#even if they are not themselves in biotech

[unopenablebox]

i actually do think i’m better than most people who maintain a biotech oriented science twitter presence

[its-wabby-stuff]

Krang Will Rise

I have a couple theories, regarding the Krang.

There is such little evidence for it, that I don’t even think there’s evidence against it. But hear me out.

I think only Krang prime can abolish mystics. It’s not an ability tied to every Krang, only to him.

Thé Krang value strength above all else, putting no remorse into losing those deemed weak. As such, wouldn’t that make Krang Prime, their leader, the strongest? And what better way to deem yourself the strongest than carrying a unique ability that takes away your enemies greatest potential threat.

Another reason: it seems there are three types of krang. The biotech, the warrior, and the interrogator. I’m not sure how much they overlap, but I do think they carry specialities. Given krang brother is most often asked to- spread their krangness. He is responsible for krangification, domain expansion, and manipulating the technology they have (Nevermind how all these abilities make him the perfect match for Donnie)(also think Krang Brother is mute). Krang sister is the most skilled and best fighter. I’m sure she outclasses the boys in that regard. I’d go as far to say she’s second in command, leading the charge while brother krang stays behind (her role as commander matches as Commander O’Niels opposite in war, hence their quarrel). Leaving Krang Prime, who has the ability to dig into a persons mind, manipulate their captives, control the hive mind, and abolish mystic powers. Perhaps rare amongst Krang, this makes them the perfect leader (do I even need to explain why he’s Leo’s main antagonist, his opposite in every way?).

I mentioned how krang brother is likely responsible for krangification, which leads me to a second point. Clearly, from the start of the invasion to the end in the bad timeline, the krangs numbers increased 100 fold. From 3 lone survivors to hundreds if not more. Which has led me to wonder how krang are created. I have two theories: 1) in the bad timeline, the krang in the prison dimension didn’t die. Meaning that when Leo grabbed the key in the movie, and altered time, the resulting explosion caused the krang to be wiped out. 2) the probably more likely one- they repopulated.

Thé krang are clearly parasitic creatures. Meaning their reproduction is likely from a source, that source being humans. “Recreating this world in the image of krang.” Krang possession is simple, and any krang can do it, latch a bit of themselves to a human and start the battle of wills. Krang dogs are amother easier way to make more, a quick process that mangles the hosts body. We see this happen with the foot clan. But if you want powerful krang, with no chance to turn on you, and to truly become one with krang, you transform them.

Raph was found in a bubble. In a slimy krang cocoon stuck to the ceiling and filled with glowing yellow goop. He was going to be turned, transformed into Krang. And he was going to be powerful, his source material being stronger than most. He was- until the process was interrupted. Notice how the krangification didn’t come from the outside, it wasn’t attached, it was growing inside him. And, unlike the other krangified peoples we saw, his eye turned purple. It wasn’t just covered in hoop with the yellow hive mind eye, it was purple. Let it be a testament to Raphs inner strength cause he very well may have accomplished a feat deemed impossible to overcome. The process wasn’t supposed to be reversible, he wasn’t supposed to be able to break free, he was krang now. Krang Prime could feel his struggle, sense his resistance, and hear his thoughts as the turtle fought it off.

Once you turned, there was no going back. You were krang. Your old life didn’t matter. Your old friends didn’t matter. You had a new family. A new purpose to fulfill. New powers to explore. And given treasures for the hunt. The mark of a krang and a fucking massive piece of armor. This way of reproduction was useful when hunting new prey, as their knowledge of the species past through, truly allowing them to know their enemies and conquer planets. Krang can never die.

Then again. I could be wrong.

——————

Thanks for reading! Likes and Reblogs appreciated! Other related theories and stories:

Resistance to Krang; The Shredder armor; Emperym Life Blood

[centrally-unplanned]

Hot take but the sweep of super-rich donors coming into Trump's court recently isn't actually all of them going "yeah I hate Trump but I want those tax cuts". At least not primarily, like sure lower taxes is part of why they have Republican leanings to begin with. But billionaires are pretty price insensitive, it doesn't really matter to them all that much if they are paying 20% or 25% on their capital gains, they aren't spending it either way.

Instead its that they think he is gonna win. The Republican primary is over, he is the nom, Biden is set as the opponent, and the polling numbers are pretty clear on that contest. Might change of course, no one is sure, but you gotta back some horse if you are in this game. They don't need to donate to Trump to make him lower taxes on the rich, Republicans will do literally anything to lower taxes on the rich, its their most sacred principle. Like I'm not mocking them there, its objectively true, its nearly the only active agenda item they have consistently pursued in every single administration over the past several decades. You do not need to donate to them to make them do that, and you also don't think your donation is gonna make that much of a different on the win odds. Those donations probably won't pay for themselves vis a vis tax cuts.

What it does do is buy you influence for other agenda items the Republicans don't care about, but might sell to you. And Trump is infamously willing to sell an awful lot of the policy space to the highest bidder, even if he is quite mercurial when it comes to the execution on that. Its not about "lowering taxes", its about getting an exemption for The One Product Your Business Needs on the the tariff policy, or a specific deregulation of biotech rules at the FDA, or w/e. Many of which wont even be directly about making money! Some will be but again price insensitive, its about ideology and vision for projects and other stuff. And the majority (not all ofc) would in fact be quite happy to buy that from Biden, if he was A: selling so openly, and B: likely to win. Since neither is true, they are taking the deal on hand.

[amethystfairy1]

✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles

And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story! #amethyst updates

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝

A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!

My prompt requests are always open! I do not promise to fulfill anything, nor do I promise to fulfill anything within a reasonable time frame, BUT if you have any sort of thoughts/requests/recommendations I absolutely love to hear them and engage with them!

They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences!

Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place, too! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU...or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them!

Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓

As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!

When I need some inspiration I dip into the request bin, and I keep all the requests I receive stored for future reference!

Tags for the series are:

#amethysts scribbling corner

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

[shayyprasad]

didn't see you there | peter parker

late christmas fic cuz why not

summary: what's a little cafe meet-cute?

the walls were coated with green, red, and white. christmas decor hung from corner to corner, draped against the walls.

there was a small christmas tree in the back, wrapped with tinsel and ribbon. small, shiny ornaments perched themselves upon the prickly branches.

holiday music rang from the speakers, and you twirled around, broom in hand. it was closing time and you were cleaning up before heading out.

"last christmas, i gave you my heart... and the very next day...

"you gave it away... this year..."

brushing pieces of trash and clumps of dirt into pile, you sang loudly, not concerned since you were the only one there.

the music was turned all they way up, and you weren't conscious of what was going on around you.

that's probably why you didn't here the chime of the doorbell, indicating that someone had entered.

at this point, you were doing less working and more... whatever was that you were doing.

"um— miss? i was just— i was popping in for a drink?"

you yelped, hopping backwards and jabbing the broom towards him. once you realized that he was not in fact a potential robber or bad guy, you lowered the weapon. weapon?

there wasn't much to work with in a cafe.

your cheeks were flaming hot, and you were just about ready to die.

the worst part?

he was 100% the cutest guy you'd ever seen. i mean, that had to make everything worse.

because now you couldn't even hit on him. poor guy probably thought you were crazy.

"...we're closed."

"oh, sorry. i didn't think you closed until 10:00. that— that's what the sign said outside, anyways."

"uh, yeah it's..."

9:51.

"oh. oh, i'm so sorry. i g-guess i lost track of time. i can take you right now, if you'd like."

strike two.

"yes, please."

you cleared your throat, face still flushed. "what can i get you... at 9:52, good sir?"

the boy (man?) cracked a grin, and your insides squeezed. he was just so damn pretty.

"one large black coffee. um, extra caffeine."

you raised an eyebrow, and he took it upon himself to further elaborate, "college student," he chucked, and that was enough for you to understand.

"well, that'll do it."

he laughed, "yep!"

"can i have a name for the order?" you didn't need it, but it was a good excuse to get his name.

"yes, yeah," then he paused, like he was trying to remember said name. "parker peter. wait, no— that's not what i meant. i-i don't know why it came out like that. peter. it's peter. parker, that's my last name... if you're wondering where that came from."

"okay... peter. cute."

you didn't ignore the blush that made it's way onto his face. maybe he didn't get flirted with often, you thought.

but then again, how could he not? peter was literally a greek god... like, what?

"so..." you started, wanting to break the silence, "what're you majoring in?"

"biotech."

"ooh, you're a science guy, huh?"

"yeah." peter was blushing again, you noted. why, though? did he think that was weird? or nerdy? well, it was nerdy, but in the best way possible.

"that's really cool!"

"you think?"

"of course!"

"um, yeah, i intern for mr. stark."

"mr. stark?" you racked your brain, trying to figure out whether or not you were supposed to know him. "...wait. oh my god, tony stark? like- like- stark industries? that tony stark?"

you were speechless. you knew that he had to be smart, considering he was in biotech. but this level? wow.

"mhm."

and, man, he seemed so modest about it.

"jeez, pete. that's insane!"

"thanks..." he glanced at your name tag, "y/n. that's a pretty name. what about you?"

"me? what about me?" you asked, banging on the side of the coffee machine. "damnit. this stupid piece of— ah-ha!" smiling as it started to work, you started filling up the large cup.

"major. wha-what are you majoring in?"

"huh— oh! i'm still in high school. i turn eighteen in a couple weeks. i'm a senior. y'know, at midtown."

peter's eyebrows shot up, "midtown?"

"hmm," you clipped on the top. glancing at the sharpie, you inhaled. you picked it up and scribbled down his name. and then, after a moment, you number.

"i used to go there. i knew you looked familiar. i'm a sophomore at college. you were... what, like freshman when i was there?"

"uh... yeah. something like that. that's so weird. i've never seen you around before."

peter winced, "um, yeah, i wasn't the most well known..."

you bit your lip, not wanting the conversation to drop.  "well, here's your disgustingly bland coffee, parker. sure you don't want any sugar or anything? a cookie, maybe?"

"no, i'm okay," he laughed, taking the cup from you. peter took out his wallet and handed you his card, which you took.

"sorry, again. for... you know."

"nothing to apologize for. you're good." pete furrowed his brows. "are- are you closing up yourself?"

you shrugged. "yeah. why?"

"no... it's just, it's really late."

"meh. i live, like, 5 minutes away from here."

"then i can drop you off? just so— just to make sure you get home safe."

"it's okay. besides, i still haven't finished," you gestured vaguely, "all this."

"i can wait. it's okay."

"pete—"

"it'd make me feel a lot better knowing you get home." he tilted his head at you.

everything about him felt so safe; you didn't even know him, but you already trusted him. he had that feeling that resonated off him.

"i—" you blushed, your insides squirming at the fact that he cared about your well-being. he was a stranger, and yet he still wanted to do this, so who were you to refuse? besides, it would be nice you stay and talk to him longer. "okay."

peter grinned, "cool!"

"just give me a minute." you cleaned up, wiping down the tables and pushing in chairs. "you know what'd be crazy?"

peter looked at you.

actually, you weren't sure if he'd ever looked away, because when you glanced up, his eyes were locked on you. "huh?"

"if you were, like, some kidnapper. and i just wouldn't know, because you'd be trying to seem nice, and then bam, you're dragging me to the trunk of your car. kinda like reverse psychology, but not."

he laughed, shaking his head. "how'd you know? man, you just blew my cover."

"don't even try it. i got a fancy red panic button on the underside of this counter."

"do you really?"

"yep... no. we don't. well, technically, we do. but it doesn't work."

"huh. okay."

the two of you went back and forth with little quips, making each other laugh, until finally, you were done. taking of your apron, you tossed it in the bin and hung up the cap. peter held the door open for you as you flipped over the "open" sign to "closed".

"you know, i normally don't let pretty boys walk me back home from work."

"well, i don't normally walk pretty girls home from work. so you should be flattered."

"i'll have you know that i am."

"how come you work so late anyways?"

you sighed, "we don't have... the greatest supply of money. my mom tries her best, but i like to put in the hours whenever i can to help. i do a bunch of extracurriculars because it looks good on resumes, and i only have time for anything else later in the day."

"i see. it's cool of you to help out like that. i'm sure your mom really appreciates that."

wincing, "she doesn't know i work this late. my mom doesn't get back from the office until 1 or 2am. it's nice i have a full scholarship. at least i don't have to pay for college. that crap is crazy expensive. or at least too expensive for us."?

"scholarship? that's awesome. where to?"

you shrugged, "midtown college. not as prestigious as their high school, but it's still something. majoring in graphic design."

"so you, like, draw?" his eyes lit up, "oh, is all that chalk art or the windows and board yours?"

"yep. you like?"

"yeah! are you kidding? that stuff's crazy. i could never."

you laughed, "thanks, pete. oh— well, this is my place. don't leak my address."

"no promises."

"and thanks, again. this was really sweet of you. it's nice knowing that there are still good people out there." and with a sudden burst of confidence, you kissed his cheek. "good night," you murmured.

you were too giddy and happy to look back at him, and you barely caught the farewell that rolled off his lips.

well, at least he had your number.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

I was watching an LP of Spider Man 2 (PS5) SPOILERS

In the first mission after the intro, some guys try to rob a gun club. Which, has no security but a thin metal rolling door that some random thugs easily back a truck through. Sure, I get it, it's a plot contrivance.

Spidey (Peter) complains about the stupidity of the idea of having a gun club in the city. He banters about how he wants to replace the city's gun clubs with places that don't hurt anyone, like complement clubs.

In other words, a man who can dodge bullets in a high-tech, bullet-resistant suit packed chock-full of unlicensed, experimental, powerful concealed weapons* says guns are bad because they hurt people, as he beats thugs to a pulp with his carbon-fiber reinforced fists.

Two,  legal gun owners are rarely the people who shoot others. If they shoot anyone, it's probably themselves, on purpose. Most gun crime is with illegal guns, and blaming legal owners for that is stupid.

Heck, I'm from one of many countries with low legal ownership, strict gun control, and more per capita gun homicides than America.

Three, the plot of the first game involved terrorists attacking the city, compromising a public official, and nearly blowing up the Mayor. Then there was a supervillain prison break, then the Mayor called in a PMC to keep order, which turned out to be tyrannical fascists. 

Followed by a bioterror attack using weaponized biotech from the Mayor’s own company.

Needless to say, the Mayor loses his job.

I’m not even covering the DLC and Miles Morales game, which caused even more chaos. In short, faith in the city government and cops to protect the public has to be at an all-time low.

Also, the city's gun laws apparently don't keep countless bad guys from toting around their thundersticks. And we know those laws are probably similar to reality, because one of the side plots in SM2 involves Spidey responding to people with fireworks, which are illegal without a permit.

In the entire state. Except for sparklers.

Also, Spider-Man usually mocks his enemies. He spends most of the fight mocking the idea of gun clubs. Imagine if some randos tried to rob a jewelry store, and he started going on about blood diamonds.

I'm an hour or two later, and some guy says that his foundation is developing GMO crops for humanitarian reasons, as opposed to normal corporate GMO crops, which are made for profit and are "rightly criticized".

The speech does not sound one bit like something an actual person would say. It's possible the character is drawing on the language of a speech or article, but it still sounds awkward.

Peter later says "Money shouldn't be part of the equation when it comes to basic human necessities." 

Man who lucked into a cushy job because he was friends with a nepo baby of a billionaire in high school says “the vittles shouldn’t cost money.”

And last time I checked, a lot of crops wouldn't even be grown if farmers and corporations couldn't profit by them. Because, y’know, food costs time, money, effort, and resources to make. Like most things.

Just to be clear, I'm actually in favor of Open Source, generally. But this is just so preachy.

*Including armed drones with lasers powerful enough to destroy scenery.

[niobiumao3]

Okay but here's my main narrative issue with CX-2 as Tech within the canon context: it utterly undermines Crosshair's plot and goes in the face of the entire TBB throughline of agency and choosing to do and be the right thing even if it's hard.

Crosshair's plot--and the plot of all the regs--is one of agency after moral injury. The chip made them do horrible shit, but then its influence fades (or it's removed) and they're left with the reality of having done something they thought was right but know, deep down, was not. And this is horrifying, and breaks all of them in various ways. There's a series of contrasts being laid out in this, which Tech as a CX simply doesn't work with.

Those who made it out:

Cody, Howzer, and Crosshair all save themselves from it over the course of their personal plots. Rex is saved by Ahsoka but left with the emotional scars and determination to save others from it.

Those who are trapped:

Wolffe, a good man convinced he's doing the right thing. Other regs like Wolffe. And then we have the CXes.

The CXes being magically brainwashed, unlike Wolffe and the other regs who are caught by the moral injury of their chips, clashes with this and simply doesn't fit. But what does fit is the type of cult indoctrination and brainwashing we see in our own world. People who are highly vulnerable being targeted by such groups and recruited. That is a similar trap that Wolffe is in, he's just (in effect) recruited himself.

Why 'Scifi Brainwashing' the CXes is a Bad Plot

Scifi-magic-brainwashing is no different than a fully active control chip. It's the same thing, and the whole POINT of S2 was how those were failing or wearing off (or being removed). Why would the plot just roll back on that? 'Well now it's some torture horror method and not a biotech chip'. Okay why not just say Hemlock figured out how to make the chips work again? Hemlock's entire elevator pitch in The Summit was that he'd found a way to NOT NEED fancy biotech brainwashing. That was his point, that he'd found a way to 'convince' them instead. So Scifi-magic-brainwashing doesn't make sense here plot wise, and while Bad Writing is always an option, much of the season has been top tier. I don't think they'd negate their own plot so thoroughly.

What IS CX Conditioning

What Hemlock seems to be doing is more traditional cult indoctrination and brainwashing. You put people in a Situation--this probably does involve torture but that's not the same as mindflayers and control chips--and now you're testing their resilience (emotional AND physical). Conforming becomes a choice, and is once again about agency and deciding to do the right thing. This kind of decision is a common theme in TBB, and is undermined by magically forcing people to be something they're not. I grant you, the choice might be 'convert or die', but since Cross was resisting and still alive and not even completely physically wrecked we can assume it's survivable. Awful, but you can get through it.

And a traditional conditioning would fail on Crosshair precisely because he saved himself from the aftermath of his chip already. He slowly realized what was happening, what he was part of. He finally broke free by killing Nolan, a sort of reverse of the situation with Caleb/Kanan. The regs being conditioned, though, they've not already had this breakthrough, they're much more vulnerable to choosing the CX route. Crosshair has been through this rodeo, he knows it's all bullshit.

What about Tech?

Tech, IMO, wouldn't be susceptible to it either; I guess you can argue he might, but I think that gets into some ugly stereotypes about autistic people being amoral and morally gray and etc. Simply put, there's no reason for Tech to be vulnerable to cult brainwashing just because he didn't have to fight it off the first time. I know some people have tried to push back on this with 'anyone CAN be brainwashed' but like...okay we're back to, why would Tech choose that. That's the thing here--what motivation would Tech have for falling to that beyond 'make the torture stop'? Our mans walked on a busted femur for HOW long, defeated 3 clones with one? And this person would fall to traditional cult mentality? I don't know that I can agree on that.

Then there's the added narrative complications:

Tech would have revealed Pabu the second Omega escaped if he was a CX

...unless he had amnesia, which would fit with him being vulnerable to CX conditioning but now we have CX and amnesiac Tech??

How is this being resolved in 4 episodes, given we know the earliest they can reclaim him is ep 10/11 because we see CX-2 as part of the Pabu invasion?

Sure, they can magically fix him somehow (feel free to choose your preferred method) but now we're back to, this flies in the face of the TBB plot of choice and living with what you actually chose to do, as well as what you were forced to do. It negates Cross' plot, which was a 3 season journey of repairing himself. Now we'd repair Tech from the same thing in one episode? I don't see that happening.

Anyways. This is a perfectly fun plot for fics and the like, where we can fudge bits of the story, stretch it out like taffey, imagine different options. But the canon has severe runtime constraints which would hamper this kind of plot without hurting other narrative threads they've established. You'd need a good season to really lay out a Tech-CX-2 plot which wouldn't conflict with Cross's own plot. They don't have a season, they have 6 episodes max, probably less.

[iwriteaboutfeminism]

From TBFighters.org

Danaher - a large U.S. corporation - owns many smaller biotech companies, including Cepheid. Cepheid designs and manufactures diagnostic tests. Their TB GeneXpert test determines whether someone has tuberculosis and if the infection is drug resistant or not, enabling effective treatment.

Using the "printer ink" business model, Danaher sells the testing machines at a reasonable price, but WAAAY overcharges for the test cartridges themselves, especially the cartridges that show whether the type of TB someone has is likely to be drug-resistant, meaning that even when people can get a diagnosis, they may end up wasting valuable time on treatments that are less likely to be effective because they couldn't access the more advanced diagnostic cartridge, which, by the way, costs the SAME AMOUNT OF MONEY TO MANUFACTURER AS THE BASIC DIAGNOSTIC CARTRIDGE. Danaher is PURPOSELY price-gouging and it's costing thousands of lives a year.

But there's something we can do about it.

Contact Danaher and let them know to put #PeopleOverProfits and start selling their diagnostic cartridges for $5. It's #TimeFor5.

Danaher's corporate office: 202-828-0850

Email: sustainability@danaher.com

Social Media: @DanaherCorp and @CepheidNews

For email, phone, and social media templates, (and more info and graphics to share) visit TBFIGHTERS.ORG

[episims]

Over time, I've gotten some questions about how my Biotech Station mod differs from simler90's. To make answering easier in the future, I finally attempted to write all the changes down.

But a disclaimer that it's been two years since I worked with that mod, so I'm very likely forgetting something.

Sims can't catch the mysterious disease from making medicine with my version

I added the practice interaction

I added the interactions for making medicine/virus in bulk

I made it so that the medicine/virus made on a business lot goes into the business owner's inventory

I made failed attempts to add an empty bottle to the inventory (as a junk penalty, similar to what fishing produces)

I stopped children from being able to make medicine on their own

I lowered the skilling speed of the object

I added the missing object anim to making medicine

I changed the vial to a medicine bottle and made it sit on the ground level (after animations too)

I greatly lowered the relationship requirement for giving medicine, as I wanted to have it possible for a doctor to give it to a patient after a few successful interactions (simler90 has the requirement as 50 STR, I have it as 10 STR)

I made the requirements for successfully giving virus more straightforward by removing the logic & charisma skill check that simler90 has included and raised the LTR requirement instead

I turned giving virus always causing a relationship hit (simler90 has it giving a boost when accepted)

I stopped it from being possible to give virus to children

With simler90's version, sims might get busted by the police if they make virus. I wanted it to be possible to have a setting where viruses are legally made for research purposes, so I removed that

I made it impossible to sell viruses in OFB businesses as that should be illegal, but I allowed selling them for profit in buy mode so that sims can still get money from 'researching' them (simler90 has virus priced at §0)

In update 3 of their mod simler90 made it so that if giving medicine/virus is refused, the medicine/virus gets moved into the giver's inventory, even though it's not usable from the inventory. I changed it back so that the giver will find a surface to place the bottle back onto, so that it can be given again without first replacing it from the inventory

I changed the original Eaxis formula (which simler90 uses) for making medicine/virus: originally, it had the sim's niceness points as one factor for determining how potent the outcome will be. It didn't make much sense to me, so I took that away. During testing, we also noticed that the sim's logic skill level only had a small impact so I made that weight more instead

I completely rewrote how medicine works: instead of always lowering disease severity, my medicine is capable of insta-curing certain diseases, depending on how potent the medicine is. This required a lot of new code as simler90's version doesn't have a cure code of its own but relies on the game's general disease progressing code (and for that reason there's always a delay before the sim gets cured with simler90's version)

I added pop-up messages showing if the sim got cured or not

I also completely rewrote how virus works: simler90 has it so that the disease virus gives is always the mysterious disease (=a disease of which symptoms and other qualities have been randomized). I made the less potent virus to give either food poisoning, a cold, or the flu instead, and only the potent version to infect the mysterious disease

simler90 has relationship checks for giving medicine/virus interaction to even appear, and an additional mood check for the sim to be able to take virus themselves. I removed all of that

And probably more, but I think that covers most of it.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Bombs Away

in which Joy overcomes her boredom

cw: adult language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

Things went from exciting to uneventful in record time. Even though they were on a supposed ‘tight schedule’, all they did was train and practice and practice and train.

Joy was no stranger to training overkill; she'd experienced it plenty in the army, but that at least made some sense. The army was full of dumbass kids who came in not knowing which way was up. Here wasn't. 

...With maybe the exception of Harbor. The guy looked thirty, but sure as hell acted like a dumbass kid. It was hard for her to pinpoint how old he actually was.

Not that it really mattered. No matter their age, skill, or background, they were all monkeys in the same shitshow.

They'd been here for close to a week now, and they still hadn't been given more info for the all important file. Not to mention the fact that the mission made no sense to her.

Sure, they were all skilled. Jericho had proven he could bust down cyber walls better than a digital wrecking crew, and she'd seen Benji crack every lock Sahota tossed his way in seconds. Even Kaius, for all his insufferability, was adept at finding little details the rest of them missed. And though Harbor followed directions about as well as a deaf rat would follow the pied piper, he still had the biotech to give him an edge on whatever Sahota tasked them with.

Skills aplenty. But why couldn't whoever’d sought them out just helo some mercenaries to whatever floor the secret tech shit was on and bust it up? Why did it require so much finesse? If it was so important, if leaving the program alone would potentially doom the city, what was with all the secrecy? And maybe most importantly, why couldn't the almighty Sahota and Vic do it themselves?

It probably wasn't her business. She probably just didn't care enough about the polite subtleties tech conglomerates required to give a shit.

But the powers that be demanded secrets and fine tuning, so fuck it, she'd play their game.

Training was fun enough, but Joy could stand to complain about their downtime options. As far as she could tell, they could either read, work out in the gym that was set up on the far side of the training room, or mindlessly wander the hallways.

She'd checked out the little library, and hadn't found many books she was interested in reading. There was barely a shelf's worth of nonfiction; old equipment manuals and biographies of people she’d never heard of. There was a significantly higher amount of classic literature. The kind of shit you had to read in school, and probably her least favorite genre. She'd sifted through the paperbacks anyway, if only out of boredom. The most worn book was a copy of the dreaded 1984, and when she flipped through its pages, she found tally marks. A shit ton of them, like someone had been bored and just wanted to see how many they could make.

There were maybe a hundred to a page, carefully drawn in the margins. Weird as they were, Joy couldn't find anything that gave them context, even after devoting an evening to checking the rest of the books for markings.

Maybe someone had a weird sense of humor and just wanted to put down 1,984 tallies. Either way, it didn't seem worth it to lose her mind over, so at the end of the night, she'd just shelved it and gone to bed. That had only been day two. Who knew how much time she'd have to kill while waiting for the mission to kick off?

The compound was woefully lacking in the engineering department. It didn't even have a proper toolbox, at least not one she'd been able to find, and Joy resorted to swiping little bits of cutlery and disposables to build shit. Nothing useful, just little things to entertain herself.

Day three, she made a working crossbow out of toothpicks and dental floss. Day four, a tiny model plane crafted from broken plastic cutlery. By day seven, she was on the verge of dismembering the AC unit in her room, just to see if she'd be able to fix it without a manual.

Joy pondered if it would be worth it as the crew stood half-awake on the sparring side of the training room, waiting for the morning’s session to begin. Of course, she didn't exactly have tools, but maybe she could improvise something.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed everyone else suddenly look towards the door, and made an effort to point her gaze in the same direction and pretend to pay attention, even though her mind was elsewhere.

It was Vic who walked in. A little weird, since it was usually Sahota strutting through the doors, but Joy brushed it off.

“Good morning, everyone,” Vic said.

“Good morning,” she parroted with the rest.

Maybe she could find a butter knife in the kitchen? With enough dedication, she could probably shape it into a half-decent flathead.

“I heard you've all been doing well in your training,” Vic continued.

What if she ran into an allen bolt though? Well, if it wasn't recessed she could probably finger-loosen it with enough dedication, but if it was—

“Today I'm going to test your skills.”

Joy's gaze suddenly sharpened. A test? That was new. Did that mean they were finally close to getting this show on the road? She raised her hand, and waited for Vic to look her way.

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I've laid out a mock mission. I'll give you all an objective, and see how quickly you can meet it. And perhaps more importantly, how you meet it.” He folded his arms, offering a friendly smile. “I'm afraid I haven't had the time to watch every one of Sahota's sessions. I’d like to see how it's coming along with my own eyes.”

“Where is Sahota?” Kaius asked from beside her.

“He's on a mission. A real one.” Vic chuckled. “Can't come to the phone right now and all that.”

“What sort of mission?”

“Well now, I can't go handing you all the details, Mr. Manak. I'm sure you understand.”

Joy had already assumed Sahota was going somewhere. This morning, she'd caught him and Vic in the kitchen and she swore they'd been about to kiss. She'd awkwardly excused herself then ran to tell Jericho.

Poor Jer needed something to distract himself with. The two of them had learned that there was no wifi in the computer lab way back on day one. And since they couldn't leave the compound and didn't have communication devices of their own, that meant they were effectively cut off from the rest of the world.

Which did make sense, considering all the top secrets they'd supposedly be exposed to. Not to mention the fact that the base’s location was probably a secret in itself.

Joy could deal. Her family was used to her going months without contact. Jer, on the other hand, was used to working from home. He had a kid now, a six year old daughter, and fuck had it really been that long since she'd last seen him?

They’d only had a semester's worth of compsci partnership before she'd deployed for the third time, but they'd really hit it off. Kept in touch, more or less, though she'd never mentioned her shady weapons dealings and he'd never mentioned his secret hacker missions. Which made them even. And now their respective skills had brought them back together, so Joy couldn't complain.

She was a little hurt that he'd never mentioned his kid, but given his skillset, she got it. You could never be too safe when you had both a family and a dangerous hobby.

“Her name's Arabella,” he'd told her, passing over a wallet-sized photo of a grinning girl with an assortment of wildflowers poking out of her softly-coiled afro. “Her mom took that on her birthday this year. She wanted a fairy princess party. That's the reason for all the flowers.”

“She's adorable.”

“She's a handful,” Jer said, smiling a proud-dad smile as he put away the picture. “She's the only reason I agreed to do this.”

Joy didn't have to ask what he meant. She didn't know what was at stake for the rest of the team, but for the two of them, it was just as much about protecting their loved ones as it was staying out of jail. It wasn't the government she had to worry about, or pride, or how society might judge her family. It was old enemies. People who would see her picture on the news and suddenly know where to look for her weaknesses. She imagined Jericho was in the exact same boat.

Vic clapped his hands together; a relatively soft sound, but enough to jerk her focus back into the moment.

“If everyone is ready, I'll brief you on your tasking.” He strolled over to one of the built-in metal cabinets that lined the sparring area, punching in a code on a keypad that prompted the doors to slide open. Inside, on the shelves, were what Joy could only describe as high-tech basketballs.

Or at least they were roughly the size and shape of a basketball. Most similarities ended there. They were smooth metal, with fine seams that suggested interior electronics, and a lense that was almost like… no shit.

“Are those robots?” Joy blurted out, forgetting to raise her hand this time.

Vic smiled. “Sharp, Miss Cavan. They are. Or drones, rather.” He took one in his hands, thumbing a button on the side, and the thing whirred to life, lifting itself from Vic’s grasp and hovering there.

Joy watched it with wide eyes. How was it floating? There was no propelling system or engine she could see, was it—?

“Electromagnetism,” Vic said, as if answering her thoughts. “We have a weak field that covers the training grounds.”

“Fancy stuff,” Jericho murmured.

“Is that our task?” Benji asked, gesturing at the drone. It swiveled in the air, facing its camera towards him, and he took a cautious step back. “Those… thingies?”

“On the contrary,” Vic said, moving to activate the other two. “The drones will act as a stand-in for armed security guards. They'll attempt to prevent you from reaching your goal.”

Benji gave an exaggerated wince. “But the drones aren't armed, are they?”

“They are.”

Joy's eyes flew to the trio of bots, scanning for weapons capabilities. Based on their size, they didn't have the carrying capacity for ammo or a full auto system. Not that she assumed Vic was willing to shoot them, but…

“Each drone is equipped with the equivalent of a cattle prod. Nothing that'll do permanent damage, but enough to give you a sting.”

Benji took a bigger step backwards. At this point, Joy was probably the only one in range of said ‘equivalent of a cattle prod’, but she didn't care. If anything, she wanted them to come at her so she could watch how they deployed their attack. Fuck, she’d give her left arm to take one of these apart. Maybe Vic would let her mess around with their armaments? She could probably devise a ranged electrical attack, if she could just get a look at the internals. She'd done similar shit in the gun shop, and she'd worked with some low-grade drones when she was still running arms overseas. Shouldn't be too tough to combine the two.

“What is our task?” Kaius took a step forward, so that he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her, his eyes on the drones. “What goal will they be trying to prevent us from reaching?”

At that, Vic drew out another metallic device, this one boxy and covered in so many screens and buttons Joy figured most were just for decoration.

Vic set it down, typing a quick sequence into a keypad next to the cabinet. A giant sound, like stone dominoes, echoed out from behind them, and Joy whirled around.

The concrete pad that stretched between the sparring mats and the gym equipment was moving, shifting around like tectonic fucking plates and rearranging into something that looked like an abstract painting; huge cement cubes stacking into a maze of stairs that nearly reached the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” Joy whispered. “How does that work?”

Vic chuckled. “I can’t give away every secret, Miss Cavan.”

“Can I come work for you guys?”

“We'll see.” He hefted up the metallic box, fidgeting with some of the buttons and dials on one of its faces.

“Alright, team, listen up,” Vic said, raising his voice to draw their attentions back from the newly formed obstacle course. “This,” he held up the box, “is a bomb.”

Joy raised her eyebrows, again scanning its surface. If it was a bomb, its fuzing was total overkill. But given her current surroundings, she guessed she shouldn't be too shocked.

“It's… like a real bomb?” Benji asked, but Vic’s only reply was a smile. He pressed a button, and the side facing them lit up in a garish, movie-style countdown. Digital red, seconds already ticking away.

“Shit,” Benji muttered.

“I trust you understand your goal then.” Vic pressed another button and the box spun out of his hands, hovering alongside the drones for a moment before disappearing into the maze of concrete that now stood in the center of the room.

“Evade the drones. Disarm the bomb. You have one hour.”

He grinned at the collection of shocked faces surrounding him.

“Try not to die.”

×~×~×

tag list:

@theonewithallthefixations

[dailycharacteroption]

Infinite Tech Witchwarper (Witchwarper Alternate Class Feature)

(art by Methiston on DeviantArt)

I do love a gadgeteer hero, someone who always has the right equipment for the job on hand, even when it doesn’t always make sense.

An interesting subtype of the gadgeteer hero, however, is the “arsenal” hero. Typically a “battle mage” of some kind, their whole gimmick is that they have a weapon and/or armor set for every situation, often conjuring them to their hands to replace whatever armament they previously held or wore.

And with the witchwarper, a spellcaster that literally calls upon objects and energies from alternate realities, it only makes sense that there would be some among them that utilize their talents in such a way!

I doubt that this specialization would manifest by accident, so I imagine that those that wield this power trained themselves to focus on weapons and armaments when they tap into the possibilities of other worlds and realities. Perhaps they are soldiers or mercenaries, or they desperately wished for a weapon to defend themselves when they were in danger, and their power awakened and answered.

Either way, their gifts have given them a way to answer any question that their foes and the hazards around them may ask.

With an expenditure of magical energy, these mages can conjure a suit of light armor (with upgrades if resolve is also spent), a basic melee weapon, or a sidearm. Though these armaments may resemble familiar models, they are extradimensional in nature and as such the skill of the mage and the amount of energy they expended determines their damage output and defensive capabilities, allowing them to tailor the armor with the upgrades they need, or the weapons with the damage type and special properties they need.

The greater the magical energy they expend, the more potent their creations become. Armor gains elemental resistances, additional upgrade slots, greater durability. Meanwhile, weapons gain critical hit effects, additional properties, and increases to their damage output.

With this specialization, this version of the witchwarper is less a battlefield control specialist and more a secondary combatant able to tailor their gear to the situation at hand, especially if you’re using the enhanced version of the class that gets a lot of extra uses of infinite worlds. I recommend combat feats to flesh out their ability to stand alongside more combat-focused classes, as well as spells that can hamper and damage foes to make hammering them hard with your conjured weapons as well as your more real mainstays easier. From there, make a list of useful armor upgrades so you can quickly pick them out when going on the defensive.

I said before that these weapons and armor may resemble familiar models  despite using a level-generated stat line, but they don’t have to if you do not wish. You might wield armor that resembles medieval designs, or weapons that function but are very different in terms of design aesthetic, such as an electrical pistol that is accompanied by deafening peals of thunder when fired, or a staff that bleeds flame along it’s length. Feel free to be creative with it!

Hoping to starve them out of advanced resources, the Jolin Corporation blockaded the planet in hopes of quelling the copaxi revolts at their facilities. However, they sorely underestimated the flexibility of the coral-folk. Not only have their biotechnicians begun replicating the advanced tech of the outsiders in biotech form, but more than a few copaxi guerillas have a knack for warping reality, conjuring living weapons from their imagination to fight the company’s occupation.

In order to learn about the mysterious weapon-conjuring mercenary the party has repeatedly encountered, they need to sneak into a server room owned by the corporation that he seems to be connected to. Doing so means braving the automated defenses, including a serpentine hybrid tech guardians, an arcane asp!

The recent string of killings that have occurred seem to have no connection at first, but as one looks into the details, one begins to realize that the murder weapons are all strange and unique devices, leading the investigators to conclude that the wielder must be a tinkering weaponsmith, have raided a warehouse of experimental designs, or perhaps strangest of all, is making them up as they go.

[norabrice1701]

Coincidence - Ch. 5, Pt. I

Dr. Alan Grant x Predoctoral Student Fem!Reader

Series Main List

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit language; panic attacks; dinosaur PTSD; astraphobia; pining and inappropriate crush

You close the last empty drawer to your desk, and the clang of metal on metal sounds so final. 

Too final. 

But it’s your own decision to leave, though. You took months to decide on the next step of your academic journey even if it only took a minute to place the phone call and five more to mail the acceptance letter. At least the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science promises a fresh start, fresh pursuits, and a full-time paycheck as you advance towards your doctorate, even if NMMNHS is one of the least accessible acronyms you’ve ever seen. It’s still humbling beyond words that they selected you for the position based on your masters and predoctoral research work… but in your heart of hearts, you know there’s only one man who encouraged you, who challenged you, who inspired you… 

And you haven’t even told him that you’re leaving yet. You suspect that he already knows from reviewing next year’s enrollment roster, but still, you haven’t brought yourself to say it to him aloud. Like the closure of your desk drawer, it sounds too final, too irreversible. But as much as you long to make a name for yourself in your own right, you just can’t bear to watch Dr. Grant slowly destroy himself. 

You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but there’s been no going back since that post-lecture chat with him. Your heart cracked wide open for him and it has never closed back up. All you want is to be more to him than a student – someone he can confide in, someone he can lean on, someone he can… 

Well, you’ve been over this before, and it’s nothing new. You remain just as powerless to help him, destined to watch him lose himself in his work, forsaking nearly everything and everyone else. It strikes you as a coping mechanism of some sort, and you still can’t say how or why you scared him so bad that one afternoon. You didn’t sneak up on him on purpose, but maybe he thought you did? 

Or maybe he thought you were someone else? Or something else?

“Holy shit - you’re here! Or rather, still here.” April’s voice sounds over the bang of the lab door as it swings open on its creaky hinge. Her face is bright with excitement as she steps through the door, waving a newspaper. “And just in time, too! You have got to read this.” 

You just barely resist an eye-roll. “Not another ‘dinosaurs-are-alive’ article, is it?” Suppressing a groan, you watch her nod enthusiastically. “Aren’t you tired of those yet? The official investigations have found nothing even of interest.” 

“The official investigations are full of shit,” she says without shame as she sweeps through the lab towards her desk next to yours. “Gennaro’s family just sued InGen - asking for upwards of $37 million! Now if that’s not definite proof, then I don’t know what is.” 

The newspaper hits her desk with an audible slap as you close the packing box’s cardboard flaps. “Who’s Gennaro?” 

April scoffs as she deposits her backpack to the desktop. “Don’t you remember? He’s the lawyer that went to Costa Rica with the doctors - but he’s the one person who didn’t come back from that weekend excursion.” 

“Oh, please.” You chuckle with disbelief. “Like the papers said, there’s any number of explanations for that - case investigation, client support, etc.”

April just waggles her eyebrows and nudges the newspaper towards you. Despite your annoyance at April’s continued fascination about the highly-speculated so-called ‘dinosaur island’ that still swirls around Dr. Grant’s name, you can’t deny your lingering curiosity. 

BIOTECH FIRM SUED FOR LAWYER’S WRONGFUL DEATH 

International Genetics Incorporated, more commonly known as InGen, have found themselves in hot water with a recent lawsuit brought forth by the family of Donald Gennaro. As previously reported, Gennaro accompanied former InGen CEO, John Hammond, to Costa Rica last summer but has never filed exit paperwork to return to the United States. This week, a spokesman for the Gennaro family confirms why this is. 

“The Gennaro family wish to express their profound grief and stunned heartbreak over the passing of Donald Gennaro, who died at the careless hands of John Hammond and the InGen corporation.” The spokesman’s statement read. “With the evidence already submitted to the judge, the family is moving forward with a lawsuit against InGen for the wrongful death of their beloved father and patriarch.” 

The paperwork filed with the court indicates that the family is citing damages equal to $36.5 million. At the time of publishing, InGen has not made a public statement regarding the suit, nor has current CEO, Peter Ludlow, released any statement. 

With a scoff, you push the paper back towards April. “That proves absolutely nothing,” you say with a shake of your head. “He could have died in a company vehicle accident or fell down an InGen staircase.” 

“But here’s the best part!” April cackles with conspiratorial glee. “Officially, InGen has no facility registered in Costa Rica. So, then, why would the lawyer stay there on official business after everyone else left, hmm? Why else would he have died there? If not… oh, say for the existence of creatures that have been extinct for 65 million years.” 

“I think you’re still grasping at straws…” Again, you shake your head with an incredulous smirk. “You know, as much as I’m going to miss you, I’m not going to miss your conspiracy theory adventures around ‘dinosaur island’.” 

April’s shoulders sag as her smile falls. “Fuck, I still can’t belive that you’re packing up.” She stares at your packing box and empty desktop with a sad shake of her head. “I just thought that you’d always be here, you know? Hell, you’ve been here for so many years already…” 

You arch a wry brow. “Guess that’s the downside of doing undergrad, masters and predoc work all at the same university.” The corner of your mouth lifts with a wistful smile. “Maybe that’s why I’m finally deciding to move on. Change of scenery, change of pace…” You trail off as you turn to watch rain sluice down the lab’s windowpane.

Fortunately, it’s a gentle rain shower that paints the outside world in peaceful shades of grey instead of inducing an attack of crippling panic. But mercifully, that’s still only happened the one time back at the dig site. You draw a breath to speak. “I think New Mexico will be good for me. I hear it hardly ever rains or storms there.” 

April laughs softly as she perches against her desk. “You’ll miss being here, though. I know you will - you’ll miss all of us, all of this… sure, you’ll still have bones and dust, but I don’t know how you’ll ever do better than working with the famous Alan Grant.” 

The mention of his name shouldn’t send a pang through your heart, but it does. Maybe once you stop seeing him on a near daily basis, you can put whatever this infatuation - crush, obsession, whatever it is - behind you. If he doesn’t take his own advice - that you reminded him of - and he remains hellbent on running himself into the ground, then you refuse to watch him do it any longer. Especially if the only potential for a future relationship with him keeps you in the student-mentor dynamic. 

“Yeah,” you agree with a sad smile. “I will miss all of you - honestly, I’m not sure how I’ll ever survive a dig site without Derek’s campfire Philly cheesesteaks. But yeah… it will be different not working with Dr. Grant anymore.” Your throat tightens, and you hope April can’t hear it in your voice. The last thing you need is for her to poke into your thoughts about him right as you’re leaving.

“Oh, come on, stop looking so forlorn.” April scolds with a gentle scoff. “Or you’re going to make me cry, and I refuse to ruin my eye makeup when it looks this good.” She pushes up from her desk. “How about you make yourself useful for one last time and we’ll get the next round of chemical baths prepared?” 

That does tug a fond smile to your face, and you’re helpless to say no. It puts you back in your element as you don thick rubber gloves and line up big plastic bins on the steel work table. Conversation flows between you and April just as easily as the distilled water and glacial acetic acid flows into the bins. Logging the specimens as they’re removed from storage containers, there’s no fizzing bubbles or other visible reaction as they submerge into the acid bath. Over the next several days, though, the sediment rock matrix will dissolve and yield the full extent of its fossilized treasure within. 

Like so many days in the lab that have come before, you lose track of the hour as the rain falls in sporadic showers and day yields to night. You gnaw on a protein bar as a weak excuse for a late dinner before making the last round of goodbyes and farewell hugs with April and others in the lab, and now, you have just one last goodbye to say. 

Taking the stairs up to his office for the final time, you commit every last step to memory. It’s a journey that you’ve taken for granted all these years, but now you’re not sure when you’ll walk these hallowed halls again. Rounding the last corner, you’re not surprised to see that all of the other faculty offices are dark, except for his. It’s been a common theme for the entire semester, and your heartbreak over the familiar workaholic sight is nothing new. 

The door sits cracked open, and with a hesitant smile, you step close and rap gently next to the plaque that reads ‘Dr. Alan Grant’. “Hello, Prof.” 

Seated at his desk, he’s unsurprisingly absorbed in work. An open book rests on his left, fingers skimming over an intricate, skeletal diagram as he writes notes on a worn, yellow legal pad with his right hand. His eyes dart up to you with a sharp, almost accusatory glare before his brain catches up to the sudden interruption. He offers an oddly relieved, closed-mouth smile in greeting as he glances up at you with those perpetually tired eyes. “You don’t have to call me that anymore. Especially now that I’m not…”    

“I know.” A blush takes over your cheeks as you step into his office. “But not calling you that makes everything feel so… over.” 

“But it is over, isn’t it?” He fixes you with a knowing look as he leans back in his chair. “I respect your decision, you know - and I would have no matter when you decided to tell me. The acronym may not roll off the tongue like UM, but it’s a fine institution in New Mexico.”

You nod slowly, feeling your mouth go dry. Your heart hammers against your ribs, and goodness, how much do you dare say? “I just… well, it… honestly,” you say, voice tight. “It kinda feels like a betrayal, you know? I’ve been here for nine years, after all… and I could have finished it all here, but I’m not…” 

His perceptive gaze pins you in place. “Don’t start doubting yourself now. You’ve already made it this far, and just because you’ve chosen to go somewhere different is no reason to change that.” He offers an encouraging nod. “I have full confidence that you’ll do well in New Mexico.” 

Your mouth curves with a flattered grin before you can stop it. Even though the rational part of your mind knows that he’s only speaking as your former academic mentor, your heart still flutters from his approving praise. “Thanks,” you say softly. “That’s… well, I’m looking forward to it.” 

Again he nods, though this time the motion is sharper and more to the point. “How long until you move down there?” 

The light patter of rain starts against the window pane, drawing your attention as it distorts the campus lights and car headlights. Blinking away from the window and back to him, you wet your top lip. “Another week, at least. Still waiting to hear from the apartment complex that the renovations to my unit are finished.” 

He turns sharply away from the window, closing his eyes for the space of a breath before summoning a weak smile. “Sounds like you still have some time left to enjoy what Missoula has to offer without the burden of academic work.” 

A fond smile warms your face as you glance around his office. “Honestly? I think I’ll miss this place the most. And these halls, your lab…” You pivot and turn your head to glance at the world map spanning the wall opposite his desk. “Actually, I think I’m the most sad to leave this behind. It’s been so fascinating - and rewarding! - to see this world stage of discovery take shape.” A soft laugh crosses your lips as an idea dawns. “Maybe you’ll have to take pictures and mail them to me - along with letters to expla-” 

Your words stop as you turn back to face him, freezing with immediate concern. His bowed head still faces away from the window and his right hand now rests against his temple, as if shielding his vision. He winces in distress and his shoulders shake from shallow, rapid breaths. The sight of him takes you back to that horrific storm at the dig site and the crippling panic attack that seized you. 

Your gaze darts over his right shoulder, trying to figure out what could have triggered it. Nothing looks out of the ordinary among the books and papers that line the table situated beneath the wide window - in fact, the only thing changing is the flash of headlights in the falling rain as they shine through the water-streaked glass. 

… Is that the cause? But why would he possibly have a triggering fear of moving lights at night in the rain? Working an uncertain swallow down your throat, you step closer towards his desk. “Dr. Grant?” 

He shakes his head with a deliberate motion as he squeezes his eyes shut. You cast another gaze towards the window, watching flashes of distorted and changing light shine through the water-streaked glass. With quiet steps, you walk around behind him, trying to put yourself between him and the window. “Dr. Grant?” You try again, concern increasing as he draws another shuddering breath. Your heart lodges in your throat as you reach out, daring to rest a hand against his shoulder. “... Alan?” 

Whether it's your touch or the use of his first name, he stiffens before drawing a sharp inhale. “You don’t - y-you shouldn’t…” His voice is thready as he offers a weak shake of his head. “I’m sorry… really, you shouldn’t…” 

You try to think back to his words that day in the driving storm. He’d been so calm, so in control - he knew exactly what to do by removing you from that situation. Well, maybe that’s exactly what he needs now. “Come on.” You say, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Let’s call it a night, okay? Surely, this can wait till the morning, yeah?” 

Despite the troubled expression on his face, shame flashes in his slate eyes as he glances reluctantly down at his desktop. With a slow nod, he silently concedes your point, and you give his shoulder another gentle squeeze before trying not to overthink it and letting go. 

His body heat lingers on your skin for longer than you should admit, though Long enough for you to coax him out of his chair, for him to grab his briefcase with an unsteady hand, and for you to turn off his office lights behind him. At least his breathing settles out as you walk alongside him down the mostly windowless hallway. The glossy look in his eyes still makes him look miles away - perhaps it’s shock, perhaps it’s embarrassment. You can’t even recall the flood of emotions that followed in the wake of your own panic attack, so it’s not worth pressing him with any questions. 

“Is that what it was like?” His voice carries softly as you descend the stairs together. “That day with the storm? When the memories just… overwhelm you?” 

Your throat tightens as you nod gently. “Yeah… something like that.” 

He nods numbly, sighing deeply. “That… I don’t know what happened - that’s never…” 

“It’s okay.” You say quietly, following him through the stairwell double doors out into the ground floor hallway. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But, uh, I found that a warm shower helps, though. That, and… well, you can’t go wrong with a stiff drink.” 

He turns towards you, weary exhaustion in every line of his face as he starts to come back to himself and offers you a wry smile. “And here I thought that I was supposed to be the mentor…” 

A fond smile teases your face in return as you both push out into the rainy night, standing underneath the building awning. “Which way is your car? Or, er….” You trail off, nibbling your bottom lip uneasily. “Or will that… I don’t want you to have a repeat experience while driving…” 

He shakes his head slowly. “I live close enough that I walk to campus.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you speak without thinking. “Well, you certainly shouldn’t walk home in this weather - if you catch your death or get hit by a car, I don’t think the dean would ever forgive me.” 

A bright headlight flashes across the building’s facade, and he winces, turning away. With his eyes closed, he shakes his head. “You don’t need to coddle me.” 

“It’s not coddling,” you say with an increasingly firm edge, still remembering how he took charge that day in the storm. “You’re not allowed to completely run yourself into the ground - no matter how stubborn you are.” In the yellow glow of the building’s exterior lights, you reach out for his upper arm. “Come one - I’ll give you a lift, and then… you can sit in the dark with no more flashing lights.” 

Surprisingly, he offers no protest as you lead him out into the rainy night. Maybe it’s a testament to how troubled he truly is as he folds into the passenger seat with minimal effort, and you take the driver’s seat. He tips his head back against the headrest, eyes tightly shut. You don’t ask him for anything other than directions, and within five minutes, you’re pulling into the driveway of a well-kept craftsman bungalow with a neatly trimmed yard. For as much time as he spends away at various dig sites, you honestly aren’t sure what you expected his home to look like but this forest green home with white trim looks so cozy and surprisingly homey. 

Raindrops plink off the car’s exterior as he dares to crack an eye open. A strange look of relief softens his face when he glimpses the steadying presence of his house, and he glances at you with uncharacteristic hesitance. “Since you’ve driven all this way,” he says softly with a teasing edge before his tone turns genuine. “And you mentioned a stiff drink earlier… how about it?” He sighs heavily, the muscles of his throat working around a swallow in the shadowed night lights. “One for the road, as the saying goes…” 

Your heart leaps in your chest at the implications. Officially, there’s no more academic boundaries between you and him, and even ethically… well - you’re getting ahead of yourself. He looks more like a man who just doesn't want to be alone, and there’s a big difference between sharing a nightcap in sociable companionship and… something else. 

 Slowly, you nod as the corner of your mouth lifts. “Alright. One for the road.” 

Series Main List

[luv-assangiebatch]

Mendax Undercover - Chapter 3: The Cameos

Author's Note: It was actually thanks to @imaginationismybubble and her recent fic that inspired me to put some of you in this AU-- hence the chapter title of "Cameos." I hope it is okay and if it is not, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Author's other note: The writing hasn't gotten there quite yet, but this fic is turning out to be my most emotional one yet...I can actually picture living in Basel with Assangie... 🥺

As several weeks continued on, Kat and Julian did not cross paths very often.  There was the occasional passing by in the office halls, infrequent encounters in the coffee station where they met previously, or in the office café.  Julian typically kept to himself and did not talk to many people outside those on his team, but when he saw Kat he would usually acknowledge her with a nod and a soft smile, sometimes followed with a greeting of “hello” or “good morning.”  Kat always blushed when she saw him, and usually fumbled in one way or another.  Her ankle might buckle under her slightly that would cause a small but awkward change in her stride, or if she were carrying something like papers or a pen they would find a way to fly out of her hand the instant she would enter his presence.  After passing him by, she would always sigh at herself in annoyance.  She would often ponder, do I always have to look like a complete idiot every time I run into this guy?  However, unbeknownst to her, Julian found her slight clumsiness to be somewhat endearing.  It made her seem real and honest—and truth was something that was very important to Julian.  He did not trust people easily, and was generally stand-offish and uncomfortable around most of them.  Though there was something about Kat that he sensed was different in that aspect and it did intrigue him, but not enough to aggressively pursue it.  He had larger concerns on his plate such as keeping up with this new job that provided a sort of undercover refuge for him, and the salary helped him to continue to fund and support his main cause, despite having to seemingly disappear from it as far as the outside world was concerned.  While Kat stressed over her embarrassment after passing Julian in these instances, what she didn’t see was Julian would turn around to watch her walk on for a small moment, blink and grin softly before turning around and continuing on his path.

The weeks continued to pass by and soon the time arrived for the company banquet, where they would take time to celebrate their scientific and sales accomplishments for the year.  It was a formal affair that Kat always looked forward to because she loved getting dressed up in a fancy evening gown and socializing with her colleagues outside of the office over decadent food and unlimited champagne.  On this evening, Kat and Jun were seated at a table with some employees from different departments, the rest of their team of variant scientists was a table over.  Kat was very proud of and loyal to Santé Genomics—she found most of her self-worth and identity within her career.  Due to this, she was always enthusiastic about meeting new people from different departments, and learn more about the company as a whole.  She believed the more she knew about the company the better she could serve them.

As the evening went on and people moved about the room to mingle, Kat and Jun found themselves in some great conversation with three other ladies sitting at their table.  One was an assistant medical writer named Bethany, who sported mid-length straight brown hair with bangs covering her forehead, and brown eyes to match.  These features were in contrast to her light complexion.  She was a UK native, and after her university studies and a few entry level jobs within the biotech sector she found herself at Santé Genomics working alongside the medical writers who were responsible for helping with marketing materials as well as churning out the institution’s many scholarly research articles.  Seated next to Bethany was Marilu, another American expat who was an artist by trade and was able to land a role with Santé Genomics as an assistant medical illustrator.  Similar to Bethany’s writing role, Marilu assisted with the artwork that went into marketing publications and abstracts that would be presented at major oncology conferences like ESMO and ASCO.  Marilu came from Latino roots, and wore her wavy, dark brown hair short to her ears, but it was thick and full on the top of her head.  She also wore black-rimmed glasses, nothing too flashy.  Marilu was typically shy and quiet, until she felt comfortable around people then she would start to come out of her shell a bit.  Like Kat and Jun, Bethany and Marilu had started their relationship as colleagues and soon escalated it to friendship after they found they shared similar interests in art and entertainment as well as a strong worth ethic.  They partnered on many projects together which benefited the company.

Finally, on the other side of Marilu sat Astrid, the company receptionist who typically saw almost everyone who entered the vast biotech building.  Most of higher management and executives like Julian tended to enter through a restricted access site on the other side of the facility.  However, vendors, investors, auditors, and other guests of the facility as well as typical employees were often greeted by Astrid when they entered the building.  Astrid was a French native with short black hair cut in a chic bob style and dark hazel-like eyes.  She loved to dress her eyes with dark eyeshadow and her lips with red lipstick, which many times made her look like a sort of modern-day flapper.  She had a look that was both classic and yet modern, which made her an intriguing site at the front desk.  As the receptionist, she had to put on the friendly and professional façade, but few knew of her more sarcastic side that frolicked within a garden of dark comedy.

As the champagne continued to flow throughout the night, the five colleagues shared fun company stories of their prospective roles and departments after introducing themselves.  They bonded over their respect for the company mission, which was about fighting cancer and helping to prolong lives through innovative science and precision medicine.

Kat had been having such a good time chatting with these new colleagues that she had completely forgotten about wondering if Julian would be at the gala.  She had nonchalantly surveyed the room at the beginning of the night and did not spot him, figuring he decided not to show.  Maybe he was not into such things, she really didn’t know—and it was annoying that she wanted to know.  She just found him to be so mysterious, and it intrigued her deeply.  Of course, while she let her mind focus on her surroundings and forget about him and his mystery, he then showed up in her periphery as she cocked her head back to chuckle at one of Bethany’s office stories.  Once she got a glimpse of those white-blonde strands she had to double take and pause.  Every time she looked at him it was as if life moved in slow motion for those moments.

Julian looked quite dapper as he lightly chatted with his upper management scientists.  He was wearing a black suit and shirt accented with a bright red tie.  The black made his hair stand out even more, and it almost shined in the light like some sort of celestial being.  After a few minutes, Julian’s eyes wandered in her direction and seemed to lock onto hers.  Startled, Kat looked away, fearing of being caught. 

Surely he didn’t notice me from all the way over there…

Julian did see her though, and it was his turn to be a little intrigued.  He wrapped up conversations with the other gentlemen nearby and finished his last sip of champagne before setting down the glass and heading in Kat’s direction.

She looked back up and saw him walking toward their table, but the door to the ballroom was not far behind them.  Perhaps he was finished with the evening and heading out.  Kat looked down and sighed nervously as she fiddled with some of the silverware that remained on the table.

“Ohhh my Goddd…he’s heading this way I think…” she muttered under her breath to Jun, who was sitting next to her.

“Wait what’s going on?” Bethany leaned in, curious.

“Who…?” Astrid inquired.

Marilu was not paying much attention, she was locked in on her cellphone as she often was, sitting with her knees folded up toward her chin and her feet resting on the chair.

“God, make sure the knives and other sharp objects are away from me if he comes over here—before I hurt someone…” Kat yammered, pushing them toward the center of the table.

Jun giggled at their friend, then looked at the others.  “She has a bit of a crush…”

“Jun--!” Kat protested.

“Oooh..!” the two ladies sang in unison, and even Marilu looked up from her screen.

“Shutupshutupshutup…” Kat muttered under her breath to the table as Julian approached them.  He walked up beside Kat’s chair and rested his hand on the back of it.

“Ah Kitty-Kat—I thought I saw you,” he stated softly with a smile.

Kat looked back up at him and saw his zircon eyes shining from behind his errant strands once again.  “Julian…hello!” she returned with a bright smile back, trying to keep her cool and not blush too much.  Luckily the room was somewhat dimmed.

Julian then looked briefly at the others at the table.  “Hello…” he nodded politely, then turned his focus back toward Kat.

Everyone else returned his greeting but he didn’t seem to take much notice.

“I am heading out but I wanted to stop and say hello… Don’t get too crazy—we have lives to save tomorrow…!” he quipped with one of his signature silly grins.  He addressed the whole table but let his eyes lock with Kat’s for one small second before turning away and walking toward the exit.

Kat’s eyes fluttered once he walked away, and as she reached for her champagne glass, she fumbled it a bit and almost knocked it over completely.  She was able to regain control of it, however.  Unbeknownst to her, Julian took a final glance back as he walked through the double door exit of the room.  He smiled to himself when he saw her tiny falter, then finally turned around to be on his way.

Kat gulped down the rest of her champagne as her face flushed and her demeanor seemed a little more agitated than she had been before.

“So this man—you have a crush?” Astrid inquired nonchalantly, her French accent thick.

“Yes!” Jun blurted with a giggle, and Kat was mortified.

“Shhhhh!!” she motioned aggressively to the table.  “Gads, I don’t think the pathologists in the BACK heard you…” then she covered her face in embarrassment.

“I think he likes her too…he calls her Kitty-Kat…” Jun added. 

“Well I barely know either of you but I ship the hell out of this..!” Bethany exclaimed genuinely with a bright smile before grabbing another glass of champagne.

“Ouais, absolument—ship!” Astrid proclaimed, raising her glass.

“That man looks familiar…” Marilu muttered with a suspicious air.

Kat, still visibly mortified, tried to regain control of the table. “Stop it…stop it….”

“Wait, who is he though…?” Bethany asked.

“He’s the new VP of Therapeutic Bioinformatics…” Jun answered.

“Ah Dr. Assange…?” Astrid returned, emphasizing the silent e at the end as the French sometimes tended to do.  “So many doctors here, eh…?”

“Still familiar…that name…” Marilu muttered, poking away at her cellphone.  She seemed to be trying to research something, but was coming up with dead ends.

Marilu had a hobby of following political whistleblower stories and supporting their plight.  She remembered when Julian and his website blasted the United States many years ago.  Yet now she couldn’t seem to find a trace linking Dr. Assange to any of that on the internet.  She wondered if her mind were playing tricks on her—but as stated earlier, Julian was very gifted and impeccable at covering his tracks.  He knew he needed to disappear, so that he did as far as the internet was concerned. He was so arrogant in his abilities that he did not feel he needed to go to the trouble to change his name or appearance.  He, however, did not anticipate a person like Marilu would ever be embedded in a small biotech town in a politically neutral country.  For now though, his magic had thrown her off course.  Plus it seemed unlikely that someone at a VP level at a biotech company would double as a rogue internet journalist.

Kat sighed. “Okay, yes..it seems I may have a little bit of a crush…but that’s it!  It’s not like anything will ever come of it, honestly.  I can’t even interact with the man without blushing or making a complete fool of myself.  I’m sure he thinks I am a total idiot.  He only knows me because I dumped coffee pods all over him and our department works closely with his…”

“Dude has literally never said two words to me,” Jun protested.

Kat sighed again as she shrugged.  “Well…I’m sure he will soon…eventually…”

“This is fun!” Bethany exclaimed with a smile, pouring champagne into the other’s glasses.  “We should hang out more—maybe do dinner after work or something…”

“Yes!  You guys should come by my desk sometime—I always have little cakes and other snacks there…” Astrid added.

And just like that, this table of colleagues at Santé Genomics became good friends that night, and would continue to stay in touch for years to come.

[totalspiffage]

dude tell me more about your scifi solarpunk western shit that sounds dope as hell

Yes! So basically I was reading up on like massive blackouts caused by solar flares and I was like what if there was a habitable planet that had that as a gimmick like there's storms every few days it would be awful to wreck so much equipment so they would have to adjust.

So then I thought biotechnology and biocomputing? It's a very arid place but there's blooms of green and oasises and plenty of fauna. Telepathic bee messaging. It's the new craze.

So why are people even going out of their way to live there? No one lives there currently, it's been long abandoned. Perhaps religious reasons, maybe they're escaping something, or trying to get in on the gold rush of the planet's harvestable resources. Perhaps for historical or scientific interests. Or greed, power, people trying to insinuate this unaffiliated planet back into the control of fascist systems.

Tourists come there to stay in the lush resort station safely out of danger to vacation on the planet to disconnect while the people below get no breaks. Debtors try to lose themselves and debt collectors hunt them. Science tries to make progress while not letting their discoveries be used for evil.

Western theme because of course. Lean into the campy nature of it, into the green, the biotech, the hopeful undertone of a future that isn't bleak. Breathing life back into a dying husk of a planet while fending off the bastards who made it that way.

I know it's probably done to death in its own (I anticipate people would endlessly compare to other things), but IDK I've always liked sci-fi and esp franchises that retain humanity (aliens notwithstanding ) and care at the heart. That's what I'd wanna explore if I made something.

[princesssmars]

let the earth stand still

a monet de haan x reader drabble

contains : comfort fluff and angst (our girl has a panic attack :(()

a/n : im rewatching the first season (super duper late yes im a staller) and have become so inspired to write for my favorite mean girl. cant wait to see her rule in season two <3

when monet is angry at the world and everyone in it, she turns to you.

her life is fucking hard. if she doesn't prove herself with her managing of julien, not only will she be a social failure but a failure t her mother as well. the de haan matriarch is already not so subtly pressuring her daughter into dropping this “internet management thing”, how she can go to the same college as her mother and get a degree to help with the oh so lucrative family biotech and pharmecutical business.

then there's julien, who can barely decide if she wants to take monets advice on how to be the cut-throat queen bee or the relatable but out-of-reach rich girl. and she loved luna, she really truly did, but she could see she was getting tired of how things were going.

it drove her crazy. she was made, no, she was born to do and be something important, not just another fleeting nepotism child who advanced their family's wealth by a few million dollars. she was smart, she was cunning, and not to mention damn good looking and she knew it. but it felt like her life was at a perfectly polished standstill.

and her only saving grace was you.

you, who she had seen occasionally in the hallways, the child of some jewelry baron who kept mostly to themselves and their group of friends. the first time you even talked was because she eyed your bracelet and asked where you got it, thinking how great it would go with a shirt julien just bought for an instagram post. she didnt catch how she was muttering her thoughts out loud, but she did catch you telling her it would look much better on her wrist instead.

so from then on, she keeps you to herself. she didn't even tell luna about you (immediately anyway). when she needs an ear to vent about her problems, youre at her door with one of your sweatshirts for her to wear and the donuts from this cafe she definitely wouldn't admit she was obsessed with.

but tonight it was especially bad. she felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack, and monet de haan does not do panic attacks. but, they apparently did her. so here she was, at 1 AM trying not to sound as desperate as she actually is when calling you to come and stay the night with her.

no later then 15 minutes later youre at her door, barely acting shocked when she tightly wraps her arms around your middle and drags you onto the large bed with her. its silent, no words needing to be said. everything fades away as her eyes droop lower and your hand softly rubs her head and hair.

and maybe, just for a night, nothing else matters.

[jcmarchi]

Student spotlight: Victory Yinka-Banjo

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/student-spotlight-victory-yinka-banjo/

Student spotlight: Victory Yinka-Banjo

This interview is part of a series from the MIT Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science featuring students answering questions about themselves and life at the Institute. Today’s interviewee, Victory Yinka-Banjo, is a junior majoring in MIT Course 6-7: Computer Science and Molecular Biology. Yinka-Banjo keeps a packed schedule: She is a member of the Office of Minority Education (OME) Laureates and Leaders program; a 2024 fellow in the public service-oriented BCAP program; has previously served as secretary of the African Students’ Association, and is now undergraduate president of the MIT Biotech Group; additionally, she is a SuperUROP Scholar; a member of the Ginkgo Bioworks’ Cultivate Fellowship (a program that supports students interested in synthetic biology/biotech); and an ambassador for Leadership Brainery, which equips juniors/leaders of color with the resources needed to prepare for graduate school. She recently found time to share a peek into her MIT experience.

Q: What’s your favorite building or room within MIT?

A: It has to be the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard on Ames Street in Kendall Square, where I do my SuperUROP research in Caroline Uhler’s lab. Outside of classes, you’re 90 percent likely to find me on the newest mezzanine floor (between the 11th and 12th floor), in one of the UROP [Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program] rooms I share with two other undergrads in the lab. We have standing desks, an amazing coffee/hot chocolate machine, external personal monitors, comfortable sofas — everything, really! Not only is it my favorite building, it is also my favorite study spot on campus. In fact, I am there so often that when friends recently planned a birthday surprise for me, they told me they were considering having it at the Broad, since they could count on me being there. 

I think the most beautiful thing about this building, apart from the beautiful view of Cambridge we get from being on one of the highest floors, is that when I was applying to MIT from high school, I had fantasized working at the Broad because of the groundbreaking research. To think that it is now a reality makes me appreciate every minute I spend on my floor, whether I am doing actual research or some last-minute studying for a midterm. 

Q: Tell me about one interest or hobby you’ve discovered since you came to MIT.

A: I have become pretty involved in the performing arts since I got to MIT! I have acted in two plays run by the Black Theater Guild, which was revived during my freshman year by one of my friends. I played a supporting role in the first play called “Nkrumah’s Last Day,” which was about Ghana at a time of governance under Kwame Nkrumah, its first president. In the second play, a ghost story/comedy called “Shooting the Sheriff,” I played one of the lead roles. Both caused me to step way out of my comfort zone and I loved the experiences because of that. I also got to act with some of my close friends who were first-time stage actors as well, so that made it even more fun. 

Outside of acting, I also do spoken word/poetry. I have performed at events like the African Students Association Cultural Night, MIT Africa Innovate Conference, and Black Women’s Alliance Banquet. I try to use my pieces to share my experiences both within and beyond MIT, offering the perspective of an international Nigerian student. My favorite piece was called “Code Switch,” and I used concepts from [computer science] and biology (especially genetic code switching), to draw parallels with linguistic code-switching, and emphasize the beauty and originality of authenticity. This semester, I’m also a part of MIT Monologues and will be performing a piece called “Inheritance,” about the beauty of self-love found in affection transferred from a mother. 

Q: Are you a re-reader or a re-watcher — and if so, what are your comfort books, shows, or movies?

A: I don’t watch too many movies, although I used to be obsessed with all parts of “High School Musical;” and the only book I’ve ever reread is “Americanah.” I would actually say I am a re-podcaster! My go-to comfort-podcast is this episode, “A Breakthrough Unfolds”, by Google DeepMind. It makes me a little emotional every time I listen. It is such an exemplification of the power of science and its ability to break boundaries that humans formerly thought impossible. As a computer science and biology major, I am particularly interested in these two disciplines’ applications to relevant problems, like the protein-folding problem discussed in the episode, which DeepMind’s solution for has caused massive advances in the biotech industry. It makes me so hopeful for the future of biology, and the ways in which computation can advance human health and precision medicine.

Q: Who’s your favorite artist?

A: When I think of the word ‘artist,’ I think of music artists first. There are so many who I love; my favorites also evolve over time. I’m Christian, so I listen to a lot of gospel music. I’m also Nigerian so I listen to a lot of Afrobeats. Since last summer, I’ve been obsessed with Limoblaze, who fuses both gospel and Afrobeats music! KB, a super talented gospel rapper, is also somewhat tied in ranking with Limo for me right now. His songs are probably ~50 percent of my workout playlist.

Q: It’s time to get on the shuttle to the first Mars colony, and you can only bring one personal item. What are you going to bring?

A: Oooh, this is a tough one, but it has to be my Brass Rat. Ever since I got mine at the end of sophomore year, it’s been nearly impossible for me to take it off. If there’s ever a time I forget to wear it, my finger feels off for the entire day. 

Q: Tell me about one conversation that changed the trajectory of your life.

A: Two specific career-defining moments come to mind. They aren’t quite conversations, but they are talks/lectures that I was deeply inspired by. The first was towards the end of high school when I watched this TEDx Talk about storing data in DNA. At the time, I was getting ready to apply to colleges and I knew that biology and computer science were two things I really liked, but I didn’t really understand the possibilities that could be birthed from them coming together as an interdisciplinary field. The TEDx talk was my eureka moment for computational biology. 

The second moment was in my junior fall during an introductory lecture to “Lab Fundamentals for Bioengineering,” by Professor Jacquin Niles. I started the school year with a lot of confusion about my future post-grad, and the relevance of my planned career path to the communities that I care about. Basically, I was unsure about how computational biology fit into the context of Nigeria’s problems, especially because my interest in the field is oriented towards molecular biology/medicine, not necessarily public health. 

In the U.S., most research focuses on diseases like cancer and Alzheimer’s, which, while important, are not the most pressing health conditions in tropical regions like Nigeria. When Professor Niles told us about his lab’s dedication to malaria research from a molecular biology standpoint, it was yet another eureka moment. Like, Yes! Computation and molecular biology can indeed mitigate diseases that affect developing nations like Nigeria — diseases that are understudied, and whose research is underfunded. 

Since his talk, I found a renewed sense of purpose. Grad school isn’t the end goal. Using my skills to shine a light on the issues affecting my people that deserve far more attention is the goal. I’m so excited to see how I will use computational biology to possibly create the next cure to a commonly neglected tropical disease, or accelerate the diagnosis of one. Whatever it may be, I know that it will be close to home, eventually.

Q: What are you looking forward to about life after graduation? What do you think you’ll miss about MIT?

A: Thinking about graduating actually makes me sad. I’ve grown to love MIT. The biggest thing I’ll miss, though, is Independent Activities Period (IAP). It is such a unique part of the MIT experience. I’ve done a web development class/competition, research, a data science challenge, a molecular bio crash course, and a deep learning crash course over the past three IAPs. It is such an amazing time to try something low stakes, forget about grades, explore Boston, build a robot, travel abroad, do less, go slower, really rejuvenate before the spring, and embrace MIT’s motto of “mind and hand” by just being creative and explorative. It is such an exemplification of what it means to go here, and I can’t imagine it being the same anywhere else. 

That said, I look forward to graduating so I can do more research. My hours spent at the Broad thinking about my UROP are always the quickest hours of my week. I love the rabbit holes my research allows me to explore, and I hope that I find those over and over again as I apply and hopefully get into PhD programs. I look forward to exploring a new city after I graduate, too. I wouldn’t mind staying in Cambridge/Boston. I love it here. But I would welcome a chance to be somewhere new and embrace all the people and unique experiences it has to offer.

I also hope to work on more passion projects post-grad. I feel like I have this idea in my head that once I graduate from MIT, I’ll have so much more time on my hands (we’ll see how that goes). I hope that I can use that time to work on education projects in Nigeria, which is a space I care a lot about. Generally, I want to make service more integrated in my lifestyle. I hope that post-graduation, I can prioritize doing that even more: making it a norm to lift others as I continue to climb.