#knowing him they were probably like. social workers. traveling priests.

[tennessoui]

democratic fic part 3

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

Anakin breathes in for a count of three and out for five. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the single most vexing creature in the entire galaxy.

Not a small part of him wants to grab the boy by his throat and shake him, make him look at him. How dare he look away. How dare he test Anakin’s control so casually. It is untenable, the way the boy smirks and flutters his eyelashes and begins to walk as if Anakin’s compliance is a matter already resolved. 

“No,” Anakin steps forward and reaches out to grab his arm. Before his fingers can curl  around the bone of his wrist, Kenobi has snatched his hand away, curling it to his chest protectively. The boy turns and glares at him, all hints of sweetness washed away from his face. “I said no, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says, tone as far from alright as it can get. “Then have a good rest of your night, Senator. I will, I am sure, see you again during my stay on Coruscant, though I will not inflict my company upon you any longer—”

The boy cannot be serious. “You are throwing a tantrum,” Anakin snaps. “I will not be beholden to the whims of a spoiled princeling—”

Obi-Wan throws an embittered, fierce look over his shoulder at him. “I am the grandson of a Count, Senator, I am not a prince—”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“And no one has asked that you accompany me—”

“You just did—”

“Yes, and I have taken your rejection with aplomb—”

“Sith’s hells you have,” Anakin mutters, working his jaw furiously as his thoughts fly rapidly through his head.

Everything he knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi points to the boy being made of soft stuffs; he is bratty and rude, no doubt about it, but he does not possess the spine that would be necessary for him to truly venture into the Lower Levels of Coruscant by himself. He is simply testing Anakin’s patience for the fun of it. Perhaps the thrill of it. But a failed Jedi turned spoiled servant of the Court would never have the guts to go alone somewhere so violent and dark.

“Fine,” Anakin says, turning away himself. “Do send me a comm tomorrow morning so that I know you are alive.” “I didn’t realize you would care,” the boy sniffs, his head held incredibly high when Anakin peeks back at him. For someone apparently not born into aristocracy, he has taken to it quite well. It sets Anakin’s teeth on edge, and his whole body twitches forward, filled with the urge to put his hands on the boy’s body, ruffle him up and tear the cold mask of indifference off his face. 

These are very, very dangerous thoughts as he is quite sure that the boy would welcome those sorts of advances and Anakin has already committed to not allowing the boy into his bed. If not for the scandal should they be found, the questions of propriety, the fact that Kenobi is a ward of a foreign Count, then simply for the reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a spoiled little brat of a princeling, and Anakin is old enough to know better than to give into his demands.

He listens to Kenobi’s footsteps move further away from him, towards the elevator at the ends of the gardens that would take him to the speeder lot. He’d probably get into a speeder and fly back to his grandfather, pouting the entire way.

Yes, Anakin can see it now: Kenobi in the front seat of the speeder, full and pink bottom lip pushed out—perhaps even wobbling slightly, spit-slick too—hair a bit tangled and mussed from the wind, eye makeup smeared slightly from rubbing his hand over his face, pointing his speeder back to his grandfather’s apartments because he would never in a million years venture into the Lower Levels without some sort of guardian.

But—

What if Anakin is wrong?

After all, he only met the boy a few days ago. He has impressions of Kenobi, but that doesn’t mean the boy can’t surprise him. He’d been unexpectedly catty in the presence of Padmé: what if he could be unexpectedly brave and direct his speeder down far below the safest levels of Coruscant?

Dressed as he was, he would be noticed immediately. He’d be a target before he even stepped out of his speeder, and if anything happened to Kenobi, the blame would fall on Anakin’s shoulders.

Stars and moons and blasted suns, Anakin thinks to himself. 

He turns around. He follows Kenobi’s disappearing figure with his eyes. It’s rather easy to do at least, with how the boy glimmers and glows in the light of the lanterns as he kriffing sashays along the garden path to the elevator bays.

Anakin gnashes his teeth; Anakin’s feet start moving.

—-------

The kriffing idiot goes to the Lower Levels.

Anakin barely has time to hijack a parked speeder and point it towards Kenobi’s when the boy flies his own over the edge of the lot and down at a steep angle.

Too steep of an angle to be going anywhere but to the Lower Levels—alone, looking as he does, dressed as he is.

Anakin curses once more and follows him over the edge.

—--------

He’s just going to make sure nothing bad happens to the boy, that’s all. It’s practically his duty. And as long as Kenobi doesn’t feel him in the Force or see him following him, it won’t be giving into the boy’s whims. As long as the boy doesn’t know he’s there, then he will not think he has won, which is of the utmost importance. 

He has not won. 

This is the thought on repeat in Anakin’s head as he jumps down from his stolen speeder and lands on the ground of Level -214 solidly. Kenobi has already dragged his bike, a lithe, slim model of a speeder, into the crook of an alleyway, as if that’ll be enough to keep it safe.

Anakin lets out an explosive sigh as he watches the glimmering blue and silver figure disappear into the crowd. “Hey,” he barks to a street vendor leaning against the wall next to the mouth of that same alley, lazily using a long stick to stir a pot of foul-smelling, iridescently blue liquid. He tosses him a roll of credits. “That’s, uh. Fifty-eight credits. I’ll give you a hundred more if that bike is still there when I get back. Alright?” 

He doesn’t actually have one hundred more credits, but he knows he certainly looks like a man who does. The vendor seems to believe him, if the eager way he nods is any indication. Good. He can’t let the kriffing princeling’s speeder-bike be stolen, else the idiot would probably ask someone to give him a ride back to his apartments and either end up stolen himself or dead in a gutter.

Speaking of the princeling, Anakin can hardly see him anymore in the crowd, which obviously cannot stand. He throws the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and stalks after the boy.

Kenobi is already turning heads, just as Anakin knew he would, and while he takes a sort of sick satisfaction in being right, the feeling is mostly swallowed by a darker emotion, one that’s much harder to name. His feet pick up their pace as he watches Kenobi round an upcoming bend in the main street, eyes turned upwards as if basking in the neon lights and flickering signs. 

Fucking tourist, Anakin thinks to himself uncharitably even as he follows doggedly, eyes glued on the shifting muscles of Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders as he walks instead of the sentients on the streets around them.

Where is he even going? What does he even want to get out of this little excursion save for a layer of muck and grime on the hems of his robes and the perfume of smoke and liquor and stars know what else clinging to his skin? 

When Anakin visits these levels, it’s for a specific reason, to complete a specific purpose. He does not wander through the levels, he does not need to stop at the vendors or skulk inside the cantinas—though he has been known to indulge in the Lower Level clubs, moreso a decade or two ago than nowadays. 

It’s strange cutting through the crowds of this platform, feeling the slight sway of it beneath his feet as his ears are overwhelmed by the clamor of the inhabitants, as his eyes begin to strain under the barrage of flickering neon lights.

When he’s down here, he is usually heading towards a podrace or coming off the high of one, and this—following Kenobi in his useless, aimless trek—does not feel similar to either scenario. It feels more like he has already lost just by being here, traipsing after Kenobi’s figure like a dog on a leash.

Anakin is so distracted by his thoughts that he almost misses the moment that Kenobi stops.

Or is stopped.

Between one moment and the next, a tall, hulking form melts from the shadows of the cramped alleyway Kenobi has chosen to wander down. It’s a Zephrian, long purple horns curling around their thick and proud forehead, shoulders wider than two Kenobis put together. Their hands fall onto Kenobi, bringing him to a halt at the same time that Anakin realizes that he’s not the only one who has been following Kenobi as a much smaller figure darts forward from just in front of Anakin to launch itself up to land on Kenobi’s exposed and unguarded back, claws sinking into pale flesh and pulling a pained noise from Kenobi’s lips, high-pitched and soft, filled to the brim with surprise.

Its voice begins to chatter loudly in the narrow alley, and the Zephrian’s voice joins in, but Anakin cannot hear any of it over that sound Kenobi had made.

His feet are moving of their own accord, his body pushing roughly through the thin remnants of the crowd to get to Kenobi. 

“I—I don’t carry any credits on me,” Kenobi is saying, voice wobbling from fear or pain, Anakin doesn’t know.

The smaller figure, a Kowakian monkey-lizard, lets out a sound akin to a cackle, and its claws leave Kenobi’s skin to dive into the waves of his hair, grasping at a hair ornament—sapphire and twinkling diamond—and pulling it out of the locks with enough force that it pulls another cry from Kenobi’s lips as his hands raise to defend himself.

A moment later, Anakin is there, hand clenching down onto the Kowakian’s neck and ripping it away from Obi-Wan, the sound of his pain deafening even as it fades from the air. The Kowakian goes flying—Anakin hasn’t used the Force consciously in years, but that has to be what rises up and responds to the push of his hand, that has to be the reason the monkey-lizard slams so hard into the wall of the alleyway that the plaster cracks in multiple places as its body snaps.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, a punched-out, instinctual noise that Anakin has no idea how to interpret. He cannot turn to look at him either, because the Zephrian’s hazy red eyes go wide as he focuses them with what looks like great difficulty on the monkey-lizard’s rather unmoving body.

“Go,” Anakin commands, voice low and quiet, his body carefully moving in front of Kenobi’s as the boy shifted towards him, curled up on himself with one hand pressed to his face as if terribly injured or frightened. The Zephrian steps backwards, mouth twisting, and then steps forward with his mouth stretches into an angry snarl, eyes hazy with drink. The Force reverberates around them with a warning, and the Zephrian takes another aborted step forward, chest heaving.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan cries, and Anakin’s hand shoots out. The Force runs up and down his arm, like a loth-cat batting at him for affection. You’ve returned, it seems to murmur in the air around them, nuzzling against his mind, his soul. 

He pushes out, picturing the Zephrian going flying as far and as hard as the Kowakian had, and the Force obeys with glee. The would-be attacker’s feet lift off the ground as he’s thrown into the same cracked wall as the monkey. Anakin hears his body connect with the duraplast, but he doesn’t watch it, swinging around fully to glare down at Kenobi.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he’s growling out before he can stop himself, vision turning red as he glowers down at stubborn, willful, beautiful Kenobi. He takes a step forward, and Kenobi does not move except to tilt his head further up.

His eyes are dilated. Fear?

He should be afraid. Anakin has just—Anakin does not know what he’s just done, but there’s no undoing it. The Force is swirling around him like a churning whirlpool, the sort that sucked souls in and spat them out on Kamino for thousands of years. There had been a reason the Jedi warned him against using the Force. A reason he hadn’t touched his connection with it in decades, had simply suffered through its warnings and nudges and prods.

Now all his reasons lay in tatters around him, and the Force is so fucking loud.

Obi-Wan isn’t so much as breathing as he looks up at him, pink lips wet and parted as he allows him to approach, to back him up against the other side of the alley wall.

“What did I tell you?” Anakin snarls, hand falling to rest on Kenobi’s shoulder while the other makes a fist at his side. He’d fucking said—and now someone’s gone and made a mess of Kenobi’s hair; someone’s gone and clawed at his dimpled chin, leaving a long scrape up one cheek, leaving marks across the play of muscles on his back, leaving his eyes wide with fear which never would have happened if he’d just listened. His hand jumps up to smooth out the messy tangle of Kenobi’s hair, tenderness in the face of his fear warring with righteous anger.

“Is that what you wanted to see, princeling?” he murmurs, tightening his grip on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Was that enough of a Lower Levels experience for you?”

The boy shivers.

(Link to the corresponding poll for this fic)

#democratic fic #a bit shorter and i won't put it on ao3 until i have the results of the next poll and write it out #but im very interested in your votes for this next poll and the one after that #do you think obi-wan is really actually afraid ;) #obikin #i will answer that now: no he is not he is aroused out his damn MIND boy would be on his knees if anakin wasn't holding him up #also yeah 1000% obi-wan mind tricked those two into attacking him #knowing him they were probably like. social workers. traveling priests. #doesn't matter. they had low shields and obi-wan wanted to see what anakin could do #boy did he deliver

[lunanheartache]

i wrote this to be a whore lore summary but it ended up more as crossroads lore beats after he gets to lot SO heres some crossy lore under the cutt, warning for mentions of underage / child prostitution

crossroads whore lore important beats

* starts out as a survival thing within the first few months of running away from the convent. he is (probably) 15 at most

* it doesn't work the greatest. he and nowhere are both very much social pariahs, more or less assumed / taken as demons

* obviously this is not things im going to write. dont need to think abt it. but its important & relevant to his character

* main things here: he falls into it bc hes seen other street kids do it successfully and get a meal / a room for a night, he is just trying to get nowhere something to eat and a place to sleep if he can. this is clearly a harder sell, asking for essentially 2x payment. also a harder sell bc to the general populace he is more or less infectious. he is scary even as a starving desperate child. it is the skeeviest places in the slums that hes able to get any scores, and even then its very hit or miss

* hes a scary demon child so even creeps (in deeply religious town) dont want to fuck him. basically forced into blowjobs when someone takes him on

* none of this is fun. he is scared & desperate & trying to take care of his brother who still occasionally goes kind of catatonic. hes 15. it sucks. he does not tell nowhere. start of a feeling of personal shame (distinct from before bc they both were "the same." now this is crossroads doing something "bad" himself)

* goes on for a while. it is sporadic & by no means their primary source of income. mostly they are grifting and stealing. crossroads is maybe 17/18/19 when nowhere gets his job with the baker. now they have a relatively stable thing

* with nowheres crime money (not murder yet) they have a consistent room and consistent food (aka can eat once a day for sure). it also means crossy has more time on his hands and more time alone

* he is still a gay teen / young adult. some exploring of the self now that he has a luxury. hes also working more and more magic into his grifts as he figures it out. his grifts get more elaborate bc he can plan them and its just him

* figures hed have better luck magically disguised. cue small uptick in sex work that ends up a little more complicated - hes looking for more money (but they have some) and hes curious. chaotic brain times. agonizing. but hes learning

* starts his priest scam in his early 20s. long con over several months. uses it to get into richer parts of town. early days of it (most human looking) outside of indulgences, hes mostly hamming up the sexually inexperienced & shy priest shtick in bathhouses

* later in his scams, bathhouses stop working. again people dont like to fuck him when he looks how he does & hes kind of into bottoming at this point. he turns more to hanging around the bar of a rich hotel (lion's head) and trolling a bit - hotel is more travelers who arent as bothered by his looks / were going to pay for a hotel escort anyway

* he does not account for this second thing. he doesnt realize the hotel probably has its own sex workers bc in his mind its a poor thing and this place is rich

* (these next few bullet points are whore lore part 1 that i wrote and its technically posted)

* eventually confronted by a hotel employee (technically the owner but crossy has no idea). takes him into a back office and is like essentially like hi. i know youre whoring at my hotel. if you want you can work for me and ull make loads more money

* crossy tries to keep up his priest shtick until the guy pushes that little bit too far for him to do so. he cracks. discussion

* guy (john) is like look. i got clients who talk. bunches r askin me about the priest and i dont have a priest. i can charge like 300% more than what youre charging, you can pick when you want to work (for the enforced scarcity, so ppl pay more when he Is around), and you can keep a good cut. also bc of ur priest shtick i gotta put you in penis jail if ur working. its a bit the clients think its great. hilarious

* crossy is like fantasy jesus christ. youll pay me how much? i dont care what you do, hell yeah. lock me up. i can jack off at home. what do i care when youre paying me that much

* (horny things happen in fic. main important points: crossy, for all of his talk, is still relatively inexperienced bc. people dont want to deal with him. john is like that is fine, i train all my guys :) we'll figure out what you like)

* whore lore part 2 and anything else is crossy trying to navigate this new thing. johns thing is he claims a "reputation for enthusiasm" so cross doesnt have to do anything he doesnt care for. cross is baffled by this & the idea that hes supposed to feel good here. john introduces him to some things. cross falls hard into submissive mode bc he basically doesnt have to think or worry about anything (and thats all he does otherwise. hes an anxious guy). he winds up a little obsessed / addicted to getting to shut his mind off

* starts going to the hotel just for that & the money is more of a bonus. sometimes just shows up when hes had a bad brain day

* he goes wild buying him and nowhere new clothes and sheets and pillows and just everything they couldnt afford before. he still does not tell nowhere what hes doing. when hes not working, waffles between intense shame and like big ol arrogance

#oc posting: crossroads #lot o lore

[exalok]

whaddup my dudes!!!

i am tired and wired and this means brain no writey but brain VERY focused on absolutely all the fic i have going on at once that aren’t prompts (prompts will be incoming, no worries dissociation anon)

and THAT means y’all get to hear about my many. many. MANY projects, or at least the ones that make my heart go pitter patter when i think of them

a few examples: demon!corvo and priest!daud with extra worldbuilding ; the naptime cuddles AU ; corvo doesn’t come to dunwall so jess and daud end up arranged-married for profit (more info..... under the readmore..... i’m gonna get rambly)

also feel free to ask questions, i love questions and they get me thinking even more in depth about the world and specific instances of characters and that is the entire POINT

LIKE OKAY SO MY BRAIN PRETTY MUCH CONTINUOUSLY THROWS IDEAS AT THE WALL AND ABOUT 95% OF THEM STICK BECAUSE I’M A HOARDING RAT BASTARD i love my ideas they are my precioussss

i might have about. 25 fic more or less active at the moment? which sounds like a reasonable number but those are the ones i have an actual plot for as well as the will to get them out into the world

let’s put aside the ones i have actually posted on tumblr or ao3 (teen!daud, domestic zombie apocalypse, bondageverse, knife!corvo) in favor of those you have either no or little idea exist. begin:

I MEAN OBVIOUSLY I MADE FANFIC OF MY OWN FANFIC or as i call it parallel/companion fic, because at some point in the past a prompter inspired me and i was deep in the prince!daud fic at the time and i thought what if high chaos. what if void monster corvo? what if horrifying yet human creature of the depths!!! what if EVERYTHING was TERRIBLE and daud killed corvo as a last ditch and vain attempt to get his people out of burrows’ clutches, and it all went to shit from there??? also they’re bound by marriage contract and the vagaries of magical intention and daud becomes corvo’s life battery, in essence, which you can imagine leads to a very unhealthy relationship i think it’s not spoilering much to tell you it does NOT end well, and i’ll be writing it as a sort of foil to low chaos prince!daud

i have quite a few high chaos fics actually. high chaos is depressing to play but the story outcomes are DELICIOUS and the degrading world and character motivations are a lot of fun to play around in

weirdly enough another one of these high chaos fics is the naptime cuddles AU!!! i won’t lie it’s the one i am currently on and i want to talk about it to everyone so bad constantly. in short, corvo doesn’t kill daud and the whalers because he’s trying to get out and currently too fucked up to fight, and when he doesn’t manage to save emily despite his best efforts he comes back to daud for some kind of symbolic execution. meanwhile thomas convinced daud to take a goddamn nap with him there because daud, despite his paranoia, does sleep better with people around, and this is entirely an excuse for semi-platonic daudthomascorvo cuddles in bed followed by whaler puppypiles when the gang catches on that this is a thing they can do now I LOVE PUPPYPILE WHALERS I LOVE NAPS I LOVE REDEMPTION THROUGH THE POWER OF RESTORATIVE SLEEP please i’m so tired and i can’t actually fall asleep next to people let me live my dream vicariously additionally: this will be my contribution to the absolutely wonderful whaler vineyard of old fanon

there is also what i feel should be a classic and ISN’T though a couple of fics were written around the concept and one in particular is /chef kiss, and the concept is: high chaos corvo meets low chaos corvo!!!!! i made it a threesome with daud because no one can stop me and i fucking LOVE the idea of daud ending up capable of telling them apart through tiny details even when high chaos corvo, bastard that he is, tries to impersonate low chaos corvo, who is a bastard in much more subtle ways and would probably be better at impersonating hc!c than the other way around but finds it distasteful; also i added intense body horror because that’s how i roll and there are eventual magical CONSEQUENCES to hc!c being in the low chaos world and regularly in contact with what is essentially his narrative double when he doesn’t belong there, probably ends in a tragically bittersweet way, i’m not completely clear on it yet though i do have ideas

and oh man......... the time travel corvo fic.... the one where high chaos corvo ends up in his own seven-year-old body........... fuck i hashed out so much of the general worldbuilding for that one and ended up going way too far and imagining a sequel like i always do where corvo learns how to walk universes and gathers people he cares about from places where he can actually save them from their eventual tragic futures and the dissolution of their timelines once the outsider is ousted from the void and a new void avatar is made and SHENANIGANS YO!!! SHENANIGANS AND CAMPING!!!! SELF-CROSSOVERS!!!!!!! I COULD HAVE HIM MEET HIMSELF IF HE HADN’T TRAVELED BACK I’M CRYING I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS

the one where corvo is a fae child is probably a lil bit high chaos though it isn’t determined yet, and he has all of these instincts with regards to possessing and exchange and deals, and assumptions as to how other people must work approximately the same, and he is so wrong. then there’s the really creepy bad touch possible sequel that i won’t get into unless someone specifically asks because it’s a lil bit much really

oh MAN oh SHIT speaking of bad touch there’s another dead dove do not eat one where i grabbed an entire handful of granny rags’ apparent fucking around with magical arrays and rune creation and general spellery and threw it at corvo post-interregnum and he sees “ghosts” and doesn’t understand what the FUCK is going on and things go really badly for him, and one ghost, soon the only ghost, is daud, and corvo doesn’t know if he’s real, if he’s seeing things, if he’s NOT seeing things but daud is some kind of void demon, if he is and also having psychotic breaks he doesn’t remember because he ends up with some hellish bruises, but the real daud is actually still out there just hiding out and corvo will eventually meet up with him and real daud will meet fake daud and even more shit will happen

god, the demon!corvo AU gets pretty fucked up as well if i remember right; corvo is both some dude with a wife and kid and the demon that inhabits him, jess is his wife and the demon that inhabits her (to be clear, separate characters but both based on either jess or corvo oh my GOD what if i switched the demons that would be amazing but no, calm down, maybe for a short what-if scenario that will inevitably turn into its own thing), daud is the overseer with the really good exorcism record trying to get the demons to fuck off except he thinks there’s only one of them and the other takes him by surprise; cue daud being hunted by that demon, furious that daud shattered his favorite pupil, and some revelations about what exactly lives inside the abbey and also under it

on a somewhat lighter note, the one where corvo never comes to dunwall (i think his mom gets sick and he doesn’t win the blade verbena at sixteen?) is also where jess keeps losing her royal protectors to assassination attempts because the first one was decent and died protecting her and the second one was decent and had an accident and people start believing there’s a curse on the position or a curse on her, and she’s like okay so how do i make sure i don’t die now that no one is willing to become my protector since it’s pretty much a death sentence, and she arranges a meeting with the best assassin in the city and suggests an alliance -- protection and some commission overview, all secret, versus funding and housing -- in the form of a marriage and daud ends up agreeing; then later duke abele visits and corvo is among his personal guard and he gets to meet the empress, and the assassin, and there are ot3 shenanigans

oh my GOD also the kids in karnaca AU. obviously. fuck you may have seen the (dis)armingly charmed notefic but this would be them meeting as actual kids, in karnaca, just tiny babies, daud recently kidnapped and corvo doing his best to make this cool older kid into his friend and also maybe hiding him from the people who want to train him to do Illegal Things, and there are dumb childish arguments and daud goes on the run to avoid capture and there is an exchange of letters that at one point stops and corvo is Devastated and there is a REUNION and they are ADORABLE but also INCREDIBLY STUPID, AS IS RIGHT AND CORRECT, and i don’t know what happens later but it gives me warm fuzzies okay

then i have a NUMBER of oneshots that are more or less plotted out, like the one where jess has a kind of groundhog day because Heart reasons but over months and starts out not quite remembering what happened in past attempts and OF COURSE it ends with royal ot3; and there’s the one where Daud becomes the Outsider and is very temporally confused and OF COURSE it ends with corvodaud who do you take me for (including Very Perplexing arguments where daud doesn’t know at what point in this relationship’s development he is and corvo is angry or very patient depending on where he accidentally time travels to, and i make some assumptions about the non-linearity of the void avatar’s existence); and there’s the one where corvo catches the plague and gets through kingsparrow to get emily out then to people he trusts, ie the curnows and sam beechworth, then crawls away to die, but daud finds him and sighs and rolls up his sleeves and sends whalers to the Tower and emily thinks the Tower is haunted then, when it becomes very clear the Tower is not, demands one of these assassins teach her how to stab a bitch; AND THERE’S THE ONE WHERE CORVO AND JESS ARE GHOSTS AND DAUD IS A REAL ESTATE AGENT AND THE WHALERS ARE THE KIDS HE TRIED TO HELP OUT AS A SOCIAL WORKER and yes it’s ot3 and yes he buys the ghost house and ends up being filmed by the whalers to do cooking videos and fancy knife tricks and asmr because his voice is insanely soothing when he’s not being ornery; oh fuck and there’s the one where i wrote an unrequited corvodaud prompt and my brain grabbed it, smelled it, and decided that corvo very reluctantly falling for daud was necessary to the health of my feelings, and there is at least one (1) sleeping beauty coma while corvo yells at the outsider about the Heart; also there’s the one where in D2 billie was evasive about the old guy living with her on her boat and em finds daud rather than sokolov in jindosh’s basement and they have long, emotional discussions; and for the character building hell of it one that would span the outsider’s beginnings and growth and how the void tries to welcome him in

okay........................ i think i’m done rambling now

i love fanfic y’all

#dishonored #writins #so many writins #gonna have me a nap now

[scifigeneration]

Futurology: how a group of visionaries looked beyond the possible a century ago and predicted today's world

by Max Saunders

We need more blue-sky thinking. Yolanda Sun/Unsplash

From shamanic ritual to horoscopes, humans have always tried to predict the future. Today, trusting predictions and prophecies has become part of daily life. From the weather forecast to the time the sat-nav says we will reach our destination, our lives are built around futuristic fictions.

Of course, while we may sometimes feel betrayed by our local meteorologist, trusting their foresight is a lot more rational than putting the same stock in a TV psychic. This shift toward more evidence-based guesswork came about in the 20th century: futurologists began to see what prediction looked like when based on a scientific understanding of the world, rather than the traditional bases of prophecy (religion, magic, or dream). Genetic modification, space stations, wind power, artificial wombs, video phones, wireless internet, and cyborgs were all foreseen by “futurologists” from the 1920s and 1930s. Such visions seemed like science fiction when first published.

They all appeared in the brilliant and innovative “To-Day and To-Morrow” books from the 1920s, which signal the beginning of our modern conception of futurology, in which prophecy gives way to scientific forecasting. This series of over 100 books provided humanity – and science fiction – with key insights and inspiration. I’ve been immersed in them for the last few years while writing the first book about these fascinating works – and have found that these pioneering futurologists have a lot to teach us.

In their early responses to the technologies emerging then – aircraft, radio, recording, robotics, television – the writers grasped how those innovations were changing our sense of who we are. And they often gave startlingly canny previews of what was coming next, as in the case of Archibald Low, who in his 1924 book Wireless Possibilities, predicted the mobile phone: “In a few years time we shall be able to chat to our friends in an aeroplane and in the streets with the help of a pocket wireless set.”

Some of the books in the series. Max Saunders, Author provided

My immersion in these historic visions of the future has also shown me that looking at this collection of sparkling projections can teach us a lot about current prediction attempts, which today are dominated by methodologies claiming scientific rigour, such as “horizon scanning”, “scenario planning” and “anticipatory governance”. Unlike the corporate, bland way in which most of this professional future gazing takes place within government, think-tanks and corporations, the scientists, writers, and experts who wrote these books produced very individual visions.

They were committed to thinking about the future on a scientific basis. But they were also free to imagine futures that would exist for other reasons than corporate or governmental advantage. The resulting books are sometimes fanciful, but their fancy occasionally gets them further than today’s more cautious and methodical projections.

Forecasting future discoveries

Take J B S Haldane, the brilliant mathematical geneticist, whose book Daedalus; or: Science and the Future inspired the whole series in 1923. It ranges widely across the sciences, trying to imagine what remained to be done in each.

Haldane thought the main work in physics had been done with the Theory of Relativity and the development of quantum mechanics. The main tasks left seemed to him to be the delivery of better engineering: faster travel and better communications.

Chemistry, too, he saw as likely to be concerned more with practical applications, such as inventing new flavours or developing synthetic food, rather than making theoretical advances. He also realised that alternatives would be needed to fossil fuels and predicted the use of wind power. Most of his predictions have been fulfilled (though we’re still waiting eagerly for those new flavours, which have to be better than salted caramel).

The first cultured hamburger, 2013. World Economic Forum, CC BY

It’s chastening, though, how much even such a clear-sighted and ingenious scientist missed, especially in the future of theoretical physics. He doubted nuclear power would be viable. He couldn’t know about future discoveries of new particles leading to radical changes to the model of the atom. Nor, in astronomy, could he see the theoretical prediction of black holes, the theory of the big bang or the discovery of gravitational waves.

But, at the dawn of modern genetics, he saw that biology held some of the most exciting possibilities for future science. He foresaw genetic modification, arguing that: “We can already alter animal species to an enormous extent, and it seems only a question of time before we shall be able to apply the same principles to our own.” If this sounds like Haldane supported eugenics, it’s important to note that he was vocally opposed to forced sterilisation, and didn’t subscribe to the overtly racist and ableist eugenics movement that was en vogue in America and Germany at the time.

But the development that caught the eye of so many readers was what Haldane called “ectogenesis” – his term for growing embryos outside the body, in artificial wombs. Many of the other contributors took up the idea, as did other thinkers – the most notable being Haldane’s close friend Aldous Huxley, who was to use it in Brave New World, with its human “hatcheries” cloning the citizens and workers of the future. It was also Haldane who coined the word “clone”.

Ectogenesis still seems like science fiction. But the reality is getting closer. It was announced in May 2016 that human embryos had been successfully grown in an “artificial womb” for 13 days – just one day short of the legal limit, which prompting an inevitable ethical row. And in April 2017 an artificial womb designed to nurture premature human babies was successfully trialled on sheep. So even that prediction of Haldane’s may well be realised soon, perhaps within a century after it was made. Although artificial wombs will probably be used, at first, as a prosthesis to cope with medical emergencies, before they become routine options, on a par with caesareans or surrogacy.

Science, then, was not just science for these writers. It had social and political consequences, as does prediction. Many of the contributors of this series were social progressives, in sexual as well as political matters. Haldane looked forward to the doctor taking over from the priest and science separating sexual pleasure from reproduction. In ectogenesis, he foresaw that women could be relieved of the pain and inconvenience of bearing children. As such, the idea could be seen as a feminist thought experiment – though some feminists might now see it as a male attempt to control women’s bodies.

What this reveals is how shrewd these writers were about the controversies and social proclivities of the age. At a time when too many thinkers were seduced by the pseudoscience of eugenics, Haldane was scathing about it. He had better ideas about how humanity might want to transform itself.

What this reveals is how shrewd these writers were about the controversies and social proclivities of the age. At a time when too many thinkers were seduced by the pseudoscience of eugenics, Haldane was scathing about it. He had better ideas about how humanity might want to transform itself. While most of the scholars musing on eugenics merely supported white supremacy, Haldane’s motives suggest he’d be delighted at the advent of technologies like CRISPR – a method by which humankind could better itself in ways that mattered, like curing congenital disease.

Alternate futures

Some of To-Day and To-Morrow’s predictions of technological developments are impressively accurate, such as video phones, space travel to the moon, robotics and air attacks on capital cities. But others are charmingly inaccurate.

Oliver Stewart’s 1927 volume, Aeolus or: The Future of the Flying Machine, argued that British craftsmanship would triumph over American mass production. He was excited by autogiros – small aircraft with a propeller for thrust and a freewheeling rotor on top, for which there was a craze at the time. He thought travellers would use those for short-haul flights, transferring for long-haul to flying boats – passenger planes with boat-like bodies that could take off from, and land on, the sea. Flying boats certainly had their vogue for glamorous voyages across the ocean, but disappeared as airliners became bigger and longer range and as more airports were built.

The Dornier Do X was the largest, heaviest, and most powerful flying boat in the world when it was produced by the Dornier company in Germany in 1929. Wikipedia, CC BY

The To-Day and To-Morrow series, like all futurology, is full of such parallel universes. Paths history could well have taken, but didn’t. In the rousing 1925 feminist volume Hypatia or: Woman and knowledge, Bertrand Russell’s wife Dora proposed that women should be paid for household work. Unfortunately, this has not come to pass either.

The film critic Ernest Betts, meanwhile, writes in 1928’s Heraclitus; or The Future of films that “the film of a hundred years hence, if it is true to itself, will still be silent, but it will be saying more than ever”. His timing was terrible, as the first “talkie”, The Jazz Singer, had just come out. But Betts’s vision of film’s distinctiveness and integrity – the expressive possibilities open to it when it brackets off sound – and of its potential as a universal human language, cutting across different linguistic cultures, remains admirable.

The difficulty with future thinking is to guess which of the forking paths leads to our real future. In most of the books, moments of surprisingly accurate prediction are tangled up with false prophecies. This isn’t to say that the accuracy is just a matter of chance. Take another of the most dazzling examples, The World, the Flesh and the Devil by the scientist J D Bernal, one of the great pioneers of molecular biology. This has influenced science fiction writers, including Arthur C Clarke, who called it “the most brilliant attempt at scientific prediction ever made”.

Bernal sees science as enabling us to transcend limits. He doesn’t think we should settle for the status quo if we can imagine something better. He imagines humans needing to explore other worlds and to get them there he imagines the construction of huge life-supporting space stations called bio-spheres, now named after him as “Bernal spheres”. Imagine the international space station, scaled up to small planet or asteroid size.

Brain in a vat

When Bernal turns to the flesh, things get rather stranger. A lot of the To-Day and To-Morrow writers were interested in how we use technologies as prosthesis, to extend our faculties and abilities through machines. But Bernal takes it much further. First, he thinks about mortality – or more specifically – about the limit of our lifespan. He wonders what science might be able to do to extend it.

In most deaths the person dies because the body fails. So what if the brain could be transferred to a machine host, which could keep it, and therefore the thinking person, alive much longer?

Bernal’s thought experiment develops the first elaboration of what philosophers now call the “brain in a vat” hypothesis. Except they’re usually concerned with questions of perception and illusion (if my brain in a vat was sent electrical signals identical to the ones sent by my legs, would I think I was walking? Would I be able to tell the difference?). But Bernal has more pragmatic ends in view. Not only would his Dalek-like machines be able to extend our brain life, they’d be able to extend our capabilities. They would give us stronger limbs and better senses.

Bernal wasn’t the first to postulate what we’d now call the cyborg. It had already appeared in pulp science fiction a couple of years earlier – talking, believe it or not, about ectogenesis.

But it’s where Bernal takes the idea next that is so interesting. Like Haldane’s, his book is one of the founding texts of transhumanism – the idea that humanity should improve its species. He envisions a small sense organ for detecting wireless frequencies, eyes for infra-red, ultra-violet and X-rays, ears for supersonics, detectors of high and low temperatures, of electrical potential and current.

With that wireless sense Bernal imagined how humanity could be in touch with others, regardless of distance. Even fellow humans across the galaxy in their biospheres could be within reach. And, like several of the series’ authors, he imagines such interconnection as augmenting human intelligence, of producing what science fiction writers have called a hive mind, or what Haldane calls a “super-brain”.

It’s not AI exactly because its components are natural: individual human brains. And in some ways, coming from Marxist intellectuals like Haldane and Bernal, what they’re imagining is a particular realisation of solidarity. Workers of the world uniting, mentally. Bernal even speculates that if your thoughts could be broadcast direct to other minds in this way, then they would continue to exist even after the individual brain that thought them had died. And so would offer a form of immortality guaranteed by science instead of religion.

Blind spots

But from a modern point of view what’s more interesting is how Bernal effectively imagined the world wide web, more than 60 years before its invention by Tim Berners Lee. What neither Bernal, nor any of the To-Day and To-Morrow contributors could imagine, though, was the computers needed to run it – even though they were only about 15 years away when he was writing. And it is these computers that have so ramped up and transformed these early attempts at futurology into the industry it is today.

How can we account for this computer-shaped hole at the centre of so many of these prophecies? It was partly that mechanical or “analogue” computers such as punched card machines and anti-aircraft gun “predictors” (which helped gunners aim at rapidly moving targets) had become so good at calculation and information retrieval. So good, in fact, that to the inventor and To-day and To-morrow author H Stafford Hatfield what was needed next was what he called “the mechanical brain”.

So these thinkers could see that some form of artificial intelligence was required. But even though electronics were developing rapidly, in radios and even televisions, it didn’t yet seem obvious – it didn’t even seem to occur to people – that if you wanted to make something that functioned more like a brain it would need to be electronic, rather than mechanical or chemical. But that was exactly the moment when neurological experiments by Edgar Adrian and others in Cambridge were beginning to show that what made the human brain tick was actually the electrical impulses that powered the nervous system.

Just 12 years later, in 1940 – before the development of the first digital computer, Colossus at Bletchley Park – it was possible for Haldane (again) to see that what he called “Machines that Think” were beginning to appear, combining electrical and mechanical technologies. In some ways our situation is comparable, as we sit poised just before the next great digital disruption: AI.

A Colossus codebreaking computer, 1943. Wikimedia Commons

Bernal’s book is a fascinating example of just how far extended future thinking can go. Further than actual science, or science fiction, or philosophy or anything else. But it also shows where it reaches its limits. If we can understand why the To-Day and To-Morrow authors were able to predict biospheres, mobile phones and special effects, but not the computer, the crisis in obesity, or the resurgence of religious fundamentalisms, then maybe we can learn about the blind spots in our own forward vision and horizon scanning.

Beyond the simple wows and comedic effects of these hits and misses, we need more than ever to learn from these past examples about the potential and dangers of future thinking. We would do well to look closely at what might helps us to be better futurologists, as well as at what might be blocking our vision.

Yesterday and today

The pairing of scientific knowledge and imagination in these books created something unique – a series of hypotheticals somewhat lodged between futurology and science fiction. It is this sense of hopeful imagination that I think urgently needs to be injected back into today’s predictions.

Because computers have transformed contemporary futurology in major ways: especially in terms of where and how it is carried out. As I have mentioned, computer modelling of the future mainly happens in businesses or organisations. Banks and other financial companies want to anticipate shifts in the markets. Retailers need to be aware of trends. Governments need to understand demographic shifts and military threats. Universities want to drill down into the data of these or other fields to try to understand and theorise what is happening.

To do this kind of complex forecasting well, you have to be a fairly large corporation or organisation with adequate resources. The bigger the data, the hungrier the exercise becomes for computing power. You need access to expensive equipment, specialist programmers and technicians. Information that citizens freely offer to companies such as Facebook or Amazon is sold on to other companies for their market research – as many were shocked to discover in the Cambridge Analytica scandal.

The main techniques which today’s governments and industries use to try to prepare for or predict the future – horizon scanning and scenario planning – are all well and good. They may help us nip wars and financial crashes in the bud – though rather obviously, they don’t always get it right either. But as a model for thinking about the future more generally, or for thinking about other aspects of the future, such methods are profoundly reductive.

They’re all about maintaining the status quo, about risk aversion. Any interesting ideas or innovative speculations that are about anything other than risk avoidance are likely to get pushed aside. The group nature of think-tanks and foresight teams also has a levelling down effect. Future thinking by committee has a tendency to come out in bureaucratese: bland, impersonal, insipid. The opposite of science fiction.

Horizon scanning doesn’t tend to produce any particularly exciting ideas. Zhao jiankang/Shutterstock.com

Which is perhaps why science fiction needs to put its imagination in hyperdrive: to boldly go where the civil servants and corporate aparatchiks are too timid to venture. To imagine something different. Some science fiction is profoundly challenging in the sheer otherness of its imagined worlds.

That was the effect of 2001 or Solaris, with their imagining of other forms of intelligence, as humans adapt to life in space. Kim Stanley Robinson takes both ideas further in his novel 2312, imagining humans with implanted quantum computers and different colony cultures as people find ways of living on other planets, building mobile cities to keep out of the sun’s heat on Mercury, or terraforming planets, even hollowing out asteroids to create new ecologies as art works.

When we compare To-Day and To-Morrow with the kinds of futurology on offer nowadays, what’s most striking is how much more optimistic most of the writers were. Even those like Haldane and Vera Brittain (she wrote a superb volume about women’s rights in 1929) who had witnessed the horrors of modern technological war, saw technology as being the solution rather than the problem.

Imagined futures nowadays are more likely to be shadowed by risk, by anxieties about catastrophes, whether natural (asteroid collision, mega-tsunami) or man-made (climate change and pollution). The damage industrial capitalism has inflicted on the planet has made technology seem like the enemy now. Certainly, until anyone has any better ideas, and tests them, reducing carbon emissions, energy waste, pollution, and industrial growth seem like our best bet.

Imagining positive change

The only thing that looks likely to convince us to change our ways is the dawning conviction that we have left it too late. That even if we cut emissions to zero now, global warming has almost certainly passed the tipping point and will continue to rise to catastrophic levels regardless of what we do to try to stop it.

That realisation is beginning to generate new ideas about technological solutions – ways of extracting carbon from the atmosphere or of artificially reducing sunlight over the polar ice caps. Such proposals are controversial, attacked as encouragements to carry on with Anthropocene vandalism and expect someone else to clear up our mess.

But they might also show that we are at an impasse in future thinking, and are in danger of losing the ability to imagine positive change. That too is where comparison with earlier attempts to predict the future might be able to help us. They could show us how different societies in different periods have different orientations towards the past or the future.

Where the modernism of the 1920s and 30s was very much oriented towards the future, we are more obsessed with the past, with nostalgia. Ironically, the very digital technology that came with such a futuristic promise is increasingly used in the service of heritage and the archive. Cinematic special effects are more likely to deliver feudal warriors and dragons, rather than rockets and robots.

But if today’s futurologists could get back in touch with the imaginative energies of their predecessors, perhaps they would be better equipped to devise a future we could live with.

About The Author:

Max Saunders is Professor of English at King's College London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

This article is part of Conversation Insights The Insights team generates long-form journalism derived from interdisciplinary research. The team is working with academics from different backgrounds who have been engaged in projects aimed at tackling societal and scientific challenges.

#featured #futurology #history #history of the future #science fiction #futurism #technopolitics

[luvknow]

royal au | the prince, lee felix

PRINCE - next in line for the crown.

LEE FELIX was the most adored prince in all the land. the townspeople dubbed him prince charming when the king held a party in celebration of his birth and all he did was giggle and smile at all the people. felix grew up to be the most handsome and sought after prince in the entire world. but to you, every person who bore a crown was the same - it meant they had money, and lots of it. as a highly-trained thief, you’ve stolen from people of all social statuses and always succeeded, moving from kingdom to kingdom so you would never be found. the lees were your next target, but you realized this heist wouldn’t be as easy as your previous ones when the prince takes an interest in you.

enemies to lovers ; fluff ; female reader ; 6k

woojin | chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | FELIX | seungmin | jeongin

the backstory of how you became a thief was just like any other thief’s - typical and painfully sad.

the homeless life in your home kingdom was dangerous because stealing was a straight-to-execution crime.

the second you were caught in the market stealing from the pockets of nobles or even a few apples, authorities would drag you to the guillotine or to be hung - it depended on how they were feeling that day.

but that mostly applied to adults. kids were a bit different, but it was much easier to steal as a kid because people felt sorry for you.

you didn’t want to take any chances, though, so you stole things carefully.

soon, it became second nature to you and that’s how you survived through the days.

whether it was money or food, you honed the skill quite well with both distraction and stealth and you thought no one had caught you.

then one day, as you were eating your loaf of bread, a woman wearing a mask cornered you in an alley.

you thought she was the wife of the baker and was ready to kill you right then and there, but that was not the case at all.

“you’re pretty good at that, little one,” she said seductively. “can you show me that again? i’ll make it worth your while.”

she dangled a little baggie of coins in front of your face and who were you to refuse that? you nodded eagerly, awaiting her demand.

“good. go get that jar of honey for me, will you, sweetheart?”

the jars of honey were stacked neatly on a crate placed closest to the shop owner. this was probably your most dangerous product yet, but you literally had nothing to lose.

other than your life, of course, but even that didn’t matter so much.

the shop owner was busy flirting with some brothel worker when you approached the shop. since distracting was already covered, you had one less job to do.

the jars were quite big and oddly-shaped, so sticking this in your shirt would not be ideal.

instead, since the sleeves of your dirty shirt were long and oversized, your plan was to slip one inside and carry it that way.

when you stopped in front of the honey, you did your usual look-around, making sure no one was watching you.

then, you snagged a jar and zig zagged your way through the market to lose sight of anyone you missed who could have been watching you.

you appeared in front of the lady minutes later, who was startled by how quiet and quick you were.

you were perfect.

“oh, thank you! here’s your payment, as promised,” she said, handing you the small bag.

as you held the coins curiously, not used to the weight and amount, she continued on. “do you have a home, little one?”

you shook your head.

a mischievous grin grew on your painted lips. “would you like one?”

turns out your new older sister is one of the most wanted people in the entire world with a very heavy bounty on her head.

she refuses to get caught but also refuses to give up this luxuriously dangerous life she worked so hard for.

that’s where you come in. her purpose is to train you to become as skilled and stealthy as her and have you do all the dirty work in exchange for some of the earnings and companionship.

you didn’t hesitate at the opportunity. it’s not like you had anything better to do.

besides, all the training was a lot of fun! you learned to shoot arrows, fight with a sword, and some hand-to-hand combat skills.

you trained from dawn to dusk as you and your master travelled between kingdoms. when the sun set was when you went about your nightly missions.

some nights were easy, some nights you nearly got yourself killed, but in the end, you always came back with your pockets and bags filled with whatever your master wanted.

“here’s that damn love potion you wanted so much,” you pouted at her one night. “i normally don’t believe in that magic mumbo jumbo, but after almost getting set on fire, i think you might be onto something with this magic stuff.”

“but of course i’m right, my dear - when am i ever wrong?” she took the black vial from your hands with care and looked at it with sparkles in her eyes. “isn’t she so powerful? oh, the wonders i could do with this...”

“who do you plan on using it on?”

she shrugged carelessly. “i don’t know. maybe a king, or something.”

the next kingdom you settled into was your master’s most highly-anticipated target.

The Lee Kingdom, known for their rich crops and strong wine, was one of the most flourishing kingdoms you’ve ever seen.

everything was golden and warm and you think to yourself how you wouldn’t mind staying here for a while.

and that’s exactly what your master had set up for you.

“this will be our last heist together,” she told you that evening.

“what? why?”

“because after this, i will have taught you everything i know and we will be rich enough to live the rest of our lives freely. and who knows, i might not even live to see you succeed.”

“don’t say that...”

“_____, my dear, this heist is going to be very dangerous for the both of us, so you have to be careful, ok?”

“who are we stealing from that makes this so dangerous?”

“a king, of course.”

you’ve stolen from honest merchants, sleazy priests, and drunk nobles, but you’ve never stolen from someone as highly-regard as the king himself.

this was going to be the toughest mission you’ve ever executed, but if this would make her happy, then you’d do anything.

“you’ll start off small,” she explained, swirling her first glass of wine tonight. “start with the merchants for food and supplies and you’ll work your way up from there. oh, and get to know the townspeople - we’re going to be here for a while.”

“a while? why’s that?”

“the king’s birthday is about a couple of months away and we need to get on the invite list or else the plan won’t work. only the most highly-regarded people get to attend the king’s birthday.”

“and how do you plan on getting us on the list?”

she pulled out the love potion vial with her signature mischievous smirk on her red lips. “using this, of course.”

well, between the two of you, if there was anyone that was going to seduce the king, she would be the perfect person to do it.

she always said fatal attraction and law of seduction were important aspects of being a good thief, but that wasn’t really your alley, at least not yet, so you’ll leave all that nonsense to her.

your first pick-ups in the new kingdom were getting the basics, like bread, meat, silverware, some medicine, and more wine, of course.

it was easy when the streets were quiet and dark at such an early time - it was barely past dinner when everything closed down for the evening.

the townspeople must have really trusted each other, too, because they didn’t do much to hide or lock up all of their goods for safekeeping.

you dropped off your first round of goods to your master, who happily poured herself yet another glass of wine, before you decided to head out again for round two.

the night was still young, so you might as well keep going until you got bored.

somewhere off in one of the many alleys of the kingdom, you heard a bunch of cats meowing.

normally, you would think of that as a bad sign, like maybe they felt a bad spirit there, or something stupid.

but they sounded so hungry and you were feeling guilty hoarding all this fish in your bag.

it was starting to smell, anyways.

when you arrived to the scene of nearly a dozen cats, someone had already beat you to the punch.

a boy not much older or younger than you bent down to place several bowls of cat food in front of the meowing fur balls.

they kept on snuggling against him and you could tell he was struggling.

“do you need some help with that?” you teased.

startled to death, the boy dropped the bowls with a loud, echoey clang.

you felt guilty, so you went to help him regardless.

“sorry if i scared you,” you apologized.

the boy said nothing as he stared at you in awe.

even in the dark, he thought you were so beautiful.

“hello?” you called out, waving your hand in front of the open-mouthed boy. "you got a little drool there.”

“huh? o-oh!”

quickly, he wiped away the drool you were obviously joking about, but he wouldn’t take any chances - he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling.

you decided to ignore the awkward encounter and focus on the now-angry cats awaiting their meals.

“damn, these cats must be starving...” you noted.

“i’d be starving, too, if my caretaker hadn’t fed me all day.”

“wait, you own all of these cats!?”

“and then some. the rest are probably sleeping or looking for their own food. but i don’t own them, i just feed them. my dad’s allergic to cats, so i can’t have any at the castle.”

“ah, that’s unfortunate - wait, did you say castle...?”

“yeah?” he said as if it was so obvious. “don’t you know? i’m the prince.”

“the prince!?” you shrieked.

this was almost too perfect - like it was a trap set just for you. but the mission literally could not get any more perfect.

your plan was set in stone. you’d befriend the prince, get invited to the party, and steal from all the snobby, rich royals who were getting drunk off their ass on some wine.

“are you not from around here?” the boy asked.

“n-no! not really. i travel a lot with my older sister,” you lied. “we just came in this morning.”

“oh! well, welcome to our humble kingdom. my name is felix.”

“i’d hardly call your kingdom humble, dear prince. it’s one of the largest and most flourishing kingdom’s i’ve ever travelled to.”

“ah well, i try to be humble, but as you pointed it out, the kingdom kind of speaks for itself.” the cute boy scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “s-so, will you be staying long...?”

“i think so. can’t imagine why we’d be leaving soon.”

“oh, good! good... well, if you need someone to show you around, i’m always free.”

“wow, a personal tour from the prince himself?” you teased. “how gentlemanly of you.”

“so did you want to...?”

“i’ll think about it.”

you left the boy awestruck and confused, but he liked you because of that. you were definitely interesting.

“wait, what’s your name!?” he asked.

“_____!” you called out to him.

felix felt like he could fly after he met you.

you came home with your fishy bag and a cute smile on your face, hoping big sis would miss it, but of course she didn’t - she never missed any detail about anything.

“what’s with the smirk?” she asked, taking a roll of bread.

“you’ll never guess who i just met - the prince.”

you saw her sit up straight with the widest eyes. “you’re lying.”

“i could not make this up if i tried.”

you saw a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

“perfect.”

you spent the days getting to know the townspeople and the little secrets of the town while at night you would do your nightly pickings and meet up with felix afterwards.

he was an interesting boy - he wasn’t like any other boy or prince you’ve ever met.

he was awkward... but very cute and kind. there were moments when you were with him that you almost felt bad about your purpose here.

but you had to look at the bigger picture - this wasn’t for you, this was for big sis.

while you were feeding the cats with felix on your seventh night in the kingdom, a loud crash that sounded like a broken vase echoed through the empty village, sending the once-peaceful cats running and you on high alert.

it wasn’t like you were stealing or doing anything bad, but being so used to being careful at night, any noise would startle you.

“you’re like a cat, too, aren’t you?” felix teased. “always active at night, fiesty, nervous ~”

“i am not nervous, that noise was really loud...”

“uhuh. maybe the spirits are coming out early this year.”

“... what spirits...?”

“y’know, like dead people’s spirits. the 31st is coming up, after all. that’s the day when they like to roam the streets the most.”

“... you’re lying...”

“i mean, i’m sure that’s all just a myth, but the kingdom loves to celebrate on the 31st.”

“oh? doing what?”

“well, instead of all the shops being open in the daytime, everything opens at night so the spirits can mingle with us, or something like that. the people decorate the kingdom with tons of flowers, pumpkins, and skulls. it’s actually one of my favorite festivals.”

“ah, interesting.”

that meant bad news for you - you couldn’t steal things when there were so many people around and you wouldn’t dare to try in daylight.

you’ll just have to double your stash the night before.

“so,” felix began. “did you... maybe want to go...?”

“hm? to the festival? sure i guess, why not.”

“cool! great...!”

“oh wait, did you mean with you?”

“i... y-yes...?” he stuttered.

“then in that case, i’d love to go with you.”

he groaned loudly before hitting you playfully. “why are you like this?”

“because you’re cute when you blush.”

in between the day he told you about the festival and the festival itself, you both went about your business and meeting up at night as normal.

except he liked spending time with you so much that he even walked you ‘home’.

‘home’ as in some random house down the block of where you were actually staying.

felix would always insist on waiting for you to get inside the house before he left, but you told him you’d go in through the back so you wouldn’t have to pick the lock every time, and he fell for it.

this whole lying to felix thing and the huge heist big sis had planned was really conflicting.

the handsome prince and his kind family didn’t deserve what was coming for them, but then again big sis gave you a life. a whole purpose.

the heist was about a month away, so you still had some time. for now, you’ll just enjoy your time with felix.

big sis decided to join in on the festivities and spent the night by the winery of course.

you ended up wandering around, eyeing all the goods you wanted, but wouldn’t touch. today was your day off, so you were going to enjoy it with felix by your side.

everything about the festival was as beautiful as felix described - the flowers were a mix of bright warm colors to match the pumpkins, the skulls were bejeweled, and the rest of the decorations were pitch black.

just your type of aesthetic.

after an hour of casually looking for him, you finally found felix in the middle of town square, but he wasn’t alone.

he was surrounded by nearly every girl in town, smiling and laughing with them.

no, you weren’t jealous - why would you be?

he was the prince, after all. that meant he was the most eligible bachelor in the entire kingdom - of course he’d be popular with the ladies.

you wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t ask you to go to the festival with him in the first place if he was just going to socialize.

now you felt a bit foolish.

until he called out your name.

“_____!!” he screamed across the courtyard.

felix politely dismissed himself from the group before slipping past them to run to you.

“hey!” he gasped, slightly out of breath. “just in time!”

“you didn’t have to leave them to run to me,” you muttered embarrassingly. you shrunk a bit in front of felix to hide yourself from the glaring group of girls.

“but i want to be with you.”

you blushed deeply. what a charming prince. “you’re cute."

felix was the shy one now and walked ahead of you in some random direction. “let’s go!”

“but who are they?” you couldn’t help but ask after catching up. “are they your suitors?”

“yes and no... technically, they all are, but i’m free to choose whom i want to marry someday.”

“what makes them a suitor? are they royalty, too?”

“no. minimum requirement is they have to live here.”

“is that so? does that make me a suitor then, too?” you teased.

“w-well, you have to be a permanent resident to be a suitor, not a traveller.”

“ah, that’s a shame. i was going to say i’m winning.”

“you wouldn’t be wrong.”

being friends with the prince definitely had its upside.

you got to know the townspeople even better than you already had and you got free stuff mostly because both felix and the shop owners refused to let you pay.

you learned a lot about felix from the town tonight.

you learned that he was a prince everyone loved dearly, that he was kind to all his people, and it was like he denounced his princely title when he was amongst his people - he wanted to be just like everyone else.

“thank you, mr. choi,” felix bowed respectfully to the baker. “you always know my favorite snacks.”

“it’s really good!” you beamed happily after biting into the pastry.

“you never have to be so formal with me, your highness,” the baker chuckled. “you’re the prince, for god’s sake!”

“but i want to,” he pouted.

“well, i’m just glad i even had any of these left. i’ve been running really low on ingredients and stuff lately, and you know what’s crazy? so has everyone else! the han’s don’t have much metal left for weapons, the park fish market has been low on inventory, and the kwon winery got hit the worst! i’m surprised they’re open right now...”

“what are you saying?” felix asked, concern written all over his freckly face.

“the whole town thinks we have a thief.”

whoops.

now that a thief was being suspected, you’d have to lay off for a little while, but you don’t think it’ll be a problem.

“a thief? in our kingdom?”

“that’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?”

“i’ll alert my father immediately.”

“thank you, your highness. you’re so kind.”

for a moment, felix was frustrated and angry at himself that he didn’t even suspect anything bad was going on in his kingdom in the first place.

but when he looked at you, his anger seemed to melt away.

that night, you learned that felix adored you.

whenever you were talking to the shop owners, browsing through all the products, or bending down to talk to some children, whatever you were doing, his eyes were glued to you.

under the glow of all the string lights, you were even more beautiful the day he met you - now that he could see you clearly, of course.

everyone saw it. the town, his suitors, even you caught him looking at you a couple of times, but he wouldn’t look away from embarrassment.

his smile would widen to a cheesy grin then he’d look away.

who knew in such a short amount of time you’d get the loving prince to fall for you day-by-day, all because you fed cats together.

after the shops closed and people were turning in for the night you tugged on the prince’s sleeve.

“do you know what time it is ~?” you sang.

“our favorite past time together ~”

“our only past time together...”

“we can always change that.”

the cats meowed their song and felix treated them all to real fish and chicken instead of that kibble stuff he’d usually give them.

you couldn’t help but notices how furrowed his brows were which clearly meant he was thinking about the whole thief thing.

guilt was rising in your chest and now you were nervous.

“are you ok?” you asked him.

“yeah... no. no, i’m not. the thief thing is going to be on my mind all the time until they’re caught. god, i’m so angry! who would steal from these good, honest people!?”

“a terrible person...”

“you’re right.”

“do you have any idea who it might be?”

“no idea. what i do know is that they’re smart and highly skilled. there’s no way i’m going to find them...”

you take felix’s balled-up fists in your hands and he immediately relaxes upon your touch.

you can tell he’s unsure and nervous of what you’re doing, but you simply hold onto his hands and you receive a gentle squeeze in return.

“don’t worry too much, ok? it’s not your fault this is happening.”

“i know, it just... sucks...”

“you’ll catch them.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

felix released one of his hands to tuck some stray hairs behind your ear and kept his hand to your cheek afterwards, his thumb drawing gentle lines on the apples of your cheeks.

he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you, but he held himself back.

“hey, so there’s party that’s coming up that my father’s going...” he trailed off.

this was it. this was yours and big sis’s ticket into the last heist.

why weren’t you excited?

“it’s for his birthday and it’s an invite only,” he continued. “would you like to go with me?”

“hm, i don’t know ~” you teased. “will your suitors be there, too?”

felix rolled his eyes playfully. “yes, some of them will be, but i want to be by your side the whole night.”

“really...?”

“really.” he pulled out a formal invitation in fancy parchment and handed it to you. “will you go? please?”

“on one condition.”

“anything for you.”

“can i bring my sister? i rarely see her these days, since i spend all my free time with you.”

“of course she can come.”

“then i’ll be there, your highness.”

when you came home to your big sis, you threw the invitation on the table and nearly burst into tears.

“i can’t do it,” you muttered.

“what?” she seethed. “we’re so close! you put in so much work already!”

“the town already suspects a thief is here and taking their stuff, we’ll be caught and execute right away!”

“you knew the dangers coming into this, why are you surprised?”

and then it clicked in her head.

“you love him, don’t you?” she scoffed.

you don’t say anything.

“foolish girl. even if he does love you back, what will happen? you’ll leave me in the dust to marry him and live here happily ever after? what makes you think he’d love some lowlife traveller, hm? when he’s got suitors lined up for miles?”

god, you really wish she didn’t say that.

“listen. this is our last heist together. help me steal from the king, and i’ll leave you be here to live off your fantasy. but if you don’t i’ll tell him everything. your whole life, your purpose here, that you’re the thief - everything. so will you help me, or not?”

you only nod as a response.

“good girl.”

it was the night of the big party and you and big sis were dressed to the nines, thanks to the jewelry shops in town.

felix’s castle was beautiful. you could only ever dream of living in a place like this.

the great hall was decorated with all of the king’s favorite flowers and candles and all of the tables had piles and piles of meat on it, ready to be devoured.

big sis mindlessly made her way towards the king, where she’d wish him a happy birthday and the plan would move on from there.

just when the anxiety of being alone was creeping up on you, a hand swooped in to lace itself with yours.

a handsome felix looked down at you adoringly with sparkles in his eyes, drinking in every centimeter of beauty that was you.

“hi,” he said breathlessly. he bowed down and kissed the back of your hand like a true prince.

“your highness, you’re so charming ~” you gasped.

“only with you. shall we?”

you and felix sat at the far ends of the table where his parents also sat.

big sis sat right next to the king, playing with the vial of love potion under the table, smirking in the process.

she must have slipped it in already.

you still held onto felix’s hand before the dinner commenced and you must have been unconsciously squeezing it tighter and tighter as time passed because he’d steal side glances of concern at you from time to time.

you’d then immediately loosen your grip and give him a reassuring smile in return.

the air inside the castle was suffocating.

“a toast!” the king began, standing up and holding up his poisoned goblet. everyone soon followed his suit. “thank you all for coming to celebrate my special day. let’s eat and drink well tonight! cheers!”

“cheers!”

and so the king drank the potion.

the food was amazing - you expected nothing less from a king himself. but it was hard to enjoy it when you were eyeing the king and big sis talking the whole night.

when dinner was over, the real party started, and you thought maybe in the pool of all these people, you’d be able to slip away from big sis and never come back -

“will you dance with me?” felix asked.

he held out his hand for you to take and who were you to refuse an offer you once dreamed about when you were a little girl?

gladly, you took his hand and he guided you to the middle of the dance floor where he laid one hand on your waist and another held your own and you immersed yourself in this waltz.

“i didn’t take you as someone who knew how to dance,” you noted.

“it’s part of the princely package.”

the music had slowed and so did you and felix. now his hands were on your waist and he held you close, hoping you’d never slip away.

“when do you leave?” he asked the dreaded question.

“soon.”

“don’t.”

“what do you mean...?”

“i mean don’t leave. stay here, with me.”

“i can’t.”

“why not?” he begged. “do you not want to?”

“no! of course i want to, i just... i don’t think this was meant to be.”

“what...?”

from behind felix, you saw big sis whisking away the king to god knows where - probably to his chamber, where she’d tie him up while you and her did the dirty work.

you needed to stop her fast.

“stay here, i’ll be right back,” you said, breaking away from felix’s iron grip.

“where are you going!?”

“somewhere! i’ll be back, i promise.”

like a tragic ending to a fairy tale, felix watched you slip away into the empty mass of the castle. for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to follow you.

what was the point, anyways? when you didn’t want to stay here with him.

but your answer was so vague, what was he supposed to think of it?

before it was too late, felix ran off to find you.

it was easy to navigate around the giant castle when there were clear signs of how to get to the royal chambers. you figured the well-lit and finely-decorated pathways led the way to them.

from outside of what you assumed was the king’s master chamber, you heard the king muffle something you couldn’t understand.

she must have already tied him up.

you kicked the door open, only to reveal the king alone in the room.

“fuck,” you cursed. before anyone could see, you began untying the frightened king.

“_____...?”

your heart dropped when you saw felix standing in the doorway, looking confused.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

you ignored his question. “help me untie your father.”

he did as you told in silence, trying to piece together what or who you were. you weren’t telling him something, but he’ll figure it out soon.

conveniently, the king kept a crossbow near his bed for protection. so you took it and a bunch of arrows, ready to do something you thought you’d never have to do.

“what are you doing with that!?” the prince demanded after he released his coughing father.

“i’ll explain later -”

“no, explain it to me now.” felix was angry now, and you were frightened, but you had to remind yourself you were doing this for him.

“follow me. we don’t have much time.”

you left the chamber with felix following closely behind you, confused and frustrated.

“you have to tell me where you keep your everything - your coins, jewelry, gold - all of it, where do you keep it?” you asked frantically.

“why?”

“because the thief is here and we’re going to catch her.”

“what!?” he shrieked. “everything’s kept in a safe in the dungeon -”

“show me.”

felix led you a long journey to the dungeon to which you assumed you’d be calling home by the end of the night when felix found you out.

but that was the consequence of the heist, and you knew that.

the safe door was huge and opened just a crack where light shone through the opening. from just outside, you could hear big sis fumbling around, stuffing whatever she could in whatever carrier she brought with her.

you opened the safe just a bit more and aimed the crossbow right at her head.

her manic laughter echoed through the safe and beyond the dungeon, sounding like an evil witch or sorceress. even felix was frightened of her.

“has it really come to this?” she asked, looking at you straight in the eyes. “you wouldn’t really do this to me, would you? to me, your big sis?”

“what is she talking about?” felix asked.

“oh, your highness! don’t you know? _____’s the thief! we’re in this together!”

“what? _____, tell me she’s lying...”

you didn’t say anything.

“she did all ~ the stealing herself,” she sang. “of course, i was the mastermind behind all of this, but she did the dirty work! she really fooled you, huh? but like every fairytale, the thief fell in love with the prince, and now she’d do anything for him. even kill the one person who gave here life purpose.”

if big sis loved you as much as you loved her, you would have been more conflicted about your choices. but she didn’t and she only used you to survive off of the things you stole from good people.

you’ve never pulled the trigger on someone so quickly.

the arrow lodged right through her skull and she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

you dropped the crossbow and turned back to look at felix, hoping you could finally explain yourself.

but he wasn’t there.

so now you were alone again, at least for a couple of minutes before the guards got there to take you away and lock you in the dungeon, just as you predicted.

the cell was cold, dark, and lonely, but even this was more than you deserved.

you’re not sure how many days have passed by now, but you’d hope at least one of those days felix would have visited you, wanting an answer.

but he never did, and you didn’t blame him.

on what you assumed was the fifth day, your cell opened, and a few guards picked you up and dragged you out without any explanation.

when you left the dungeon, you’ve never been so happy to see the sun shining.

the guards took you to the great hall where the king, the queen, and felix sat on their thrones patiently waiting for you.

you were too embarrassed to even look at him, but his gaze bore holes into you, as if he was demanding you look at him.

so you did, just for a second, and in that moment you saw how hurt and disappointed he was at you.

you were thrown to your knees in front of the royal family.

“miss _____, is it?” the kind king asked.

“yes, sir.”

“it has come to my attention that you are the one that has been stealing from all the shops in town, is that correct?”

“yes, sir.”

“i see... normally, the sentence for something like this would be execution, but you did save my life and eliminated the woman behind all of is. for that, i owe you, so you are free to stay in this kingdom. if you are caught stealing again, you will be sentenced to death, is that clear?”

“yes, sir.”

“excellent. now get out of my sight.”

you struggled to get up, not used to using your legs just yet as you spent five days sitting on concrete.

the guards unshackled you, revealing bloody wrists and ankles.

you were free - from big sis, from the life you once live, from everything.

it should feel amazing. and it does at first, but now you’re alone again.

you have to leave.

after washing out the scum for nearly an hour, you were good as new, with only the scars left on your skin. you packed up anything that you could in a backpack, along with some of the stuff you stole, since it wasn’t like you were going to give it back.

you locked up the place and made your way towards the kingdom gates, ready to leave and never come back.

“you lied about where you lived, too?” you heard felix say from behind. “is your name even _____?”

you paused, turning around to see felix jogging up to you from down the street, where you told him you lived.

as he approached, your gaze was set on the floor, where it belonged.

“so you’re just going to leave without explaining anything to me? without saying goodbye? nothing?”

tears welled up in your eyes. how could you explain it to him? in what way could you explain this whole thing and have him understand? you didn’t think you even deserved a goodbye from him, so what was the point?

“say something,” he demanded.

“i can’t stay,” you muttered. “it’s not fair to you.”

“if i said i want you to stay, will you stay?”

“what?” you cried out. “i stole from you and i lied to you, why would you want that?”

“because you love me, don’t you?” felix’s voice was desperate, hoping that was the one thing you couldn’t have lied to him about. “i know that’s not a lie, am i right? tell me you love me, too.”

“of course i love you.”

“then if you love me, you’ll stay, right?”

“felix -”

“please,” he begged. he held your face in his hands and gently lifted your face up forcing you to look at him. “just stay for a while longer. we’ll talk about everything, just... please don’t go.”

“ok,” you nodded. “i’ll stay.”

felix let out a huge sigh of relief, pressing a long, loving kiss to your forehead.

“good. will you show me where you actually live now?”

the night was spent inside your humble home telling the story of your entire life before and during your time with big sis.

whether he understood why you are the way you are or not, you’re still unsure, but falling asleep wrapped up in felix’s arms had to have been a good sign, right?

#felix #lee felix #skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #royal au #these.... keep getting longer LMAo #i know i already did a thief and a prince trop #but idk i was inspired #blease tell me what you think cuz i tought this was meh i focused a lot on the reader and not so much felix :(

[ntrending]

How predicting the future shifted from fiction to fact—and what we lost along the way

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/how-predicting-the-future-shifted-from-fiction-to-fact-and-what-we-lost-along-the-way/

How predicting the future shifted from fiction to fact—and what we lost along the way

We could use a little more whimsy in our forecasting. (Unsplash/)

The findings of this research were first covered by The Conversation as part of its Insights series.

From shamanic ritual to horoscopes, humans have always tried to predict the future. And while some of those practices may sound arcane, modern life still relies on prophecy. From the weather forecast to the time the GPS says we’ll reach our destination, our lives are built around futuristic fictions.

Of course, while we may sometimes feel betrayed by our local meteorologist, trusting their foresight is a lot more rational than putting the same stock in a TV psychic. This shift toward more evidence-based guesswork came about in the 20th century: futurologists began to see what prediction looked like when based on a scientific understanding of the world, rather than the traditional bases of prophecy (religion, magic, or dream). Genetic modification, space stations, wind power, artificial wombs, video phones, wireless internet, and cyborgs were all foreseen by “futurologists” from the 1920s and 1930s. Such visions seemed like science fiction when first published.

They all appeared in the brilliant and innovative “To-Day and To-Morrow” books from the 1920s, which signal the beginning of our modern conception of futurology, in which prophecy gives way to scientific forecasting. This series of more than 100 books provided humanity— and science fiction—with key insights and inspiration. I’ve been immersed in them for the last few years while writing the first book about these fascinating works, and have found that these pioneering futurologists have a lot to teach us.

In their early responses to the technologies emerging at the time—aircraft, radio, recording, robotics, television—the writers grasped how those innovations were changing our sense of who we are. And they often gave startlingly canny previews of what was coming next, as in the case of Archibald Low, who in his 1924 book “Wireless Possibilities” predicted the mobile phone: “In a few years time we shall be able to chat to our friends in an aeroplane and in the streets with the help of a pocket wireless set.”

Looking at this collection of sparkling projections can teach us a lot about current prediction attempts, which are dominated by methodologies claiming scientific rigour, such as “horizon scanning,” “scenario planning,” and “anticipatory governance.” Most of this professional future gazing takes place within government, think-tanks, and corporations, resulting in bland and narrowly targeted projections. But the scientists, writers, and experts who wrote these futurology books produced very individual visions.

They were committed to thinking about the future on a scientific basis, but they were also free to imagine worlds that would emerge for reasons other than corporate or governmental advantage. The resulting narratives are sometimes fanciful, but this whimsy occasionally gets them further than today’s more cautious and methodical projections.

Forecasting future discoveries

Take J B S Haldane, the brilliant mathematical geneticist, whose 1923 book “Daedalus; or: Science and the Future” inspired the rest of the series. It ranges widely across the sciences, trying to imagine what remained to be done in each.

Haldane thought physics had wrapped up most of its mysteries with the Theory of Relativity and the development of quantum mechanics. The main tasks left seemed to him to be the delivery of better engineering: faster travel and better communications.

Chemistry, too, he saw as likely to be concerned more with practical applications, such as inventing new flavors or developing synthetic food, rather than making theoretical advances. He also realized that alternatives to fossil fuels would be necessary, and forecast the use of wind power. Most of his predictions have been fulfilled.

It’s chastening, though, how much even such a clear-sighted and ingenious scientist missed, especially in the future of theoretical physics. He doubted nuclear power would be viable. He couldn’t know about future discoveries of new particles leading to radical changes to the model of the atom. Nor, in astronomy, could he see the theoretical prediction of black holes, the theory of the big bang, or the discovery of gravitational waves.

But, at the dawn of modern genetics, he saw that biology held some of the most exciting possibilities for future science. He foresaw genetic modification, arguing that: “We can already alter animal species to an enormous extent, and it seems only a question of time before we shall be able to apply the same principles to our own.” If this sounds like Haldane supported eugenics, it’s important to note that he was vocally opposed to forced sterilization, and didn’t subscribe to the overtly racist and ableist eugenics movement that was en vogue in America and Germany at the time.

To-Day and To-Morrow. (Max Saunders/)

The development that caught the eye of so many readers was what Haldane called “ectogenesis”—his term for growing embryos outside the body in artificial wombs. Many other futurologists and thinkers took up the idea, the most notable being Haldane’s close friend Aldous Huxley, who was to use it in “Brave New World,” with its human “hatcheries” cloning the citizens and workers of the future. It was also Haldane who coined the word “clone.”

Ectogenesis still seems like science fiction, but the reality is getting closer. It was announced in May 2016 that human embryos had been successfully grown in an “artificial womb” for 13 days—just one day short of the legal limit, which prompted an inevitable ethical row. And in April 2017 an artificial womb designed to nurture premature human babies was successfully trialled on sheep. So even that prediction of Haldane’s may well be realized soon, perhaps within a century after he dreamed it up. Artificial wombs will probably be used first as a prosthesis to cope with medical emergencies, but they could eventually become as routine as caesareans or surrogacy.

Science, then, was not just science for these writers. It had social and political consequences. Many of the contributors of this series were social progressives, in sexual as well as political matters. Haldane looked forward to the doctor taking over from the priest, with science finally separating sexual pleasure from reproduction. In ectogenesis, he foresaw that women could be relieved of the pain and inconvenience of bearing children. As such, the idea could be seen as a feminist thought experiment.

What this reveals is how shrewd these writers were about the controversies and social proclivities of the age. At a time when too many thinkers were seduced by the pseudoscience of eugenics, Haldane was scathing about it. He had better ideas about how humanity might want to transform itself. While most of the scholars musing on eugenics merely supported white supremacy, Haldane’s motives suggest he’d be delighted at the advent of technologies like CRISPR—a method by which humankind could better itself in ways that mattered, like curing congenital disease.

Alternate futures

Some of To-Day and To-Morrow’s predictions of technological developments are impressively accurate, such as video phones, space travel to the moon, robotics, and air attacks on capital cities. But others are charmingly misguided.

The Dornier Do X was the largest, heaviest, and most powerful flying boat in the world when it was produced by the Dornier company in Germany in 1929. (Wikipedia, CC BY/)

Oliver Stewart’s 1927 volume, “Aeolus or: The Future of the Flying Machine,” argued that British craftsmanship would triumph over American mass production. He was excited by autogiros—a small aircraft with a propeller for thrust and a freewheeling rotor on top—for which there was a craze at the time. He thought travelers would use those for short-haul flights, transferring for long-haul to flying boats: passenger planes with boat-like bodies that could take off from, and land on, the sea. Flying boats certainly had their vogue for glamorous voyages across the ocean, but disappeared as airliners became bigger and longer range and as more airports were built.

The To-Day and To-Morrow series, like all futurology, is full of such parallel universes. In the rousing 1925 feminist volume “Hypatia or: Woman and knowledge,” activist Dora Russell (wife of the philosopher Bertrand) proposed that women should be paid for household work. Unfortunately, this has not come to pass (though modern science is at least interested in calculating how traditionally feminine tasks cut into productivity and wellbeing).

The film critic Ernest Betts, meanwhile, writes in 1928’s “Heraclitus; or The Future of films” that “the film of a hundred years hence, if it is true to itself, will still be silent, but it will be saying more than ever.” His timing was terrible, as the first “talkie,” The Jazz Singer, had just come out. But Betts’s vision of film’s distinctiveness and integrity—the expressive possibilities open to it when it brackets off sound—and of its potential as a universal human language, cutting across different linguistic cultures, remains admirable.

It’s difficult to guess which of the forking paths before us leads to our real future. In most of the books, moments of surprisingly accurate prediction are tangled up with false prophecies. This isn’t to say that the accuracy is just a matter of chance. Take another of the most dazzling examples, “The World, the Flesh and the Devil” by the scientist J D Bernal, one of the great pioneers of molecular biology. This has influenced science fiction writers, including Arthur C Clarke, who called it “the most brilliant attempt at scientific prediction ever made.”

Bernal sees science as enabling us to transcend limits. He doesn’t think we should settle for the status quo if we can imagine something better. He imagines humans needing to explore other worlds, and to get them there he imagines the construction of huge, life-supporting space stations called bio-spheres, now named after him as “Bernal spheres.” Imagine the international space station, scaled up to small planet or asteroid size.

Brain in a vat

When Bernal turns to the flesh, things get rather stranger. A lot of the To-Day and To-Morrow writers were interested in how we use technologies as prostheses, to extend our faculties and abilities through machines. But Bernal takes it much further. First, he thinks about mortality, or more specifically about the limit of our lifespan. He wonders what science might be able to do to extend it.

In most deaths, the person dies because the body fails. So what if the brain could be transferred to a machine host, which could keep it—and therefore the thinking person—alive much longer?

Bernal’s thought experiment develops the first elaboration of what philosophers now call the “brain in a vat” hypothesis. Modern discussions of said brains in said vats are usually concerned with questions of perception and illusion (if my brain in a vat was sent electrical signals identical to the ones sent by my legs, would I think I was walking? Would I be able to tell the difference?). But Bernal has more pragmatic ends in view. Not only would his Dalek-like machines be able to extend human brain life, but they’d also be able to extend our capabilities. They would give us stronger limbs and better senses.

Bernal wasn’t the first to postulate what we’d now call the cyborg. It had already appeared in pulp science fiction a couple of years earlier—talking, believe it or not, about ectogenesis.

But it’s where Bernal takes the idea next that is so interesting. Like Haldane’s, his book is one of the founding texts of transhumanism: the idea that humanity should improve its species. He envisions a small sense organ for detecting wireless frequencies, eyes for infrared, ultraviolet and X-rays, ears for supersonics, detectors of high and low temperatures, of electrical potential and current.

With that wireless sense Bernal imagined how humanity could be in touch with others, regardless of distance. Even fellow humans across the galaxy in separate biospheres could be within reach. And, like several of the series’ authors, he imagines such interconnection as augmenting human intelligence, producing what science fiction writers have called a hive mind, or what Haldane calls a “super-brain.”

It’s not AI, exactly, because its components are natural: individual human brains. And in some ways, coming from Marxist intellectuals like Haldane and Bernal, what they’re imagining is a particular realization of solidarity—workers of the world uniting, mentally. Bernal even speculates that if thoughts could be broadcast to other minds in this way, then they would continue to exist even after the brain that thought them had died. In this he offers a form of immortality guaranteed by science instead of religion.

Blind spots

Bernal also imagined the world wide web more than 60 years before its invention by Tim Berners Lee. What neither Bernal, nor any of the To-Day and To-Morrow contributors could imagine, though, was the computers needed to run it—even though they were only about 15 years away when he was writing. And it is these inconceivable computers that have so ramped up and transformed early attempts at futurology into the industry it is today.

How can we account for this computer-shaped hole at the center of so many of these prophecies? It was partly that mechanical or “analogue” computers such as punched card machines and anti-aircraft gun “predictors” (which helped gunners aim at rapidly moving targets) had gotten extremely good at calculation and information retrieval. So good, in fact, that inventor and To-day and To-morrow author H Stafford Hatfield thought what was needed next was a “mechanical brain.”

A Colossus codebreaking computer, 1943. (Wikimedia Commons/)

So these thinkers could see that some form of artificial intelligence was required. But even though electronics were developing rapidly, in radios and even televisions, it didn’t seem to occur to people that if you wanted to make something that functioned like a brain it would need to be electronic, rather than mechanical or chemical. This was exactly the moment in history when neurological experiments by Edgar Adrian and others in Cambridge began to show that electrical impulses actually made the human brain tick.

Just 12 years later, in 1940—before the development of the first digital computer, Colossus at Bletchley Park—it was possible for Haldane (again) to see that what he called “Machines that Think” were beginning to appear, combining electrical and mechanical technologies. In some ways our situation is comparable, as we sit poised just before the next great digital disruption: AI.

Bernal’s book is a fascinating example of just how far extended future thinking can go. But it also shows where it reaches its limits. If we can understand why the To-Day and To-Morrow authors were able to predict biospheres, mobile phones, and special effects, but not the computer, the obesity crisis, or the resurgence of religious fundamentalisms, then maybe we can catch some of the blind spots in our own forward vision and horizon scanning.

Yesterday and today

The pairing of scientific knowledge and imagination in these books created something unique—a series of hypotheticals somewhat lodged between futurology and science fiction. It is this sense of hopeful imagination that I think urgently needs to be injected back into today’s predictions.

As I have mentioned, computer modeling of the future mainly happens in businesses or organizations. Banks and other financial companies want to anticipate shifts in the markets. Retailers need to be aware of trends. Governments need to understand demographic shifts and military threats. Universities want to drill down into the data of these or other fields to try to understand and theorize what is happening.

To do this kind of complex forecasting well, you have to be a fairly large corporation or organization with adequate resources. The bigger the data pool, the hungrier the exercise becomes for computing power. You need access to expensive equipment, specialist programmers, and technicians. Information that citizens freely offer to companies such as Facebook or Amazon is sold on to other companies for their market research—as many were shocked to discover in the Cambridge Analytica scandal.

The main techniques which today’s governments and industries use to try to prepare for or predict the future—horizon scanning and scenario planning—are all well and good. They may help us nip wars and financial crashes in the bud (though rather obviously, they don’t always get it right either). But as a model for thinking about the future more generally, such methods are profoundly reductive.

They’re all about maintaining the status quo. Any interesting ideas or innovative speculations about anything other than risk avoidance are likely to get pushed aside. The group nature of think-tanks and foresight teams also has a leveling down effect. Future thinking by committee has a tendency to come out in bureaucratese: bland, impersonal, insipid. The opposite of science fiction.

Which is perhaps why science fiction needs to put its imagination in hyperdrive: to boldly go where the civil servants and corporate drones are too timid to venture. To imagine something different. Some science fiction is profoundly challenging in the sheer otherness of its imagined worlds.

That was the effect of “2001” or “Solaris,” with their imagining of other forms of intelligence, as humans adapt to life in space. Kim Stanley Robinson takes both ideas further in his novel “2312,” imagining humans with implanted quantum computers and different colony cultures as people find ways of living by building mobile cities to keep out of the sun’s heat on Mercury, terraforming planets, and even hollowing out asteroids to create new ecologies as art works.

When we compare To-Day and To-Morrow with the kinds of futurology on offer nowadays, what’s most striking is how much more optimistic most of the writers were. Even those like Haldane and Vera Brittain (the author of a superb volume on women’s rights in 1929) who had witnessed the horrors of modern technological war, saw technology as being the solution rather than the problem.

Imagined futures nowadays are more likely to be shadowed by risk and anxieties about catastrophes, whether natural (asteroid collision, mega-tsunami) or man-made (climate change and pollution). The damage industrial capitalism has inflicted on the planet has made technology seem like the enemy. Certainly, until anyone has any better ideas, reducing carbon emissions, energy waste, pollution, and industrial growth seems like our best bet for survival.

Imagining positive change

The only thing that looks likely to convince us to change our ways is the dawning conviction that we have left it too late; that even if we cut emissions to zero now, global warming has almost certainly passed the tipping point and will continue to rise to catastrophic levels regardless of what we do to try to stop it.

That realization is beginning to generate new ideas about technological solutions, like ways of extracting carbon from the atmosphere or of artificially reducing sunlight over the polar ice caps. Such proposals are controversial, and sometimes attacked as encouragement to carry on with Anthropocene vandalism while someone else clears up our mess.

But they might also show that we are at an impasse in future thinking, and are in danger of losing the ability to imagine positive change. That too is where comparison with earlier attempts to predict the future might be able to help us. Where the modernism of the 1920s and 30s was very much oriented towards the future, we are more obsessed with the past, with nostalgia. Ironically, the very digital technology that came with such a futuristic promise is increasingly used in the service of heritage and the archive. Cinematic special effects are more likely to deliver feudal warriors and dragons, rather than rockets and robots.

But if today’s futurologists could get back in touch with the imaginative energies of their predecessors, perhaps they would be better equipped to devise a future we could live with.

Max Saunders is a Professor of English at King’s College London. The findings of this research were first covered by The Conversation as part of its Insights series.

Written By Max Saunders/The Conversation

#Technology

[psygirl21]

So Far, so Good

Hey just came out from the Scientology center there is this nice friend of mine and of my mom’s he calmed me down and I told him my near death experience in a e-mail. The first time I told someone that I died, he cried for me, a friend from high school.The second time more weird than ever is that a certain leader wind up dying on a opioid overdose and a heart attack. The first time he died with a gunshot to the head, because he didn’t want to watch this Anime I recommended in jail called Elfen Lied. He got his funeral but nobody ever did go all out much like a President of the United States would, muppets were there. People were just saying, “That’s it? No fireworks?” They actually said it -.-.Never get into jail because weird, strange things happen to good people there even though they don’t deserve it.

I’ve seen dead celebrities in Lynwood Jail and I heard some live ones came to visit me since they knew about the whole Simpsons thing. I’m not saying I’ve went through this life changing experience without any spritual insight but this is what I learned and I’m not tring to be a Youtube anything, or Facebook anything, or Instagram anything; well you get the idea. There is a Heaven, a Hell and a Limbo. My cell was turned like a mirror and I figured out how to get out of Hell, I knew people would help me but at first it was hidden to me.

I’ve seen Micheal Jackson without that strange accident wearing that suicide vest like I was wearing outside in the quad and Steve Jobs as normal not like a skeleton like before he died.The former president’s daughters were wearing those vest too, but in my epic story I wanted to create they were trying to kill the God of the Dead, um their dad but he is the ruler of Zombies and my friend who had my Ray Bands glasses is a Zombie who still kept her human qualities like in Warm Bodies. She didn’t know everything died but she remembers me through my glasses.They want to save humanity but everyone was shot up by them and they thought the virus can’t be the cure to end the zombie killing.

There was something I said in jail that if I were to time travel to the time it's 1985 and gave chips and two soda pops to Ted Bundy and let him choose between shooting himself in the head or shooting me with just one bullet or taking the chips and soda he may have chose the latter. The revolver wouldn't have a bullet in the beginning because it could be a blank but if he's desprite he could of done anything. Hot Chettos well I don't know if it was invented back then but if the sodas were slighly the same I get Japanese pepsi and let him choose between coke and pepsi.

Like they are the Serena and Venus Williams with Ramboesque qualities.Obama is still human and alive if not his girls would of decayed and be like my friend. He in my story was still president and he didn’t decay a day so he’s dad Rambo, but he had a wakey way of dressing like the Zombie God in Kenya.And his daughters thought all zombies just nash and eat brains like in pop culture. The Simpsons zombies are more simular to mine but you couldn’t claim them as zombies, it’s what you call the homeless, desitute, and those hired officials who go to work everyday and can’t help anyone well except for the first responders; social workers need not only jobs but need work on how to be more understandable. Um, weird story so far.

I’ll continue it someday because I couldn’t remember all of it.At a point I was very tired, couldn’t endure myself in the nude even though I thought I was okay with it. I needed undies to feel safe in jail. For the most part I think while that Simpsons show aired on Fox I could of sworn that my toe got nipped by a level 1 hobgoblin that animator drew he probably doesn’t want to know what a real level 2018 hobgoblin looks like now. I think it’s still like 15th century sketches like how priest pictured them and nomes and Giants. Same for the nuns, the Devine Mercy does help when it’s being needed.

I was in suicide watch just tourmenting myself and the other inmates, the jail was the Hell I never had been to. I didn’t know why I was there and why I had to wait weeks to take a shower. The head nurse I rembember was not fond of her job and she were to give street drugs to the inmates, especially the ones who cause a ruckus. I was one of those who did because there were abortions there, and I want those who were given a chance to survive and grow with their mothers. When it comes to abortion I get it when the rape is in the case the pregnancy,shouldn’t continue but that baby is a part of you. You're killing him or her.The justice system is a cubbersome and long process to get through but if you have the patience it’s as easy as cake when you are not found guilty.

[judithd93530-blog]

Give Me A Violate Verses.

As an expression in English, the expression offer me a rest has 3 various meanings and also usages. Here's more info about mountains in england to climb - http://estoybienahora.info/chocolite, look into the website. Of course, the better the motorist is the lesser the policy will definitely set you back eventually yet Photo tracks the amount of times that the breather was struck hard, how many miles complete the diver traveled to in addition to how many times the driver was behind the steering wheel while in between twelve o'clock at night and 4 A.M. Some individuals witnessed that he carried their Ex-boyfriend aficionado back, some made evident that he repairs womb, cure cancer, as well as various other illness, some indicated that he can direct an incantation to quit divorce and so on. i also come across one certain testimony, that concerned a female called Sonia, she testified about exactly how he rejuvenated her Ex-spouse aficionado in less than 7 times, and also at the end from her testament she fell Prelate ADODO's e-mail deal with. So whether you are actually mosting likely to party it up in the Caribbean or even you are actually taking the children to Disney Planet, listed below are actually some recommendations to keep you digitally safe and secure this springtime break. Just because you aren't discussing everything off your spring break on social networking sites, does not imply that your pals may not be. They appear at me as though I had actually merely committed perjury when I inform Mums and also Fathers to STOP telling their little ones to clean their pearly whites. Prelate ADODO is really a gifted male and i will definitely certainly not quit releasing him considering that he is a splendid guy ... If you possess a problem and also you are trying to find a genuine as well as genuine incantation caster to handle all your troubles for you. Recollect the little bits of tune that the verses suggest, as well as find the key that matches your singing variety during that tune. She eventually told me she had a feeling that I was actually visiting break up with her and she currently had acquired a plan on exactly what she should perform if I carried out. Provide on your own time today to explore, to go within, to stroll in attributes as well as experience the presence of all those which are actually sustaining you off one second to the next. She definitely would not cease (nagging/trying to transform me/was clingy/wouldn' t offer me room) yet I could not tell her that or she will possess burst into tears. Faith makes use of the story from Jesus saying to the wealthy young ruler to go and also market each of his properties and also give the proceeds to the unsatisfactory and happen observe Him (Jesus). I only would like to know exactly what to accomplish to quit this nasty curse/hex so I can return on course once again. It offers me great pleasure whenever i listen to the label Dr.Zabaza since he is actually the excellent guy that reinforce my relationship especially when my aficionado was about leaving me for an additional lady but via the aid of Dr.Zabaza my fanatic altered his mind and today we are actually married all thanks to Dr.Zabaza i am actually completely happy to him as well as i will definitely want to offer his get in touch with particulars to those which assume they are going to really need his assistance as well as the particulars are actually [phone] or zabazalogan @. That is hard to experience separate, off the reduction of collaborate to the discomfort off the condition are difficult to take thus as the process of going on. Nonetheless, there are those people which decide on not to harp on things that harm them but choose to cure their hearts and begin once again coming from the starting But stating I LIKE YOU will definitely certainly not aid you to completely start with him once more. There are actually a lot of these research business trying to find individuals like you to offer your point of view, and they will certainly spend you pay for that. Very most essentially, that does not cost a trait to sign up with. It is unjust that you were the only person to place the blame on the split. Take into consideration also your partner. High Priest ADODO is really a talented man and also i is going to not quit posting him given that he is actually a splendid man ... If you possess an issue and you are seeking a real and genuine incantation wheel to resolve all your troubles for you. Remember the little bits of tune that the verses advise, and also find the trick that matches your vocal selection during that melody. In training for body building, I can easily not receive up on stage as well as say to the courts to provide me a break because I possess had a knee substituted. You need to recognize exactly what you must do as well as just what you should not do, specifically quickly after the break up. You do not desire to create the oversights very most females will certainly make after the break up. Mistakes that can damage any sort of odds of getting individual back. I projektet arbetar agerar Digitala Dependence projektledare och arbetar med implementeringen av Give Me a Split. Some of these situations sufficient to just make you shout 'GIVE ME A BREAK.' Just give me an opportunity to catch my breathing spell. Only the very concept from the rest - the knowledge that it's moving toward - stimulates you to focus better and also work proficiently in order to entirely appreciate that breather. We all in the ward were woken from our snooze to listen to Homer noisally chastening Registered nurse Lee since she would not provide him even more pain-killers. Right here's what travelers have actually talked to, along with solutions coming from Give Me a Breather Bed & Morning meal workers and also other visitors. My counsellor, Doreen, has actually been actually remarkable right from the phrase go. Low key, carries out not tear, no shock methods, no talks ... just a very casual conversation about the most ideal way for ME to cease cigarette smoking. Therefore - you need to cease seething at him as well as revealing that temper through mopping, providing him the silent treatment or even other ways that our company women have the tendency to reveal ourselves. In addition going on a fast really isn't a rocket technology; for 1000s of years, almost all cultures have actually used that in order to help clear the body of contaminants, give our digestive system organs the possibility to rejuvenate and recover maximum function. The chart would certainly then show which bone tissues appeared to be one of the most as well as minimum most likely to break. Reflecting on these satisfied quotes is just the 1st step on ending up being a true idealist. Eating the best carbs will definitely give you longer condition electricity and also support to overcome physical body fat storage!Your probably pondering if there's a straightforward instance of the so you could bypass today's short science training. Under these minimal requirements, if your lunch rest is past TWENTY mins, this considers as your complete entitlement to a make that day. Check out; this is going to follow you as well as give you remarkable feedback at the side from the time if you are actually take on. The lure for food and also to damage rapid and start all around once more was actually quite true for me. I frequently felt food cravings pains and also my thoughts just always kept slipping into images of my favored foods. Maybe you see assortment tied markets and business just along with a break from balance, or even trade merely on the second attempt at such a rest. The type of wonder where an individual would give me a breather that would acquire me on a much better course. CAN NEVER QUIT DISCUSSING YOU HIS WEBSITE DEAL WITH is CONTACT HIM NOW FOR SOLUTION TO ALL YOUR PROBLEMS. She eventually informed me she had a feeling that I was mosting likely to break up along with her and she currently had actually gotten an anticipate exactly what she must do if I carried out. Offer on your own opportunity today to explore, to go within, to walk in attribute and also experience the presence from all those that are actually supporting you from one instant to the upcoming.

[male-emporium]

A History of Men’s Fashion and Style

from He Spoke Style - Men's Style, Fashion, Grooming, Tips and Advice

An abridged historical timeline of how men’s fashion and style came to be

Since the dawn of mankind, fashion has been prevalent. Once used for protection from the planet’s harshest elements, it has transformed over millions of years into a system of style capable of showcasing rank and fortune, void of the substance that once surrounded the hallmarks of true sartorialism.

In a world where prehistoric beasts roamed the land, and savage elements ripped winds, snow, and rain down on the Paleolithic nomads as they scavenged for food and shelter, they adapted to the conditions by using the skins of animals, leaves of trees and nature’s fibers to craft clothing and footwear to help them win the war against mother nature.

At this time, experts believe that fashion was expressly functional and had nothing to do with confidence or appearance. Although some historians contend that the leaders of clans would reserve the very best hides for themselves, it’s believed that this was strictly due to the harsh climate and terrain, and not for the purpose of distinguishing themselves as being the ruler of their tribe.

For many centuries, men’s fashion didn’t change significantly despite our own evolution. As nomads turned into settlers and began to harvest crops, new forms of dress emerged. Animals were herded and no longer did the patriarch have to rely on basic hunting techniques. Now, these men had the ability to be far more selective based on what they bred and what they were able to trade.

As groups of settlers began to flourish in flocks, villages were formed, and leaders surfaced. Whether elected by the masses or dictated by force, leaders took charge of their community, and like the caveman reserved the very best goods for themselves and those in their family. Soon, the style would begin to form, and leaders became known by a uniform of sorts. Rank and fortune became prevalent, and just as gold is favored over tin, it became relatively easy to distinguish a peasant from a potentate.

Ancient Egypt was probably the first indisputable sign that men’s fashion had overtaken the fundamental purposes of clothing. Egyptian rulers reigned over their subjects like no other. Style was quickly adopted as a weapon to intimidate and influence those beneath him. Uniforms were created for soldiers and all officers serving under the Pharaoh. Jewels and precious materials became obvious advantages showcasing social status, and the use of artifacts adorned to clothing became a clear indicator of royalty, leadership, and wealth.

As the kingdom evolved from old to new, the most wealthy noblemen adopted knee-length tunics and kilts they would accessorize with armlets, bracelets and custom shin coverings. These accessories were reserved for those who could afford such privileges, and the more powerful and wealthy the man, the more bold and precious the materials.

This continued into Ancient Assyria, Greece, Rome and the Middle Ages. Commoners wore what they could acquire, but members of royalty and those who served under them would wear clothing made from the finest materials available and crafted by the most experienced and skilled couturier.

For those visiting from afar, one could easily discern a man’s rank and status by his attire. The same way we can tell someone is a priest by his clerical collar; a judge by their robes; or a construction worker by his hardhat and safety vest. For many centuries, the purpose of clothing was now two-fold:

1. To protect the wearer from the elements. 2. As an overt symbol of rank and fortune.

Shortly after the beginning of the 1700s, clothing began to take on a more substantial purpose. Although trade was still very prevalent, the need for currency was more important than ever before. Without it, the ability to feed, clothe and house your family was nearly impossible. Professions were now a hallmark of social status, and it was important to fit in amongst your peer group in order to develop relationships that could potentially further one’s status within the community.

Villages were expanding into much larger communities, and those who lived in them were classified into peer groups based on their profession, their land, their wealth, and now, their sphere of influence. In other words, you were only as good as those you surrounded yourself with.

In a further effort to separate the aristocrat from the laborer, forms of etiquette and manners were introduced. Men’s fashion became a part of this revolution, and the code of dress was often adopted from the highest ranks of the local military, as those officers were considered members of this blue-blooded class of patricians.

By the 1730s, fashion took on a whole new meaning as the English created a more comfortable option for the working man. The frock was a simple coat that was far more comfortable to wear while riding compared to other apparel.

| FROCK COATS | On the left, a suit ca. 1735 from the National Museum of Scotland; on the right, a frock coat from Italy ca. 1710-1720.

Despite horses being common throughout history as vehicles of war and trade, the frock was introduced due to the enhancement of comfort, convenience, and speed during equestrian sports. These activities were becoming more and more popular throughout England since King George III was a lover of horses and sporting events. Because of his interest, hunting and other equestrian activities quickly became a popular pastime amongst the elite.

| THE KING’S FIT | King George III

The historical precedent of peacocking was beginning to slow down as the century came to a conclusion. By the beginning of the Regency Era, the tailcoat had been adopted as the proper form of dress for fellowship in the evening hours. Elaborate cutaway coats slowly turned into a more understated and elegant coat as etiquette became more important within social groups.

Then came a man named Beau Brummell. He was a middle-class gent who dreamed of a life of luxury. At the close of the 1700s, Brummell moved to London and penetrated the fortress. Although he didn’t have the financial means to dress as well, nor was it considered appropriate to try, his ingenuity and sense of style allowed him to modify less opulent apparel and turn them into exquisite outfits that were not only accepted but even mimicked by those who would otherwise not engage with a man of his stature.

| BEAU KNOWS STYLE | Portrait of Beau Brummel by Robert Dighton

He quickly became a close friend and confidant of the young Prince of Wales; the future King George V. He was instrumental in replacing the bright and vivid opulence of clothing previously adopted from the French with a more refined and understated form of dress that is now synonymous with British bespoke style. The style was predominantly monochromatic and yet still quite in vogue. It focused on fit rather than trend and accentuated the gentleman’s masculinity by highlighting his physique rather than his accessories.

By the mid-1800s, the Industrial Revolution became one of the most important events to influence men’s fashion. Men wanted to appear as serious and solemn as possible. This required that those in the top ranks maintain a very classic appearance void of all embellishment and personality, not only at night but now during the day as well.

People were seen to be valued the same as we value businesses today. Based on what they could do for us, rather than honor or virtue. It didn’t matter if they gave an apple to a starving orphan. What mattered was if they owned a bank, if they could introduce us to a new prospect, or if they required a product or service we provided. The minimalism of a gentleman’s work attire was there to mimic his behavior at work and value. And his value as a man was based on the value he or his business could provide to others. Therefore, casual attire was reserved only for the privacy of his home, and he now wore his finest attire during the day, as well as at night.

History also gives us another important glimpse into how fashion developed in the 1800s. Throughout England, Freemasonry had grown from a small group of the most distinguished working masons into a fraternity of speculative masons who rapidly attracted the most elite members of society and even members of royalty. As a key practice, Freemasons would relinquish their social status at the door of the Lodge and, when meeting, would consider each other as fraternal brothers; as equals. To them, they all held the same status and class regardless of his rank and fortune outside of Masonry. What began at the door of the Lodge continued in the outside world.

Evening wear was a uniform of sorts, a standard outfit consisting of matching tailcoats that we know today as the white tie dress code. The tailcoat became the great equalizer and was adapted into the outside world. Etiquette was now prevalent not just as forms of chivalry towards women which existed for many centuries. But it was now a kind of common courtesy afforded to men within your inner circle. It required men to dress up when in the company of others. Attire was no longer primarily used as a means to peacock but was now a symbol of gallantry used to show others that their company was important enough to warrant a gentleman’s finest apparel.

Historically, much of popular style was influenced by kings and imitated by his subjects. He was a man who could have anything he wanted in the world. And like today’s musicians and Hollywood celebrities, world leaders were revered and their styles imitated as the ultimate form of flattery.

With the invention of the automobile and the new ability to travel, for the first time in history, American fashion found its way to England. With it, came the dinner jacket, or tuxedo. Although the tailcoat and morning coat were favored by traditionalists, a younger and more modern generation was coming out of the woodwork and getting ready for the jazz age and the roarin’ twenties.

The tailcoat, which was initially reserved as the required evening attire, soon became formal evening attire. The dinner jacket was introduced for casual outings which were now far easier thanks to the motorcar. Now that a gentleman could come and go at his leisure without much regard for planning and having to pack luggage, convenience and comfort soon took center stage in many other aspects of everyday life.

Soon, like styles from the past, the tailcoat was replaced by the dinner jacket entirely. The jazz age had begun. A new generation of men was rebelling against the aging traditions of their fathers. They were drinking, partying and womanizing like never before. As their fathers sipped brandy in the sitting room and talked about how good things used to be, these rebels were spending their free time in the company of friends and dancing the night away to the new music.

America was now the center of the fashion world. Although much of the clothing inspiration still came from England, Italy, and France, those who created the styles were focused on the idea of what was of interest to Americans.

The world accepted to comforts and conveniences of modern fashion. The apparel of the country gentleman soon turned from hunting jackets into business suit jackets. The tuxedo was the jacket of the night, but the suit was now the jacket of the day. It became more and more contemporary, and as America embraced advertising and the 1950s rolled in, America fell in love with the idea that men no longer lived to work, but rather that a man worked to live.

In the hallowed halls of the Northeastern Ivy league campuses, new trends emerged beginning with the trad style. Like the tuxedo, the trad style adopted the traditional style of the suit but was an effort to allow young men to rebel against the strict dress codes they viewed their fathers as having. Despite these dress codes being far more relaxed than anything throughout history, the Ivy league students felt they needed to revolt.

However, it was done slowly so that on the way out the door, their fathers wouldn’t stop them to ask what the hell they were wearing and make them go back up to their room to change. This trad style slowly trickled into ivy league style which became even more brazen, followed by the prep style movement which got rid of the suit as a casual outfit entirely.

Despite this, since the banks and big business was still owned and operated by the traditional fathers of these rebellious young men, the suit remained the uniform of choice for American businessmen.

Then, in 1962, a new movement was created by the Hawaiian Fashion Guild. They wanted to push the popular Hawaiian shirt by introducing it into the mainstream workplaces of New York, Washington, and Los Angeles. The 1940s and 50s saw suits as the norm, but with the new counterculture revolution, they had hoped young businessmen would begin to adopt it in the same way sailors did during Aloha Week in 1942. In a series of strategic advertisements, they introduced what we now know as “casual Fridays.”

It became a fun day where offices started to allow their staff to wear these shirts to work. For many companies, the Hawaiian shirt was the only exception. If you even thought of wearing the clothing reserved for weekends with the family, you’d likely be sent home to change. Still, this, like many other movements, changed what men considered the norm for office attire. Until the 1980s, that is.

Wall Street was buzzing with excitement. It was the new Hollywood. While there was barely a chance you could make it big in Hollywood as an actor, if you were good with people and could sell, you could strike it rich on Wall Street.

| POWER & EXCESS | Michael Douglas as the infamous Gordon Gekko from the film Wall Street.

Although many of the big firms required a college degree, there were more and more boiler rooms popping up where young hotshots without a college education realized they could make a small fortune in a short period of time by bending the rules or breaking them altogether. Wall Street wannabes, these boiler rooms copied the trading floors right down to attire. The new trend of the eighties was the sharp-dressed man. A guy who drove a fast car, had a blonde bombshell off the pages of Playboy, and wore bold suits with even bigger cell phones. It was all about image, and the Wall Street trends quickly spread across the nation.

Men’s style has continued to evolve. However, one thing is certain: Trends come and go. Many of them develop into newer trends that take parts of the past to propel the future. However, they are all temporary. What rarely changes is the classic style. From the 1930s until today, the cut of the suit has been modified a hundred ways, but we’ve still consistently worn suits. The trick to being an international man of style is to stick with the standard principles at the core and forget the new and modern trends.

If you purchase quality attire that’s timeless, you will wear it for much of your adult life. If you stick with what’s popular, you’ll spend far more money trying to keep up with new trends. That’s why the disconnected undercut has remained a popular haircut for decades, whereas the mullet has not.

Thanks for reading.

Stylishly Yours,

J.A. Shapira He Spoke Style

The post A History of Men’s Fashion and Style first appeared on the men's style blog He Spoke Style - Men's Style, Fashion, Grooming, Tips and Advice

First found here: A History of Men’s Fashion and Style