#hostile architecture that's what it's called

[dan-crimes]

Weird Al mention

[birdmitosis]

Look, I just can't stop thinking about this post and, directly related to it, these videos.

This shit makes me want so many very, very specific Slay the Princess AUs.

[unusualshrimp]

hmm gender thoughts

[infantisimo]

"Thus, the new hostile designs would not cause surprise among those they are targeting, nor, definitely, anger among the educated. The latter never question why some people need to take shelter in the open; we just accept the situation as normal and natural, that the poor deserve no better, and that public facilities are ours alone. When the society is itself hostile to the weakest, hostile architecture seems – not monstrous – but the perfect solution.

India is not likely to see such protests, nor even such a great psychological impact. Because we hardly have any concept of really public spaces anyway, and never had. There were no public spaces, open to all, till the Europeans arrived. The nationalists like to blame European rule for all India’s problems, but it was under their rule that the growing cities were provided the first designed public open spaces, and also the consciousness that these are important for public health. But the Indian governments that have followed have been uncomfortable with such things. Because caste society doesn’t believe in equal access to anything. Hierarchy is the norm here, and public spaces don’t go well with hierarchy. Thus, even pavements (which are used by all, but more by the poor) are seen as a waste here. And Bombay, India’s richest city, which ranks very low in per capita public open space among the world’s cities, and whose streets are full of people sleeping rough in the dead of the night, figures in lists of the world’s most hostile architecture.

The public that is considered worthy of having public facilities here is just the so-called ‘middle class’, which cannot afford the private recreation spaces of the super-elites, but is not much less elite itself, belonging as it does to the top 10-15% of the population in wealth and privilege. That’s why bus stops will have pipes as seating, but not airports – the ‘public’ in the two kinds of public transport is different. That’s also why public open spaces in Indian cities are so few, with none at all in villages – they are aimed at just this 10-15%. And it is this urban educated ‘middle class’ which demands that public spaces charge for entry, and unashamedly asserts that only this will keep unwanted/dirty/rowdy people out."

[fatehbaz]

Some updates from the past twelve-ish months:

-- Late 2022: Portland and its mayor (Wheeler) started a major push to ban "street camping". Headlines in major media outlets also described "Portland's first sanctioned mass homeless camp" and how "Portland moves forward with $27 million plan to build mass shelters". In December 2022, Portland-area authorities used the so-called "aggressive landscaping" tactic, installing hundreds of hostile architecture boulders to prevent sitting/sleeping. Also in December, homeless advocates and Disability Rights Washington advocates attempted to halt Spokane's (Washington) clearing of a major camp for hundreds of people, and a federal judge sided with advocates to put a temporary restraining order on the sweep.

-- January 2023: Even in the immediate aftermath of historic cold as far south as Miami and Monterrey, sub-freezing temperatures across the Deep South, and sub-zero-Fahrenheit blizzards sweeping North America for a week or longer around Solstice/Christmas 2022, convenience stores "in Texas, California, New York use classical music to shoo homeless".

-- By March 2023: "Portland Mayor Wheeler unveils first location for city-run homeless camp".

-- April 2023: San Francisco and Mayor Brand announce a major "five-year plan" costing over 600 million dollars "to cut the number of unsheltered homeless in half". (Not a plan to put people in homes or find stable housing, but just to technically put them under the roof of shelter, keeping them out of sight, therefore qualifying them for the strange designation of "the sheltered homeless".) At the same time, San Francisco opened a "long-term homeless shelter on Treasure Island", pushing homeless people onto an isolated island mostly composed of concrete and asphalt.

-- Summer 2023: In May, the city of Phoenix (Arizona) began its project to clear and eliminate its largest homeless camp, known as the Zone, a refuge for hundreds of people. During the record-breaking heat of the summer of 2023, Phoenix cleared the camp systematically, block by block. At the beginning of September 2023, as "Phoenix breaks heat record as city hits 110F [110 degrees Fahrenheit] for the 54th consecutive day", the city cleared the block of the camp where most seniors and the elderly lived.

-- January 2024: About one week ahead of winter holidays (Solstice/Christmas), the City of Edmonton pursued plans to sweep 130 homeless encampments as part of what has been described as a "shocking" eviction plan. In January, the city was clearing camps amidst sustained deadly severe weather, during a polar vortex event with temperatures of negative 50 degrees Fahrenheit and daytime highs of negative 25F. When a court case presented by Coalition for Justice and Human Rights tried to slow the sweeps, a judge sided with them and shut down the evictions.

-- March 2024: Florida's governor signs a new law. NPR describes: "law that seeks to move unhoused people off public property altogether and into government-run encampments".

-- April 2024: The U.S. Supreme Court begins hearing a case from Grants Pass (Oregon) with major implications and potential to incite nationwide "banishment race" and "homelessness crackdown". Lower courts have previously said that city policies (like Grants Pass, Boise, and others) were "cruel and unusual" for fining and/or jailing people for sleeping on public land if no adequate accessible shelter is available. But now?

[injuries-in-dust]

I can't remember what it's called, something like "Hostile Architecture."

A theoretical design that would be made in places built to house hazardous stuff like nuclear waste.

Because in ten thousand years, or a million years, or more, humanity may be gone, blasted back to the stone age, or just developed and grown so much they've forgotten their ancient history.

But the nuclear waste will still be a danger.

So the idea behind the hostile architecture (if that is the name) was to build a place that just looks wrong. It just screams "danger" and "Keep away."

You're supposed to look at it and think " that place looks like somewhere I don't want to mess with." and walk in the other direction.

Well, it just randomly popped into my head that lovecraftian creations, like the city of R'lyeh, also fit that description.

"non-Euclidean geometry, colossal structures, and shifts in perspective that can make an observer unsure about what is vertical and what is horizontal."

"vast angles and stone surfaces […] too great to belong to anything right and proper for this earth, and impious with horrible images and disturbing hieroglyphs."

"abnormal, non-Euclidean, and loathsomely redolent of spheres and dimensions apart from ours."

It makes people uneasy to look at, makes them want to turn away and leave the area.

Was Cthulu just trying to keep us out of the city just because it was so dangerous?

[mikerickson]

8/29/2024 - 9/6/2024

If I had a nickel for every time I took a vacation in a small European naval power that historically punched above its weight in global affairs I'd have two nickels, which... ah, you know the rest.

Just got back from a trip to the Netherlands and Belgium that was basically: Amsterdam -> Apeldoorn -> Utrecht -> Den Haag -> Brussels -> Ghent -> Amsterdam. I will now proceed to talk to myself about the highlights below the cut.

Still can't sleep on planes. I even took a sleeping pill and bought a fancy new neck pillow thing to help, but instead I was just exhausted and strangling myself. My dinner also didn't sit well with me, so every time I was about to fall asleep, my gag reflex would trigger and I felt like I was gonna throw up. Seven hours of this was not very relaxing.

Landed at ass o'clock in the morning local time and had 6 hours to kill before hotel check in. I've always read that spending time outdoors in natural sunlight helps regulate your circadian rhythm and can fight jet lag, so I took us to look at some windmills. This was kind of a blur and I'm not certain it made much of a difference because I did end up crashing and taking a nap in the afternoon anyway.

Acknowledging that I am biased about this because I am 1) American and 2) literally a traffic engineer by trade, I simply cannot describe the Netherlands as anything other than "car-hostile". I felt actively unsafe driving around each city we visited because there are so many people on bicycles everywhere, who have right of way. Hell, even as a pedestrian I didn't feel safe because they come at you from every direction and you gotta keep your head on a swivel at all times. In The Hague I watched a woman get knocked into by a cyclist who just shouted over her shoulder "Let op voor fietsen!" ("Watch out for bikes!") and carried on.

Amsterdam ended up being more interesting than I was expecting and now I kinda wish I had dedicated one more day for it in the itinerary. Convenient and easy mass-transit system, some of the best bookstores I've ever been in, and beautiful canals everywhere you look.

Were I forced to describe the geography of the Netherlands, I would have to call it "suspiciously flat." I also got to continue my tradition of traveling to foreign countries, seeing literal hundreds of spinning wind turbines all over the place, and seething with jealousy.

Utrecht was a neat, smaller city with a central canal that I wish I had set aside more time for. Felt like a place where you'd actually want to live more than a touristy city.

The Mauritshuis in The Hague is where Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring is located, and you know that before you even get to that room because she's plastered on 99% of everything for sale in the gift shop right at the entrance.

When we drove over the Netherlands-Belgium border, it started getting overcast. These gray skies hung around for four days, and dissipated as soon as we traveled back north on the final day. All of my memories of this country will now have a gray/de-saturated filter on them.

I know Brussels has a reputation of being a run-down or dangerous city among Europeans, but it just felt like a regular American city to me (specifically like the architecture/street layout of Boston with the political importance of Washington DC). Like, I don't know what to tell you, sometimes cities have visible homeless people, unsightly graffiti, and ethnic minority neighborhoods? It's gonna be okay, I promise. Amsterdam felt like Weenie Hut Jr. by comparison.

Going through the European Parliament building was very cool and very well laid-out and informative. Definitely a personal highlight of the trip for me.

The Belgian War Museum kinda just felt like some rich guy's personal collection of artifacts the public shouldn't have had access to? Not a lot of labels explaining what you're looking at in any language.

Belgian chocolate is fine. Not bad, but I mean it's chocolate, that's hard to screw up, you know?

During my research before this trip I kept seeing a general consensus that Bruges is super touristy and sanitized and feels fake and that Ghent was better for a more "authentically" preserved medieval center. I'm glad I opted to go there instead because it exceeded my expectations. Awesome architecture everywhere you turn, way fewer crowds than I expected, and it still felt lived in by modern people rather than a giant open-air museum.

Literally did not see a single physical Euro at all on this trip. Both of these countries are entirely cashless societies, and everyone (both tourists and locals) used chip readers and contactless payment for damn near every interaction. If anything, I saw tons of "Card Only/No Cash" signs and none of the opposite.

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

what's your dissertation about? you mentioned it in the siltcord and i'm really interested

oh my god hey I'm so happy you're interested! broad strokes because I've only been working on it for a few weeks but: the current theme is 'resistant landscapes' (both man-made and natural) in the later writing of Shirley Jackson!

Essentially, my main thread is that Jackson had two parallel strands to her work, which as far as I can tell began kind of interrelated but then diverged quite significantly? She's probably best known now for The Haunting of Hill House and to a lesser extent We Have Always Lived In The Castle, which are these. weird surreal psychological horror novels, engaging explicitly or implicitly with the supernatural, and centred around introspective, strange and sometimes deeply misanthropic female characters from isolated social units with dysfunctional, possessive relationships to each other.

Aaaaand then on the other hand she was known for being a 'happy housewife' who wrote these whimsical, quasi-autobiographical stories about all her children and how hopeless her husband was. These were popular too. Betty Friedan called her out in landmark 1963 feminist manifesto The Feminine Mystique for essentially spreading patriarchal propaganda.

The interrelation between the two is really jarring, because in one family is a source of horror and tragedy and in the other it's a source of, like... laundry. And Jackson's home life wasn't everything those stories made it out to be-- her marriage was unfaithful, her mother could probably be fairly called emotionally abusive, and as I talked about on the siltcord, she developed severe agoraphobia which often left her housebound.

So, yeah. My plan is to explore the depiction of families as constructed social units in dialogue with the environments they are constructed in in that work. Obviously a lot of that is relation of house to family, in the context of which Hill House is especially rewarding to consider, but I also want to look at relationships with nature and urban environments (especially in the context of settler colonialism and how that has had an enduring legacy in Jackson's particular part of New England), xenophobia (largely in regard to class, though racism and anti-Semitism are presences in her writing), domesticity and the idea of the housewife, and how horror relates to All Of This. The ideal of making a home within a hostile environment and of that environment turning on you, essentially.

I don't yet have particular areas of focus within that broad umbrella, but I might update with bits and pieces about it as I work? I don't really talk about academic stuff on here but I am very much Critical Literary Analysis Guy and I do also post relentlessly about haunted houses as a concept so if people would be interested in it maybe I will

anyway if you've read this far I recommend Horror in Architecture: The Reanimated Edition (2024) by Joshua Comaroff and Ong Ker-Shing which is a book about how horror movie tropes can be mirrored in built environments! I'm reading it right now and it's conceptually fascinating plus fairlyyy comprehensible by academic standards (if a little dense) if you, like me, are a Fool who knows nothing of architecture. very good also for getting to look at pictures of some of the most Fucked Up Buildings (affectionate) you've ever seen.

[professorgallifrey]

Most people think of Joe Hills as the god of literature, giving inspiration to those who need it. At surface level, it makes sense. He's often heard reciting poetry and prose to anyone willing to put up with him as she works. But Joe's not to kind of person to take things at face value, and neither should they be. So some look further, calling him the god of inspiration or artistry. "More broad", They say, "she covers not just the written word but all forms of expression". They look at not just what he says, but how, and why, and for whom. They look at their art in all forms: architecture, photography, fashion. Some feel this is still not right, and so They call her the god of the medium, whether that be in an artistic sense or in a more traditional meaning. After all, he is a ghost and a historian, a muse of art forms esoteric. They point to the Juppet as an example of this, of the fine line between the puppet and puppeteer, of possessing yourself.

They are all wrong. And yet right.

Joe Hills is the inspiration that strikes after a long night of discarded drafts. He is the person closing up shop hours after the last customer has left, having finally finished taking inventory. She is the painting finally hung up after the humidity prevented the adhesive from sticking the first dozen times. They are the calluses on the violinist's fingers after practicing the same song a hundred times to finally hit that one stubborn note.

Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, is the god of perseverance.

He doesn't show it in large, grandiose displays of power. That's too cliché. She prefers a more personal approach. They're always there when the server says goodnight for the last time, making final touches to projects or jumping on pumpkins. He takes time to get the smallest details right, the ones no one but him would notice, even if this means they're moving the walls a block for the third time this week. She trades when she has no diamonds to give because sometimes capitalism forgets to pay you but you still need to eat. They're the one doing the large, menial tasks that need to get done, but worth all the time at the end.

Even before Hermitcraft, Joe Hills persevered. Often found caught in the games of the trickster god Vechs, he persevered, walking hard, standing tall, keeping her head up through it all. Deathloops, hidden traps, impossible challenges, he persevered. No matter how super hostile the landscape, Joe remained. She found themself in other death games, facing unknown faces, although one face would become familiar, another who chose to persevere. He became the face of those who never stop, a checklist that never ends, those who never rest and continue their work even in undeath.

Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, is the god of perseverance.

After all, listen to the first song written in his name.

"Who's the guy who can conquer death? That's Joe Hills."

[xeansicemane]

"Backrooms" this "Backrooms" that, call me needlessly countercultural but I feel like there's some untapped potential in The Airport.

Like, part of what makes the Backrooms scary is the inhuman, idiot echoing of functional architecture. It's nowhere, it could be anywhere, there is an inherent sense of displacement that is deeply alloyed to the functional nearly hostile design. This is a place for things, not for people except for the briefest of times while you're grabbing something out of storage.

Airports? They try so hard to be human. They try to be welcoming, they desperately want you to take your rest there, to think well of it; but you are trapped in an airport even if only for a little while. The shops and parodies of restaurants want you to be at ease but you know that they know you're captive, it's them or nothing. And the scale is fucked - they're too big, the corridors too wide and the scale so large you can't comfortably use the space yourself or even in a group.

And more than that - Airports are actually liminal. They are a between space. A between space between between spaces. You get to the airport, wait for your travel, then get to another airport only to use another form of transit. It's a temporary place. But more than that even, Airports are strangely homogenous. They brand themselves, have huge ad campaigns, they want to be known by name, but if you dropped anyone into any airport they'd confidently report that they are in An Airport - one among hundreds across the planet.

Imagine getting stuck in a place like that - you can't rest, the chairs are too small and the floor too hard, the food will nourish you but there's always an air that you're being taken advantage of or being shoved into the parody of a welcoming space.

I dunno, could be fun to think about this.

[lakesbian]

What is naissancee? :0

naissancee is my beloved free first-person decently short platforming game from 2014 wherein you wander through an empty, alienating superstructure :)

it was inspired by works like blame (a manga set in an obscenely massive superstructure spanning as far as at least jupiter's orbit that is now entirely out of human control & growing without regard for human architectural conceits or necessities), and actually includes a few panels from it explicitly incorporated into the environment.

naissancee is similar to blame in that while its structures contain many recognizable human elements, and are possible for people to navigate with enough trial and error, the logic of the architecture is entirely divorced from that of human design in a way that makes it fundamentally alien and unwelcoming. i think it really encapsulated the game experience when i got my brother to play some of it and, upon successfully completing the very first section of the game, he commented with concern that he felt like he had gotten out of bounds somehow and "wasn't supposed to be here."

critically, i wouldn't describe it as hostile architecture, but as indifferent architecture--"hostile architecture" would mean that it was built with dissuading humans in mind, and naissancee doesn't feel like it was built with humans in mind at all. while a game having architecture hostile to you can, depending on the game, signal that you're on the right path, naiassancee conveys the feeling of random pathfinding through a structure that has no idea you exist, or that any people exist.

i would recommend it pretty much solely to People Who Like Weird Buildings or Abstract Environments or when games otherwise Put You In A Location With A Distinct Atmosphere. i am not the world's expert on game design but i think there's something really fantastic about how well it insinuates a truly massive scope of structure and forces you to contort your own schema for interacting with the architecture. shoutout to the part of the game where i realized i was instinctively crouching before going into a tunnel that was actually tall enough for me to stand upright in and would be more traditionally called "a hallway" if not for how the massive scale of the rest of the structure had changed my perspective of it. shoutout to the part where it forces you to navigate a section with your eyes adjusted entirely to seeing in negative space. i don't have a conclusion about how this is one of the top games of all time or anything i just think it's fun + interesting + extremely catered to my tastes and i like to see what relationship people form to the game design while they're playing

[ursula-legun]

really going insane in my plant class over the Sociale Dynamiques......vent below the cut

the class program coordinator is an ex-navy officer, lots of the parks and rec boys we're working with are vets, as is at least one prominent student in the class.....and most of the students are like. retiree age white women who own land and want to learn how to improve it. so it's a fairly conservative crowd, sprinkled with a handful of younger idealistic envirohippywhatever types.

but the class is like. "Fairly Progressive," in a seattle-area standard sort of way. everybody's asked for their pronouns regularly, there's like....clear expectations being set around accessibility, people are encouraged to take breaks and not take anything too seriously, lots of discussion about the history of colonial devastation on US environments, etc. we average two land acknowledgements a day.

and i know that none of that means anything, but it's still so disgustingly dissonant with the actual material goals. as repayment for the training, we're being asked to work on this project that is, like...40% developing hostile architecture in two prominent parks. and while we were out there the other day, the program coordinator (+ "friendly" tiny 75yo ecologist auditing the program to report to the supervisory org) called the cops on somebody for being too close to that area of the park while having two backpacks. with half the class actively laughing + making jokes about it the whole while through.

none of this is surprising or unusual, but the hypocrisy of it is really getting to me. the program coordinator did refer to the whole trespassing/eviction/citation/harassment process as "engaging a community member" and i'm really taken aback by like. how angry i am that this guy is pretending to be respectful of homeless people, even in a normalized/thoughtless way?

idk. obviously i'm not going to be engaging with the stated goals of preventing people from camping on public land - unless i can find a way to make the land more camp friendly - but i'm so livid about like. the way that this is playing out as a process. i'm also honestly just genuinely confused, like....how are these literal actual ecologists able to, with a straight face, blame the damage to local plants on homeless people trying to fucking sleep, and not like....the whole fucking process of urbanization that led to this point. like. girl. we're planting on an old airstrip, in the middle of a burgeoning urban core, that's downstream of what used to be a creosote factory.

but that's too big for you to get mad at, so you're just going to cave in and kick out the handful of people trying to find somewhere to be left the fuck alone? it's disgusting and terrifying to see people swerve around things, mentally, like this.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Destinytober24: Day 25 - Radiolaria

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

Eyes wide, heart pounding, the Drifter dangled by his wrist, suspended high above a pool of Radiolaria in the Concealed Void Lost Sector on Europa, kept aloft only by only the strong left hand and arm of Eris Morn

Eris was flat on her back, one knee bent, having slid to catch her companion before he could fall into the deadly sparkling liquid below. Eris' other hand gripped a handhold within the Vex architecture like a claw, keeping his weight from pulling her down with him.

Her frozen orb whipped through the air above them to impact the first of a cluster of Exploder Shanks making their way toward them, starting a chain reaction which caused all of them to detonate harmlessly, away from the two of them.

The Drifter kicked up his feet and got his ankles on a ledge below the one Eris was lying on. He shot a Vandal with Trust that was attempting to take aim at Eris and then clambered up on top of her. Eris shook out the strained muscles of her left hand as soon as he was safe.

"That was close. Thanks." He rolled off of her and up to his feet. Two more shots from Trust removed two Wretches wielding Arc spears which had been running toward them.

"Too close." Eris growled from below him. "You are not normally prone to falling into holes."

He reached out a hand to help her stand.

As she rose to her feet, the Drifter pulled Eris in close and mumbled in her ear. "You know me. I love stickin' myself in holes."

"Ugh!"

He laughed.

She walked up a short set of steps rubbing her wrist. The Drifter followed her.

"Or bein' the hole for that matter…" he continued as he followed her. "I ain't that picky."

"You are so crude."

Six more Wretches appeared. The Drifter shot five of them in rapid succession. The sixth iced over, struck by Eris' ice-covered Ahamkara bone. The Drifter shot and shattered that one too.

"Your hand ok? You let me get almost all of 'em."

"It hurts a bit but it is not broken. It might be sprained."

"That's your good hand."

"Yes, but my other hand is also good."

"Let me see."

Eris shifted her hand cannon to her right hand and steadied it against a cubic-like structure, keeping watch over the hallway ahead of them as she let the Drifter examine her wrist.

Practiced hands pulled off her gauntlet and felt along her forearm, squeezing firmly but gently, twisting and working her wrist through a set of small movements to test her range of motion.

A tiny rivulet of water trickled down into a small pool near them from the ceiling. Its sound dominated their environment.

"Let's check again when we're done and make sure you're not swelling," he said quietly, tugging her glove back into place. "And thanks again for that. I did not come dressed for swimmin' in Vex milk today."

They separated and moved quietly alongside opposite walls of the corridor, weapons ready.

"I thought you hated it when other people called it Vex milk." Eris said near his ear when they were side-by-side once more.

The Drifter held out a small mirror to look around the corner then held up four fingers. Eris nodded.

In tandem they stepped through, each taking two shots. Four Shanks fell sputtering to the almost lace-like Vex structure that was making up the floor.

"I do," the Drifter continued. "Makes me thirsty.

"You're always thirsty." Eris checked below them for hostiles and traps then, seeing none, jumped down lightly. The Drifter followed, smirking and wriggling his eyebrows at her when she looked back.

"Tsch."

They entered a tunnel in the ice. The ceiling was filled with long dagger-like icicles, several of which were dripping down to the floor, making it slick with a layer of water on top of the ice.

"You have not actually consumed it, have you?" Eris asked a few moments later, stepping carefully.

"Consumed what?"

"Radiolaria."

"I uh… might've, yeah."

Eris slipped. The Drifter steadied her.

"That would kill you."

"Oh it did."

Eris shook her head. "You are lucky you were not assimilated."

"Yeah well, sometimes shit gets real bad and you start thinkin' maybe it wouldn't be too bad to be assimilated."

Eris frowned and was silent. They crouched down together behind an oddly angled Vex formation. The Drifter scanned the area and then reached over to squeeze Eris' right arm. She reached up and pressed his hand against her tightly.

"I wonder how he's doin' in there." The Drifter stepped out onto uneven ice, checking ahead. He motioned for Eris to follow.

"Mithrax indicated that he was completely absorbed," she said softly near his ear. "It does not sound as though there is a him 'in there' to 'do' any more."

"Yeah… I don't know about that."

"The report indicated otherwise."

"I didn't get my intel from a report."

A shank floated up in front of them. Both fired. It fell, sputtering.

"I assumed you'd have hacked into the Hidden network to read it." Eris bent down to examine the Shank briefly before continuing on.

"Not all intel needs to be illegally obtained, sometimes it's better to do it the old fashioned way."

"The old fashioned way?"

The Drifter's feet flew out from under him and he slid sideways down to his knees. Eris stepped in close beside him, keeping watch while he gripped the belt around her waist as leverage to help himself stand back up.

"I asked nicely," he explained once he was back upright. "Bought Mithrax a few drinks. Raised a few glasses to the late great Asher Mir."

"I suppose that would be effective… and considerably less effort."

Two more Shanks hovered around a corner and were dispatched.

"More effort. Don't take long to read a report. Takes time to talk to someone, but you do get more out of it. Although…" He looked back at her with a mischievous grin. "I did hack in and read the report after."

Eris sighed deeply.

"Look, Ikora's Hidden archives is one of the few places where Ol' Drifter's considered to be a VIP. That's what it says in front of my number: VIP number one three one five. That's nice. I like it. It's flattering."

"Flattering is not what I would call most of the reports on you in those files."

"Well, yeah, but ya gotta read between the lines. That Aunor is obsessed with me. She's obsessed with you too. She's got the hots for both of us… just in that Solar thermite melt your flesh from your bones kinda way… instead of the nice fun happy sexy times kinda way. But she sure is into us."

"I am aware. Her zealotry is… excessive, but I understand the source. She is a Praxic. Eriana was similar in the intensity of her pursuits… although her obsession differed in its application."

"Speakin' of readin' between the lines of reports though… I think he's still in there."

"Asher?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

Eris spun around suddenly, her Hive eyes instantly perceiving the two cloaked Marauders which were attempting to sneak up on them. She fired from her hip as she spun, gunning them both down extremely quickly with two well placed head shots.

The Drifter nodded admiringly. "And that's your off-hand. Damn."

"Your off-hand is just as good as mine."

"And I know how much work it took for me to get it that way. Anywho… you had a chance to look at what came out of Nessus recently with Saint and Osiris?"

"Maya Sundaresh corrupted by the Echo of Command, yes." Eris answered as they continued cautiously through the Lost Sector together. "I shudder to think of what might have happened if Asher had found it instead."

"I mean.. he might'a been one of the few people who could use it responsibly."

"Hmmm… perhaps…"

"But my whole point is Maya was hunting down and murderin' copies of her wife in the Vex network."

"Yes. Including the specific copy she was supposedly attempting to find. Horrific."

The Drifter slid near-silently under a low outcropping, Trust ready. Finding nothing on the other side he reached a hand back under and gave her a thumb's up before standing.

"But there were…," he continued, "…and to my understanding, still are - copies of her wife in there, and other Mayas, and the other two guys too."

"The Ishtar Collective." Eris slid through the gap and joined him. "Or at least, whatever's left of it…"

"Yeah, and if they're wandering around in there with sufficient integrity to still have voices and a personality, well… he might be too."

"He always was very strong willed."

Three Vandals with wire rifles were clustered around a Captain on the other side of a large room. A Servitor with a cluster of Shanks hovered nearby.

The Drifter tossed a Glacier grenade as Eris sent her Ahamkara bone in. The Vandals froze, embedded in the Stasis crystals from the Drifter's grenade. They shattered as Eris' orb ping-ponged between them.

The Captain was able to jump out of the way and returned fire with a Shrapnel Launcher. Both Eris and the Drifter took cover behind an iced-over Vex outcropping.

"Yeah… I mean… even I thought he was insufferable. And that's sayin' something comin' from me."

Eris smirked. She tossed her own Stasis grenade, a Coldsnap, which covered a larger area. The Captain attempted to maneuver his way out of the field but was unable to get far enough before being frozen in place. The Drifter tossed one of his coins at the frozen Captain's feet. It exploded in a Solar grenade, immolating the Eliksni along with the Servitor and the Shanks.

"I bet he's still in there in some form or other." The Drifter walked into the middle of the room, looking for any further resistance. "Or maybe he don't have no form. Maybe he's just a mind. But I bet he's still in there… infectin' the Vex like a… grumpy sarcastic virus that just won't die. They'll think they finally got rid of him and little bits of him will still come crawling out from the corners of the Vex network, like a stuck up Awoken cockroach. Tellin' 'em how they doin' everything wrong… and how he's oh so much smarter."

A quiet involuntary laugh escaped Eris' lips as she joined him. "Perhaps. It is… a nice thought."

"I just think if Maya can do it, he can probably do it too. He's certainly smarter. And he'd do it better. And then… he'd gloat about it."

Eris smiled at him. "He absolutely would gloat about it."

"Uh Huh."

She sent her orb on a circuit of the room to ensure there were no more hostiles in range.

"I miss him," she said, her voice steeped in sadness as she looked down at one of the pools of Radiolaria on the edges of the room.

The Drifter came up behind her and put his hand gently at her elbow. "I know."

He scanned their surroundings one more time before shoving Trust into its usual place in his belt. The Drifter then reached out and pulled her into a tender hug.

Surrounded by corpses, twisted wreckage, and pools of deadly Radiolaria, a three-eyed witch leaned into the gentle embrace of a former Dredgen, both finding comfort, understanding, and hope within each other's arms.

Link to the entire month's worth of prompts on Ao3, posted daily.

[kitkatpancakestack]

Hi! So, many medical students across the country will be starting school in the next several weeks. As I'm a usamerican medical student I can only speak from my perspective in america. What I'm saying definitely isn't news to the people who will understand. But sometimes it helps to hear someone say it. It helps when I hear someone say it. So. Okay.

Congrats on getting in! You should be proud. You should savor this moment before it begins. And you should understand the work that is ahead of you. And you should remember:

if you are not white and you haven't been indoctrinated into a certain livelihood since you were little, the medical educational system does not want you.

They aren't looking to be representative of the country and they aren't looking to entertain change. The clubhouse is like fort Knox and you truly cannot know how dire it is until you're part of it. Or until you're kept on the periphery of it. The hostility, the dismantling of affirmative action, the fiscal mutilation of historically black medical colleges, the gross ignorance and neglect of the Indian Health Service and resulting socioeconomic disparities...and I could go on. I'm a black identifying student so I can only speak from that perspective. And I cant speak from the perspective of other healthcare occupations, although I know it's just as bad.

To the students: They do not want you if you threaten their freedoms, if you threaten their power, if you threaten the very architecture of the cult they have fortified. If you are a POC, if you are working class, if you are a first gen, if you want to strengthen the weakest or the neediest among us, you are an inherent threat by virtue of existing. It's bad form to call for eugenicide of medical education but they'll just use more tactful terms instead.

My father wanted to be a doctor in the 1980s. Smartest man I have ever met. Would have made waves. But he couldn't afford it. Not by a longshot. And the administration had all the black students (3) they could stomach at the time anyway. Threatened him into withdrawing his application. I say this bc the barriers still exist, far before the ones that arise once you get in. I say this bc if you trend the number of black male doctors back then and the number today, it is essentially a flat line.

I say this bc if I have to hear one more white person complain about unfair application advantages for poc I might do something drastic. It's the weirdest Privileged White Person Disease when they can only comprehend other marginalized groups gaining equity as meaning their own rights will be halved or diminished. Imagine having the luxury to live in that delusion.

I say this bc I have future premeds talking to me about this, and you have to be honest but you can't be defeatist. When it's stacked against you from the start it isn't easy, but if it's your dream, if you can hold onto the difference you can make to get you through the shit they will throw at you, you have to try. You have to fight as hard as you can for that change. you have to do it for your family and for your community. I want my black brothers and sisters to survive and I want my black brothers and sisters to be in the room with me making the decisions that impact future healthcare.

I say this bc I know it's bleak, and it will feel awful, and you will feel disrespected and unwanted, but we belong here. This space is ours too. We deserve it. Don't cave to fear. Do what you need to do in the meantime. We will fight for you until you get here.

[savior-of-humanity]

@hymns-across-the-stars -- continued from here!

--

Atreus was no stranger to being lost in a foreign realm, with little - if any - means of getting his bearings regarding just where exactly he was. It was something he was accustomed to, really, especially given how far he had traveled and how many sights he had seen in his journeys through the Nine Realms and beyond. It usually didn't take him long to adjust to a new situation, to learn how to navigate both geography and conversations with any local peoples that lived there. But the place he found himself in now was unlike anything he had ever seen in his entire life. In every direction that the Jotunn looked and traversed, Atreus was surrounded by a sprawling labyrinth of ancient, worn metal; expertly constructed, yet weathered from wind and time. Even beneath the plant life that seemed to grow from almost every single surface of the complex, he could tell that the architecture and craftsmanship was utterly alien to him. Not to mention, given just how far the tunnels and shafts that made up its depths went, no civilization he knew of could've made such a massive complex. And yet, there was no sign of any people living here...

...well, except for the creatures that called this maze home.

Many were just as alien as the labyrinth itself, though they held similarities to other creatures Atreus had seen before; multi-colored lizards the size of dogs, roving packs of spiders, enormous armored centipedes, and too many other little things to list off. He swore he saw a glimpse of what looked like some sort of enormous bird-like creature soaring above, but given the huge towers that reached up to the heavens and obscured the sky almost totally, it disappeared just as quickly as he'd spotted it. Survival wasn't too difficult, which was largely due to the relative abundance of both safe food and drinking water; but as the sun eventually began to approach the distant horizon, he knew he'd have to find shelter for the night. There was no telling what sort of nasty critters would come out in the dark, after all - but the abrupt noise of some distant commotion snapped Atreus out of his thoughts of finding a place to hunker down. Atreus paused and listened; normally, he'd avoid it entirely as it'd usually just be a scuffle between some big lizards, but there were no snapping jaws, guttural snarls, teeth digging into skin and flesh. What he could hear insisted solely of ghastly shrieks and what he could only describe as small explosions. Logic dictated that he should ignore it and keep looking for shelter while he still had daylight - but something about it urged him to go, to look. And look he would. It'd taken him a while given how long and winding the passages of the labyrinth's underbelly were, but eventually he'd crawl out of a vent overlooking a small ledge to spot the source of the once-distant battle. There were two creatures that were of immediate interest to Atreus; one was a huge, gaunt and avian-looking creature, much like the one he had spotted a glimpse of earlier in the day. Its hostile gaze was locked upon the other individual; a small red-furred creature resembling some strange cross between a mollusk and a cat. And, based on the way they not only held their body posture but also wielded a spear, Atreus immediately guessed that the little thing was not only intelligent, but also exhausted from a previous fight. He didn't hesitate to notch an arrow into the string of his bow, draw, and then send it flying straight at the tusked face of the bird-beast. In that moment, Atreus learned two things; the first was that the skull-like face of the "bird" was not a face but rather a mask. Through a stroke of luck, the arrow had hit at just the right angle to dislodge it from the creature's true face, sending it clattering to the overgrowth below. The second was that this also happened to piss it off. Severely.

He didn't wait for its response - already he had leapt from the ledge to the ground below, landing into a roll to minimize potential injury from the impact, before he jumped back to his feet and began to run like Hel to the closest semblance of safety. Which, coincidentally, happened to be in the general direction of the red-furred spear wielder. "GO!" He had no idea if they could understand him or if they could even speak, but he hoped that at the very least, the urgency and volume of his voice would spook the creature into fleeing as well. "RUN! RUN! I HAVE ITS ATTENTION!" He knew that because he could literally hear it coming after him with those huge beating wings. All he could really do was hope that he was faster than it was.

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“Honor Among Thieves & Dreamers” a Luke Castellan x Fem! OC Fanfic (PART 2)

Exploring Camp Half-Blood was both exciting and intimidating for Sonya. Luke showed her the archery range first, explaining that the children of the god Apollo tended to have a knack for archery.

“-But I prefer swordplay.” Luke added. “Clashing blades is a more social way to fight.”

Sonya nodded. Luke seemed like the kind of guy who would be good with that genre of weaponry. “Are you going to show me some of your skills?” Sonya asked, blushing after realizing she had spent a good three minutes of silence staring at Castellan and picturing him fighting with a shining sword.

Luke laughed, seemingly unperturbed by her intense stare. “Of course, but I’d feel better if you watched me fight someone else. I don’t want to cause you to have… cat… cata…”

“-Cataplexy. And ok! I’m cool with that!” Sonya smiled, happy that he was taking her disability into consideration.

Luke called over another boy who looked to be about his age. “This is Damien from Cabin 5.” Luke said, gesturing to the boy. Damien looked like an intimidating contrast to Luke. He was a bit taller, and was more obviously muscular. He didn’t bother saying hello to Sonya as they walked to the arena. Many wooden seats and tall stone pillars surrounded a circular clearing of dirt. A few girls were dueling but when they saw Luke they stopped and made space for him and his opponent. Sonya made note of the damage on the first few rows of seats, and took a seat on a bench that was farther away. ‘Cabin Five….’ She wracked her brain trying to remember which god that would be. Her eyes scanned the surrounding cabins until they landed on the cabin on the left side of Camp Half-Blood. ‘Based on the hostile architecture, that must be… Ares Cabin.’ She concluded. Her spine tingled uncomfortably. ‘I sure hope Luke knows what he’s getting into, fighting a child of the god of war.’ Sonya shivered.

“You ready, Damien?” Luke asked, drawing Sonya’s attention to the arena again.

Damien’s face twisted into a fierce grin that almost seemed more like he was baring his crooked teeth. “You know I always am, Castellan.”

The duel began. Damien was powerful but Luke was fast in his movements, dodging each blow of Damien’s club with masterful technique. Luke spent the first two minutes dodging, which confused Sonya at first. Some burly looking kids took a seat next to Sonya. She tensed as they began taunting Luke. “When are you going to stop fighting like a coward, Castellan? Are you scared to take the offensive stance? LAME.”

Luke paid them no mind, biding his time until Damien’s attacks became slower and more labored. It was only then that Luke flipped the duel into a complete mess for Damien. Luke dodged, spun, and slammed his sword into the Ares boy’s armored side, knocking him off balance so his form got sloppy. The kids next to Sonya went quiet, seemingly taken aback by Luke’s strategy. After that it was blow after blow from Luke, until (bruised and embarrassed) Damien surrendered, and admitted Luke had won fairly.

Sonya clapped, cheering for Luke and making her way down to the clearing where he’d been fighting.

Luke greeted her, setting his sword aside and accepting her compliments with a good-natured laugh. “Thanks for humoring me and watching the duel, Sonya.” He said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Now, once I get this armor off, do you want to see the strawberry fields? It’s a great place to relax, especially after a fight.”

“Yes! I’d love to.” Sonya smiled. She felt pretty tired herself. And strawberries were her favorite fruit!

Luke finished taking the armor off, and changed his shirt for a fresh Camp Half-Blood shirt. Sonya struggled not to have cataplexy when he was taking off the old shirt. ‘Why is he doing this in front of me? Is he trying to impress me?’ Sonya thought, struggling against oncoming cataplexy as she witnessed Luke temporarily shirtless. ‘It’s working. Damn it. Why is he so hot?’ Thankfully for the sake of her not collapsing, he didn’t hesitate too long before putting on the fresh shirt.

If Luke noticed her blushing, he made no sign of it. He seemed more concerned that she didn’t topple over on their way to the strawberry field. Which, of course, was greatly appreciated.

The fields of strawberries stretched out for quite a while. Luke settled down by an olive tree on the edge of the field, still catching his breath after the duel, while Sonya picked and ate some strawberries after rinsing them in the stream that cut through the forest that framed the fields.

The sun was warm but not harsh, and a gentle breeze blew her hair gently now and then. She felt Luke’s gaze on her while she picked and ate strawberries, going back and forth between the fields and the forest stream. Usually with boys this would upset her, but his gaze didn’t feel intrusive. It seemed almost… protective. She wondered if he put this much care and effort into helping every new demigod get settled in to this camp. Finally, after eating her fill of strawberries, she sat down next to Luke, leaning back against the thick-trunked olive tree. She thought about her brother for a moment. She could picture him sitting in deep thought in this very spot.

But she pushed the thought away. It was too painful. Finally, she spoke up. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke turned to her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “For what?”

“For taking care of me. Even if it’s standard procedure. Even if it’s just for today. It’s more than anyone has ever done for me.” Sonya said, holding back tears.

Luke sighed, frowning. “It’s not just for today, Sonya.”

“Really?” She said. Her heart flip flopped in her chest.

“And I guarantee it’s not standard procedure.” Luke laughed wearily. “Standard procedure is… give the demigod a shirt and throw them in Cabin 11.”

“Then why…?” Sonya started.

“—if we don’t look out for each-other, then who will? Certainly not the gods.” A shadow fell on Luke’s face. “And Chiron is great and all but there are so many overlooked demigods. Your brother… he wouldn’t have died if… if I had just been more attentive.” Luke said, his voice filled with regret.

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Luke. Miguel didn’t listen to anyone. Not me… not my mom. No one. I love my brother, but I dont miss him. If that makes any sense…”

Luke’s expression softened. “I understand.”

Sonya and Luke stared out at the fields from beneath the shade of the olive tree’s branches. ‘There is at least some peace here. In this moment.’ Sonya thought, eyes getting heavy with exhaustion. She leaned her head on Luke’s shoulder.

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you liked this and want a part 3, reblog and comment! Tysm!

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