment46@gmail.com to embark on your path to scholarly excellence and professional competency.

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[iamthekarmapolice]

i think at this point from the in-depth tweet dataset analysis and reading i’ve done in the specific area of ‘white american woman gets hounded off twitter in nothingburger “““Racism”““ row’ the one commonality is that there’s always like 3 similar race-related backlashes that happened earlier but didn’t go anywhere. lindsay ellis did that gross harriet tubman reylo fanfic tweet, and glossed over criticism to the racism in twilight in her defense of it. alison roman pretended to invent chole masala and called it ‘#TheStew’. and these do weigh on peoples’ minds because they show up often in the tweets in the most recent backlash. the most recent microagression becomes the thousandth cut. it’s not just about that one tiny thing, it’s also pent-up anger about the dozens of other instances like this in the past

[cultivated-man]

Sometimes I forget I'm a PhD student. Like.

What.

[adventuringblind]

Hi!

can you do a fic w/ Oscar where the reader is a PhD student so they can’t really go to any of the races so fans online are DRAGGING her by saying she’s a bad gf, Oscar should cheat on her, and she doesn’t deserve him etc. Maybe she has like an identity crisis at a race and is questioning everything so Oscar is there to comfort and reassure her?

I’m sorry this is very long!

also I love your writing :)

The Psychology of Fans

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst if you squint

Request: omg I love this idea, specifically because I am a student. Also send me ideas plz 🙏. I don't think y'all understand the excitement it brings me to make something that you enjoy :)

Summary: it's a busy time in readers life working on her PhD in psychology. She wants to support Oscar as much as possible but is struggling to find the time. The fans take notice of her lack of presence and start tearing her down because of it.

Warnings: Toxic fans, panic attacks

Notes: written in third person. This one was challenging, but fun to write!

Masterlist

Everything had been going amazing for the couple. She was starting her PhD in psychology, and Oscar had signed with McLaren for a seat. They were ecstatic for eachother.

They had their own dynamic that worked for them. Spending time together when they could but being patient with the other if things didn't go to plan.

When they started dating, she had requested that her socials and information remain private. She didn't care if people knew they were dating. She just didn't want to deal with the fans and media while she was deep in her studies.

Things between them were great. Oscar tried to keep things as private as he could. It was simple during his formula 2 career when they started dating. There weren’t as many people watching his every step.

His fan base grew exponentially as soon as he signed with McLaren. All the sudden people were everywhere asking for pictures and autographs. All the while, people were asking about his dating life. They were asking questions about her.

When the Australian Grand Prix came around, she made sure she was there to see it. She wanted to support Oscar and his first formula 1 race. It was an exciting moment for him and you wanted to share it together.

The cameras and fans were relentless and ridiculous, in her opinion. Their was never a moment of peace since they wanted to know everything about Oscar and his guest.

After everything was said and done, the fans took nicely to her and Oscar. It was relieving for both of you. It gave the press team less to worry about. Not that either would have cared, but it was nice knowing he wouldn’t had to hear about it in meetings.

School had started picking up the pace. McLaren was struggling this season. It left both of them stressed and longing for each other. She wanted to support him more then what she was but her schedule didn’t allow for it.

Sometimes she would travel with Oscar but didn’t go to the track. It was a small gesture that he appreciated. He didn’t care where she was as long as she was cheering for him.

The fans had taken notice of her lack of attendance. Coming up with their own assumptions about why she wasn’t there. Calling her names that were untrue and hurtful

“Oscar deserves better.”

“Bet she just wants a top driver.”

“Maybe she has other guys when he’s gone.”

It was driving her insane. She knew it shouldn’t get under her skin, but it did. Oscar did deserve someone who could support him full time. Who cheered him on at every race. It was causing her more stress then she could manage.

She decided not to tell Oscar. The idea of burdening him anymore made her feel sick.

~

It was now the British Grand Prix and she had decided to go and support Oscar despite the work that was piling up on her plate. He had gotten new upgrades on his car and she was saying prayers that they worked.

She practically fell over when he finished fourth. Screaming in joy for the Australian who had been working so hard.

It was on their way out that everything seemed to fall apart.

Fans wanted pictures and the cameras were still in his face. He tried to shied the girl beside him from it, pulling into his side while he walked. It was then he heard what they were saying. Heat rising to his face.

“If you’re not going to say something nice then let us through please.” Oscar pushed past everyone and forced his way to their car.

He held her close that night and reassured her that they were spewing lies. This if they were acting like that then they weren’t real fans.

~

Oscar was shocked when she came to the Hungarian Grand Prix. He knew she was stressed about school. He saw the dark circles under her eyes. But she is absolutely determined.

Peoples criticism was getting worse by the day. Oscar had started to catch on since his PR team was now bringing it up but he didn’t want to push her.

It was the end of qualifying. Another success from Oscar. A success she didn’t get to see despite all her best efforts.

The thought of what everyone was saying ran wild in her head. An interaction with a few fans left her devastated. They were saying she was only here now because Oscar is doing well. How she should support him through it all. How he could do better then her. How he deserved more.

She was sobbing now. Her mind screaming insecurities. Her breath uneven and her hands clutching her head as she tried to block out the voices.

Oscar had been looking for her after the press conference. He wanted nothing more then to hold her in his arms and celebrate his achievement. He’d been looking for ten minutes with no sign of her.

He tried calling and texting, but had yet to receive an answer. Worry started to settle in his chest. His efforts now expedited only to run right into Lando.

“Have you seen y/n anywhere?” Oscar asks the Brit.

Lando, however, was out of breath. He had run around trying to find Oscar for a few minutes. “I heard her in your driver room. She sounds awful mate.”

Oscar didn’t waste a second moving in that direction. He felt a bit stupid for not having checked there first.

It didn’t take him long until he was swinging open the door to reveal her curled up on the floor. Her hands over her ears and body shaking.

He crouches down next to her. Slowly so he doesn’t scare her.

Sue didn't notice his presence. She couldn't even see her surroundings. Everything was going dark and she knew she needed to breathe or she would lose consciousness.

She heard faint yelling. "Lando!"

It was Oscar's voice. The sound almost drew her back to reality. But the dark confines of her mind had too much of a grip.

Oscar was ready to go into his own panicked state, but he needed to remain calm. He hears Lando slide into the doorway. His face dropping immediately now that he can actually see her.

Oscar takes her into his arms. Her curled up body was now placed between his legs. Her back against his chest.

She was completely absent. She wanted to protest and understand what was happening, but the fear of letting the voices in made her refrain from doing so.

It was difficult for Oscar to stay calm. He'd never seen her like this. He ran his fingers gently up and down her back. He uses his leg to push hers closer to the ground. Her body is trying to fight his, but the lack of air in her lungs makes it difficult.

Oscar wraps his arms around her now, pulling her further into him. Still trying every tech he knows to soothe her.

Lando came back with water and made his best attempt at coaching him through this.

She still was struggling to breathe, which concerned them both. Her hands gripped her head so hard he could see little spots of crimson in crescent shapes.

"Talk to her, mate. It might help her get out of her head."

Oscar nodded his head at Lando's suggestion. The Brit then ran off again to investigate what happened.

Instead of holding her around her middle, Oscar switched his tactics. Moving his hands to slip underneath hers. The little specks of blood now decorate his fingers.

Her mind was trying to grasp onto anything to bring her back. The thoughts are doing their best to pull her back under. She knows Oscar is there. She tries to ground herself with his touch.

He's repeating his words - a prayer falling from his lips willing her back to him. "I've got you. I'm here. Breathe. You're safe."

She tries to slow her erratic heart. Her body has been dry heaving and coughing from the sheer amount of static.

She finds the feeling in her arms and legs come back, using it to push herself further into Oscar. Then, finally, she can feel the thick cloud that has taken hold of her mind to start to filter through. The end of the tunnel in sight.

Her body practically goes limp. Oscar holds her up and leans her head on his chest. Trying to soothe the female in his lap.

Everything in her body hurts, but her lungs are finally getting some reprieve. She takes in the situation around her. Oscar's comforting touch keeps her present.

Her body stops trembling. Only little hiccups now escape as the tears slow. It hurts Oscar to see her like this. She looks broken and he dosen't know how he didn't catch it sooner.

"I'm sorry" falls from her lips. He just shushs her and continues to stroke her arm. "You deserve better than me."

Oscar is taken aback by her admission. He was too stunned to stop her before she continued on. "Other girls can be there to support you. They aren't as busy with school. They are prettier and can travel with you, and you wouldn't have to worry about them cheating -"

Oscar shifts them around until he can see her face. Her puffy teary eyes shattering him. He holds her face in his hands. “Other girls aren’t you.”

She can’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes again. A flurry of emotions tries to take hold once again.

“Who gave you that idea?”

She shakes her head. Willing him to ask anything else. Panic again rising into her throat as caught wrack her body. She tried to pull away from him. Her body starting to close in on itself again at the memories.

Oscar doesn’t let it happen. Holding her in place firmly yes every one of his touches are gentle and loving. He silently wills Lando to come back faster. His teammate has dealt with anxiety and would know better then him what to do.

“It’s okay, Love. We don’t have to talk about it.” He soothes and reassures her until her body goes lax agains his once again. Put exhaustion takes over and she can’t will herself to stay coherent and conscious any longer.

Oscar is relieved when she falls asleep on him. Her breathing becomes even and her body now relaxes.

Lando reappeared in the doorway ten minutes later; Out of breath and drenched in sweat. “Mate, you’re not gonna like this.”

~

The two boys moved the girl to the small couch and draped her against it gently.

Oscar was trying to hold in his rage. He wanted to storm out of the motor home and unleash his anger on everyone who ever said a word against his girl. The girl he loves. The one he chose and trusts and is ridiculously proud of. Her accomplishments deserve to be praised, not torn down by those who call themselves fans.

Lando had warned him against it. It would be a PR mess and might actually cause her more anxiety. So he bit his tongue and put on the Oscar everyone was used to seeing.

He practically sped through all his media duties. Wanting nothing more then to see that he got her back to the hotel room. Back to a safe environment where she could open up to him.

Oscar was done quickly and back in his room and changed within an hour. The woman asleep on the couch still breathing evenly.

He knew he didn’t need to, but he waited for Lando. The Brit had offered to help him get her back safely and fend off any media who tried to talk to them.

He welcomed the fact that they were distracted. Not caring much as passerby’s gave him weird looks.

~

She woke up in a foreign place. She distinctly remembers being at the track. Regardless, she couldn’t help but sink into the comfort.

Oscar her her shifting around. Gently seating himself next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She rasped. Her throat both sore and dry from her earlier wailing.

“Please don’t panic-“ he places a hand over hers. “- Lando told me what happened. We’ve both made statements about it and the PR team is doing the rest. Everyone agrees it isn’t right.”

A weight felt like it was being lifted of her chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to make sure things like this don’t happen. I love you so much and I hated seeing you like this. I don’t car in anyone else sees it. I see it and I see you. And you want to know what I see?”

She shoot him a quizzical look, curious as to where he’s going with this.

He smiles. The smiles that makes her feel warm. The smile that make heat rise to her face.

“The greatest thing I could have ever asked for.l

[hiskillingjar]

Dumb/Bimbofication (Strade/MC)

one of my top kinks that i totally overthought and ruined for myself for like two weeks lol, but the purpose of this challenge is to NOT overthink. STUPID. dumb. why are you so dumb, huh? i know you like being dumb, but just try to think for even a second, okaaaaay? :3

day 30: dumb/bimbofication second person. cw for incredibly dubious consent. please actually go to college. or don’t. i’m not your dad.

"Ooh! You've got a student ID in here. What, trying to keep all those discounts even after you've graduated? You naughty thing."

You whimpered very quietly, your voice like the shivering mewl of a dying animal, as Strade sifted through your purse. 

He tossed aside your personal effects flippantly, pocketing any cash you had stuffed between the folds (what little you did have), and flicked through your numerous credit and loyalty cards carelessly, covering the basement floor with remnants of the life you had before him.

If you could even call this a life.

"Nooo, hang on, this is pretty up to date," He then said after a beat, his features narrowing as he took a closer look at your ID, before his eyes went back up to yours, a dark brow raised in a silent question. "You haven't graduated yet?” He grimaced, but it was a sympathetic expression that didn’t suit him in the slighest. “Yeesh, you're a little too old to be at university anymore, aren't you?"

"I'm...a-a grad student," You murmured, idly licking your bloody lips (you refused to drink anything he had offered you and you were sorely regretting that decision now) and casting your gaze downwards, not wanting to look at him. "I...um, I teach sometimes, too…guest lectures, that sort of thing…"

"You're a teacher?" He asked, raising his brow.

"Teaching assistant," You corrected him, before looking back down. "Um...I'm...working on a PhD...in, um," You bit your lip, cringing slightly at the dramatic irony. "...Criminal psychology."

"Criminal-HAH!" He cut himself off with a hearty guffaw, a deeply indulgent smile spreading on his face, clearly thrilled by your discomfort. "Wow, what are the chances?! Hey," He sat forward with another laugh, pushing himself closer towards you. "If you survive this," If. "This'll be a great inclusion in your essay, won't it? They'll give you that fancy degree on the spot!"

Your lip trembled and you looked down again, trying to hold yourself together (trying not to burst into tears) and not think too much about the fact he said 'if you survive'.

If.

You'd read countless books, journals and articles about guys like Strade, the rare sadist (who were not so rare, with one in ten people identifying with sadistic traits, according to university study) who didn't channel his desires into relationships with vulnerable girls or tearing people apart online, but actually did something about it. 

You should know how to deal with situations like this. And you did, on paper anyway.

Theory rarely worked as well, in real life, as they did on paper.

"Hmph," He chuckled, looking back down at the student ID before he tossed it aside (and even that stung a little). "I’m not being fair…it’s impressive, really! You must be pretty smart, huh?" His expression softened slightly, golden eyes sparkling with mirth, before he reached out and ran a hand through your hair. "How lucky for you...beautiful AND clever. Most people only get graced with one of those features, you know?"

You didn’t say anything, but you let your head follow his touch, a tear beading down your cheek.

You thought it best to play along, at least a little, and not piss him off anymore than you had to.

You did want to survive this, after all.

Strade let out a huff through his nose and gently (as gently as he could manage) brushed the tear away with his thumb, before his fingers wrapped around your chin and he forced you to look up at him again. 

"I don't think smarts are good for much, though," He said cryptically, canting his head to the side with a strange sort of smirk. "Not in a situation like yours."

He then pushed his free hand through your hair, and forcefully slammed your head back against the support beam you were propped up against. 

"HNGH-!"

Without time to prepare or adjust, you could feel your eyes widen and bulge out your skull, straining against your fragile eyelids, and your teeth rattle (you even wondered if he’d knocked something loose with the force of the slam), and a wound opened on the back of your head, near instantly, weeping and red, blood running down the back of your neck.

"NGH, s-stop!" You yelped, planting bound up hands (flattened into parcel-tape wrapped mitts, so you could move but not much else) against his chest and trying to push him away.

He laughed callously as you struggled against him, but he stayed where he was, bringing his free hand up and tapping your forehead with a finger.

A condescending little gesture that made your insides twist uncomfortably.

"How about you stop thinking first?" He said.. "It's like I said already, fraulein, smarts aren't gonna help you, and smart people like you,” He tapped your forehead again. “You always think too much. So, stop using that thing in your head, hm?"

"Mmf," You sniffled, soft and pathetic sounding, from the pounding pain, even more tears running down your burning cheeks, as he shoved your head back against the support beam again, your head throbbing and oozing with blood the more he fucked with you. "Stop, please-"

"Come on, I alread told you what I want!" He said, somehow outraged, with a tut and a shake of his head. "Mein gott, it's really so easy. Just switch that brain off and focus on being...mm, cute, hm?” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself when your flushed cheeks flushed someohow darker. “After all, I don't think you're really cut out for this…ah, psychologist business, are you, fraulein?"

He reached out, running a finger down your face, before smirking and tilting his head. 

"You know better than I do, you have to keep your emotions in check when you're dealing with criminals like me, sweetie. You need to stay calm if you want to think clearly. Didn't they teach you that in all those classes of yours?~"

He unexpectedly (totally expetedly, you were just too out of it to think right) slammed your head back into the beam, knocking your brain around even more, as another rivuloet of blood ran down the small of your back and trickled on the cement floor.

"Stop iiiit, stop thinking!" Strade teased, grinning lecherously, despite his evident frustration. as he leaned into you, bringing his mouth close to your ear. "Come ooon, you already know that you're not getting out of this, don't you? What are you clinging onto all those smarts for?” You felt the caress of his tongue run over the shell of your ear, and your grimace just set deeper. “You might even like dumbing down a little."

He snicked again, his tongue tracing the line of tears on your flushed cheek, as his fingers, sticky with the blood oozing from your head. trailed down your heaving chest.

"I know I'll like it, anyway."

"Hhhh," You let out a deep exhale when he finally let go of your hair, your head sinking down to your thighs, barely able to support yourself.

Your head was hurting so badly. 

You just wanted to be left alone. 

"Heh, good for you. You're pretty stubborn!" He said, like he was paying you a compliment, moving closer to your slumped form for a moment. "They teach you that in your fancy college? How to put up with torture, threats, rape, that sort of thing? Sounds like a class I'd like a whole lot…"

Strade pushed himself to his feet with a soft 'hup!', then, and paced over to his workbench, openinhg one of the drawers with a metallic clatter.

"Well, if you won't respond to violence...I think I know another way to, ah...turn your brain off, so to speak."

He rifled through the drawer for a moment before he produced what looked like a...egg vibrator.

Your head was still swimming from his pain, but your eyes widened, dreadfully wide (with dread being the operative word) and you forced yourself to sit up as he paced back towards you, smirking like a Devil at the clear fear in your expression. 

"Ah, I know that look," He grinned as he took the knee in front of you again, moving his foot (the thick sole of his boot) over your ankle and pinning it still against the basement floor. “Mm, maybe they don’t prep you for rape, like I thought they did…might want to talk about that with those professors if you get out of this one, liebling~”

"Ngh, no, no-" You grimaced as his free hand forced your thighs to part.

"Now, I'm not usually one to do this sort of thing.” He started, like you hadn’t said a thing. “I've got a buddy who's way more into this stuff then I am, but, ah," He raised his eyes to yours, his expression giving away an eleation that made your stomach churn. "I'm getting the sense that a geek like you isn't so familiar with the more...intimate sides of things, hm? Sooo, maybe I should use that to my advantage?"

“Nononono,” You grit your teeth with erratic fear, trying to guard yourself with your taped up paws, but he was stronger than you (and not dazed out of his mind), and was able to overpower you with ease, pinning your hips backwards and forcing the egg into the gusset of your underwear. “No, Strade, please-!”

"And hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you’re not a total prude like I thought, but…no offence, but you don't seem to be a very popular kind of girl," He teased with a shit eating smirk. "With your head in the books all the time, I'm guessing you didn't have much time to be...social, huh?” 

He kneeled between your spread legs then, forcing them to open to accommodate him and only pushing you more open.

“Well, no worries. I'll teach you how to have a good time...and turn off the brain for a few minutes, too."

“NGH!”

You took in a sharp inhale as the toy buzzed to life (where was he even hiding the remote?), the initial sensation unfamiliar and uncomfortable, especially when combined with your throbbing head.

"Mph, see, there we go," He muttered approvingly, his golden eyes focused on the way your face was twisting into a grimace, your legs trying to close around him as the buzzing continued, relentless, rubbing against parts of yourself that even you hadn’t touched. "Now, that's a better expression. You don't have to think about that big scary brain of yours, now, do you? You get to just...let yourself be dumb for a while."

His free hand let go of your thigh and gently brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek. 

"Doesn't that feel better? Doesn’t it feel nice to be…away from whatever life you were living before?” He tilted his head, giving you a considered expression. “You don't have to think about those grades, those classes...all those books. Sounds like a real drag, doesn't it? You get to just enjoy the feeling for a little while, okay?"

"Okaaayyy..." You drawled, squeezing your eyes shut as your shaking hands sank down to your sides, the sensation from the buzzing toy simulationusaly overwhelming and...incredibly pleasurable.

You didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling like this.

When did other people learn about this?

"Heh, that's a good girl," Strade murmured with a filthy grin, leaning in closer to you, rubbing his thu,mb over your cheek. "That’s much better. Now, you get to just be a cute little thing for me, don’t you? You don't have to think about a thing. You don't get to worry about your studies, your job, your family...anything like that.” 

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You just focus on being...sweet, and pretty, and dumb. Can you do that for me? Hmmm?~"

"Uh huuuh," You breathed out, your tight expression relaxing a little as he used the egg to massage between your wet folds, teasing a node just above your dripping hole that made you see stars. "Oh, that's good...nhh..."

"Mhmm, see? You’re feeling good," Strade chuckled, taking in the sight of you with an indulgent sigh, indulging in the way your expression was slowly relaxing and transforming under his touch.  "So good, you became a cute, little idiot for me without me even trying. Hah!”

He increased the intensity slightly, watching your expression intently.

“You're liking being a little puppet for me, aren't you? You enjoying this, even if you’re pretending otherwise. Hnn…” He grinned against your cheek, breathing you in. “You like it when I make you feel like this, all mindless and dumb for me? Come on, let me hear how much you like it."

"Oh, god-!" You gasped, pressing your sweaty, tear streaked face against his shoulder (leaving a wet print on his shirt as you did so).

He chuckled kindly, not seeming to mind, and placed a hand to the back of your head, forcing your face closer.

"That's it, baby doll," He cooed encouragingly, circling the tip of the egg in a tight little circle against your cunt. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Nice and intense? You don't have to use that head for a damn thing anymore. All those hours studying, thinking, trying to use that brain...well, it got you into some trouble all right, didn't it?” He pet your hair slowly, like he was petting an animal. “Don’t let yourself get upset again, though. It could have happened to anyone…you’re just lucky enough that it happened to you, aren’t you?”

"Mmhmm," You nodded (as best you could), biting your lip hard as you felt your brain (figuratively) start to slur in your aching, bleeding skull and…leak out of any available hole it could.

Maybe it would be better if you just submitted to him.

That's what all your classes told you to do, wasn't it? To...submit to what the criminal wanted, to play along, act dumb and pliant and easy, even if that meant losing yourself completely.

That had to be it.

"Good girl," He praised, his lips pressed against your ear again so you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Behaving so well, now, aren’t you? You just needed someone to help you feel good, and now…all those big thoughts you had before are just...slipping out of your head.”

“Mmhmm~”

“It's so much easier for someone like you, isn't it? Being a brainless, little doll? So easy to just listen to my every word and do exactly what I tell you? You can just...sit back and enjoy the feeling…you don't even have to think about it. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it, liebling?"

Yeah.

Submitting would be the smart thing to do. 

"Hmph. So much for college, right?~"

[pebblepathblog]

13 Shocking Reasons Your True Crime Addiction Will Destroy Your Life (And Why You Should Stop)

How Your True Crime Obsession is Quietly Destroying Your Life and You Don’t Even See It Coming

Confession time, I never thought watching true crime could mess with my head. I mean, what’s the harm in binge-watching documentaries about murder mysteries, right? It’s all “entertainment” until you find yourself triple-checking your locks at 2 a.m. and side eyeing your neighbor’s white van like it’s out to get you.

Sound familiar? Buckle up, because we’re about to dive into 13 under the radar ways true crime obsession can quietly wreck your life, and trust me, it’s darker than the cases you’ve been glued to.

1. You’ve Become the CEO of Overthinking

Ever find yourself mapping out a full fledged escape route every time you hear a creak in the house? Watching hours of grisly stories rewires your brain to expect the worst. Every stranger looks like a potential kidnapper, every shadow hides a serial killer.

Sure, it’s good to be cautious, but hypervigilance isn’t protecting you, it’s exhausting you. Not every white van is out to snatch you, Karen. Sometimes, it’s just a plumber. Relax. (But maybe still lock the door, let’s not go wild here.)

2. Your Sense of Humor is Officially Darker Than a Black Hole

Remember when you could laugh at lighthearted jokes? Now, you’re the person casually dropping murder trivia at dinner. “Did you know the average human body takes two hours to dissolve in acid?” Um, Susan, maybe not during dessert.

Your friends might start avoiding you, not because they don’t love you, but because you’re making them lose their appetite, and possibly their trust.

3. Your Love Life Is a Dumpster Fire

Is it just me, or do true crime fans have the weirdest dating profiles? Between looking for “non murdery vibes” and avoiding “Ted Bundy energy,” it’s no wonder your trust issues are skyrocketing. When you’re watching shows that paint everyone as a psychopath, trusting someone new feels like signing up for doom.

Dating tip: Maybe lead with your favorite hobby besides true crime. Or at least wait until the second date before you start dissecting “the psychology of a killer.” Just saying.

4. You’re Becoming Emotionally Numb

After watching hundreds of documentaries, hearing about a real-life tragedy barely fazes you anymore. “Oh, another murder? Pfft, I’ve seen worse on Netflix.” But losing that sensitivity disconnects you from reality, and from people who need your empathy.

5. You Have a PhD in “Crimeology” (But Zero Real-Life Expertise)

Sure, you’ve memorized the warning signs of a stalker, but don’t let your binge-watching fool you into thinking you’re Sherlock Holmes. Overconfidence in your “expertise” can actually make you reckless. Just because you’ve cracked some cold cases online doesn’t mean you’re invincible.

6. Your Anxiety is Sky High

Raise your hand if you’ve avoided walking alone in daylight because you just never know. True crime bingeing rewires your brain to see danger everywhere, even in safe spaces. If you’ve gone from cautious to full-blown paranoid, it’s time to ask, is this worth it?

If you’re fearful of leaving home and your anxiety has increased, it’s time to take a break.

7. Romanticizing Criminals? Yikes.

Some true crime shows have a knack for making villains look…cool? Before you know it, you’re fascinated by the “charm” of a serial killer instead of being horrified.

Morality check: Crushing on a criminal is not the vibe.

8. Your “Me Time” is Missing

When was the last time you painted, exercised, or did literally anything that wasn’t true crime related? Spending every waking hour immersed in dark stories crowds out hobbies that actually bring joy.

Your mental health deserves more than doom and gloom.

9. You’re Low Key Isolating Yourself

Obsessing over murder cases might make you feel like part of a niche community, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for grisly details. If friends stop inviting you out because you’re glued to yet another unsolved case, don’t be surprised.

10. You’re Stuck in a Loop

Let’s be real: true crime is designed to hook you. The suspense, the drama, the shocking twists… it’s addictive. But when you’re staying up all night binge watching, it’s your energy and sanity paying the price.

Listening to endless stories of pain and suffering can drain your emotional reserves. Eventually, you’ll feel too exhausted to care about the people who need you in real life.

Protecting your own emotional health isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.

12. Triggering Old Wounds

If you have unresolved trauma, true crime can hit too close to home. What seems like harmless entertainment can end up reopening emotional scars. Take care of your mental health before diving into the next binge.

13. The World Feels Hopeless

Watching true crime can distort your worldview, making everything feel bleak. You might start to believe the world is full of monsters, leaving you disconnected from the good and hopeful moments in life.

Don’t let the darkness of fictionalized drama eclipse the light in real life.

My Final Thoughts

Breaking Free From the True Crime Trap

Look, I’m not saying true crime is evil. But when it starts stealing your joy, your peace, and your trust in the world, it’s time to set some boundaries. Swap a few murder mysteries for a comedy special or a good book. Rediscover hobbies that make you feel alive. Talk to friends about something other than grisly crimes.

Because life is too short to spend it looking over your shoulder.

Share this article with your fellow true crime lovers, and let’s start a conversation about finding balance!

Enjoyed this story? If you love thought provoking stories like this one, make sure to subscribe for more! From heartwarming tales to controversial debates, we’ll keep you entertained and leave you with plenty to think about.

Don’t miss out, hit that subscribe button now!

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

Professor Benevientos notes cuz I spent way too much time thinking about this AU

Donna

- sticks mostly with @shortstrawberry’s AU which originally inspired this

- Botanist and Toxicologist professor, teaches both undergrads and grads

- Still a doll maker that does it as a hobby, takes commissions at her own leisure online for extra cash

- In charge of the greenhouses, she designs the labs in there too

- She’s also conducting her own research in there for her PhD

- Is usually very on-top of students, she’ll reach out to students she notices not doing well in the class and do her best to assist in their success

- Surprisingly prefers teaching toxicology, but that’s mostly because she gets to work with Claudia for those lessons

- Workaholic, she’ll drown herself in grading papers or reading research papers and needs constant reminders to eat

- Most students are intimidated by her lol

Claudia

- Trauma surgeon and a licensed family doctor, she works these during weekends and holidays

- She teaches Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Biochemistry every other year

- Also an instructor in the organic chemistry labs if she can fit it in her schedule

- In charge of the cadaver labs

- Mostly teaches undergrads

- A pretty laid back professor, she definitely has the belief of “you’re paying for this, you’re choosing to be here, and you choose to do well or not”

- That doesn’t mean she’s an unfair professor. She is constantly reworking and reorganizing lessons and exams to make them as fair and educational as they can be

- Tells the best stories if class finishes early. She has the most students that remember her and bond with her out of the sisters

- Sews in her free time, loves making outfits when she can find the time

- Loves bothering the fuck out of her younger sister in staff rooms and meetings (Donna secretly loves it)

Bernadette

- Psychology and Neurology professor, works as a licensed therapist

- Helps with Donna in the greenhouses

- Mostly teaches grad students

- In charge of the Anatomy and Physiology labs

- Has a fair approach with students, she’ll reach out to those who are struggling but doesn’t pursue them

- Use to be on the board but has stepped down since then to make more time for her family

- She will take runs on campus between classes, sometimes Claudia joins her

- The heaviest tea drinker between the sisters, almost always seen with a bottle or flask

- Donna often weaves flowers into her hair and she’s not taking them out for the rest of the day, she’ll rather spread dirt and petals and insects around campus than throw out a flower her baby sis gave her

Angie

- human in this one! Claudia’s daughter

- She’s studying music at the campus, hoping to make it big like movie scores or video game soundtracks

- The building the classes she takes are close enough to the buildings her mom and aunties teach in so she often stops by to visit them

- Definitely privileged- she gets access to back offices and free stuff- especially when Donna is around

- Knows the guitar from her mom, got taught the piano by Bernadette, and both her and Donna learned the violin together. She’s self teaching herself the drums.

- Knows the loopholes around campus rules and abuses the shit out of them

- If there’s a new rule that’s added to campus, it’s because of her

- Doesn’t dorm, she lives with her family- it’s free food, rent, transport, and she doesn’t have to do chores most of the time- why wouldn’t she? (The real reason is that she loves them too much to leave but you won’t hear it from her)

- But she does have a group of friends who are all musicians and all dorm together so when she’s not home she’s with them

[survivalist-anon]

Log 2: Living Under a Rock

It's been a week since my drop-off at the hospital....no surprise I've been having trouble sleeping, I got some work leave from my boss at the nature reserve.....god damn I'm fucking tired.

Local folks both new to the town and old friends have been pandering for questions.

Some of the local middle schoolers kept fallowing me to my work place asking me about the metal guy. I simply told them I shot him in the eye, than he exploded.....I wasn't expecting those annoying brats to tell other kids about it. Obviously the local pastor (Mark) has been sending his goons to come to my cabin to convince me to come to church for the sake of saving my soul and all that "lovely" jazz. I told them I literally may have met the devil, shot him in the eye, exploded , and now he's dead and thus to leave me alone.

Some folks are a little more respectful and just ask me about more personal things. Got recommended a therapist who just moved to town named Miss Jenny Oakley, nice lady, smiles all the time and has an impressive 3 PhDs in psychology and mental health medication. She's been helping me get through the whole thing and believes I'll be able to make a speedy recovery. She trusts my resolve and that's good in my book.

....now "Newly appointed Deputy" Jeff (my ex-boyfriend) apparently thinks he can just give me the presidential treatment. He keeps following my car EVERYWHERE. I feel like nuisance now this has happened, people keep staring at me when Jeff just follows me at this point. You'd think after our falling out he'd have the self respect to be a little less...creepy about it. He's stopped by my cabin to keep checking up on me....I wonder if he thinks it's going to be like in the movies where estranged lovers get back together if something happens....jokes on him... I do not need a guy who has tried to convince me to move to Ohio and insult my family's cultural background to boot. Asshole.

Anyways, I've been hanging out at this new coffee shop that's just opened up...it's cozy, sells actual homemade pastries and the coffee is pretty good. Finally, a nice third place. I've noticed more people around my age go there too .... however I've noticed one group constantly eyeing me from across the shop every time I go...they call themselves the "Marine Spotters"...I have no fucking idea what that intels, one of them came up to my table, had the audacity to sit down in front of me like he knew me.....

"So..........you saw one?", the unshaven neck beard asked.

".......you know you could have asked to sit down and I would have said yes but fine go off Gabe Newell.", I'm not usually this hostile but things have gotten tense for while....I wouldn't blame anyone for being upset at me for it either.

"heheh very funny, anyway, my name is Benedict Grabowski. I'm the local expert in these "big metal men "....I see based on your description you've seen a "Black Legion" marine. A level 3 on the danger scale and are quite rare in these parts.", he adjusts his glasses. "The fact you even survived a harrowing encounter with one is without a doubt a life achievement and a free ticket admission to our organization!", handing me a business card with some edgy cartoon spaceman, it had his phone number, email address and an actual address...it was the abandoned mineral mine not too far from the animal reserve I work at....

"I hope your membership will prove to be of great use to us.", concluding with a smug look on his jolly face.

I sat there ready to throw this guy from window I was seated next to....but I'm certain the shop owners wouldn't be too pleased.

".....why the .org?"

He acted confused, "I beg your pardon?".

"...the .org....on your email address....you don't work for the Tillamook station do you? I told them I don't know shit.", took a frustrated sip of my coffee.

He laid back, "well...I...what one would call....a "white hat hacker"....my services in online server hacking, government surveillance and hehe...not to brag...a national code cracking champion of the Tokyo Code Breaker competition. I actually am...not a huge fan of our corporate federal overlords and I only desire for their inevitable downfall through me tanking their stocks."...

I literally was sitting across to a felon....

"so ..with your epic survival skills, my tech mastery and my collaborators", he points to his original table of collected individuals; a heavyset goth girl, the kid of one of the local beef farmers and one creepy guy I remember being the weird kid in highschool.

"Hi Steven.", I wave to him.

"Hi Lorey!", he waves and gives his creepy grin that in through literally means nothing to me. He does it for a cheap bit that I'm certain Jeff already knows and is dieing to catch him for something.

By this point Benedict was actually shocked I knew Steven. "What?! I thought you just moved here!"

I chuckled a little, "I use to live here, I know the area rather well but it's changed a bit since I was last here back in 2003. Also....what the shit is this all about?". I point to the business card.

His shocked expression transforms back into that stupid 'big shot cool guy' look. "Well, we spot those big metal men. Turns out....these anomalous entities are actually appearing throughout the whole planet. All of them of variety and....motives....". He looks around, takes out a folder of the ever lovable 'blurry photographic evidence' one would expect looking for cryptids. "Behold. Humanoids who walk amongst us!".

Im staring at the photos, one struck me to my core ....the big black and bronze one I saw being blown to chunks...the one that killed Grandpa.

"ah...I see...so it was that one.", leaning towards me closer....I can smell the fucking butter from his croissant he ate at his table. "If you need us...call us....", he decided to leave a second card....ok....."anyway, surprised?"

I was a lot more than surprised....I must have been living under a rock...."yeah....I am."

After that I decided to go home. On the ride back, I couldn't help but wonder if Benedict was telling the truth... about them being everywhere...that's a scary thought in all honesty.

I get out my car and took one long glance at my Grandpa's cabin. His only inheritance to my mom. When I said the funeral was a mess, it was an absolute garbage fire because on the same day we had his will reading. His most valuable possession in his will was this cabin, and boy was my aunt pissed she didn't get the property. At least Mom had the last laugh, anyway....as I was remembering that day....I noticed something that sent shivers up and down my spine.

A blood trail....it looked like it came from the forest behind the property, up the steps and on to my doormat. I get out of the car, cautiously, for I all know whom ever left this bloody mess is close by.

It was a huge leather sack, sealed tight with...a red wax in the opening. It was leaking a lot, I was hesitant to open it, but the blood smelt familiar. "....it can't be....", I tore off the hard wax, the gamey stink of deer was permeating throughout the porch. Opening the sack, I saw what could be weeks worth of meat. I was stunned! All nicely cut and cleaned ...I tried lifting the sack without getting some blood on me...failed...and brought it to the cellar freezer. As I placed the meat in the freezer, I saw there was a note on the bag I hadn't noticed....it was a handwritten note for certain....but I had no idea what was written on it. Again, Nordic ruins were present...but it was mixed with another language...I took medieval history a short while back and had the privilege of almost learning how to read medieval texts....it was close to it...and yet... completely unreadable for me.

I set the note on a table and save it for later.

Everything has been so strange lately.

The hours pass, and I finally decided to do some digging....this has to be some...real life ARG or something....it's either a dedicated group of cosplayers....or... something is really out there...it's so uncanny....

End of log 2

@kit-williams

[red-ibex]

Gender transition, autobiographical memory and the self - research

I am in the process of completing my MSc in Psychology this year, and recruiting participants for my final dissertation project has been quite a challenge. My goal is to train and become a queer, anti-racist, trauma-informed psychologist, and this is the first crucial step. In this particular study I aim to explore how gender transition impacts memories and constructions of the self – an area that so far has been underexplored. I’m hoping it will lead to more extensive research down the line – my next step will be to apply for a PhD.

I would be really grateful if you could fill out the survey, if you are from the right demographic, and/or share with anyone who might be interested in participating. I need 200+ responses, so every single one helps! I’m also happy to answer any questions about my research. Thank you all in advance!

[asianamseeds]

Hello!

My name is Miah and I’m a PhD student at UMass Boston. 

I’m working with Dr Tahirah Abdullah (Psychology) and Dr Karen Suyemoto (Psychology and Asian American Studies) conducting a much needed study examining the impacts of racialization and the act of resisting racism on mental health for people of color. I have created an online survey and would greatly appreciate if you would kindly share the flyer and take our survey!

—To participate in this study, (1) you must be 18 or over, (2) understand written English, and (3) identify as a person of color or racial minority. As a “thank you,” participants may choose to be entered into a drawing for a $50 Visa gift card (odds are 1 in 25 participants) OR donate to a non-profit focused on fighting racism.

Link to access the study: https://tinyurl.com/REAR24MS

Password to complete the survey: REAR2024

Very grateful for your consideration on this! 

Any questions can be sent to AART@umb.edu

[ai-fandom-researchstudy]

can i just say... i was desperate to see someone in academia do something like this because all the talk i see in studies seem very disconnected from the actual discussions/concerns online, so thank you very much! looking forward to seeing what comes out of this.

P.S. i'd also be curious to see if the responses from a non-fandom crowd are different, and exactly where they differ.

hi! There's actually several academics working on these issues at the moment (I've connected with some other folks in the social sciences who are working on similar questions at the moment; in fact, another phd student in psychology is recruiting a broader range of queer artists for an interview study on GenAI right now, so go check that out if you like!).

There's also been some studies coming out of other fields too re: how people respond to works of art made by AI and by humans:

This report in Nature last year and this study from 2019 both come to mind off the top of my head, though I'm sure there's been some more recent work that's come out in the few months I haven't kept a close eye on it (AI art has been a thing well before Midjourney exploded, so folks have been studying this from even before that)

neither of these are in a fandom context but the work's definitely of interest to academia for sure.

update: forgot about this preprint released in january re: artists' attitudes towards AI https://arxiv.org/abs/2401.15497

[davekat-sucks]

why did you reblog aussievriskas post with her horrible fucking opinion? shes being sarcastic and making fun of you. also im fucking tired of seeing those sexist dave fangirls dickriders on my dash

i will say this though i do find it interesting how all we said is that dave should have shown some BARE MINIMUM EMPATHY to his SISTER ROSE and GIRLFRIEND TEREZI, and these fucking idiots just instead assumed we were expecting him to have a phd in psychology. shows these bitches dont get along with their families if they dont know whats basic sibling behavior.

Sorry about that. Yeah, didn't realize it. Is it not just common sense or just being human to show a bit of concern for someone? Especially one that was your closest friend from over online and the two were able to finally meet and face each other for the first time? Sure they have met as Dream Selves on Derse, but there is more weight when the two finally executed the plan to reach God Tier and can travel together on that meteor. And a consort troll who was willing to help despite her plan was to originally doomed the Beta Kids in the first place. Who actually gave the kids a chance to play the game and got to know Dave better as a person?

[vishnavishivaa]

Chapter 1: Starting Fresh (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

Three and a half years later, London

She had done it!

Kshithija had gotten her PhD in psychology, and a license to practice in both the United Kingdom and India, a dream come true for her. She did already have some clients in London, with whom she will be meeting online. At first, she had looked for good spaces across London, wanting to settle there itself, choosing to visit India as often as possible. However, the ill health of her Periappa, who had, along with her Periamma, helped raise her with her dear mother.

Having lost her father at a young age, Kshithija's biggest father figure was her uncle, who did genuinely treat her as his own daughter. She did miss the antics of her brothers and cousins though, and did not want to miss much anymore. Added to that, her dearest cousin Nila had lost her heart to Aditya Vishvanathan, or rather, had finally admitted her feelings to Kshithija, though not to Aditya yet.

The thought of the Vishvanathan family brought with it the trauma Kshithija was slowly healing from, trauma that had not completely gone away. As a psychologist, she knew that healing was not a linear process, but her love for Arun, for the whole family, in fact, had not died down. She doubted it would go away easily, but she had made her peace with him never returning her feelings.

That was the only reason she had agreed to Nila's request that Kshithija meet Iramathi Vishvanathan, the eldest girl in the family. She was well aware of the crush her younger brother Kumaran had on Paavai, the youngest of the five siblings of the family. For their sake at least, Kshithija had to try being friendly with the family once more. She had fought with even Iramathi before she left, and Ira herself had not reached out.

Nila had told Kshithija that, however, Ira was missing the latter, which Kshithija believed. Mostly, at least. Well, nothing like bad experiences to make one bitter, she thought to herself mockingly, scoffing, when her phone suddenly rang loudly, and Kshithija peered at the screen, smiling fondly.

"Nila Akka!" she greeted her elder cousin when she picked it up, her voice finally sounding like bells, a sound that had only recently become more frequent.

"Thiju! Your voice sounds like joy," Nila responded warmly.

"I love you too, Akka. But, what is it, Akka?" Kshithija knew the tonal changes in Nila's voice better than she knew herself.

"Ira wants to talk to you," Nila sighed. It was clear that Nila's barriers of cold politeness was slowly breaking, thanks to her accepting her feelings for Aditya, who had apparently changed over the past three years.

"Why?"

It was sad that Kshithija wanted to know why rather than rejoice that someone from a family she once wished to marry into wanted to talk to her. Additionally, Ira and Lokeshvari, the sister of Deva had been her best friends once upon a time. She missed them, but their closeness with Arun would never have allowed her to heal. She had to put her mental health and heart first.

Not to mention the insane dreams that had started coming to her as she started her PhD, a journey all on its own, giving her proof of things that most would say is fantastical, but things her heart knew was the truth, after three long years of such dreams. It helped that Akshari, one of her best friends, helped confirm Kshithija's theories with her own complimenting ones.

Akshari was one of the few Kshithija had opened up to, Arjun, the third in their trio another one. The latter was one of the few men Kshithija would call her friend, maybe even male best friend. Deva had once been that, but he chose Arun over her.

As expected.

"She genuinely misses you. She and Loka called me in tears almost, Thiju," Nila sighed. "Apparently, the whole family misses you."

"Huh."

Kshithija could not help the scoff that escaped her. As if everyone in the family would miss her. She doubted either of the two brothers, the heartthrob duo of Aditya and Arun would miss her.

"Thiju, I am serious. Arun texted me asking after you."

That caused her to freeze. Arun? Asking after her? She peered at the sky, making sure it had not turned pink, before responding, "But the sky has not turned pink, Akka."

The huff of laughter from Nila told Kshithija that she had hit the mark of amusing her cousin with her now trademark sarcasm. Akshari was to be blamed, Kshithija would teasingly say, though the truth that the latter was the reason Akshari sassed even more was well known in their close circle. Kshithija had become the reason for Akshari to gain more confidence in herself, which delighted the former to no end.

"Thiju, make nice with them, okay? Arun wants to collaborate with Velan industries," sighed Nila once more, to which Kshithija replied, "He wants to collaborate with Anna?"

"He knows brilliance when he sees it."

Kshithija had to accept the truth of Nila's words. Arun's brilliance was well known to those who were as much as his passing acquaintances, let alone to the woman still in love with him despite her best efforts to move on. Arun scouted fresh talents as well, interested, driven individuals who were forthcoming about their passions. That was one of the biggest things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

"I will make nice, Akka. I will not allow the past to come in the way of the future," Kshithija said truthfully, though she had not expected the Vishvanathan family to get so involved with hers once more, despite knowing her sister very much had feelings for Nila. The latter, in fact, had refused to act on it so far, for she was unhappy with how Kshithija had been treated. It had taken Kshithija's convincing Nila that she would be delighted that allowed Nila to be more friendly as before with the younger generation of the family.

"And Arun?"

"And I will be friendly enough with Arun," Ksithija promised, both her sister and herself, though internally she also told herself to not let her still present love for him burgeon out, and to be strong in the face of it. She and Nila continued to talk, making further plans for both their careers, hanging up some time later.

Kshithija sighed, falling into her couch and curling against it, her legs now tucked up in a padmasana position. She closed her eyes, revisiting her dreams once more, knowing that without partially resolving them within, meeting Arun would become a tension filled situation.

********

We have a more reserved Kshithija now, who still is in love but is also healing from the heart break. Who knows that without healing from her previous heart break, she can never be complete friends with the one she is in love with.

Next week, we will see Arun's point of view, and his feelings regarding everything.

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena Please let me know your thoughts!

[starblightbindery]

Editor's Note from my bind, Designs of Fate, an anthology of Star Wars stories by Patricia A. Jackson.

Patricia A. Jackson is a criminally underrated Star Wars author.

I’ll explain.

Growing up in the late 1990s and early 2000s, it was challenging to be an adolescent Star Wars fangirl, particularly an Asian American one. Back then, fandom meant negotiating male-dominated online message boards where identifying as a teenage girl meant inviting a ‘fake geek girl’ grilling at best and sexual harassment at worst. Most of the published Star Wars books were about Han, Leia, and Luke. Han and Leia were in their thirties and the parents of three children...not super relatable for preteen me. As far as character development was concerned, our “Big Three” had established characterizations coalesced firmly on the side of good. For our heroes, there was no moral ambiguity as, novel by novel, they tackled the galactic Threat of the Week.

Bildungsromans, those books were not. When Jackson started writing Star Wars in the 1990s, there were no women Jedi or protagonists of color. If you wanted stories with original characters coming of age, your primary recourse was the West End Games’ Star Wars Adventure Journals and their published anthologies, Tales from the Empire (1997) and Tales from the New Republic (1999). I remember avidly poring over my dogeared paperback copies and stalking the internet for scans or transcriptions. Although I never played the D6 role-playing game, the short stories from the Star Wars Adventure Journals helped me envision that a character like me—a young Asian girl coming into her own—did have a place in Star Wars after all.

As evinced by the vitriolic reactions towards John Boyega and Kelly Marie Tran during the production of the sequel trilogy, Star Wars fandom can be a hateful environment for proponents of diversity and inclusion. A small but irritatingly loud faction of fascist-leaning, cishet, white male fans are actively hostile towards fans who advocate for change; they are more troubled by the presence of queers, women and BIPOC than our absence. Because of the ubiquity and popularity of Star Wars in America’s cultural milieu, the sentiments from these self-appointed gatekeepers have been—and continue to be—amplified by right wing extremists, and, to some extent, even by the Internet Research Agency as tools of Russia’s psychological and cyber warfare against the United States. During his Ph.D. candidacy with the Department of Information Studies at UCLA, Morten Bay, PhD., studied negative tweets about The Last Jedi and found that 50.9% of negative tweets were “bots, trolls/sock puppets or political activists using the debate to propagate political messages supporting extreme right-wing causes and the discrimination of gender, race or sexuality.”

“Russian trolls weaponize Star Wars criticism as an instrument of information warfare with the purpose of pushing for political change,” he wrote, “while it is weaponized by right-wing fans to forward a conservative agenda and for some it is a pushback against what they perceive as a feminist/social justice onslaught.”

The creation and inclusion of characters with minoritized identities in Star Wars is, therefore, an act of resistance. As far as I’m aware, Patricia A. Jackson was the first woman of color and Black author to write for the Star Wars expanded universe. Jackson has described the fan environment in the 1990s thusly; like many minoritized fans of color, she would be given pithy justifications such as "Well, there’s no Africa in Star Wars, so there are no Black people." Jackson noted, aptly, "That was just translation for “’You don’t matter. You don’t need to be here.’” Jackson's work for West End Games, particularly her sourcebook The Black Sands of Socorro, is a subversion of those expectations.

Before anyone else did, Jackson showed fandom that dominant mayo masculinity did not have to be the only way to tell Star Wars stories. Her stories existed before the prequel trilogy and three decades of Star Wars publishing, before FanFiction.net, Archive of Our Own, or Wattpad. She is the forerunner for BIPOC writers in Star Wars, followed by other luminaries like Steven Barnes, Daniel José Older, Nnedi Okorafor, Rebecca Roanhorse, Ken Liu, Greg Pak, Alyssa Wong, Sarah Kuhn, Saladin Ahmed, C.B. Lee, Justina Ireland, Alex Segura, Zoraida Cordova, Greg VanEekhout, Mike Chen, Charles Yu, R.F. Kuang, Sarwat Chadda, Sabaa Tahir, and Renée Ahdieh.

Jackson had and continues to have an incredibly prescient understanding of what makes a good Star Wars story. Any of the stories in this anthology could find a home as an anime short from Star Wars: Visions (2021). Ideas from Jackson’s Star Wars short stories have appeared in later media, sometimes decades later. Whether convergently evolved or directly influenced, the parallels are astonishing: Kierra, the snarky feminine droid consciousness who inhabits Thaddeus Ross’s ship, is a spiritual predecessor to L3-37, Lando Calrissian’s snarky feminine droid companion from Solo (2018) who ends the film uploaded to the Millennium Falcon. Jackson addressed concepts like slavery and Force healing predating the prequel and sequel trilogies. In “Idol Intentions,” she created an adventuring academic on the hunt for artifacts long before Kieron Gillen brought Doctor Aphra to life. Squint and the upturned red salt on the planet Crait in The Last Jedi becomes flying red soil on the planet Redcap. Dark haired, dark side tragic emo boy starcrossed with a fiery girl Jedi?—I think Jackson understood intuitively the appeal of this trope to a woman-dominated contingent of fandom well before “Reylo” topped Tumblr’s fan favorite relationship charts in 2020.

Jackson’s work is also significant for deepening world building. Much like how Timothy Zahn introduced analysis of fine art to Star Wars with his villainous art connoisseur Grand Admiral Thrawn, Jackson’s stories introduced concepts such as the evolution of Old Corellian, the acting profession, and Legitimate Theatre. These elements added verisimilitude to the expanded universe; it makes sense that different cultures in Star Wars would have archaic languages, folk songs, and old stories of their own from even longer ago in galaxies far, far, away. More recently, the franchise has started to flesh out in-universe lore in Star Wars: Myths and Fables (2019) by George Mann. Still, Uhl Eharl Khoehng in “Uhl Eharl Khoehng” (1995) remains the finest example of mise en abyme in any Star Wars related work.

Themes from Jackson’s Star Wars works, particularly around Drake Paulsen and Socorro, also connect contemporaneously with our real world. When the Seldom Different is essentially ‘pulled over’ by Imperial authorities in “Out of the Cradle” (1994), stormtroopers lie about Drake Paulsen having a weapon as a pretense to terrorize the teenager. It’s a collision of space opera with Black youths’ past and current experiences of police brutality and state-sanctioned violence. Accordingly, this capricious encounter is the rite of passage that jars Drake out of his childhood. I cheered when I read The Black Sands of Socorro (1997) and saw that the Black Bha'lir smuggler’s guild is named for a bha'lir, depicted in the book as a large...panther. Few Star Wars expanded universe authors—particularly in the 1990s—leveraged their influence to center characters of color or to allude to racial justice movements. Jackson did both.

For this anthology, I have copy edited and also taken the liberty of, when applicable, substituting some gendered or sanist language with more contemporaneous wording.17 The stories are otherwise intact. It would be remiss of me if I did not note; however, that one of the stories, “Bitter Winter” (1995), has sanist and ableist tropes that could not be contemporized without making dramatic changes to the story. In this story, the fictional disease brekken vinthern drives those impacted to violence; while it’s real world correlate of major neurocognitive disorder can include symptoms of aggression and agitation, extreme violence is rare and people with this condition are also at great risk of being harmed by violence. The tropes “Mercy Kill” and “Shoot the Dog” are depictions of non-voluntary active euthanasia, typically from the perspective of the horrified “killer” placed in an impossible situation. These tropes frame murder and death as “putting someone out of their misery” while downplaying any alternatives (ie: sedation to alleviate suffering, medical attention, or, say, ion cannons to render a ship inoperable without killing.)

Like in our society, the societies in Star Wars have consistently framed mental illness pejoratively. There are certainly valid critiques of the utter inadequacy of health care in Star Wars. Ableism is ubiquitous in entertainment media, and even with it’s problematic tropes, “Bitter Winter” remains one of the more humanizing depictions of a mental health condition in Star Wars fiction. I have included it in this anthology as a rare example of moral ambiguity in the franchise.

With the exception of “Fragile Threads” and “Emanations of Darkness,” the stories here are presented not in published order, but in chronological order as they would have occurred in the Star Wars universe. Ordering the stories chronologically helped clarify timelines; it also allows the anthology to begin with “The Final Exit,” which was a fan favorite back when it was first published. I’ve interwoven the Brandl family stories with Drake Paulsen’s coming of age adventures, as the Paulsens are such a strong foil to the Brandl family.

Since “I am your father” dropped in 1980, Star Wars has been big on Daddy Issues—intergenerational trauma, parental relationships, broken attachments, identity development, and initiation into adulthood (or, as Obi-Wan Kenobi would put it, “taking your first steps into a larger world.”) With Drake, we see that Kaine Paulsen is a father who is gone but ever-present. With Jaalib, we see that Adalric Brandl is a father who is ever-present but clearly far gone. Drake knows his Socorran roots; he has community and found family. Fable’s identity is adrift; she was torn from her roots after her fugitive Jedi mother’s death. Jaalib’s roots are scaffolded by disingenuous artifice. There is a diametric interplay of identity formation and parental legacy in these short stories that captures classic themes from Star Wars. And, the stories challenge readers to consider how we interact with shame, guilt, and obligation. Through the morally ambiguous dilemmas that are her oeuvre, Jackson’s characters discover who they are and where they stand.

While the thrill of having an Imperial Star Destroyer drop out of hyperspace is pure Star Wars energy, Jackson’s stories also disrupted what fans had come to expect. Published online as fan fiction, “Emanations of Darkness” (2001) polarized fans of the previous Brandl stories, particularly with Fable’s decision to throw her lot in with Jaalib and his father. At the time, Star Wars fan commentator Charles Phipps noted how the story dealt with the insidiousness of the dark side by taking potential heroes and crushing them. “Star Wars, I've never known to leave a bitter taste in my mouth,” he wrote, stunned. “I don't like what it's brought out in my feelings or myself...Bravo Brandl, you have your applause.” Although the Brandl stories were written and published before Revenge of the Sith (2005), Fable and Jaalib’s relationship mirrors the relationship between Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, down to both Jaalib and Anakin selling their souls to the same Emperor in hopes that will spare the women they love.

The prequel trilogy introduces the Jedi Council’s detached approach to attachments—don’t feel it, emotions like fear or anger are to be shunned, else suffering will follow. Anakin Skywalker’s broken attachments to his mother and Padmé lead him to turn against his values; his inability to integrate or tolerate his attachments is his downfall. It’s the same in the Brandl stories where, trauma bonded, Fable and Jaalib cannot let each other go. While Jaalib credits this as how he was able to preserve a bit of himself while under the Emperor’s thrall, his inability to extricate himself from his father’s influence or to let go of Fable ends up dooming her.

This is why I was thrilled to discover “Fragile Threads” (2021) on Wattpad twenty years later. In this story, Drake Paulsen helps his lover Tiaja Moorn save her sister, at the cost of losing their relationship when she decides to remain on her homeworld. Drake doesn’t fight her decision, he accepts it. He can hold onto that connection to Tiaja, just as he knows he will always be connected to Socorro, his father, and the Black Bha'lir. Drake can love freely because he knows what Luke Skywalker told Leia in The Last Jedi: “No one is ever truly gone.” He is able to straddle the fulcrum of attachment and love without letting it consume him, and that is balancing the Force.

Contemporary fandom discourse is also a struggle with attachment; the parasocial relationships we form with characters and stories are similar in process to how we attach to the important people in our lives. We imbue with meaning and carry these stories with us. As Star Wars storytelling enters its fifth decade, the divide between affirmational fandom (allegiance to manufactured nostalgia) and transformational fandom (allegiance to iterative and transgressive fan engagement) has factionized fandom. When Star Wars is seen as a totemic object, right wing fans have agitated for a return to a mythic past where white men were centered and morality was Manichean. From where I stand, at the heart of this debate is whether or not the reader or Star Wars is permitted to “grow up”—to leave the cradle, to evolve new identities and explore shades of grey.

To me, Jackson’s stories are a reminder that characters of color and complex moral dilemmas have always been a part of Star Wars. We have always been here. No other Star Wars author has been as exquisitely aware of the significance of storytelling; how it can help people challenge existing beliefs and discover themselves. Since the beginnings of the expanded universe, Patricia A. Jackson has spun yarn, and those fragile threads have tethered readers like myself to a galaxy far, far away.

Ol'val, min dul'skal, ahn guld domina, mahn uhl Fharth bey ihn valle. (Until we next meet, may the Force be with you.)