#protein expression company

[purmabiologicsok]

Companies in Biotechnology Advancing Protein Expression

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 9: “Don’t do that!” “But…”

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

It was already dark and the two of you were still at the police station, trying in vain to create a geographic profile of the kidnapper you were chasing in Duluth, Minnesota. And it was in vain because Spencer and you couldn't even think anymore.

You were both exhausted, staying awake only thanks to the multiple liters of coffee that now were just empty disposable cups, and a sad hamburger the police chief had brought you a few hours ago. The place was deserted, and if it weren’t for the company of your friend, you were sure you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk.

“Remind me why we can’t leave this for tomorrow?”

“Bureau stuff, they want to demonstrate the unit’s efficiency or something. And, of course, so the man doesn’t take any more victims.”

“I feel like my brain has melted,” you complained loudly, running your hands over your face and dramatically collapsing onto the table.

He had his back to you, facing the whiteboard as if waiting for some epiphany, but he didn’t need to look at you to know what you had done.

“You know, while the brain can’t actually melt, there are some extreme conditions that can cause significant damage, like hyperthermia, which can lead to the breakdown of brain cells. In cases of very high fever or prolonged exposure to extreme heat, the brain can suffer damage due to the loss of proteins and the denaturation of tissues, which can lead to severe complications like seizures, neurological damage, or even death, but not the literal melting of the organ.”

“Boo! Boring!”

With that, you grabbed one of the crumpled pieces of paper on the table and threw it at him, hitting him squarely on the head. Spencer turned to look at you with a murderous expression, and you grinned at him, pleased with your little prank.

Suddenly, the idea of throwing things at your friend to entertain yourself became very tempting, and one by one, you started making more paper balls, each meeting the same fate as the first. You loved testing the limits of your best friend’s patience, and he was no stranger to well-planned revenge, so you tried to annoy him just enough to make the price you’d pay later worth it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked after perhaps the tenth ball hit him. “Like helping me with this, for example?”

“Let’s leave that for tomorrow,” you groaned, sounding very tired. “Even that genius brain of yours needs to rest at some point.”

“Yes, but it’s harder to concentrate with an annoying, immature agent throwing things at me.”

You let out a snort, something Spencer couldn’t quite decipher, but it was probably a complaint.

He kept looking at the spots where the victims had disappeared, searching for a pattern for a few seconds, but just when he thought he could continue in peace, he felt another object hit the back of his neck.

“Don’t do that!”

“But…” you couldn’t finish your sentence because he took the projectile you had just used and threw it back at your face. Without force, of course, but with clear intent nonetheless. “Spencer!”

“Now is it not fun?” he said, half irritated and half amused.

You picked up one of the paper balls from the floor and threw it back at your friend, starting what became a pretty even war. If anyone had seen you, they would have completely disapproved of your behavior and criticized how unprofessional you were, but at that moment, the place was so empty that you allowed yourselves to have some fun.

What began as a rough exchange ended with the two of you laughing uncontrollably, and you trying, unsuccessfully, to hold the doctor’s wrists to make it stop.

“I give up! Okay? I give up!”

“So, being annoying is only okay when it’s you doing it?” he teased, but with a smile on his face.

“Am I annoying to you?”

“Huge. Like, the biggest in the world.”

You knew he wasn’t serious. And Spencer knew he couldn’t live without you in his life.

Finally, you both agreed to an unspoken truce when you let go of his hands, and he didn’t retaliate, just watching you seriously.

You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and you hated seeing him like that, knowing you probably looked the same. You had a strange relationship, one that he didn’t share with anyone else, almost like a connection that, no matter the disagreements, never broke. You always knew when something was bothering him, and vice versa, ready to step in if needed.

Platonic soulmates, it was called? Something like that, he had told you once. And indeed, you two fit the term perfectly.

“How can I help?” you murmured gently, trying to end the suffering at last.

You were both dead tired, and two minds would think better than one, so he started giving you instructions on how he was mapping everything out to see if you could offer a different perspective. The autumn air was already making itself known, so you grabbed Reid’s suit jacket to keep warm, and he didn’t complain.

At some point, he needed more coffee, and he kindly brought one for you too, only to happily discover that you had finished figuring out the missing piece to complete the profile.

He was incredibly grateful, so you both agreed to sit down for a moment to drink your coffees, and then you would call a taxi to the hotel to get at least a few hours of sleep. However, as you sat in the waiting area, with two chairs side by side, sleep eventually overtook you, and without realizing it, you fell completely asleep in your seat.

Needless to say, Spencer did the same, which resulted in Hotch and Morgan finding you both in the morning, peacefully sleeping. You, resting on the young man’s shoulder, wearing his jacket and hugging yourself. Him, with his cheek resting on your head, and one arm stretched out just enough to touch at least an inch of your skin, as if he needed to make sure you wouldn’t escape in the night.

The picture of the two of you in that position became the joke of the week, but you couldn’t complain about the circumstances in which it happened. After all, if anything ever happened, you knew he was there to take care of you. And he knew, just the same, that you would always take care of him.

[bighungrywolf]

Guuuuulp

"Ah, there you go. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to swallow you? You may have shoulders as broad as a quarterback and the muscle mass of a pure beast, but that doesn't change that you're still prey to me, and with this neck I can handle anything. Now rest on my gut, you won't last long there, as I will soon turn your nurtured body into pure protein to become stronger, with an even wider neck to swallow bigger and wider prey. Aaaah, this should teach the lesson that you should never challenge a pred by saying he''s not capable of taking you, especially if that pred is a perfect specimen like me. Although I honestly love watching cocky guys like you go mute when they see what I'm capable of doing, and I see in their expressions of regret at having challenged me, as I go on and on gobbling them up, until after giving them a slight moment to glimpse the outside world for the last time, before I swallow them whole. Oooooh, I can't wait to see who's next to get an inside look of my stomach, maybe I'll wander over to the weight lifting area, I always see a couple of beefy men who would be great to keep you company on my stomach."

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[altocat]

one of my fave sephiroth things is "guy tasting food normies take for granted every day and losing his fucking mind" but i do stand firm in my truth of him having a few god awful lab foods as comfort foods. ang and gen gagging over MREs and giving up personal items on deployments for seasonings while seph is like "oh boy powder with specified nutrients" like you KNOW that beginning of cc depression had sephiroth digging into the ShinRa Electric Company Brand Protein Packs™️ instead of bothering to prepare real food (no more gen to scold him into eating nonsynthesyized foods or angeal to put leftovers in his fridge /shot)

Love it lmao

I'd like to think Sephiroth has an occasional loyalty to Shinra lab food the same way lots of us have a loyalty to crappy fast food or awful frozen meals. Like yeah it's not really food but the "taste" is familiar and the textures are pleasing so he'll latch onto that if it means getting some level of routine and control back into his life.

Headcanon: Sephiroth is used to very, very bland foods but Hojo occasionally would permit him a bit of seasoned fish as a little bit of extra protein, which was always VERY welcome. So whenever Sephiroth receives a little bit of it for his nightly Shinra-sanctioned meal, he associates it with "love" of sorts.

'nother headcanon: Sephiroth has eaten straight up unprocessed synthetic sludge without any complaints at all. Full on spooning that shit into his mouth without the faintest hint of expression or self-awareness. Autopilot mode engaged. He doesn't notice everyone is staring. He thinks it soooorta tastes like really stale cereal.

[letteredlettered]

Just going to address a few of the types of comments I see about AI on tumblr dot com.

I've seen people say that it's useless, because real human emotion is what the world needs now.

I've seen people dismiss it as a fad, cheering for it to crash and burn like bitcoin or NFTs.

And I've seen people passionately discuss how a) AI is using the intellectual property and creative work of human people to learn, without crediting that property, work, or the creators that enable that AI to exist, b) with that knowledge, AI can recreate or replicate the work of human artists, writers, and other content creators, thereby rendering artists/writers/creators without the means by which to earn a living. Many of these passionate (important, true) arguments end with some kind of conclusion like, "This is why AI is evil and no one should ever support it's use."

Let's just talk about the last one first. Importantly, I don't want to minimize or reduce the problems that artists, designers, writers, musicians, etc all face due to AI. It's not just artists. Anyone who creates content and puts it on the internet can have it stolen without credit by AI. AI can take an article written by a journalist, change the words slightly, and generate a fake name and fake photo so that the journalist who wrote the article makes no money while the company with the AI rakes it in. It's a huge problem that is destroying livelihoods as well as avenues of creation, expression, and information-sharing that will only get worse.

But to conclude that AI is therefore evil is kind of like saying social media creates toxic environments and therefore the entire internet is evil. Social media sucks, but I use the internet for keeping in touch with friends and banking and taxes and learning about the world and fandom and watching TV and learning about problems at work as quickly as possible and donating to charities. I mean, like, the internet does kind of suck; enshittification is real, but I think we all understand that the internet can be a useful tool.

Similarly, AI is being used to save lives. It solved the protein-folding problem, which not only saves lives but can help humanity in tons of other ways. It can identify certain signs of cancer more quickly than any human could. And before you say "well it's fine if we're only using it for science," you should know that the identifying cancer thing got discovered because some bakery wanted AI to identify pastries for pricing reasons. AI can process the billions of data that are necessary to consider to mitigate and prevent further climate change; it can help us come up with ideas for how to do so. In a bizarre example, AI can recognize which wood comes from which tree to help authorities discover illegal lumber trafficking which depletes endangered trees and protected forests. AI can help predict and prepare for the next pandemic. AI can explore space. AI can spot fake news.

Vilify certain uses of AI as is just and necessary, but vilifying all of AI just means that fewer people understand what AI can actually do, which means fewer people working to ensure this tool actually works for us rather than against us.

Second, let's just talk about AI as a fad. This idea frankly boggles me. AI is not bitcoin. AI is the internet. It's the computer. It's electricity. It's the compass. It's not just going to change the world, it already has, and it's not going anywhere.

AI is your spam filter. AI is your auto-correct. AI is why you see the ads you do. AI is why you get emails about deals for trips when you've been thinking about making a trip. AI is in your GPS, planning your route. AI is your search engine. I'm not trying to sell these things as positives right now; I'm selling them as realities. AI is not going away because it is already here, you who said you hoped it was like bitcoin are already using it, it's not going away.

AI is going to drive your cars. It's going to design ads specifically targeted to you as an individual. AI is going to be your children's friend and it's going to buy your groceries, and I'm just not sure there's much you can do about that at this point.

But last I want to talk about what the world needs now, because it does need humanity. It needs humanity to understand that the enemy is not AI; the entities that threaten our humanity are not AI entities. The entities that threaten our humanity are the corporations that are currently building AI with corporate interests in mind, with commercial interests in mind.

It might sound like I'm splitting hairs here. Maybe the folks who are so against AI on tumblr dot com are against AI because corporations are developing AI and what they mean when they say that AI is evil is that the current outlook on AI is just not that great because it is not being regulated and studied by enough governments, many of the general populace are either ignoring it or condemning it, and those who are most focused on its development have capitalist agendas that mean AI is going to be a lot worse before it gets better. But somehow, I'm getting the idea that the view on AI is not that nuanced--and it needs to be.

The humanity we need now, imo, is curiosity and ingenuity and passion, and we need that curiosity and ingenuity and passion directed at AI. If we get curious, if we inform ourselves, if we know what it is and what it can be and how to use it, then we can start to make demands of our governments for regulations. We can start to make demands of companies for how this should be used. We can start to incorporate AI into our lives in a way that gives us more time and space for art and creation and writing, not less. If we, as a species, were careful about this, we could use AI to make our world better, not just for humans but for every living thing and so many of the unliving things. We just have to pay attention.

Meanwhile, James Bridle's pointed out in Ways of Being: Animals, Plants, Machines: The Search for a Planetary Intelligence, "We tend to imagine AI as embodied in something like a robot or a computer, but it can really be instantiated as anything. Imagine a system with clearly defined goals, sensors and effectors for reading and interacting with the world, the ability to recognize pleasure and pain as attractors and things to avoid, the resources to carry out its will, and the legal and social standing to see that its needs are catered for, even respected. That's a description of an AI--it's also a description of a modern corporation. For this 'corporate AI,' pleasure is growth and profitability, and pain is lawsuits and drops in shareholder value. Corporate speech is protected, corporate personhood recognized, and corporate desires are given freedom [. . .] Crucially, [corporations] lack empathy, or loyalty, and they are hard--although not impossible--to kill."

Then he quotes Charles Stross, who wrote, "We are now living in a global state that has been structured for the benefit of non-human entities with non-human goals."

We could be treating technology itself not as something humans, in our dominance and supremacy, impose onto our world, but rather as a natural intelligence evolving alongside us. In so doing the focus would not be on creating machines that seek only profit and extraction, but rather make the world a better place. To do that we should be forming relationships with this technology and at the same time, rediscovering our relationships with the world around us. And just like anything the steps to get there are first curiosity, then education, then legislation.

[deeppenguinstudent]

Kayleigh Day walked through the dingy alleys of Detroit; her purse clutched tightly against her chest. It had been aeons since she's roamed these streets with Wymack - laughing, crying, drinking - they'd done it all. A smile graced her face, but it quickly morphed into a scowl as a random passerby whistled at Kayleigh's skimpy dress, to which she flipped them off with an annoyed expression.

She had half a mind to punch the simpering look men gave her as she walked past. However, a toothy grin with chubby cheeks simmered her anger slightly.

Kayleigh had been travelling to and fro Michigan for a couple of years since the state president was a zealot enthusiast of Exy and yearned to build an enormous stadium designed specifically for professional games. Naturally, he invited Kayleigh and Tetsuji to discuss the logistics of the plan, but Tetsuji had turned him down with a simple sneer. This left Kayleigh to pull up her socks and grit her teeth to begrudgingly accept the offer. Exy was a new sport after all, it needed all the funding it could get.

This time, Kayleigh had to stay in Detroit for 2 whole months. Usually, she'd ask Wymack and Kevin to accompany her, but she didn't want to burden them with the unnecessarily long time frame. The farewell shed a few tears from Kayleigh, and her two boys groaned as she mushed them into tight hugs before she left for her boarding gate. Although, they will never admit to her that they started tearing up the moment she walked towards the gate.

Kayleigh's thoughts began to wander to the exultant girl she had met about a week prior.

It was nearly 6 in the morning, and Kayleigh had run down to a gas station for her morning exercise. She pulled out an energy drink along with a protein bar and made her way to the cashier where a little girl was unloading an ungodly amount of cents.

She had curly hair and an adorable button nose that scrunched up in sadness when she recounted her money.

"It's... okay," she sighed heartedly, "Take out the pastry, I'll just get the bandages."

Kayleigh saw the little girl pout and bite her lip in an attempt to not break out into a sob. Pity wallowed in Kayleigh's heart, and she pulled out a bundle of cash before handing it to the little girl and smiling gently.

"Buy whatever you want," Kayleigh patted her head, "It's on me."

When the girl's eyes gleamed in happiness and she nodded fervently, Kayleigh couldn't shake the feeling of unbridled joy. Especially after seeing her bring a stack of snacks along with medicinal supplies to the cashier.

"My name's Elodie-Yves." The girl turned to look at Kayleigh, "What's yours?"

"Kayleigh Day."

Elodie had abashedly tugged on her sleeve after she purchased her items; when she didn't let go, Kayleigh gazed at her questioningly, to which Elodie responded that her brother had told her food was best shared with company. Thereafter, Kayleigh and the girl met up every morning to eat breakfast and watch the Sun rise on a park bench together.

Kayleigh had told Elodie about her experience as an athlete - the good and the bad. She had also told her about Kevin and Wymack and chuckled as Elodie's twinkled at the recollection of her marriage day.

In turn, Elodie had told Kayleigh about her mysterious brother. She had told her the perils of the abuse they'd undergone by their birth parents; the sacrifices her brother had made in order to run away from France to Detroit, bringing his little sister alongside him.

"Can I ask you a question, Miss Kayleigh?"

"Of course, Elodie," Kayleigh took a bite out of the sandwich she was eating. It had been a week since she started associating herself with Elodie - she could feel herself starting to get dangerously attached.

"Does your work usually make you come back home with bruises and cuts?"

"Is this about your brother?" Kayleigh's stomach bottomed out, her appetite now gone. Elodie had expressed her concerns about Jean's work prior, but she had dismissed it with a wave before prattling on about other mindless topics.

"Yeah, we got into a fight last night," Elodie's voice cracked, "Yesterday he came back with more bruises than ever. His voice was hoarse, and he couldn't even sit properly. I don't understand why he can't just quit and find another job. He won't even let me visit and help him, just how stubborn can he get?"

Elodie was sobbing silently as she bit her lip before turning away.

"I'm sorry, I'll stop crying. Just give me a minute." Elodie choked out. Kayleigh heard Elodie squeak when she pulled her into a fierce hug.

"I don't care if you cry around me, Elodie."

Kayleigh had heard of Elodie's parents striking her with horrifying punishments the moment a tear cascaded from her eyes. They would tape her mouth shut and leave her to starve for days just because she weeped over a miniscule thing. One time, her father had almost suffocated her with a pillow because she wailed after injuring her knee. Truly, they were monsters.

Elodie held onto Kayleigh's arms tightly as she rocked back into her chest.

"Do you... do you think you could talk to him?" Elodie quipped up, her voice shaky. "You're a good adult. He'd like you. He'd listen to you."

Kayleigh hummed, "I can try."

A cackling chortle tore Kayleigh away from her memories as she stumbled into a pile of spilt alcohol. She cringed as she lifted up her heels before trudging along the streets to the location Elodie had given her. Jean was a skeptical person, according to Elodie, so Kayleigh had to blend in to garner his trust and prevent him from putting up even more walls around him.

She felt even more at unease as she saw people making out sloppily against the walls. Kayleigh didn't want to dignify the idea of Jean selling himself out, but the more she thought about it, the more it sadly made sense. How else was a freshly new adult supposed to make enough cash for himself and his younger sister? Kevin was still living with his parents, and he was 20 - he could barely afford a house of his own because of the unfairly rising prices.

Her heels clacked into place when she saw a boy starkingly similar to Elodie. Curly hair, but his cheeks were angular, and eyes as grey as the skies during a thunderstorm.

Nevertheless, Kayleigh saw him being shoved rather aggressively to the wall by a burly man. His tongue latched onto Jean's neck as Jean tried to push him away, but his arms were slammed on top of his head as he cried out in pain.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Kayleigh had a bad habit, one that was extremely prominent in high adrenaline situations. Do first, Regret later. It was something that Wymack had chided her about, causing her to try to amend her ways. She pushed the man's head, rendering him to topple sideways. Jean stared at her with wide eyes as she clasped his hand tightly.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" the man spat out angrily as he edged closer to them.

Kayleigh stared at Jean and then to the man before clearing her throat, "Why are you taking advantage of the workers? Shouldn't you be paying to seek an audience with them?"

"I'm the damn owner of this brothel. I can do whatever the fuck I want," his eyes slid as he leered at Jean's form, "Or whoever I want."

Kayleigh felt Jean shiver under his gaze.

She turned to him and levelled him with a cold stare, "Give him to me. I'll pay double - no, triple his price for the rest of the night."

The man let out a disgustingly huge grin as Kayleigh threw the purse filled with cash towards him, "You've got yourself a deal, ma'am."

Old habits die hard she supposed.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

Okay, I've realised that I need to write in some extra parts to make it flow better before I end this series.

7. Sigh. This is my life now.

Part 1 - The last day

Part 2 - the friends

Part 3 - the lunch

Part 4 - the revelation

Warnings: None.

----------------------------------------------------------

     “So this is the list of all my vials of proteins,” X explained, moving the mouse over the screen. Miguel nuzzled the crook of her neck with his mouth and X giggled at the feeling. “Miguel! Pay attention, boss.” 

     Miguel groaned and wrapped his arms tighter around his adorable little girlfriend. “How am I supposed to focus on anything when I've got my pretty little research assistant sitting on my lap like this?” 

     “Well, you have to focus,” X demanded, shifting in position to better face him. “Otherwise you're going to keep calling me and asking me where everything is!” 

     “I can just bring my laptop home and ask you, right?” Miguel pointed out, sliding his hands along the hollows of her waist. She was going to be leaving the company soon so she could pursue her PhD. Of course he’d prefer it if she'd just stay by his side and help him further his research on his spider powers, but she was crazy smart and he wanted her to take advantage of all the opportunities that came her way. He cared about her enough to put his own needs aside and support her in whatever she wanted to do. X wrapped her arms around his neck and flashed him an exasperated look.

     “That's free labour,” she chastised him. “Right?” But of course she'd be helping him even when she wouldn't be working anymore - she loved him, after all, and she'd do anything she could to ensure his success. Miguel grinned at the way her lips curled at the ends in teasing and he leaned forward to peck her lips quickly. X clenched her muscles in excitement and Miguel moved one hand to her thigh as she began swinging her legs back and forth. She was so cute and sweet and he still couldn't understand how she'd fallen for a boring grump like him. 

     “And anyway,” she continued, her expression turning a little apprehensive now, “I'm not sure how much free time I'll have.” She bit her lip as she glanced up at him and he knew she was feeling nervous about her PhD. Miguel slid his arms back around her waist and pulled his little girlfriend into his chest. 

     “You'll be fine, querida,” he reassured her gently, his hand moving up and down her back in soothing strokes. “I'll take care of you when you feel like you can't do it yourself. And even when you can. I'll take care of you, querida.” 

     He pulled back to flash her a warm smile and relaxed when he saw that the tension had eased from her features. X reached up to cup his cheek in her hand and Miguel leaned into her tender touch. “I love you, Miguel.” 

     “I love you too, X.”

     “Ugh! Can't you extend your contract?” X's intern begged her again. “Just for, like, six more months?” 

     “Yeah, then we can all leave together!” one of the other girls chimed in. X grinned at them, a warm feeling filling her chest at how much they liked having her around. 

     “I can't, guys, that's not how it works,” she repeated patiently. “And besides, I have to study some more!” Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk when she noticed Miguel out of the corner of her eye.

     “Then I can come back and become Miguel's boss!” she joked, causing the hall to fill with laughter. The sounds of their amusement quickly died down, however, when Miguel moved to stand behind X, arms folded across his chest, features set into a sombre expression. 

     “Are you all ready to go?” he asked her, his voice soft but his tone hard. X twisted around in her seat to flash him a sweet smile, but he just narrowed his eyes at her before sliding his gaze away altogether. X tilted her head in question, surprised by his cold reaction, but her sweet and loving boyfriend refused to look her in the eyes. 

     “Uh, yeah,” she replied, standing up. She reached for her bag and the interns swarmed around her, rushing to give her hugs before she left. X laughed at their enthusiasm and Miguel felt his heart squeeze at how much they all admired her. “I'll still meet up with you guys for lunch and stuff. Message me if you ever need any help, okay?” 

     She turned to Miguel when she'd finished with her round of goodbyes, an expectant look on her face. But all he could bear to do in that moment was give her a few pats on the shoulder. “Um, see you around, arañita.” 

     He squeezed her shoulder, staunchly avoiding her gaze, then stepped back and placed his hands on his hips, shifting in position awkwardly. Finally, he dragged his eyes up to hers and gave her a nod before gesturing to the exit. 

     He was upset. But he was trying so hard to hide it, putting on that cold front everyone had gotten so accustomed to. X curled her fingers around his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze, then waited until he looked up at her again. 

     ‘It's okay, Miguel,’ she told him silently. ‘You know I'm still here for you. I love you, mi amor.’ 

     His stomach twisted into a tight knot and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Um, good luck with … with your studies … and everything. You'll do great.”

     X gave him a knowing look, her slender fingers still resting on his arm, then her expression softened and she gestured to the door. Miguel’s gaze flickered over to the interns, still watching their interaction with careful curiosity, then he straightened and gestured for X to lead the way to the door. 

     “I’ll see you tonight, querido,” X murmured once they were alone, careful not to get too close to him while they were still in the vicinity of the office area. 

     “Hmm,” Miguel mumbled, his bulky shoulders slumped in defeat. Her fingers ached to reach out and brush his cheek in comfort. But it wouldn’t do any good if someone caught them. 

     “I love you, mi amor,” she told him softly instead. Miguel let out another hum of agreement, then she turned and left him forever. 

     He’d spent the rest of the day locked up in his office, not wanting to go outside and be reminded of the lack of his cute little arañita. But then finally, the clock struck five and Miguel threw his things into his bag before rushing out the door. 

     “Hey, Miguel, what’s the-” Nate didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Miguel had swept past him and disappeared from the office. 

     “¿Querida?” he dialled her number as soon as he'd gotten into his car. “Where are you?” 

     “At home,” she replied, her tone slightly concerned by the hurried note in his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

     “Nothing,” he replied quickly, continuing his route to her apartment. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.” 

     “Bye, Miguel, love you!” she exclaimed before he could hang up. Miguel’s lips twitched at the ends at how easily she always said it. 

     “Bye, querida. I love you too.” 

     She was just scrunching her curl cream into her hair when she heard the sound of her door lock turning. She flipped her hair over her shoulders, then ran to her living room to greet her sweet boyfriend. Miguel locked the door behind him, then turned to face her, his shoulders tensed up by his ears. X ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a big hug. Then she started trying to hook her leg around his waist in an attempt to climb up onto him. 

     “Lift me up, querido,” she demanded, her words muffled from where she’d buried her face in his chest. A soft snicker escaped Miguel’s throat, but he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up onto his hips. X treated him to that sweet smile that made his heart flutter, then she showered his face with quick kisses. Miguel chuckled as he walked her over to the sofa and sank down onto it. He slid his hands along her bare thighs as he studied her features carefully and X leaned forward to peck his lips before giving him a warm smile. She reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek and he relaxed into her touch. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s fine if you don’t.” 

     He sighed and slid his fingers between hers, taking hold of her hand before lowering it to her lap. He fiddled with her fingers for a while, his gaze remaining fixed on how small they looked between his. Then he squeezed her waist. “I need you.” 

     She tilted his face up to hers so he could see the soft smile on her face. “What do you need from me?” 

     He didn’t respond and instead wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest. He held her there for a while, breathing in the familiar buttery scent of her curl cream, then he loosened his grip on her. X stayed in position, her arms slung lazily around his neck, her fingers running along the back of his scalp, and Miguel felt more of the tension ease from his body at the warm weight of her in his arms. 

     “Talk to me, Miguel,” she mumbled against the side of his neck. “Tell me what's bothering you.” 

     He sucked in a breath and tightened his grip on her, afraid to say the words out loud. But it was eating him up from the inside and he knew he wouldn't be able to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling until he told her and allowed her to reassure him. “Don't leave me.” 

     His voice was so small as he said it, so … embarrassed. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the terror evident in his tone and she gave him another tight hug before pulling back to meet his gaze. “I'm not gonna leave you, Miguel!” 

     He looked at her with wide eyes, his lips pursed into a woeful frown and she leaned forward to give him another quick peck on the mouth. 

     “I love you,” she continued, giving a little giggle to punctuate her point. “I want to see you everyday! I'm going to go over to your house and wait for you to come back from work. And then I'm gonna eat all of your food and make you cook us dinner and take infinitely long showers in your bathroom and ask you all the stupidest questions I can think of while I'm studying. You're gonna get sick of me, Miguel! You're gonna get so sick of me you'll regret it!” 

     She wriggled around in his arms excitedly and Miguel couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips. “I'll never get sick of you, querida.”

     X's features melted into an expression of horror and she leaned over to knock her wooden coffee table. “Don't say that, Miguel!” 

     He grinned and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slow and sweet. She smiled as she kissed him back, then ran her hand up and down his chest as she lay her head on his shoulder. Miguel inhaled her sweet scent one more time, his entire body warming at the comforting feeling of her against him. Then he cleared his throat nervously. 

     “But, um, I mean …” he stammered out, trying to figure out how to phrase his suggestion. “It would just be easier, right? If you just … moved in with me? Like, if we lived together? I mean, we can save money and it would just be easier and stuff.” 

     She froze in position, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest as she considered his words. But he hadn't even met her family yet! Or any of her friends. And was he only asking her because he was upset about her leaving her job? Would it really be easier? Or would it complicate things and force them to learn all the little habits they hated in one another? She pulled back, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Miguel flashed her an apprehensive look. 

     “Are you just asking me because you're afraid I'm going to leave you?” she asked him point blank. “Because that's stupid, Miguel: I’m not going anywhere.” 

     “No!” Miguel denied quickly, shaking his head at her question. “I'm asking you because I want you to move in with me. I love you, X and I want to come home and see your face every single day. To take care of you and have you fall asleep in my arms every night. And we already do most of that anyway, right? What's the point in moving around so much?” 

     He ran his fingers through her hair as he watched her features, waiting for her response. X lifted her hand to her mouth to begin nibbling on her fingernails, but Miguel gently pulled it away and held it in his own. 

     He did make some really good points, she had to admit. They'd always go home together after work, whether to her place or his. And they'd hang out on the weekends too, either going on quiet little dates together or just sitting around at home and relaxing. She glanced up at him quickly, her stomach tightening at the thought of not having her own place to run away to if he ever got mad at her. She'd be living under someone else's roof, after all, in someone else's house. She snuck a peek at her boyfriend again, his expression nervous as he waited for her to say something. But he'd never made her feel like it was someone else's house. He'd given her her own set of keys that she could use to go over to his place even when he wasn't there. And he'd brought her shopping for some new furniture so she could keep more of her stuff at his place whenever she slept over. He'd done so much already to make himself seem like home to her and she had to believe that she could depend on him to be there for her when she needed it. She bit her lip. “Okay, but then how do I … contribute?”

     “What do you mean?” 

     “I mean … like,” she paused, trying to figure out how to say it. “It's not just your house. I have to take care of it too. I don't … I mean, I barely earn half as much as you but, I can buy the groceries and stuff? Like, fill the house?”

     Miguel patted her thigh gently. “You don't have to do that, querida.”

     “No, it's not,” she pulled at her hair, getting frustrated. “I know I don't have to do that, like … you've never made me feel that way. But … I just …

     “Growing up, my mum always told me to never be financially dependent on someone else, if I could help it. And I never want to have to be financially dependent on my husband.” She paused to give him a solemn look. “I'm going to be earning my own money, okay? I can't be some stay-at-home housewife: I need to work, I need something to do.”

     She gestured between the two of them emphatically. “We will contribute equally. But maybe sometimes, that means that you'll have to give more financially. But then I'll make up for it by giving more time, or more energy, like to our kids or something. And that's just how it works. Okay? It has to be equal. You can't …”

     She sighed, wanting to make sure he understood the point she was trying to make. 

     “I know you will never say this, but people say stupid stuff when they're angry, and even if we don't mean it, it still hurts the other person. And I never want to hear the stupid argument 'okay, but it's my money, I'm the one who's working hard to earn it.'” She clutched at her hair again, getting mad now. “Oh my god, Miguel, if I ever hear you using those words? I am going to have to kill you. I am literally going to have to kill you. Understand?” 

     She sat back in her seat, her features set into a hard expression as she waited for his confirmation. But all he could think about was the fact that she’d called him her ‘husband’ and basically confirmed that she wanted to have kids with him, the two of them building their own little life together. He could just imagine it: their house, their children, taking their family out on little trips, coordinating pick-ups and drop-offs at school, picking up the slack when the other was too tired to do it. He squeezed his girlfriend’s waist and gave her a wide smile. 

     “Yes, that’s what I want,” he breathed out before pulling her into a hug. He straightened and pushed her back slightly so he could see the look on her face. “Our kids? Our kids, querida? We can take care of them together? You’ll be my wife? My wife. And I’ll get to be your husband? Dios mío, querida, your husband?!” 

     X laughed as she pushed against him, putting some distance between them so she could look up at him. “Miguel! We haven’t even moved in together yet. Calm down, janam.” 

     “But we’ve already known each other for a year, querida,” he pointed out, hands still curled around her waist. “Can’t we just get married now?” He grinned at the thought, thrilled by the very idea of making her his pretty little wife. X smiled and Miguel turned her head to his so he could see the shy look on her face. 

     “Miguel.” Her stomach sank suddenly as she thought about the long journey still ahead of them. “I … haven’t even told my parents yet. Or, like, anyone.” Her brow furrowed and she fiddled with the hem of his shirt as she tried to figure out how she’d introduce him to her parents. ‘Hi mum, hi dad. This is my boyfriend who was previously my boss and, actually, we were having an affair while I was still working under him.’ She cringed at the thought. 

      “Do you want to meet my friends first or my sister?” she asked, then replied to her own question before he could speak. “Ah, maybe my friends. My sister can be scary. And a little mean sometimes. But she’s nice! She just … She just wants the best for me, that’s all. Ahh! I’m so nervous!” 

     Miguel pulled her into his arms and patted her back reassuringly. “Querida. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

     He let her go so he could look at her and the tension eased from her features. She cupped his cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb across the slight stubble on his jaw. “Okay. I love you, Miguel.”

     “I love you too, X.”

Tags: @heubstr @julia4today @zayai @amberbalcom14

[paninicupcakke]

Pumpkin Smash 🎃🦇

(Blunt trauma fic series)

Scout - Freddie

Medic - Conrad

(CW: grief, angst)

Luckily for the mourning doctor, a rookie Medic from another server was able to switch shifts with him after his recent incident. A Medic is no good if they waste company time continually sending themselves to respawn. A well deserved break was granted to him. Conrad still had some tedious paperwork to do but no messy lab work for today. Once done with said paperwork, he sat alone in his office. The annual BLU Halloween party would soon begin in just a few minutes. He silently sat there with a blank expression, dressed in one of the many costumes Rose had sewed for him. Conrad’s fingers slowly grazed the stitches running up his bell sleeves. His eyes shifted over to a trinket on his desk. A small porcelain figurine she had had gifted to him. Replicating one of his many pet doves. Unfortunately, he had to give many of them away during this time. He kept one of course but the care they all needed was too much to handle. Conrad slowly reached up to hold the tiny porcelain dove in his hand. Staring longingly at it before his eyes began to blind himself with tears. They flooded down his cheeks. His tear droplets had trickled onto his hand and onto the porcelain dove. Beginning to loudly weep with his head hunched over his desk. She was everywhere all the the time. It was difficult to not be reminded of her daily. His work desk was full of constant reminders. A framed photo of them both, the porcelain dove, the garments he was wearing that day. His beloved black brimmed fedora that he wore everyday. Rose had gifted it to him one day on the bus.

‘Every man needs a good hat.’

Her voice rung through his mind. Trying so desperately to mimic her exact voice and tone. Left alone with only reflections of the memory. Conrad quickly grabbed a fistful of tissues beside him and began blowing his nose and cleaning himself up. He opened one of the drawers to his desk and pulled out a compact mirror. Yet another reminder. Conrad took off his sunglasses and began cleaning up with more tissues. Placing his sunglasses back on, hoping to cover his puffy and drained eyes.

Freddie had been stood behind the doctor’s office door this whole time. Quietly listening to his colleague cry while he hung his head low in empathetic sorrow. He stood there with a warm bucket of chicken in his hands. The young man took several deep breaths before entering the doctor’s office. Pushing open the door with a wide, confident smirk.

“Party time! You hungry? Engineer just picked up all the grub for the party.” Freddie announced while eagerly walking up to the doctor’s desk. Conrad flinched slightly at his office door opening. He set the dove and compact mirror back down onto his desk, collecting himself and quickly putting back on his top hat. The Scout’s chipper demeanor and cute hat brought a small grin to the doctor’s cheeks.

“Perhaps later. I don’t want to get mein costume dirty quite yet.” Conrad replied while adjusting his sunglasses.

“C’mon doc, you can’t just live on olives and protein shakes. You gotta eat somethin’.” Freddie insisted while setting the bucket of chicken down onto a free spot on his desk. Conrad let out a small sigh, he disliked hearing the truth. Lately, eating and cooking became a chore he loathed entirely. Only eating foods that required little to no preparation.

“Fine. Only if you split a piece with me. I can’t eat all that.” Conrad replied. Freddie lit up and instantly grabbed a drumstick from the striped bucket. Eagerly taking a big bite from the deliciously fried and crispy chicken leg. Conrad snickered watching the man dressed as a chicken happily eating away at a fried drumstick.

“I’m assuming you’re a chicken?” Conrad asked raising an eyebrow. Freddie finished chewing and swallowed the tender piece in his mouth.

“Not just any chicken. I’m a cannibal chicken.” Freddie bluntly stated. Conrad let out a small chuckle. He stood up from his desk, adjusting his top hat and shirt collar.

“Nice get up. I always dig the vampire look.” Freddie complimented, eyeing the doctor up and down.

“Danke.” Conrad bashfully replied. Freddie handed the doctor the half eaten piece of chicken in his hand. Conrad quickly took off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket before taking the greasy drumstick. He took a few small bites while walking over to the door of his office. Freddie grabbed the bucket of chicken and followed after him. Both men walked out of the doctor’s office and down the hallway. The Halloween party was held outside this year, on the back porch area of the BLU base. Conrad suddenly paused his steps once at the Scout’s bedroom door. Freddie stopped also, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You should grab a coat, it’s cold outside.” Conrad suggested. Holding his hands out to take the bucket of chicken from him while he goes to grab one. Freddie let out a sigh, handing him the bucket and quickly going into his bedroom. Grabbing the first button up coat he could find. Once lazily shoving his arms through the coat, both men continued down the hallway. All of the other BLU mercenaries were outside happily mingling. Conrad set down the bucket of chicken onto the kitchen counter nearby. Freddie went over to reach for the door handle to the back porch. Conrad had swiftly grabbed the Scout by the back of his shirt collar, stopping him in his tracks.

“Not so fast.” Conrad sternly said.

“Aw c’mon, what’s up?” Freddie asked impatiently. Conrad swiftly spun the young man to face him directly.

“You need to button this up. I don’t want you catching a cold again.” Conrad firmly said. Beginning to button up the young man’s coat closed. Freddie stood there, bashfully gazing up at the doctor’s face. Once finished, Conrad patted the Scout’s shoulder.

“There, now let’s go have some fun. Shall we?” Conrad said with a wide grin.

“Y-yeah.” Freddie shyly stuttered. Admiring the doctor’s eager expression. Fully aware that it might not last long. Appreciating it while he could. The Scout then frantically opened the backdoor and both men eagerly stepped outside. Gazing at the Halloween decor scattered all around the back porch. Hearing the soft oldies music come from their outside radio. A few of the other mercenaries glanced up at the doctor as soon as he exited the door. As if they had been waiting for him to come out. Especially Pyro and Engineer from their eager expressions. The last few Halloween’s, Conrad would have confidently walked out with his accordion in both hands. This was vastly different. He quietly gazed around at his colleague’s worried but eager expressions. He wanted nothing more then to march back inside and hide. Hit with a flush of embarrassment and shame. Conrad kept his composure and quickly walked over to one of the many tables and chairs set out. He sat down, frantically grabbing a piece of candy and unwrapping it. Desperately trying his hardest to keep a happy facade. This was it. Everyone of his colleague’s were fully aware that something was up with him. He would soon be found out in no time. Conrad anxiously chewed and finished the delicious piece of chocolate. Freddie had followed behind him along with Pyro. Both sat on each side of him. Engineer had walked over to their table as well, patting the doctor’s shoulder lightly.

“You look great doc. Here, you wanna be the designated pumpkin smasher?” Engineer asked with a kind grin. Handing the man a festive stick in orange and purple tape. It was a BLU Halloween tradition for one mercenary to smash a large pumpkin with the Red logo carved into it. Conrad was caught off guard by that question.

“I-I shouldn’t.” Conrad replied nervously. Afraid of losing his temper yet again.

“Please doc, we all took a vote and thought you might like to have a wack at it.” Engineer stated. Conrad took a deep breath, carefully taking the stick from his colleague. All three mercenaries walked alongside Conrad to the large pumpkin set up. A few other mercenaries also perked up and walked over to see the fun, mess ensue.

“C’MON DOC! BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF THAT PUMPKIN ALREADY!” Soldier loudly encouraged. Conrad chuckled slightly. Taking a step closer, slowly raising the stick up. The other mercenaries began to chime in and cheer him on. Conrad inhaled deeply before swinging the stick down and violently smashing the pumpkin open. Repeatedly beating it until it was a mushy pulp. Most of the mercenaries were cheering and hyping him up. Spy on the other hand was silent, carefully watching the doctor’s expression and movements. This was one way of getting to see the built up tension leave the suffering doctor’s being for just a moment. The Frenchman was determined to find out what was wrong with his fellow teammate. He never intended to be devious and spy on his colleague’s but he desperately felt concerned. He flicked his finished cigarette and cloaked behind the crowd of his loud teammates. The mercenaries were all preoccupied with praising the doctor. Spy had quickly vanished before everyone else had noticed. Or so he thought…

🎃

(The end! For this part…here’s some more loadouts of Freddie & Conrad :3)

[nohoperadio]

The 30+ ask game *kills* me, it's so accurate. I literally had an impassioned conversation about favourite grocery stores the last time I hung out with friends. ah life.

Anyway, 59, 40, 39 please!

59. If you died and your ghost was stuck in the outfit you're wearing right now for the rest of time, would you be happy with it?

I'm not complaining at all but this question feels like a MAJOR outlier compared to the overall tone of the meme!

I'm currently wearing a pair of running shorts; no skin beyond the territory of the shorts is covered (it's so WARM today!!). So that would suck if I had to live my LIFE this way but I need more details about what my ghost career would entail to know how to evaluate this. If I have prospects of socializing with other ghosts I'm pretty unhappy with it, although I'm sure some others would equally or more embarrassing situations so it probably wouldn't be a huge deal? But if I'm just hiding in the dark being spooky then it doesn't really matter either way probably, and if I'm actively invested in creeping people out then a little half-nakedness is probably even an asset. So in conclusion it's not what I'd choose to be stuck wearing but I like to think I'd adapt pretty quickly.

40. Grocery list or no grocery list?

I'm a big believer in the value of always having a grocery list--I never ever act on this belief however, so I'm often caught out being dangerously low on important stuff. Okay "never ever" is too harsh, if I'm planning to make a specific recipe and need to buy more than a couple of things for it I'll usually make a list, that feels very doable because the list of ingredients literally already exists in the written recipe and I just need to transcribe the ones I need to buy into a thing on my phone. But the act of sitting down and thinking about what stuff I need in general and expressing that in list form for some reason gets me all "blehh I don't wanna do that!" And if I had a strong memory I could maybe get away with this attitude but I super don't! Just one of many ways I introduce a little extra totally avoidable stress into my life.

39. What little treat do you always get when you run errands?

We done that one! But I'll tell you about Trek bars as a bonus, which are little flapjacks topped with a layer of what the packaging describes as (and this phrasing has surely been sculpted by food lawyers) "chocolate flavoured coating"--they're delicious, they've been vegan since way before the recent wave of companies pandering to vegans and they're still one of the most appealing snack options, they claim to be some kind of protein bar but they can't really be that because they're quite reasonably priced.

[kickthecan-revolution]

So today I learned that mot doing T he water and herbs isn’t really an option and I need to eat protein and take the Claritin for the neuropathy. It’s not a nice to have, I have to do it but it’s ok that I took a break. The routine is monotonous but it doesn’t mean I don’t do it. My labs are on Friday, I’ll be curious what they show.

I have saved The Bear and finally started watching the latest season this week. It’s little hard to stay focused on it but still, I love this show so much.

My brother invited me to their family vacation in August at Priest Lake. I’m really thinking about going, I’m nervous about the drive but he said I could fly to Spokane and he’d come pick me up. 😭 it means so much that they’d invite me. I go to Seattle on the 6th but I think I’m going to take a break on the 5th round.

My sister still has the potential for this job! They knocked down the salary by a lot but the hours are still so great for what she’d make. I did ask her if she still wants to do it though, her boss is erratic and lots has changed since the initial offer.

Thinking a lot these days about having an opinion vs expressing it. The future seems unclear, I’m not sure my opinion about it helps anyone, mostly me. It’s lovely seeing so many people who have felt so marginalized feeling hopeful though, that’s lovely.

Minnie is so itchy, she wants me to pet her constantly which is such different energy for her. She has a few little scabs on her neck from scratching that break my heart a little - she might be even more allergic to the cat grass that she loves to chew on. Their vet appointments are on Friday, a day I always dread. They’ve both lost weight. I hope they are ok, this whole thing has been hard on them, I can tell. I’m trying not to worry.

My house feels really clean, I can’t believe I purged so much. I had all of this alcohol I never use and I just ended up throwing it all away. I’m returning the rug I bought when R was here, it’s too Miami Vice vacation resort.

I will miss one of the biggest fall launches my company has ever had. I’m so thankful. My friend R was almost roped into building the training plan for it but she refused, knowing it puts she and my boss on a collision course. I’m so proud of her for saying no.

I still can’t believe r I saw so many whales today from the Pacifica pier. The owner of the Facebook group said over 3000 people have joined in the last week, and it’s brought his life such purpose. People are beautiful. I’m going again tomorrow morning.

[jerzwriter]

Know it All

Thank you to @mydemonsdrivealimo for this ask. By now we know that me and 100-words can't go in the same sentence, but it's still short for me :)

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 timeline) Characters: Bryce Lahela, Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 921 Summary: Casey needs the scoop on someone, and she knows exactly who to go to. A/N: Participating in @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 25, Secret

Being a resident was tough. The hours were grueling, and making a mistake didn’t merely get you into trouble or cost you a promotion; it was the definition of life or death. The stress could be overwhelming, but luckily, Casey heeded Dr. Delarosa's advice and built strong friendships with her fellow residents. It made perfect sense; seeing people outside of work was almost impossible. She was learning that the hard way since she met an intriguing doctor from Mass Kenmore a few weeks before. An intriguing doctor whose schedule never matched up with hers. 

Fortunately, Bryce's schedule did, and she was meeting him in the cafeteria for lunch. While her stomach was grumbling, if she had to choose between nourishment or feeding her curiosity, the latter would win today. She needed the lowdown, and who better to go to than her best buddy, Bryce.

"Boo!" Bryce smiled as he attempted to frighten her from behind.

"Nice try, Lahela."

Bryce tossed a protein bar her way and watched Casey’s face fall.

"Is this what you meant when you said you were treating me to lunch today?"

"Nope," he said, biting into his bar. "But have you seen the line for the registers? We can either have these delightfully chalky fake chocolate bars and conversation, or we can spend our entire break on that line and not talk at all."

"You know, this doesn't taste so bad," she smiled.   

"That’s the right answer!” Bryce grinned. “Given the choice of a quality meal or my company, I believe my company is always the way to go.”

“Well, it works today,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Because I need to use you.”

“Casey,” he sighed dramatically. “I understand the longing, I do... but you know damn well we decided not to let our relationship go there.”

She shook her head without expression. “You know, you are such an ass! I’m not interested in ‘going there’ with you... but there is someone else that I might be....”

Bryce eagerly leaned over the table, his attention piqued. “Who? Who is it? Do I know them? Is it the hot new nurse in the ICU? Because I have it on good counsel that she has the hots for you.”

“Really? Well, that might be a good backup plan,” Casey giggled. “But that’s not who I’m talking about.”

She turned around to survey the room. Once confident no one was in earshot, she leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“What do you know about Tobias Carrick from Kenmore.”

Bryce leaned back in his chair, a look bordering on disappointment registered on his face. “Carrick?” he said, a bit too loud as Casey shushed him.

“Yes, what do you know about him.”

“All right, first, thank you for recognizing that my knowledge base extends to all hospitals in this city, not just Edenbrook.”

“Can we stick to the point?”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I guess my question is... how do you intend to utilize him? Because if you’re looking for a couple of memorable nights that you’ll be bragging about into your nursing home years, Carrick’s your man. But if you’re looking for more than that, and you usually end up wanting more than that... well, in that case, I’d be happy to introduce you to Amira in ICU.”   

He could tell at once that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

“Is he that bad?” She asked. “I mean, I’ve heard he’s not exactly Mr. Commitment...”

“Understatement of the millennium,” Bryce interrupted.

“... BUT... Oh, Bryce, the man is super hot, and I really like him. He’s been nothing but attentive and sweet to me since we met.”

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“No....”

Bryce raised his hands in triumph. “I rest my case. Look, anyone who's not a straight man will tell you he is hot, and if you want to have fun, have fun. But I watched you go through entirely too much after the shit with he-who-we-will-not-name-while-at-work went down... and I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

They both looked at Casey’s phone as it vibrated on the table and now it was Bryce's turn to roll his eyes. Once he saw the stupid grin on his friend’s face, he knew two things:  the text was from Carrick, and Casey was already in much deeper than she was willing to admit.

“That him?” he asked for effect.

Casey pocketed her phone with a smirk. “Shut up.”

“Look,” he replied sincerely. “I haven’t heard that he’s a bad guy, just that he’s only interested in one thing. But a few of my buddies from the volleyball team know him well. I can weasel some information out of them if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Oh!” he clapped his hands in excitement. “Better yet! I know his housekeeper's daughter! Jackpot! Who better to get dirt from,” he winked. “I’ll put in a call today.”

“How the hell do you know his housekeeper’s daughter?”

“She’s my florist.”

Casey closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“And how do you know that your florist’s mother is Tobias’s housekeeper?”

“Casey,” he smiled smugly. “I know everything.”

His pager went off, and he jumped up from his chair.

“That’s Tanaka. Look, I’ve gotta run, but I’ll have a dossier about the guy ready for you by the end of tomorrow.”

“If surgery doesn’t work out for you, you might have a future in espionage.”

“The Hawaaiin James Bond,” he grinned. “I like it.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Other tags on reblog.

[pokemonbiologyirlthetabletop]

Kricketot & Kricketune

Kricketot (#401)

Gryllusymphonica tintinnabulus

General Information: Kricketot the Cricket Pokémon. It shakes its head to get its two antennae to click together, creating beautiful sounds reminiscent of xylophones and marimbas.

Kricketots average at about 1 feet tall (0.3 M) and weigh about 4.9 pounds (2.2 kg).

Habitat: As crickets, Kricketots can be found just about anywhere with enough food that is below the 55° latitudes.

Life Cycles: Kricketots are a major source of food for the entire food web. They are eaten by just about anything under the sun that would find a 1-foot-tall cricket to be a good meal—this includes, but is not limited to: giant spiders, predatory insects like Beedril, large bird Pokémon (such as Pidgeottos, Staravia, Staraptors, Talonflames, etc.), medium-sized cat Pokémon, and wild canid Pokémon. Life is hard as one of nature’s favorite foods.

Kricketots cannot reproduce—but they also have one of the earliest evolution requirements of all Pokémon, and only need to achieve level 10 in order to evolve into Kricketune.

Behavior: Kricketots are nocturnal and rather social critters. While there is much in-fighting between Kricketots, often over food or space, they largely get along with each other and benefit from the company of others. They make excellent additions to any household or Pokémon team and are great with children.

Diet: Kricketots are largely herbivorous (seeds, grass, leaves, flowers, etc.), but they will eat a more omnivorous diet of decaying meat, smaller more helpless insects (like mealybugs), and so forth.

Conservation: Least Concern

Relationship with Humans: Kricketots are crickets, and have all the same complex but mutually-tolerant existence as crickets. Some cultures eat them as a cheap protein source, and many cultures treat them as some variant of good luck—even keeping them in little cages as pets.

Kricketots are occassionally given out as starter Pokémon to new trainers, however, because of their overall poor strength and general lacklusterness in battle, they tend to be given out only by municipalities that either have a huge population (and thus can justify having 5 different starters, or more if they don’t follow standard Pokémon League Guidelines) or in areas where there the governing bodies are trying to encourage gentler lifestyle choices. They are most popular as starters amongst children and trainers who are musicians or generally enjoy a gentle, non-threatening, Pokémon companion.

Classification: Kricketot is a cricket and is moderately related to all other cricket and grasshopper Pokémon, such as Nymble and Lokix. Its species epithet, “tintinnabulus” refers to the sound of ringing bells.

Kricketune (#402)

Gryllusymphonica harmonia

General Information: Kricketune the Cricket Pokémon, and the evolved form of Kricketot. This Pokémon can produce a wide range of beautiful melodies by rubbing its arms together, creating a sound that can resonate in their bellies. Each Kricketune produces its own unique melodies that it uses to attract mates and express its emotions. They are famous for their ability to ad-lib melodies.

Kricketunes average at 3’3 feet tall (1 M) and weigh about 56.2 pounds (25.5 kg). Their collective noun is a flock or a melody.

Habitat: Kricketunes can be found in just about any habitat below the 55° latitudes.

Life Cycles: Once a Kricketune evolves from a Kricketot, they are able to reproduce, making them one of the few Pokémon that can reproduce earlier than level 15. This is a necessity though, because Kricketots (and to a lesser extent, Kricketunes) are one of nature’s favorite lunches.

A Kricketune will create its beautiful melodies in the hopes of attracting a mate. Every summer they gather to perform complex mating rituals involving music. It’s truly a sight to behold! Both males and females will have strive for multiple mating opportunities, ensuring the genetic diversity of their offspring and hopefully increasing their chances at survival.

They spend all summer partaking in mating and courtship. The females will lay hundreds upon hundreds of eggs at a time, which will hatch at once (per brood). If given enough food and the breeding season is able to extend (warm winter, lower latitudes nearer the equator, etc.) the female may lay two or even three broods of eggs before the breeding season is over.

Diet: Primarily grasses, leaves, flowers, stems, seeds, and such, but in times of fewer resources have no qualms about consuming the decaying corpse of other insects or much smaller insects (like mealybugs).

Conservation: Least Concern

Relationship with Humans: Kricketunes are a beloved friend and companion to people. They are loved for their melodies, and many a musician has a Kricketune of their own to play music with. Like with Kricketot, Kricketunes are partial substitutes for crickets, especially in regards to their cultural relevancy to people. Many are seen as good luck, and many an orchestra is not considered “official” unless there’s a Kricketune to accompany them. In fact, musicians in an orchestra grow quite fond of their Kricketune mascot.

Kricketunes may not be popular in battle, but they are popular amongst musicians and artists and childcare centers. A Kricketune is able to entertain small children for hours if put to the task, and quite a few households have one of their own for the simple joy of having a companion that plays beautiful melodies.

Classification: Its genus name “Gryllusymphonica” is derived from “Gryllus” which means “cricket” in Latin, and “symphonica” meaning “music” or “orchestra” or “symphony.”

Evolution: Evolves from Kricketot starting at level 10.

~~~~~~~~

Hey guess what, if you like my stuff, this is my website where you can find other Pokémon I've written on and more information about the game that I’m slowly making! Check it out! I write books sometimes too.

[jcmarchi]

Unlocking mRNA’s cancer-fighting potential

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/unlocking-mrnas-cancer-fighting-potential/

Unlocking mRNA’s cancer-fighting potential

What if training your immune system to attack cancer cells was as easy as training it to fight Covid-19? Many people believe the technology behind some Covid-19 vaccines, messenger RNA, holds great promise for stimulating immune responses to cancer.

But using messenger RNA, or mRNA, to get the immune system to mount a prolonged and aggressive attack on cancer cells — while leaving healthy cells alone — has been a major challenge.

The MIT spinout Strand Therapeutics is attempting to solve that problem with an advanced class of mRNA molecules that are designed to sense what type of cells they encounter in the body and to express therapeutic proteins only once they have entered diseased cells.

“It’s about finding ways to deal with the signal-to-noise ratio, the signal being expression in the target tissue and the noise being expression in the nontarget tissue,” Strand CEO Jacob Becraft PhD ’19 explains. “Our technology amplifies the signal to express more proteins for longer while at the same time effectively eliminating the mRNA’s off-target expression.”

Strand is set to begin its first clinical trial in April, which is testing a proprietary, self-replicating mRNA molecule’s ability to express immune signals directly from a tumor, eliciting the immune system to attack and kill the tumor cells directly. It’s also being tested as a possible improvement for existing treatments to a number of solid tumors.

As they work to commercialize its early innovations, Strand’s team is continuing to add capabilities to what it calls its “programmable medicines,” improving mRNA molecules’ ability to sense their environment and generate potent, targeted responses where they’re needed most.

“Self-replicating mRNA was the first thing that we pioneered when we were at MIT and in the first couple years at Strand,” Becraft says. “Now we’ve also moved into approaches like circular mRNAs, which allow each molecule of mRNA to express more of a protein for longer, potentially for weeks at a time. And the bigger our cell-type specific datasets become, the better we are at differentiating cell types, which makes these molecules so targeted we can have a higher level of safety at higher doses and create stronger treatments.”

Making mRNA smarter

Becraft got his first taste of MIT as an undergraduate at the University of Illinois when he secured a summer internship in the lab of MIT Institute Professor Bob Langer.

“That’s where I learned how lab research could be translated into spinout companies,” Becraft recalls.

The experience left enough of an impression on Becraft that he returned to MIT the next fall to earn his PhD, where he worked in the Synthetic Biology Center under professor of bioengineering and electrical engineering and computer science Ron Weiss. During that time, he collaborated with postdoc Tasuku Kitada to create genetic “switches” that could control protein expression in cells.

Becraft and Kitada realized their research could be the foundation of a company around 2017 and started spending time in the Martin Trust Center for MIT Entrepreneurship. They also received support from MIT Sandbox and eventually worked with the Technology Licensing Office to establish Strand’s early intellectual property.

“We started by asking, where is the highest unmet need that also allows us to prove out the thesis of this technology? And where will this approach have therapeutic relevance that is a quantum leap forward from what anyone else is doing?” Becraft says. “The first place we looked was oncology.”

People have been working on cancer immunotherapy, which turns a patient’s immune system against cancer cells, for decades. Scientists in the field have developed drugs that produce some remarkable results in patients with aggressive, late-stage cancers. But most next-generation cancer immunotherapies are based on recombinant (lab-made) proteins that are difficult to deliver to specific targets in the body and don’t remain active for long enough to consistently create a durable response.

More recently, companies like Moderna, whose founders also include MIT alumni, have pioneered the use of mRNAs to create proteins in cells. But to date, those mRNA molecules have not been able to change behavior based on the type of cells they enter, and don’t last for very long in the body.

“If you’re trying to engage the immune system with a tumor cell, the mRNA needs to be expressing from the tumor cell itself, and it needs to be expressing over a long period of time,” Becraft says. “Those challenges are hard to overcome with the first generation of mRNA technologies.”

Strand has developed what it calls the world’s first mRNA programming language that allows the company to specify the tissues its mRNAs express proteins in.

“We built a database that says, ‘Here are all of the different cells that the mRNA could be delivered to, and here are all of their microRNA signatures,’ and then we use computational tools and machine learning to differentiate the cells,” Becraft explains. “For instance, I need to make sure that the messenger RNA turns off when it’s in the liver cell, and I need to make sure that it turns on when it’s in a tumor cell or a T-cell.”

Strand also uses techniques like mRNA self-replication to create more durable protein expression and immune responses.

“The first versions of mRNA therapeutics, like the Covid-19 vaccines, just recapitulate how our body’s natural mRNAs work,” Becraft explains. “Natural mRNAs last for a few days, maybe less, and they express a single protein. They have no context-dependent actions. That means wherever the mRNA is delivered, it’s only going to express a molecule for a short period of time. That’s perfect for a vaccine, but it’s much more limiting when you want to create a protein that’s actually engaging in a biological process, like activating an immune response against a tumor that could take many days or weeks.”

Technology with broad potential

Strand’s first clinical trial is targeting solid tumors like melanoma and triple-negative breast cancer. The company is also actively developing mRNA therapies that could be used to treat blood cancers.

“We’ll be expanding into new areas as we continue to de-risk the translation of the science and create new technologies,” Becraft says.

Strand plans to partner with large pharmaceutical companies as well as investors to continue developing drugs. Further down the line, the founders believe future versions of its mRNA therapies could be used to treat a broad range of diseases.

“Our thesis is: amplified expression in specific, programmed target cells for long periods of time,” Becraft says. “That approach can be utilized for [immunotherapies like] CAR T-cell therapy, both in oncology and autoimmune conditions. There are also many diseases that require cell-type specific delivery and expression of proteins in treatment, everything from kidney disease to types of liver disease. We can envision our technology being used for all of that.”

[jacksprostate]

boss pls elaborate on the songs you used.!!!

- superfan anon

Warning: under the cut is a lot of rambling with only mild incoherency!

So like I said it's sort of chronological...

How to Boil an Egg is very much her discontent building up in her current life. All the lyrics are spot on lol it was an easy pick I stole from my friend. Most of these songs I stole from my friend

Cubicle is again that sense of displacement and upset that drives her to develop someone that gets her... She wants someone to do anything. Push tacks in her eyes. Bring her into their nest and regurgitate worms in her mouth. She wants to be led somewhere, away from the void of fucking nothing that is her life right now

And Breeding is also so spot on haha. Only edit required is change Barack Obama to your president of choice during her lifetime. Trying to procreate without fucking and breeding <- trying to make Tyler, tbh. And of course the opening brings to mind the space monkey and 30 yr old boy thing. That in itself I have thoughts on how it would get inverted for female fight club but that's neither here nor there.

Pedestrian at Best is them living together.... Pretty much the verses are the narrator, self critical and lost and a mess, and the chorus is Tyler — all that but confident and a bit of a shithead.

It won't be with me on my deathbed, but I'll still be in your head

Put me on a pedestal and I'll only disappoint you

Tell me I'm exceptional, I promise to exploit you

Like. It hits that aspect of Tyler so well. In contrast, verse:

I'm resentful, I'm having an existential time crisis

What bliss, daylight savings won't fix this mess

Under-worked and over-sexed, I must express my disinterest

The rats are back inside my head, what would Freud have said?

So. Yes it's Them :) (and of course, something to be said about how Tyler parts are really just the narrator's grown projections etc)

Wonderful Hell — Oh you wanna start a revolution and destroy the world so bad haha fight club fight club perhaps even Project Mayhem.. in an idealistic way

Dogma literally just sounds like Tyler lecturing lol

Chamber for Sleep (Part Two) OK so THIS one I feel is a little more opaque in the connection but also works REALLY well if I explain a little. It's the narrator... Especially during Projrct Mayhem, when she's losing Tyler's attention. She wants Tyler's attention so bad. She wants it like she died and Tyler cares. Grieve as if I died and I'll become a fragment in your mind <- she does not know Tyler is a fragment in hers... She wants so bad to mean more. I'd like to love me like you seem to, how do you hang this heaven over me <- Ok fundamentally even though Tyler treats the narrator shitty sometimes, even in base novel like... what Tyler does is ultimately all for the narrator. Creating this heaven for the narrator. No matter how twisted. Even in the book, Tyler's big martyr thing — it's because the narrator wants to die and doesn't want consequences. With feamle fight club, too, a big part of my little canon for it is that Tyler really invests in the narrator developing her own strength. Tyler wants her strong. Hungry. Tyler feeds her meals with protein and carbs and cares for her like a lover. But Tyler also abandons her. Tyler has close little conversations with Marlon that the narrator just barely can't hear but sre loud enough to keep her awake all night hearing how Tyler's relationship with someone in this house is deepening, and it's that undeserving fake, Marlon, not her. She wants to be more important to Tyler SO bad. 'Braid my hair to yours and drag us blind' come on. No matter how short Tyler's hair is that's Them. + Nail me to the bed

Relating to a Psychopath — a lot like Pedestrian at Best's chorus... sort of making Tyler into this extremely confident and charismatic heavily flaky and flawed idol. Constant back and forth between the narrator being good company and mocking the narrator for caring about her so much.

Glass House — god, this song. As my friend said, 'the narrator after realizing Tyler is basically a brain parasite'. Obsessed with this song in general and also specifically for them. I have nothing to say you can only experience it

This Tornado Loves you <- like I said earlier... everything Tyler does is really for the narrator, at the end of the day. Even if it hurts. Like a tornado. But also, reflectively, the narrator now feels this way about what she's done to everyone around her.

Horseshoe Crab is her in the psych ward.... She's unfamiliar to herself. She's learned, but god. Nothing is the same. Especially not her. Wishes she could do it better. Be better. For her? Tyler? Marlon? The women in fight club? Probably all of the above. She's dissociated from herself.. a bit lost. So much learned, but lost. This is the song that inspired me to make the playlist.

And then you cycle back.

[kasururigoth]

kasururi headcanons

- The Best Halloween Couple Costumes. they go out of their way every year.

- she finds kasuka to be the best person to watch horror movies with, as he doesn’t flinch at anything. he’s more focused on analyzing every character rather than the blood on the screen.

- ruri moves her studio into kasuka’s apartment and continues working on her craft as a therapeutic getaway. you can often walk in and find a zombie head just laying on the living room table.

- kasuka partakes in a long list of hobbies, which are things that ruri has never tried before. and ruri has interests that are very new to kasuka. when they spend time together, a lot of the times they are both really immersed on their own thing and not engaging much, but they keep the other in company.

- they treat dokusommaru more like a child than a cat.

- both of them are not big huggers, EXCEPT with the other.

- i think it’s canon that kasuka eats mainly dairy products and convenience store-bought curry. when ruri finds out that asks herself ‘protein??? vitamins?? how does this man keeps himself alive??’ but the way kasuka functions remains a big mystery to everyone.

- they are both terrible at interviews and every time interviewers ask them how they started dating, they come up with something on the spot and deliver the story with such perfectionism that it almost seems believable. except from the fact that they change it Every Time, so everyone is left confused.

- ruri: *jokingly* “I can’t come up with new material for this album, would you break up with me???” kasuka: * not understanding the joke* “? no.”

- with time, ruri learns how to read into kasuka’s blank expression same way shizuo does. so she could be in the middle of work like “ah, yuuhei you look a bit stressed, is everything okay?” while everyone else in the room is like HOW DOES SHE KNOW???

- their main way of communication consists of sending the other pictures of cute cats and labeling them as “us”