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sleepawaywriting · 5 years ago

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Deep Into That Darkness Peering

Chapter 1 (of 4): The Siren

[Piers x Reader, SFW]

Warnings: Alcohol Mention, Caves, Monsters, Existential Horror, Near-Death Experiences

What do you do when you discover that your best friend is an eldritch monstrosity that has inspired countless myths and ancient folklore, who could easily tear you limb from limb or consume your entire existence whole? You double down, obviously.

(An AU where everything is the same except Piers is the monster mash and you’re down to graveyard smash.)

[Told ya I was gonna do it. Don’t worry, we’ll soon get back to your regularly-scheduled requests and smuttery, I just had to get this ball rolling and out of my system.]

The first time you saw him, it was an accident.

You were tired. Your days seemed to become busier and busier, and recently, you slept very little, finding that with every waking morning, the bags under your eyes grew deeper and more pronounced. Your nerves were fraying, and your patience was wearing thin. Finally, at the precipice of burning out, something inside of you snapped. You decided to take a holiday, retreating to the seaside town of Spikemuth, where you would hopefully find solace among the neon-laden streets. Most people would raise their eyebrows at the prospect of spending a holiday in Spikemuth. After all, the town was somewhat run-down, notoriously underfunded and forgotten by the region’s more affluent citizens. However, beneath the massive structure overhanging the forgotten hamlet, was a treasure trove of beauty and inspiration, not only in its many historical structures, dilapidated as they were, but in the people that lived there. Spikemuth was a town that thrived on artistry, home to an impressive number of painters, sculptors, photographers, and, of course, musicians. This was the aspect of the coastal town that drew you under its spell. You fully planned to spend the majority of your time looking at art, attending concerts, drinking heavily, and crashing on your best friend’s couch. And luckily, said best friend was none other than Piers, the town’s local celebrity, and resident expert in all things Spikemuth.

One night, a few hours after passing out on Piers’ couch for the umpteenth time, you found yourself wide awake and painfully sober. After tossing and turning for another hour or two, you decided to give up on a full night’s sleep altogether, begrudgingly dragging yourself out from under your pile of blankets and retreating to the bathroom, where you proceeded to slide on a pair of well-worn sweatpants, and a hoodie with Piers’ band’s logo on the back (an outdated one, which the singer insisted on replacing for you at some point), topping it all off with a messy bun. Tip-toeing to the front door, you put on your sneakers, grabbed your phone and keys, and exited the flat, pulling on your hood when you realized just how cold it had gotten—and it would only get colder, where you were going. Walking along the main street, you breathed in the crisp seaside air, adjusting your eyes to the pulsating neon and trudging your way past a few bars and clubs where the town’s nightlife was still raging strong. You smiled as you noticed a few Sableye skitter around a corner into a nearby alley, clearly looking to cause some mischief to any overly-drunk party goers.

The town’s energy waned as you approached the east exit, the one leading to the sheer, black cliffs that descended to the rocky shoreline far below. You loved exploring them, especially at night, despite the potential dangers that lurked there. Luckily, you arrived when the tide was low, so there was no immediate risk of being swept out to sea or thrashed against the jagged rocks. You carefully made your way down one of the many damp, creaky wooden staircases to the main beach, the misty wind nipping at your skin, cold enough to bite, but not enough to cause a shiver. It invigorated your senses as you leaped down the remaining steps and onto the shore, almost stumbling in the process. The beaches of Spikemuth were not exactly the type you would want to picnic on—on top of being rather cold and windy, the floor was comprised entirely of uneven pebbles. However, it was still beautiful, in its own way, and in the past, you had spent countless hours watching the waves, collecting sea glass, and occasionally exploring the array of mysterious caves and tunnels that bore deep into the cliffside. They were only visible at low tide, and never failed to capture your imagination, particularly Mourner’s Cave, which was by far the largest of the bunch—you had yet to find its end, if it had one, in your own amateur spelunking. As with all the darkest, deepest, most unknown parts of nature, there were many folktales surrounding Mourner’s Cave. For centuries, locals regaled tourists with the harrowing tale of a siren, who would lure victims into the depths of the seaside cavern during low tide, in order to feast upon them. Of course, it was likely just a story parents would tell their children in order to keep them from straying too far beneath the cliffs, potentially getting lost, trapped, or worse.

Standing at the very edge of the water, just inches from where the waves ebbed and flowed across the craggy shore, you stuffed your hands into your pockets, relaxing your gaze, allowing yourself to fully space out. The sky was mostly clear from where you stood, a large, full moon illuminating the icy waters, its luster reflecting off the thousand tiny, shimmering pebbles beneath your feet. In the distance, you could see a heavy fog rolling in, and there were no boats, as far as you could tell, so the horizon line was completely obscured by an inky, infinite haze. You stared, allowing your mind to wander, breathing in the briny scent and relishing in the isolation, when you heard something. It was faint—so faint that you barely noticed it above the crashing waves and the wind whistling through the jagged grottoes. At first, it sounded like a low humming, which you assumed was just your loss of hearing from the eardrum-shattering concerts you’d been attending. As you wandered further down the beach, in the direction of Mourner’s Cave, the humming grew louder, and you reached up to plug your left ear, then your right, seeing if you could isolate the damage. It wasn’t until after bending over, turning either ear towards the ground, and shaking your head up and down like you were trying to empty a piggybank, that you realized it was neither hearing damage nor vertigo.

Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to follow the sound, fully expecting to come across some sort of wild Pokemon, or even nothing at all. The beach’s rocky structures had a tendency to “wail” in turbulent weather, creating an eerie, otherworldly effect and spooking hapless beachgoers who were unfamiliar with the area’s geology. Continuing your trek, you were led away from the tumbling waters and towards the sheer, ashen cliffside containing the entrance to Mourner’s Cave. As you drew closer, so did the sound, and you realized that it wasn’t humming at all, but singing—a strange, mournful, sort of singing, that made you stop in your tracks. It was unlike anything you had ever heard before—a swirling, ethereal sound with no discernible melody. It seemed human, uncannily so, but there was a sort of… wrongness about it, like it was almost synthetic—and there was a warbling to it, as if it was not one, but multiple voices, all stacked on top of each other, but clearly belonging to the same owner. You inched closer to the mouth of the cave, wanting to turn back, wanting to sprint back across the beach, up the wooden stairs, back to town, but your shoulders tensed, your stomach knotting in worry. What if this person, or Pokemon, or whatever it was, needed help? It almost sounded pained, or at the very least downright miserable, and something else—something that bothered you more—a sense of… familiarity. A unnerving, nostalgic sort of feeling that forced you to carry on, despite yourself.

Just as you decided to retreat, to call it a night, to run and hide under the covers and try to forget this ever happened, you passed through the mouth of Mourner’s Cave. Something in the air shifted, as if you broke an invisible barrier, and suddenly, there were no waves. There was no wind. Not even the sound of your footsteps, once shifting and trembling through the gravel, now plodding across solid, damp stone. There was only the singing. It filled your head, to the top your skull, pouring out of your ears—overshadowing any thoughts of fear, worry, or self-preservation, stripping you of any desire to leave, of returning to the world you once knew. Your eyes glazed over, shoulders relaxed, arms hanging at your sides as your legs moved of their own volition, though sluggish, as if moving against the tide. You no longer felt the cold, salty air against your flesh, instead feeling something heavy, oppressive, suffocating, weighing down on your shoulders. The air around you crackled with an unseen energy, prickling at your skin, making each hair on the back of your neck stand on end. The darkness ahead smelled like dry ice and ozone, but you didn’t care. You never cared. You could not remember caring about anything but the singing, of finding it, claiming it, lying in it, succumbing to it.

The moonlight had long since abandoned you, as you journeyed further and further into the depths, where it could not follow. The encroaching darkness only served to heighten the sound as it bounced around the cavern walls, infinitely echoing in a beautiful, dreadful cacophony. A streak of warmth slid down your cheeks, though your eyes were unblinking, as you mindlessly accepted the fact that you were going to die. You did not feel afraid, so much as indifferent, and somewhat peaceful, like the darkness was an old friend, and you were always meant to become a part of it.

The singing stopped.

Blinking rapidly, your eyes stinging, you reached up to rub them, surprised to find that that they, along with your cheeks, were wet. Were you crying? Wait, where were you, anyway? You whipped your head around, squinting against the darkness. Why was is so dark, all of a sudden? You turned on your heels far too quickly, panic welling up in your chest as you slipped on something. You yelped, falling forward, managing to catch yourself before splitting your face open on the clammy stone floor. Wait, stone? Were you in a cave? Ignoring the fresh scrapes on your palms, you fumbled with your pockets before finally retrieving your phone, turning on its flashlight. You blinked against the harsh, cold light now illuminating the yawning chamber, seeing that, in your panic, you managed to slip on a slimy, stubborn patch of algae. Standing up on shaky knees, you tried to ignore the trembling in your hands and the thumping in your chest once you realized you had no clue which way you came in. If you weren’t careful, you would end up wandering deeper into the cliffs, and wouldn’t be able to escape before the tide rolled in. You tried not to think about what would happen then, deciding to stick to the path opposite of where you were facing when you snapped out of your stupor. As you walked, you got an idea, and looked down to your phone, unlocking it and turning on the camera to record some footage. You figured that if you didn’t manage to make it out in time, you could at least leave behind some evidence of your final moments, as morbid as that was. That, and, as you walked, you thought about the stories you’d heard of people losing time, of being in one place and suddenly waking up in another, often citing alien abduction as the cause. Maybe if you were recording your predicament, there would be a chance that someone could find out what really happened here, in the deepest, darkest depths of Mourner’s Cave. Maybe they would make a late night TV special about you. The thought made you laugh, though it was more of a sad, frantic giggle, and you were thankful nobody was around to hear it—or so you thought.

Something shifted behind you, above you, dragging along the cave ceiling and knocking loose a few rogue stones, which tumbled down the rounded walls and skidded across the floor before bouncing off the back of your shoes. You spun around, bringing your flashlight with you, fully expecting to come face-to-face with a ravenous, wild Pokemon—inwardly cursing yourself for forgetting to bring any of your own. Instead, you were met with… darkness, but not the darkness you had come to expect from within a cave in the dead of night. No, that darkness was malleable, it had depth, it could be permeated. This darkness looked… solid... quite literally the definition of pitch black, like someone had cut out a section of deep space and draped it across the cavern wall like some impossible curtain. Frankly, you had no idea what you were looking at, and a confused, fearful noise bubbled up in your chest and slipped past your lips.

Suddenly, the darkness jolted towards you, surrounding you completely and snuffing out your only source of light. You yelled, dropping your phone and throwing out your arms in a feeble attempt to defend yourself. Your body made contact with nothing, however, as the air grew thick around you, caking the inside of your lungs. The oppressive static returned, jogging your memory and overwhelming every one of your senses, your nerves screaming as your fingers and toes twitched. You felt yourself seizing, a deep weight in your chest forcing you backwards, and after stumbling, swearing, and babbling incoherently, you tripped over yourself, your tailbone slamming hard against the stone floor. Before you could register the pain, you suddenly realized that you could now see your legs stretched out in front of you, as well as the rest of your body. Though faint, there was undoubtably some sort of light coming somewhere from above, and after looking up, you realized you much preferred the darkness.

Hanging above you were eyes—so many eyes—staring accusingly down at your pitiful form, each of them glowing an electric magenta that made your retinas burn and your forehead pound. Next, you noticed the teeth—an obscene amount of teeth—razor sharp and emitting the same unnatural hue, stark against the pitch backdrop. Behind the sickening aura, you saw the faint outline of something sharp and skeletal, forcing you to look away, and thanks to your new, terrifying light source, you could now discern that the solid darkness enveloping your senses was, in fact, hundreds of black, amorphous tendrils, covering every inch of the cave, floor to ceiling, effectively trapping you. You had no chance of escape, entirely helpless, completely at the mercy of whatever creature made up this hellish cage. You were going to die.

You wanted to scream, but felt as if your lungs were being squeezed inside your ribcage, so all you could do was sob—a pathetic, choked noise escaping your throat. You fell, your consciousness descending deep into an abyss from which you never expected to awake.

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[Eldritch Piers' look in this story is HEAVILY inspired by @lulzyrobot's version of him, so go give them some love!]

#piers #piers x reader #piers pokemon x reader #piers pokemon #swsh #pkmn #pokemon #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon swsh

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pollylynn · 4 years ago

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Title: Infantine WC: 900

“Are you sure he’s your guy?” — Falco (William Holt), Eye of the Beholder (4 x 05)

She never had to worry about being a grown-up before him. She wants to kick him hard in the shins for reducing her to someone who has to worry about being a grown up. And the overwhelming desire to kick shins is probably a tick in the Not A Grown Up column. So is the conviction that she caught the Not A Grown Up cooties from him in the first place.

She did, though. She’s caught all manner of childishness from him over the years. She has scowled from afar as he and the boys play task-chair basketball, with its infinite rules and every garbage can in the bullpen set up around the perimeter in a ring of infinite goals. She has joined in task-chair basketball and added her own gonzo rules into the mix.

She has let herself get roped into truly pointless conversations about giant Japanese robot shows on fuzzy UHF channels and cartoon dogs. She has stayed up way, way past her bedtime arguing with him about cartoon dogs and whether different-colored gummy bears actually taste different or the color just tricks your brain into thinking they taste different. She has stayed up way, way past her bedtime when the talk turned to candy corn and whether the brown ones have a vague chocolate taste or not.

She has pulled pranks and had pranks—fewer and of inferior quality, of course—pulled on her. She sometimes has to remove pockets full of crumpled-up post-it notes from the precinct under cover of darkness so that neither he nor anyone else will ever know that she drafts and revises and revises again the best of the insults she delivers with devastating force and a carefully cultivated off-the-cuff delivery that she may or may not practice in the locker room mirror occasionally. She doesn’t actually burn the post-its to destroy the evidence, but the thought crosses her mind every single time.

That’s what he does to her. That’s what he does for her. As she sits at her desk, worrying about being a grown-up, she suddenly misses the Captain—the real Captain—fiercely. She hears his voice and feels the phantom burn of the whisky from his flask—you weren’t having any fun before he came along.

It’s true, and it’s no more than she herself had said a scant year before the Captain’s declaration: He makes a hard job a little more fun with his gadgets and his antics and his comprehensive knowledge of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon from the eighties. But it’s not his Not A Grown Up cooties aren’t the problem here. That’s not the kind of Not A Grown Up she’s worried about being.

She’s worried about how swiftly her jealousy of Serena Kaye erupted like a sudden, vicious root system buckling concrete and asphalt. She’s worried about the insidious tendrils that seem to be spiraling out to infiltrate the small, painful muscles between her ribs. She’s worried about the fact that she can only manage shallow breaths and brief conversations before her vision goes black at the edges every time the very idea of this woman flicks through her mind.

This is not who she is. It is not who she has been since Madison was lobbing things at her head and she was plotting her own slow-burn revenge over the Brent Edwards Incident. It is not who she has been since before her mom’s murder, and how, exactly, can that kind of reversion be a good thing?

Burke says it is, though. He says she’s feeling deeply. She is letting herself feel something deeply that isn’t compulsion or drive or rage. She snaps back that rage is definitely in the mix, but he he doesn’t react. Burke is a grown up, and he won’t tell her to suck it up, to get over herself, to act her age. He won’t tell her that it’s wrong to be this consumed by jealousy.

Wrong actions are a possibility, Kate. You can behave in ways that are hurtful or counterproductive, he says with his hands folded on the lined yellow pad he seldom writes on. But feelings—even deep and deeply uncomfortable ones—simply are. They’re not right or wrong.

She’s pretty sure he’s wrong about that. With her ribs aching and the tendrils of jealousy creeping up the back of her neck to wrap around her brainstem, she’s pretty sure what she’s feeling is wrong, silly, and totally unjustified.

Unjustified.

That feels on the money. Three months of silence and a half-assed, round-about conversation on a swing set do not justify her jealousy, her petty cheap shots, the way she digs her heels in and pulls the other way when Serena Kaye suggests anything.

Nothing could justify the way she’s behaving, and every time she sees him—every time she sees the two of them together—she swears she’ll be cool and collected. She will act like the grown up she is.

Every time she sees the two of them together, she wants to kick him in the shins. She wants to grab him by the shirt front and pin him to the nearest wall. She wants to shout in his face that he loves her. He’s supposed to be in love with her.

Every time, she’s nothing like a grown up.

A/N: Fantasy shin kicks. Not a thing.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 4 #Castle: Eye of the Beholder #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Carter Burke #Serena Kaye #Fic #Fanfic #FanFiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Interrogatives?

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pettyelves · 4 years ago

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a man opens a door

three’s a crowd I TW: Sexual themes

A man opens a door. He is seeking. He is confident. He is curious.

Shadows consumed the room, bodies-- even the dead ones swallowed up. It was a force of nature, meant to knock the attacker out of not just her mind, but Zelphryin's. The caveat being the transportation. If they were actually moving through space and time, it was unclear-- but to be certain, the Infinite felt real.

Images bombarded him. Chaotic shadowy visions that jittered in whatever manner of vision he was seeing it all with. A massive puzzle box balanced impossibly on a corner, constructed steel colored metal. It rotated endlessly. The vision jumped, as though they were moving inside of it. No clear door, or passage inside. From a dark abyssal floor, rose constructs-- an entire city of pillar, obelisks, platforms. High up, to down below. Nothing made perfect sense. Objects seemed to come out of the sky, or black pit below at random. Buildings wove like mazes on into eternity. Wherever they were, the influence had lifted from his mind and they stood on an open platform, over looking the life's work of the the Shol'Shar bloodline.

"Why do I get the feeling that we are not in my apartment anymore."

His wonder was to be expected. The construction permeated with raw shadowy energy and was a display of power which any man, particularly one like Zelphryin would be drawn to. While he looked, Mirin took the time to compose herself fully.

"We are inside of the Infinite," she stated, as though that explained it. "And as much as I enjoy being conjoined with you physically, it would behoove us both to locate the host and cast it into the Axis. I encourage you to stick closely to me, lest you be lost inside."

She had never seen him so enthralled by anything. Unlike the stare he gave any woman. Greedy eyes that stared around at everything they could. He wanted to learn this place--he wanted to own it.

Mirin knew he did not know what it meant to own this place.

"I suppose this is the part where I promise to make it up to you on the later." He said as he came to stand near to her once again. "Will certainly do better at vetting my next communal, no clothes, soiree." He took

She waited patiently for him. It was likely that the threat was not immediate. Not here. But when he joined her, she twisted her hand and metal particles constructed a bridge before them. Not only did she seem to own the space, but she had full control of it.

"Oh yes, there is plenty of time to discuss you making this all up to me. My preference is naked, and directly following some manner of provocation." Though it seemed they were inside of her mind, one distinct thing of note was there was no place where her thoughts echoed loud enough for him to hear. Whispers, faint as though they were held elsewhere in the puzzle box. She moved, her split-pupil eyes scanning above and below for signs of their attacker.

"Well that seems a bit unfair, placing the entire blame on me. Stormwind has a number of cart peddlers, how exactly was I to know she was somehow involved in all the slug fest." He neither really seemed to be helping. Perhaps the longer it took to find their assaulter, the longer he would have to mentally map this; the grand center piece being that of the steel and churning puzzle box like a piece of clockwork. "Had you taken my original offer for the Cock and Candle we certainly would not be in this situation." His lips drew tight as he leaned down over her shoulder. "Now who is to blame?"

Zelphryin was a master of manipulating each and every situation to suit him. There was no winning against him-- yet there wasn’t any losing either. Mirin decided, in for a penny-- in for a whole pound.

"This was inevitable." She said, stopping on the bridge to push her hands outward. From the bridge, extended more bridges. Each with a doorway to nowhere at the end of it. Now she resumed walking by it. Each door they passed, seemed to glimpse into another reality, another option, another timeline? She explained as they passed them, her arm hooked in the crook of his.

" If I had not come tonight, she would have found you alone. Inside of the Cock and Candle, distracted by your cock buried in your chosen whore. Your night, ended-- with a Warden's blade in your back. Standing trial for the brutal murder of all the women you had brought to your bed." The options went on. "Had you stayed at home, you most certainly would have fucked a corpse. And in the middle of it, been invaded with naught but me to wonder where you were the next day." And on. "Had we gone together, sharing chocolates with the lovely women we planned to enjoy. Carnage. As an army of puppetted whores turned on each other, on patrons, on me, on you. The would call a massacre the next morning, you and I--captured or dead." They moved on along the bridge and if he thought to look behind him, the way they came looked completely different. It was always moving. "Blame, is irrelevant. I.. am more interested in purpose. Why you. Why tonight." And why had she known about Mirin's father.

At An’Diel Manor, Eilithe had provoked Kurel with a single press of the bare knee to his rough knuckles. He’d sat in his chair with a drink gripped loosely in his hand-- covered gaze our over his kingdom harbor.

His hand moved flat to palm against the skin of her thigh, up and under the silk of her gown. She stared down at him, and he-- without eyes, back up at her. A smirk formed on either’s face and the night was slated to be spent tangled in their sheets.

For nearly a month, Eilithe had gone to the city very little-- sent her Whispers, or Mirin to do her dirty work. Instead, she had been doing this. Enjoying Kurel and the little blip of peace that came when things were good.

Hours later, she was laying half a-top him, nearly put to sleep by the sound of his slow-beating heart. She did not hear the seal-- and so whatever came to Kurel’s ear must have been through a communicator she did not possess.

“What’s wrong?” She asked when he sat up and started to get his things. "Zelphryin." Kurel spoke his name with a growling snarl, throwing aside the bedsheets as he moved swiftly out of bed. His next words heard across the seal-- publicly to everyone who was privy to the link. "I nee' available Wardens to the Starse' Reach district stat. Zelphryin's apar'men'. Blow the fuckin' buildin' up if you have to to ge' inside. Issue a new bounty. Dead or Alive. Sin'dorei. Male. Former Gambi' crew member Severin."

"You cannot lie to the Infinite, Zelphryin."

By now there were more doors than there were obelisks and structures. It was loud, whispers from each scenario. "It knows your preferences," It learns them. "It knows the probabilities." She turned, as though she would leave him to keep opening doors. "The power is in the control of it." The power was in the ability to push one outcome over another.

He pressed, like a toddler. For each new option he presented, a new path, a new door presented itself.

A man opens a door.

"In another scenario, I do not leave you at the bath house." He turned his head to the presentation of a new door. "I give you what you want. I have my own fun." He grinned. "My shirt and jacket are not left for you to take with you. The following day, the exchange at the fortune teller never happens. I skip my meeting with Mavas Hawke, rescheduling for later. During the time frame where I would have encountered the cart woman is when I am in Duskwatch. Our paths still converge in the courtyard of Stormwind. Only I had just arrived. If the cart woman is present, she does not interest me. Because I have seen you, before you have seen me.”

He is seeking.

"She tries to get my attention, but she can not. I am too preoccupied undressing you in my memory and constructing my first five reactions and responses to you, while you are preoccupied with spying the evenings entertainment as you had put it.”

"You have no plans to make an appearance at my apartment and I have made arrangements ahead of time at the Cock and Candle, Room 5.”

He is confident.

"Now the cart woman could attempt to still infiltrate the harbor, but at a greater risk with less information. Making it, in this scenario, not worth the reward.”

"In this scenario. We would never be here, either."

He is curious.

The game he was playing excited her. Not only physically, but in a way she would have struggled to describe. Her teeth seldom showed when she smiled, or in this case, when she grinned. But for him-- in the expanding Infinite, they did. The construct shifted now, bridges bending up and over them like archways that turned.

Somewhere in this maze of mindmap, there was a fraction of an intruder. But it was far out of Mirin's thoughts by now. Caught up in the Droste effect that was slowly forming. The Infinite did not seem to be outsmarted easily, if at all.

She answered him. "You are distracted. By my hand slipped in your pocket, working your cock in the slowest of manners-- to which you protest. I tell you, absently, as I work-- that I felt someone watching me at the Faire. You make no reply, so as not to seem too interested. You in fact, aren't interested. We slip away, she follows but cannot rightly attack effectively."

"There is no attack that night, no-- but the choices you made. To leave me. There. In the bathhouse. Tonight. To walk me backward to your bed. To undress me slow and indulge in me. There is no other outcome." Her voice was but an echo by then.

The longer they remained. The more questions he asked. The closer their minds became. "And what of your choices, Miss Mirin? What outcomes would they have changed?"

The archway bent locked into place, like they were not a part of the construct. She stood before him, and decided if she would answer or not.

One door opened. "I never come to your apartment, we never rut in your shower, nor meet in the bathhouse. You greet me, incorrectly and are forced in my company for many years to come. You never end here. You never get a taste of power that brushes what your father found, nor have the thought to push even deeper than he went."

"A more concise inquiry." He looked to a door. "What if you never came to Dead Sun at all."

A door dropped squarely in front of him, opening up and obscuring her view beyond it. "It is the Third War. I ignore the Infinite's warning for the first time in my life. I never meet Eilithe Duskbringer, I never return to the Eastern Kingdoms."

If he looked to long, the door was oh so inviting. Visions of warm sands, crystal clear.

"I wander the sands, in search of something that I never find."

Her an echo against his ear, she was moving away from him. Outside, their bodies were slumped in darkness. The corpse, being sucked up into blackness. As though she were falling into the floor, while the other two slept through it all. Severin was in a panic.

@kurel-andiel, kurel and zel, @bellwetherspromise @deadsunharbor

#Witness the Infinite #alt has her own blog now

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carmenlire · 5 years ago

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Apple of My Eye

read on ao3

Walking out of their closet, Alec is frowning down at his pants. “Hey, babe?”

Magnus looks up from where he’s still in bed, going through his email on a laptop. He grins over at his husband, deciding in a flash that the sight of Alec without a shirt is infinitely more interesting than whatever request had just popped up in his inbox. “Yes, darling?”

Alec huffs out a breath, equal parts annoyed and confused. “Are these pants too tight?”

Magnus’s gaze drops down to the dress pants. They’re in his husband’s favorite shade of black-- pitch-- and while Alec had managed to button and zip them, they definitely weren’t draping over his figure like they usually did.

Smiling a little, Magnus places his laptop on the bed next to him and stands, walking over to his husband. He has a moment to think that Alec hasn’t realized the little changes that Magnus had started to pick up on a couple of months ago.

Not wanting his husband to dwell on the mystery, Magnus merely wraps one arm around Alec’s shoulders while he allows the other one to sweep down his chest until he can trail a finger across his waistband.

“They must have shrunk in the wash,” he suggests. Raising an eyebrow, he offers, “I can let them out a little for you?”

Alec’s expression doesn’t shift for a moment, frown still marring his brow, but eventually it eases out. “Okay,” he finally says. “Yeah, thanks, babe.”

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

It’s the work of a few seconds to make the pants a little bigger and when he’s done, Magnus hooks a finger in the waistband and tugs Alec closer for a slow kiss, humming appreciatively into it. When they break apart, he’s very gratified to see that his husband looks a little dazed. When Alec turns and starts back toward the closet for a shirt, Magnus can’t resist a playful swat against his backside.

He grins unrepentantly at the glare Alec shoots over his shoulder, laughter breaking out as his husband just fondly shakes his head at his antics.

Turning back to the bed, Magnus pulls the laptop back over and returns to work, setting up a few appointments over the next week. In the back of his mind, though, he can’t help but wonder how his husband will react when he realizes that the change in his lifestyle is starting to have an effect on his waistline.

Catching the staff Jace tosses his way, Alec scoffs as he spins it in an absent grip. “I find it hard to believe that you had to use that much adamas in your mission last week. My budget won’t allow for that kind of flagrant use of materials, even if you are my parabatai. You’ve fucked my budget up for the rest of the quarter.”

Jace just rolls his eyes. “Send me the bill if it’s gonna make you stress out so much. Did I or did I not set a new record for most demons killed on a single mission?”

Settling into a stance, Alec glares. “I don’t give a shit about what records you set. You know that keeping the books is my least favorite part of the job. Don’t make it more annoying than it has to be.”

Jace doesn’t deign to reply, merely lunges forward without warning. A lifetime of sparring with his parabatai has given Alec an intuitive sense, however, and he doesn’t falter, merely tallies back.

They spend a few hours in the training room and by the end of it, they’ve both won as many rounds as they’ve lost.

Done for the afternoon, Alec reaches for the shirt he’d abandoned on a bench, using it to wipe his face. From behind him, he hears Jace snort.

“You’re getting soft, man. You should tell Magnus to lay off the dinner dates in Italy,” he teases.

Turning, Alec glowers, shooting his parabatai a confused look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Raising his brows, Jace gestures toward Alec’s body. “Now that you’re sitting behind a desk all day, those dates don’t just melt off on patrol.”

Alec looks down at his body before shrugging and rolling his eyes. “I still kicked your ass, though, didn’t I? Fuck off, Jace.”

Raising his arms in a peaceful gesture, his brother just laughs. “Just saying. You’re not looking as trim as you used to. You’ve lost the look of an active shadowhunter.” He shrugs a little. “To be expected, I guess, especially when you have a husband who can summon food from all over the world.”

Alec watches as Jace laughs to himself as if he’s the epitome of wit before he’s grabbing his own shirt and slinging it over his shoulder before heading towards the rack to hang up his staff. He echoes his parabatai’s goodbye when it’s called out and then he’s left alone in the training room.

He looks back down at himself and it’s only now, with Jace’s words ringing in his head, that he sees it. His abs are less defined than he’s used to, the curve of his abdomen a little more pronounced. Raking a hand through his hair, Alec scowls. Resolutely not deciding to harp on it, he grabs his shirt and starts toward the door.

It’s not even a conscious decision to throw his shirt on before he leaves the room when before, he wouldn’t have thought twice about striding out to OPs in just his sweatpants, obviously fresh from training.

A few days later, Alec’s standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, studying himself. He likes to think that he’s not particularly vain-- he’ll leave that to his siblings-- but he can’t contain the scowl that comes over his face as he sees what Jace was referring to back at the Institute.

Now that things have calmed down considerably, most of Alec’s time is spent in his office, plowing through paperwork or banging his head quietly against his desk as he joins countless conference calls. Most Heads of the Institute are off active duty and now that he looks at himself, Alec can see that his excesses are catching up with him.

Neither he nor Magnus are great cooks and add to that the fact that their lives are a constant humdrum of activity and they eat a lot of takeout-- along with their fair share of international dates where Alec’s sweet tooth finds its home in trying different desserts.

Biting his lip as he looks at his reflection, Alec now sees that he’s definitely gained weight over the past few months. The truth is, he’s never had to think about what he eats. When he was a teenager and then on rotation, he spent most of his days training and it was harder to keep the weight on than it was to burn it off. He never had a second thought about finishing his pasta or indulging in a second slice of cake.

Now, though, he sees that it’s catching up to him. He’s still fit, still works out several times a week-- either by himself to release some tension or sparring with Jace-- but it’s obvious that it’s not enough to balance out everything else.

And it’s stupid, but now that Alec’s noticed it, he can’t stop. There are curves where there used to be sharp lines, softness where there used to be muscle. Turning so that his side is reflected, Alec brings a hand up and pokes his stomach, frowning when flesh gives.

He’s startled at the sound of a portal opening up in the living room and he quickly rushes to throw his discarded hoodie on, working hard to appear like he’s doing quite literally anything else than checking himself out.

Alec doesn’t know why it’s affecting him so much but he doesn’t want Magnus to know that maybe, perhaps-- Alec cares more about his appearance than he likes to let on.

But then a thought pops up and he’s disconcerted all over again as he wonders if his husband has noticed his changing body. With mounting horror-- and the rational part of Alec’s mind is rolling its eyes at his theatrics-- he wonders if Magnus has been judging him. He can’t help but cast his mind to his husband’s body and its perfection and find his own falling short.

He looks up as Magnus strolls into the bedroom, finds himself smiling as his husband walks over to him and wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss in greeting that starts perfunctory but quickly grows all-consuming.

Alec tries to lose himself in the kiss but his mind is racing as he tries to think back. Has their sex life faltered lately? He thinks everything’s remained steady but doubt starts to creep in and not even his husband’s hands on his ass are enough to make him stop thinking.

When Magnus’s mouth moves away from his and down to his neck, nibbling and biting and soothing, Alec tilts his head on autopilot but it must not be enough because then Magnus is pulling back. Breathing harshly, he looks up to meet Alec’s eyes with a teasing grin. “Darling, I’m doing some of my best work here and I can hear you thinking a mile away. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Shaking his head a little, Alec’s blurting out his thoughts before he has a moment to reign them in. “Are you still attracted to me?”

Looking nonplussed, Alec watches as Magnus arches a brow and opens his mouth before he bites back what was no doubt a flippant rejoinder. Instead, his husband’s face grows serious, though the fondness in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Of course I’m attracted to you, Alexander. Not only am I madly in love with you but have you seen yourself? You make my mouth water, darling.” He frowns. “Where is this coming from?”

Sighing, Alec rakes a hand through his hair before his gaze turns downward. He feels a warm flush crawl up his neck and into his cheeks as he mutters, “I’ve gained weight.”

“And?”

Eyes snapping up to meet Magnus’s, Alec sees confusion in his husband’s gaze. Behind that, though, is dawning realization and a sort of overwhelming softness.

Alec scowls. “My body isn’t what you’re used to.”

Magnus shifts closer, hooks his fingers into Alec’s pockets. “It’s still your body, darling, and I still find it irresistible.” He shrugs. “So, you’ve gained a few pounds. What? Is that supposed to change how you make me feel?”

Sighing because Magnus just isn’t getting it, Alec tries to feed him his lines. “Don’t you see,” he asks, growing frustrated by his husband playing dumb. He pulls back enough to pull the hoodie over his head, tossing it on the floor next to them. “I’m not as fit as I was when we first met.”

He points to his stomach, gestures to his arms that aren’t quite as toned as before. “This isn’t the same body you drooled over in the training room all those months ago. You can’t tell me that you aren’t disappointed that I-- that I’ve let myself go.”

Magnus’s gaze grows fierce at the words as he lays his hands over Alec’s chest. “You haven’t let yourself go at all, Alec. You were superhumanly fit and now you’re a little less so. I still think you’re beautiful, darling, and I do believe I was well on my way to ravishing you just a few minutes ago.” He smiles, just a little. “It’s a statement of fact that you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen, visible six pack or no.”

Some of Alec’s self-consciousness abates at the words but he can’t help but point out, “Look at you, though.”

Magnus’s expression grows baffled. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Alec replies shortly. “You look like you were sculpted by the gods. Don’t you want a partner who looks the same?”

His husband stares at him blankly for a moment before realization flares bright. He shakes his head, gently chiding. “What hogwash, darling. I work out because I like my body the way it is and because it gives me better control over my magic. I’d never expect anyone I was with to conform to the expectations and preferences I have for myself, though.”

Moving closer, Magnus grips Alec’s chin and brings his head up until their eyes meet. He opens his mouth only to abrupt close it before bringing Alec in for a lingering kiss that soothes away a considerable amount of his turmoil. When Magnus breaks the kiss, he only does so to dust half a dozen pecks along his cheeks, over his nose.

“I’ve been alive for centuries, darling,” he murmurs. “Standards of beauty fade in and out with all the temerity of the ocean. I love the curve of your hips and the-- very slight, may I point out-- roundness of your stomach just as much as I do the cut of muscle. In any and all forms, you’re utterly gorgeous to me, Alexander. I do think, however, that you are more affected by a little weight gain because you, yourself, have an idea of what you should look like and your body is changing on you. You’re used to being a big, strong shadowhunter and your life has changed considerably in the past few months. Is it possible that the physical signs of that change are hitting you harder than the actual weight?”

Alec pauses to carefully consider Magnus’s words, frowning in thought.

It does make a certain kind of sense, he supposes. Alec’s never been one to judge someone on something so asinine as their body and while he has an appreciation for fine clothes and fit, he’s never given much thought to his own body either.

With a sigh, he considers the idea that maybe, just maybe, the realization that he wasn’t an active shadowhunter anymore was bothering him. It’s what he’s been groomed for since infancy but it’s a startling change, all the same.

“That’s not a terrible idea,” he begrudgingly replies.

Magnus brightens. “It’s your body and I love anything and everything to do with it. It’s your body, though, Alexander, and it’s much more important for you to feel comfortable in your own skin. Trim down or grow a little more lax, it’s all whatever makes you feel best. All that matters to me is that you are happy and healthy, darling.”

For the first time all day, Alec relaxes. He melts into his husband as he tucks his face against Magnus’s neck. “I think I’m okay with where I’m at,” he says, voice muffled. “I can still kick Jace’s ass when we spar and, to tell you the truth, working out ten hours a day is exhausting as hell.”

He hears Magnus’s huff of laughter as he runs a rand through his hair. “And you do love your sweets.”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “It would suck if I couldn’t have dessert anymore.”

Taking a step back, Alec blindly follows his husband as he starts mouthing at his neck until he finds himself falling onto his back in their bed. Magnus looms over him, grinning while casting blatantly appreciative eyes over him.

Running his hands over his chest, Magnus hums in appreciation. “Now,” he starts lowly. “I do believe it’s time I back up my words with action, don’t you?”

Without waiting for a response, he ducks low, kissing over Alec’s stomach, biting into the soft flesh. Alec gasps as his husband makes quick work of the rest of his clothes, his last thought before he stops thinking altogether is wondering why he was so worried in the first place.

A few months later, Alec and Magnus are spending the day shopping and it’s far from the tedious day he’d imagined. The truth is, Alec likes shopping and it’s even better when he gets to spend that time with his husband.

Alec’s weight had steadied and when he’d went in for his yearly physical at the infirmary, he’d compared last year’s weight to now only to realize he’d gained a little over a stone. Still, he’s kept active with training and sparring-- still regularly besting Izzy and Jace-- and he’d passed the annual shadowhunter test with flying colors.

He’d found that he still likes being active and working out several times a week, eating a little cleaner than he had as a teenager.

It’s just that he also happens to buy the next size up in clothing while indulging in his biggest weakness: gelato.

Well, Alec thinks with a grin as Magnus ducks into his dressing room, eyeing his mostly naked body clad only in a pair of underwear. His second biggest weakness.

#my writing #malec fic #apple of my eye

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crimethinc · 5 years ago

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What Is Burning the Amazon? A Plea from Brazilian Anarchists

As the fires in the Amazon rainforest continue to burn, our comrades in Brazil have sent us this analysis of the causes of the catastrophe and how it should inform our vision of the future.

“I worry about whether the whites will resist. We have been resisting for 500 years.”

—Ailton Krenak

Living Dystopia

The scene is gloomy. On August 19, 2019, smoke covers cities across the state of São Paulo, turning day into night at 3 pm. The previous day, in Iceland, people organized the first funeral, complete with a gravestone and a minute of silence, for a glacier declared dead. The smoke that engulfed São Paulo is caused by forest fires in the Amazon Forest far away in the North of Brazil; the glacier has disappeared due to rising temperatures related to the carbon dioxide accumulating in the atmosphere.

Chief of the Tenharim people of southern Amazonas fighting wildfire.

These tragic scenes—almost picturesque, almost absurd—could sound comical if they weren’t real. They are so extreme that they remind us of fictional scenarios such as those described in the novel And Still the Earth, a Brazilian environmental dystopia by Ignácio de Loyloa Brandão. Written in the 1970s during the military dictatorship in Brazil, the book describes a fictitious dictatorial regime known as “Civiltar,” which celebrates cutting down the last tree in the Amazon with a jingoistic declaration that it has created “a desert greater than that of the Sahara.” In this story, all the Brazilian rivers are dead; jugs of water from each of the extinct rivers are displayed in a hydrographic museum. Aluminum can dunes and highways permanently blocked by the shells of abandoned cars are the backdrop of São Paulo. The city itself suffers from sudden heat pockets capable of killing any unsuspecting person; mysterious diseases consume the citizens, especially the homeless.

The author claims that he was inspired by real events that seemed absurd and unusual at the time. Today, these are becoming ever more ordinary.

News of the increased burning of the Amazon has sent shockwaves around the world. Burns rose 82% in 2019 over the same period last year in Brazil, according to the National Institute for Space Research, and new outbreaks of fire are still being reported as we write. The catastrophic images of destruction have fueled the indignation of people around the world who are concerned about the future of life on earth, seeing how important the Amazon rainforest is for climate regulation and global biodiversity. Images of the fires compelled French President Emmanuel Macron to bring the subject to the G7 summit and to exchange barbs with President Jair Bolsonaro in the media after France offered millions of dollars in funds to fight forest fires.

Protest against deforestation in the Amazon, in São Paulo, August 23, 2019.

Since the end of 2018, half a billion bees have been found dead in four Brazilian states. The death of these insects that are essential to fertilizing 75% of the vegetables we eat is linked to the use of pesticides banned in Europe but permitted in Brazil. In August 2019, the court dismissed the charges against a farmer who used pesticides thrown from a plane as a chemical weapon against Guyra Kambi’y indigenous community in Mato Grosso do Sul in 2015. The same month, groups of farmers, “land grabbers” [people who falsify documents in order to obtain ownership of land], union members, and traders used a Whatsapp group to coordinate setting fires in the municipality of Altamira, Pará, the epicenter of fires consuming the Amazon rainforest. As reported in Folha do Progresso, the “day of the fire” was organized by people encouraged by the words of Jair Bolsonaro: “The goal, according to one of the leaders speaking anonymously, is to show the president that they want to work.”

The recent wave of fires linking President Jair Bolsonaro’s policies to attacks against forests, peasant farmers, and indigenous peoples is an intensification of a process as old as the colonization of the Americas. While the Workers’ Party (PT) was still in power, many projects were introduced to expand and accelerate growth, including the construction of the Belo Monte plant, which displaced and impacted indigenous communities and thousands of other people living in the countryside. The approval of the Forest Code in 2012 enabled farmers to advance over indigenous territories and nature reserves with impunity, while suspending the demarcation of new protected lands.

Both left and right governments see nature and human life chiefly as resources with which to produce commodities and profit. The government of Bolsonaro, a declared enemy of the common people, women, and indigenous groups, doesn’t just threaten us with the physical violence of police repression. In declaring that he will no longer recognize any indigenous land, Bolsonaro is intensifying a war on the ecosystems that make human life possible—a war that long precedes him.

A 500-Year-Running Disaster

For centuries, we have struggled to survive the greatest disaster of our time, a disaster that threatens the sustainability of all the biomes and communities on this planet. Its name is capitalism—the cruelest, most inequitable, and destructive economic system in history. This threat is not the result of the inevitable forces of nature. Humans created it and humans can eliminate it.

Anarchists in Sao Paulo on August 23, 2019 protesting against the government and against the deforestation of the Amazon: “Burn fascists, not forests!”

In Brazil, we have witnessed firsthand how this system exploits people, promotes genocide, and degrades and pollutes the earth, water, and air. Even if we ultimately manage to abolish it, we will still have to survive the consequences of letting it go on for so long. The destruction of entire ecosystems, the poisons in rivers and in our own bodies, the species that have gone extinct, the glaciers that have disappeared, the forests that have been cut down and paved over—these consequences will remain for many years to come. In the future, we will have to survive by gathering what we need from the ruins and waste that this system has left in its wake. All the material that has been torn from the ground to be strewn across the earth’s surface and dumped into the seas will not return overnight to the depths it came from.

Recognizing this should inform how we envision our revolutionary prospects. It is foolish to imagine that the abolition of capitalism will expand that the consumer activities that are currently available to the global bourgeoisie to the entire human population; we must stop fantasizing about a regulated post-capitalist world with infinite resources to generate the sort of commodities that capitalist propaganda has led us to desire. Rather, we will have to experiment in ways to share the self-management of our lives amid the recovery of our biomes, our relationships, and our bodies after centuries of aggression and exploitation—organizing life in regions that have become hostile to it.

The ways we organize our resistance today should be informed by the fact that our revolutionary experiments will not be taking place in a world of peace, stability, and balance. We will be struggling to survive in the midst of the consequences of centuries of pollution and environmental degradation. The best-case scenario for the future will look like the situation in Kobanê in 2015: a victorious revolution in a bombed-out city full of mines.

Last stand: neither utopias nor dystopias—revolution!

So What Is Burning the Amazon?

There is a consensus among scientific researchers, government institutions, social movements, and rural and urban peoples regarding the impacts and risks of global warming and increasing industrialization and urbanization. Some of these consequences are about to become irreversible. The deforestation of the Amazon itself may become irreparable if it reaches 40% of its total area.

It has never worked to demand that governments solve these problems for us—and it never will. This is especially foolish when we are talking about the environmental disasters caused by their own policies. Land seizures and the deforestation of the Amazon are inextricably interlinked with the organized criminal enterprises that smuggle and kill in the countryside. Fully 90% of the timber harvested is contraband supported by a vast apparatus of illegal capitalism involving armed militias and the state itself.

Populist leaders like Bolsonaro aim to benefit from the unfolding ecological catastrophe at the same time that they deny it is occurring. On the one hand, they claim that there is no need for action to curb global warming—alongside Trump, Bosonaro was the only other leader who threatened to abandon the Paris Agreement, claiming that global warming is a “fable for environmentalists.” This helps to mobilize the far-right base, which admires and celebrates outright dishonesty as a demonstration of political power. On the other hand, as the consequences of climate chaos and environmental imbalances become obvious undeniable facts, these leaders will opportunistically take advantage of environmental crises, product shortages, refugee migrations, and climate disasters such as hurricanes as pretexts to accelerate the implementation of ever more authoritarian measures in the fields of health, transportation and security. Using authoritarian and militarized means to determine who can have access to the resources they need to survive in a context of widespread scarcity is what many theorists have called ecofascism.

The intervention of foreign states in the Amazon forests according to their own economic interests is simply the continuation of the colonialism that began in 1492. No government will solve the problem of fires and deforestation. At best, they might slow the impact of the exploitation they have always engaged in. Neoliberal capitalism demands endless growth, mandating the transformation of forests and soil into competitive consumer goods on the global market.

So what is burning the Amazon—and the entire planet? The answer is clear: the pursuit of land, profit (legal or not), and private property. None of this will be changed by any elected or imposed government. The only truly environmental perspective is a revolutionary perspective seeking the end of capitalism and the state itself.

Mundurukus warriors without state support set out for direct action to expel loggers from the Sawré Mybu Indigenous Land in Pará.

Exercising Our Ability to Imagine

The dystopian images of And Still the Earth and George Orwell’s novel 1984 were intended as warnings: exaggerated projections of the worst that can happen if we fail to change the course of history. Today, with cameras around every corner and our own TVs and cell phones carrying out surveillance on us, it is as if these dystopian novels are being used as a handbook for governments and corporations to bring our worst nightmares into reality.

Dystopias are warnings; but utopias, by definition, represent places that do not exist. We need other places, places that are possible. We need to be able to imagine a different world—and to imagine ourselves, our desires, and our relationships being different as well.

We should use the creativity that enables us to picture zombie apocalypses and other literary or cinematic calamities to imagine a reality beyond capitalism right now and begin building it. Today, as reality surpasses fiction, our activities are largely characterized by disbelief and passivity. But you cannot be neutral on a moving train—especially not one that is accelerating on a track into the abyss. Crossing your arms is complicity. Likewise, acting individually is insufficient because it maintains the logic that has brought us here.

We have to rediscover revolutionary reference points for self-organized and egalitarian collective life. We need to share examples of real societies that have resisted the state and capitalism, such as the anarchist experiments during the Russian and Ukrainian Revolutions of 1917 and the Spanish Revolution of 1936. We should remember, also, that all of these were ultimately betrayed and crushed by, or with the connivance of, the Bolshevik Party and the Stalinist dictatorship that followed it, which carried out unprecedented industrialization and the mass displacement of agrarian peoples. This illustrates why it is so important to develop a way of imagining that does not simply replicate the visions of capitalist industrialism.

We can also look to contemporary examples like the Zapatista Uprising in Mexico since 1994 and the ongoing revolution in Rojava in northern Syria. But in addition to the examples offered by anarchists or influenced by anarchist principles, we should learn from the many the indigenous nations around us: Guaranis, Mundurukus, Tapajós, Krenaks, and many others who have ceaselessly resisted European and capitalist colonial expansion for five centuries. They are all living examples from whom anarchists can learn about life, organization, and resistance without and against the state.

If there is any fundamental basis for solidarity in response to the attack on the foundation of all life in the Amazon, it is the potential that we can build connections between the social movements, the poor, and excluded of the world and the indigenous and peasant peoples of all Latin America. To put a halt to the deforestation underway in the Amazon and countless similar forms of destruction that are taking place across the planet, we must nourish grassroots movements that reject the neoliberal resource management of soil, forests, waters, and people.

For a solidarity between all peoples and exploited classes, not between paternalism and the colonialism of governments! The only way to address the environmental crisis and global climate change is to abolish capitalism!

Another end of the world is possible!

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novelsandwine · 5 years ago

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Why Travel Agents & Tour Operators Need To Focus On Authentic Local Experiences To Stay Competitive

The significant elements comprising the generic destination competitiveness model can help to identify the key success factors of destination marketing. One of the numerous approximate set of indexes used to determine location competitiveness, local experiences is one of the crucial points. Elaborate empirical and conceptual research points out the relative strengths and weaknesses of different tourism destinations, which could then be used to examine the effect of local experiences on the travelers and vice versa.��

The discerning travelers of the world love exploring unique experiences each destination has to offer and go much beyond remaining at the top suite of resorts. Choosing the best dining choices and spas has become passe. No online portal site can take you into the hidden nuggets of this destination except the indigenous folks. Therefore, to match the millennial's' definition of traveling, you will need to indulge with the locals which is far beyond any packed holiday or cookie-cutter alternatives.

Blurring the boundaries of traditional definition of traveling It's essential for Travel Agents to understand that selling travel is truly selling happiness. Imbuing travel goals based on interaction with local people makes traveling more meaningful than ever. Authenticity, simplicity, and civilization are the new watchwords driving the development of the travel tourism industry internationally. The evolution of the entire new travel genre relies entirely on indulging in local experiences. It isn't about the best luxury experience but the inherent local touch will surely add magic to the holiday memory.

Do not forget that the most valued luxury is encounter. Present-day culture travelers have moved past the familiar environs and enjoy the experience in itself. Clearly enough, tourists who like to break the mold are more interactive with neighborhood residents. This paradigm shift hasn't yet, entirely caught up with everybody yet. The focus of investments still stays on the conventional tourism-related components. To make a layered travel adventure, the hospitality sector is gradually promoting themselves as the portal site to the local community.

Although that may not be a necessity but local experience will surely offer a competitive advantage. Blending national culture and heritage into luxury travel tours need careful preparation and is likely to improve tourist's experience. Getting certified from the authorities tourism policies including inter-cultural education policy will help to makes the travel agents' start more impressive. Counter homogenization of the traveling experience is the new clause of the tourism authorities.

Embracing local cultural tourism will have an impressive lasting effect on travelers with like-minded prognosis. Traditional vertical distribution chains one of the travel suppliers has given way to complex value chains and so in this increasingly competitive market, providers will need to seize every chance for competitive advantage. Collaborative advantage through government and local partnership is consequently a new standard. Local society and culture has become a vital part of tourism value chain.

The incorporated inter-relationships between traveling along with other socioeconomic sectors are now conceived as a'value network'. Promoting Local Cuisine Sustainable tourism, which is tantamount to responsible tourism, has been a significant concern in the travel industry for the last couple of years. Experiencing the local culture mostly contours around the standard gourmet industry. Trying traditional food finishes the cultural experience of this area. Talking of the economic element, if you're eating at McDonald's, rather than benefiting the local community, a significant chunk of it leaves the regional socio-economic circle.

The worldwide traveler's group include slopes the Western tourists and without much doubt, the demand for Western food is always higher than the regional recipes. While traveling for one night's stay, people may think it not important enough to link to the regional traditions. However, pennies in the pocket of the local cuisine industry help to uplift the local tourism industry on a bigger picture. Walking to a McDonald's or a KFC may fill your tummy but will neither increase the local tourism industry nor improve your experience.

As an example, Vietnamese pho is now a huge attraction for travellers in Vietnam and if in Costa Rica, don't miss gallo pinto. Building connections with the regional folks isn't necessarily the only token you get in return but you really help to construct a perception about your nationality as a whole. A nation's heritage is rooted within the memories of the regional people and as the old people say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach! Experiential travel - creating a deeper link The requirement for'experiential travel' is arguably the most significant in addition to systematic trend in global tourism.

The term typically defines immersive, authentic, neighborhood, and much more active travel trend. Although some travel enthusiasts would love to assert that traveling is inherently'experiential' by nature and that the word is overused, the point is to make it more mainstream. Traveling consumer mindset has varied wildly in regards to local tourism and it is its level of significance varies widely how the general trend is approached.

On a deeper psychological and more personal level, people want to travel better in the end of the day. Growing numbers of travelers shying away from the conventional packed travel booklet is unquestionably a valid proof of how local experiences matter for the new age travelers. Going Social Relying on technology and global networks of small and individual travel suppliers, travel brands are providing more connected experiences.

Virtually infinite online matrix of social networking networks keep us connected no matter where we travel. But paradoxically enough these social networks are slowly isolating people in real life than helping them create closer to human relations. The online sharing portal pair travelers with the local citizen community and extend expertise to travel like neighborhood.

With packed tourism dropping its appeal among modern day travelers digs the question of just what is authentic travel. Consumer data may reveal a section of those answers but monitoring social websites will give an organic outcome. For traveling brands targeting specific markets, assessing and adapting to the changing travel behaviour is significantly important.

#travel #destination #travelers #experience

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omni-spiritual · 4 years ago

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● Disclaimer:

None of the ideas in this blog are fact, nor is it a matter of opinion. This is pure speculation about how I believe the spiritual side of the universe operates based on an educated guess from a hypothesis presented in other religions, as well as Humanity's current knowledge of scientific understanding. These are hypotheses that our current level of technology has no way of proving either way.

It is my belief that all religions are as equally right as they are wrong. There is no actual way of knowing if any of this is fact so it should not be treated as such and should be open to change. People should also keep an open mind to other religious beliefs.

● The Universe:

I believe there are an infinite number of universes out there, each sentient, each omnipotent to the things going on inside of it. Although they are likely aware of each other they are not aware of what happens in the others.

The universe we inhabit is a living organism, which we attempt to comprehend as "God". All the various galaxies are organs, and the planets and stars which make them up are cells. Sentient life and animals are essentially bacteria, tiny organisms that can be either helpful or detrimental to their host.

Each spec of life is connected to the universe itself. They are part of it and the matter of the universe makes up its various working parts. This is why there is a running belief between religions that "God is all things", as everything from atoms to people to galaxies make up its body. The Universe is a sentient, fully self-aware, combination of all life and energy. It has trillions of pocket dimensions which are a part of it, like growths on a body.

God is merely more aware of the organisms that make up its body then we are of our own.

I like to think of it as female, like a nurturing mother, but that has no basis in anything. Just a feeling. It is likely the universe does not have a "gender" as we understand it.

It is my belief, based on personal observations (such as seemingly impossible prayers being answered). That God is neither good nor evil, but has a merciful and compassionate outlook towards everything that lives inside her.

God does not create evil, nor are our troubles God's doing. Life, by its nature, is cruel and, well God tries to help us. God itself is a living organism with flaws and limits. Such as not being able to affect free will. Rather, God affects the universe by the laws of the universe and affecting the probable outcome (AKA "increasing the odds" or "luck.”) However games of chance aren't a high priority for prayers to be answered as there are far more important things for God to concern herself with. Doing something that disregards the laws of the universe is possible but is extremely hard, as it takes a lot of effort which causes neglect for others.

● The Cycle:

The galaxies expands out until gravity collapses in on itself and they slowly begin compressing back to the center of the universe. They tightly compact themselves in the black hole at the center of the universe until nothing else is left.

However the black hole will also consume all super fluids, which is a state of matter not effected by gravity, due to them being carried by planetary bodies and asteroids which pick them up on their way to the black hole. This will inevitably result in the black hole erupting and causing new galaxies to form out of the space dust. This cycle is an actual scientific theory called "The Big Bounce" which explains in greater detail how the big bang works.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. The universe is made up purely of energy, even matter is nothing more than physical energy which has been converted through extreme means (AKA the first big bang). The universe has gone through an untold number of these cycles, where it has effectively died of old age before reincarnating itself.

● The Soul:

All creatures that can think have a soul, including Synthetic Lifeforms such as Artificial Intelligence. The Soul is nothing more than the electrical impulses that control the body. The brain (even a mechanical brain) imprints memories and personality traits onto it from the moment you start thinking. When you die that consciousness still exist and is recycled in the next lifeform that uses the energy. That lifeform will have the traits of you but the memories will remain dormant unless something synchronizes the thoughts of your new brain to your soul's memories. Your soul gains new information each time it is recycled. It changes and evolves but it is still you, and all your other lives, at its core.

Souls can be reincarnated as any race or creature that has a brain, organic or synthetic doesn't matter. Souls are continuously reincarnated, taking a "break" following death to look after the souls of their loved ones. When those people pass on the soul allows itself to be "judged" however they don't go to hell or heaven, rather they are reincarnated based on their Karma.

There is no such thing as hell. The physical plane is as close as you get to such an environment as it is a proving ground for Bacteria to test itself and eventually ascend into Enlightenment.

● Karma

While I believe "Karma" affects your next life, I also believe what you do in this life matters.

If you are punished in this life, either by law or a seeming "Random run of bad luck", then your karma evens out Provided you see the events for what they are and "repent" (As cliche as that sounds). If you repent, actually repent, then you can be forgiven for near anything. But this isn't a free bargain. Redemption comes at the cost of hard times, but at the end of it, you get your clean slate and second chance.

In essence, if bad stuff happens to you and you interpreted it as "Divine punishment", and learned from it. Then you will start experiencing good luck again. Then your next life will be getting a pretty nice setting.

You can't escape your bad Karma by killing yourself. However, you can take comfort in the knowledge that it won't last forever. Eventually, your Karma will restore itself and things will start going your way again.

Likewise, if you go unpunished in your past life, you are born with poor Karma, and will suffer through "Bad Luck" for apparently no reason. But that to, won't last forever.

While it is possible to restore your Karma by doing good... doing good things, specifically for the purpose of redeeming your Karma, doesn't affect it. Good deeds, done for bad or selfish reasons, doesn't help you, but nor do they condemn you. You must truly do good for goods sake for it to effect your Karma.

● Sins:

There is no such thing as sin. Karma is only determined by if you are a "good person" by your own values. However this is not as black and white as it seems. Acts you personally believe to be for "the Greater Good" or are "Morally Grey issues" that disturb your person still affect your Karma in a negative way. If you twist your beliefs to justify hurting others, that affects your Karma negatively as well. Your Karma also determines how much of a priority your prayers are.

● Deities:

It is highly likely each universe has billions of small pocket dimensions growing on it like moles. However too many pocket Dimensions is harmful to the universe. The dimensions can bump into each other and destroy each other, leaving wounds on the main body of the universe. This is where Deities come into play. Lower gods, called Deities, likely do exists. They are known by us as gods from ancient mythologies.

Deities are former bacteria which have reached "Enlightenment" and are able to interact with the physical world without the use of a physical body. They are beings of pure consciousness and immense power, which they are supposed to use for various task to help the universe function. Deities retain their consciousness even after the universe dies and are reborn through the Big Bounce Theory.

One of these task is to act as White Blood Cells, healing the wounds of the universe. They manage the various pocket dimensions of their universe, to insure they don't become harmful to the body of the universe. Another is to recycle energy for reincarnating individual souls. The final task is to create planets and stars. It is possible, if there is a consciousness behind shaping worlds, that it comes from these entities. Which act through science to clump together space dust, a process taking millions of years. Deities want as many habitable worlds as possible in order for more deities to emerge.

Deities do all this by influencing "luck" through scientific laws.

● Jesus:

Jesus is one of many demigods recorded throughout history, however he was the child of the universe itself and a mortal. Whereas other demigods were the offspring of deities who we know through mythology. The reason we do not see these individuals anymore is because the universe was either offended or the deities became too worried to trust us with their own children after we murdered Jesus. It is my belief that Jesus did not "sacrifice his life for our salvation", rather he tried to save us and humanity killed him for it. This is the reason we don't see Gods from Mythology anymore. Our world marked itself as a poor vacation spot after that.

● Luck

It wasn't too long ago that we didn't understand what made gravity work. We had the basic theories, and hypothesized what made it work, but we recognized gravity as a fundamental force hundreds of years before we even began to understand the quantum particles that generated it. Yet we could still predict it and manipulate it to our advantage, in sports and construction and various other areas.

It is my belief that Luck is a fundamental force, like gravity. We merely don't understand what makes it work yet. However, as with gravity before, we can predict it and manipulate Luck. Mostly people do this through rituals or items they believe to be lucky.

Wiccans, and those that practice true witchcraft, are not flashy magicians. No fire balls or animal transformations. I believe what these individuals actually do is bend luck through ritualistic prayers they call "spells". Much of this is guess work, and likely unnecessary, however they are able to tap into the force of luck and bend it to steer certain events in their favor.

Well not as efficient at it as Demigods, living creatures can learn to bend luck themselves or ask a spirit to do so for them (which is more effective but less reliable).

String Theory suggest the existence of other dimensions. If this is true then we could assume many of these dimensions have lifeforms of their own. It is possible that the "Spirits" and "Demons" Wiccans contact through other rituals are actually beings from other dimensions. Beings attempting to make contact from their end, as the wiccans are.

Honestly I'm not sure if this part of their practice is true but I will submit for the record that it is scientifically possible. In a hypothetical situation where beings from other dimensions have a deeper understanding of String Theory then ourselves, they could, theoretically, be able to contact us.

Personally I would prefer to stay the hell away from such beings. Many of them may be benevolent but, like any other person, they likely have their own agendas and would likely expect something in return for whatever favors individuals ask for. It doesn't help that any being with such an understanding of Science would view us as inferior. At best they would consider you a pet, at worse a play thing.

If you're going to summon things for help. It's best to stick to your own loved ones, who have passed and are waiting to be reincarnated. As beings of conciousness they can influence luck more easily, rather then interact with other aspects of the physical worlds.

Ask help from family, friends, even pets that have passed, but don't just ask them for things. Talk to them (or rather think at them) when you go to bed. Tell them about your day and they will likely feel more appreciated and help you where they can. Even help answer your prayers.

To alliterate, real magic can be explained through theoretical science. If proper research is put into it, it could be proven as true someday... unfortunately because of the stigma of "magic" it is unlikely any scientist would be willing to put the research into it.

The soul itself could be proven if more research was put into identifying the unique signature of brainwaves (and attempting to track it after death). Same can be said for magic... good luck finding an eccentric billionaire willing to fund the research.

#Spiritual #Religion #Religious #Speculate #Theory

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dinafbrownil · 5 years ago

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KHN’s ‘What The Health?’: Trump Turns To Medicare

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Julie Rovner

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Rebecca Adams

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President Donald Trump tried to change the subject from his impeachment investigation by going to Florida to unveil changes to the Medicare program before an audience of seniors. The changes consist largely of enhanced benefits in private Medicare Advantage plans, which Republicans have long championed as replacements for government-run Medicare benefits.

Meanwhile, the Trump administration this week also issued guidance allowing states to add “wellness” programs to plans on the individual insurance market. The program, part of the original Affordable Care Act, was never implemented by the Obama administration. However, numerous studies have shown that wellness programs that raise or lower premiums based on participation or health goals neither save money nor improve health significantly.

This week’s panelists are Julie Rovner of Kaiser Health News, Alice Miranda Ollstein of Politico, Kimberly Leonard of the Washington Examiner and Rebecca Adams of CQ Roll Call.

Among the takeaways from this week’s podcast:

Trump’s speech Thursday comes amid the backdrop of his fierce opposition to the Affordable Care Act and is seen as an effort to highlight the administration’s goal to promote private Medicare health plans. But Democrats and other administration critics point out that these Medicare Advantage policies are more expensive than traditional Medicare and tighten restrictions on doctors and hospitals.

Trump’s speech also has the potential to remind voters that the administration has been fighting to overturn the ACA in court, which would upend many of its consumer protections, including the guarantee of coverage for people with preexisting medical problems.

The administration proposal on wellness programs has raised concerns among some consumer groups that the programs might make insurance more expensive for some people who cannot meet the health standards in those programs.

Federal officials are redistributing funding for the Title X program after Planned Parenthood and some state health departments pulled out. Those agencies objected to the administration’s rule that participating organizations could not refer women for abortions. But finding new groups to take the money may prove difficult since not many are able to handle the work or the large numbers of clients that Planned Parenthood once did.

With several state challenges to abortion rights working their way through the court system, it seems likely that the Supreme Court will adjudicate an abortion case during the 2020 presidential campaign season.

A federal court in California is weighing a suit by immigration advocates to overturn the Trump administration’s rule that would hamper legal immigrants’ efforts to gain citizenship if they have used government benefits like Medicaid or food stamps.

Also this week, Rovner interviews KHN’s Cara Anthony, who wrote the latest KHN-NPR “Bill of the Month” feature about a biopsy that was more expensive than expected. If you have an outrageous medical bill you would like to share with us, you can do that here.

Plus, for extra credit, the panelists recommend their favorite health policy stories of the week they think you should read too:

Julie Rovner: NPR’s “Workers Are Falling Ill, Even Dying, After Making Kitchen Countertops,” by Nell Greenfieldboyce

Alice Miranda Ollstein: AL.com and ProPublica’s “These Sheriffs Release Sick Inmates to Avoid Paying Their Hospital Bills,” by Connor Sheets

Kimberly Leonard: The Los Angeles Times’ “The FDA Tried to Ban Flavors Years Before the Vaping Outbreak. Top Obama Officials Rejected the Plan,” by Emily Baumgaertner

Rebecca Adams: The Washington Post’s “With the Affordable Care Act’s Future in Doubt, Evidence Grows That It Has Saved Lives,” by Amy Goldstein

To hear all our podcasts, click here.

And subscribe to What the Health? on iTunes, Stitcher, Google Play, Spotify, or Pocket Casts.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/podcast-khn-what-the-health-trump-turns-to-medicare/

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sheminecrafts · 6 years ago

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Scientists make a touch tablet that rolls and scrolls

Research scientists at Queen’s University’s Human Media Lab have built a prototype touchscreen device that’s neither smartphone nor tablet but kind of both — and more besides. The device, which they’ve christened the MagicScroll, is inspired by ancient (papyrus/paper/parchment) scrolls so it takes a rolled-up, cylindrical form factor — enabled by a flexible 7.5inch touchscreen housed in the casing.

This novel form factor, which they made using 3D printing, means the device can be used like an erstwhile Rolodex (remember those?!) for flipping through on-screen contacts quickly by turning a physical rotary wheel built into the edge of the device. (They’ve actually added one on each end.)

Then, when more information or a deeper dive is required, the user is able to pop the screen out of the casing to expand the visible display real estate. The flexible screen on the prototype has a resolution of 2K. So more mid-tier mobile phone of yore than crisp iPhone Retina display at this nascent stage.

[gallery ids="1702214,1702215,1702211,1702212,1702213"]

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

Though they admit their prototype is still rather large at this stage — albeit, that just adds to the delightfully retro feel of the thing, making it come over like a massive mobile phone of the 1980s. Like the classic Motorola 8000X Dynatac of 1984.

While still bulky at this R&D stage, the team argues the cylindrical, flexible screen form factor of their prototype offers advantages by being lightweight and easier to hold with one hand than a traditional tablet device, such as an iPad. And when rolled up they point out it can also fit in a pocket. (Albeit, a large one.)

They also imagine it being used as a dictation device or pointing device, as well as a voice phone. And the prototype includes a camera — which allows the device to be controlled using gestures, similar to Nintendo’s ‘Wiimote’ gesture system.

In another fun twist they’ve added robotic actuators to the rotary wheels so the scroll can physically move or spin in place in various scenarios, such as when it receives a notification. Clocky eat your heart out.

“We were inspired by the design of ancient scrolls because their form allows for a more natural, uninterrupted experience of long visual timelines,” said Roel Vertegaal, professor of human-computer interaction and director of the lab, in a statement.

“Another source of inspiration was the old Rolodex filing systems that were used to store and browse contact cards. The MagicScroll’s scroll wheel allows for infinite scroll action for quick browsing through long lists. Unfolding the scroll is a tangible experience that gives a full screen view of the selected item. Picture browsing through your Instagram timeline, messages or LinkedIn contacts this way!”

“Eventually, our hope is to design the device so that it can even roll into something as small as a pen that you could carry in your shirt pocket,” he added. “More broadly, the MagicScroll project is also allowing us to further examine notions that ‘screens don’t have to be flat’ and ‘anything can become a screen’. Whether it’s a reusable cup made of an interactive screen on which you can select your order before arriving at a coffee-filling kiosk, or a display on your clothes, we’re exploring how objects can become the apps.”

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

youtube

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working on a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

But whether Samsung’s definition of ‘foldable’ will translate into something as flexibly bendy as the MagicScroll prototype is highly, highly doubtful. A fused clamshell design — where two flat screens could be opened to seamlessly expand them and closed up again to shrink the device footprint for pocketability — seems a much more likely choice for Samsung designers to make, given the obvious commercial challenges of selling a device with a transforming form factor that’s also robust enough to withstand everyday consumer use and abuse.

Add to that, for all the visual fun of these things, it’s not clear that consumers would be inspired to adopt anything so different en masse. Sophisticated (and inevitably) fiddly devices are more likely to appeal to specific niche use cases and user scenarios.

For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive (and flat) glass seems to do the trick.

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nbntv-blog · 6 years ago

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[ad_1]

This novel form factor, which they made using 3D printing, means the device can be used like an erstwhile rolodex (remember those?!) for flipping through on-screen contacts quickly by turning a physical rotary wheel built into the edge of the device. (They’ve actually added one on each end.)

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

“Another source of inspiration was the old rolodex filing systems that were used to store and browse contact cards. The MagicScroll’s scroll wheel allows for infinite scroll action for quick browsing through long lists. Unfolding the scroll is a tangible experience that gives a full screen view of the selected item. Picture browsing through your Instagram timeline, messages or LinkedIn contacts this way!”

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working a a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive (and flat) glass seems to do the trick.

[ad_2] Source link

Scientists make a touch tablet that rolls and scrolls – TechCrunch Research scientists at Queen’s University’s Human Media Lab have built a prototype touchscreen device that’s neither smartphone nor tablet but kind of both — and more besides.

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technicalsolutions88 · 6 years ago

Link

[gallery ids="1702214,1702215,1702211,1702212,1702213"]

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working a a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive (and flat) glass seems to do the trick.

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sachiniyer · 6 years ago

Text

[ad_1]

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working a a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive (and flat) glass seems to do the trick.

[ad_2] Source link

0 notes

dizzedcom · 6 years ago

Text

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working a a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive (and flat) glass seems to do the trick.

Scientists make a touch tablet that rolls and scrolls Research scientists at Queen’s University’s Human Media Lab have built a prototype touchscreen device that’s neither smartphone nor tablet but kind of both — and more besides.

0 notes

fmservers · 6 years ago

Text

Scientists make a prototype touch tablet that rolls and scrolls

Research scientists at Queen’s University’s Human Media Lab have built a prototype touchscreen device that’s neither smartphone nor tablet but kinda of both — and more besides. The device, which they’ve christened the MagicScroll, is inspired by ancient scrolls so it takes a rolled-up, cylindrical form factor — enabled by a flexible 7.5inch touchscreen housed in the casing.

[gallery ids="1702214,1702215,1702211,1702212,1702213"]

The scientists also reckon the scroll form factor offers a pleasing ergonomically option for making actual phone calls too, given that a rolled up scroll can sit snugly against the face.

The team has made a video showing the prototype in action (embedded below), and will be presenting the project at the MobileHCI conference on Human-Computer Interaction in Barcelona next month.

youtube

While any kind of mobile device resembling the MagicScroll is clearly very, very far off even a sniff of commercialization (especially as these sorts of concept devices have long been teased by mobile device firms’ R&D labs — while the companies keep pumping out identikit rectangles of touch-sensitive glass… ), it’s worth noting that Samsung has been slated to be working a a smartphone with a foldable screen for some years now. And, according to the most recent chatter about this rumor, it might be released next year. Or, well, it still might not.

Add to that, for all the visual fun of these things, it’s also not clear whether consumers would be inspired to adopt anything so different en masse. Sophisticated (and, inevitably, therefore) fiddly devices are more likely to appeal to specific niche use cases and user scenarios. For the mainstream six inches of touch-sensitive glass seems to do the trick.

Via Natasha Lomas https://techcrunch.com

#TechCrunch

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