Hello! I'd love a partner for a fanasty world! Something more realistic in some ways, and less in others. I'm a huge medieval nerd so expect the world to be fairly analogous to real life medieval times but with hints of magic in it. I already have a few magic systems in place that mirror the magic types for D&D(Arcane, Primal, Divive) though the magic is a lot less high magic than something like that most of the time.
I love writing action, so expect long fight scenes at times haha.
The idea for the roleplay would be an adventure based roleplay with hints of romance. Due to this I would prefer my partner play a female character, though their irl gender is irrelevant to me.
I have a few plans but would love to discuss full full worldscape in detail with each other.
For my charatcer I was going to play Lance, a young knight who was only recently knighted by the king after serving as squire to another knight throughout his teens. In terms of personality I see him as externally charismatic and the general definition on what you think of when you think knight. Deep down though, he has a darker side he doesn't allow people to see if he can help it. He is a young handsome man with high cheekbones that are sliglty wife. His hair is dark brown and kept neat. He's six foot tall and weighs about one hundred and eight pounds, his build lean but muscular. His eyes are a piercing blue.

The familiar sounds of the office fill the ears of the "Adventurer" as he steps into his home away from home. To him "Familiar sounds" means the voices of about three-quarters of the hundreds of employees who work in this building, thanks to the progressive, passive, perpetual boosts to his senses that he has simply always been accruing. He still can't quite hear everything in the office, indeed as powerful as his senses are he can only actively sense enough space around him to be firmly aware of events occurring about half of the building's length and width away from him at a time, but those are still incredibly powerful senses.
Lucas steps past several cubicles and heads to his own with a calm smile on his face. He actually enjoys his job, not because he finds the work fulfilling but because it presents him with a chance to level up his skills and work towards becoming altogether stronger in a hilariously safe environment. The figure sits in his cubicle and logs into his work computer with a bright grin on his face. As he grabs the last pieces of paper in the backlog that was a big problem when he began to work for this company he feels a pang of pride.
The workday is pleasant enough. He successfully finishes the last pile of paperwork that was considered part of the backlog and this effort is celebrated by his direct supervisor and a few of the friends he's made in his department, a group composed of several men and only a few pair of women, who have been working here for years but lacked the abilities he possesses that allow him to grind out progress at a rapid rate and allow him to improve the work he does every single day without fail. The news quickly spreads throughout the office, and various people, including other departmental supervisors and managers, come to him and congratulate him.
When the day ends Lucas is one of the first people out the door. This is commonly expected Lucas-like behavior at this point so no one bats an eye at it. The figure works and then leaves, and he seems to have an incredibly strict policy about work-life balance to the point that no one from the office has seen his apartment or even seen him outside of the office aside from on social media.
The lad walks towards a nearby mall even as he checks his phone. When the decently cautious man is sure he's not being watched he uses his inventory to swap outfits, changing into something much more casual than his work uniform so he can do his equivalent of trolling. His clothes go from being the professional outfit someone might expect to see an accountant in, to the much more casual clothes of someone who works at a Game Station the local equivalent of a Game Stop.
The minute the figure reaches the mall he relaxes and steps into it with a smile on his face as he is suddenly and powerfully aware of events going on all around him now that the sounds he's been passively hearing for the last few minutes are not muffled by layers of solid American construction. The mall is a favorite haunt of his, a place where there are enough people that even if something goes awry he can pretty easily escape in the chaos and commotion that any sort of hostile actions would necessarily cause. Still, to the figure's credit he has not been caught yet.
The thief begins his training by carefully studying the department store he's in. He can be a bit bolder now than he could weeks ago, as in the time since he began to hone this skill he's enhanced it in such a way that he can teleport objects directly into his inventory, which is a tremendous improvement even if he can't take anything bigger or heavier than a cleaver. He eventually spots a teenager with a wallet that is just visible out of the corner of his pockets. Lucas diligently uses "Observe" on him and the powerful skill is strong enough now that Lucas can use it to determine someone's affiliations. When the young adult spots that the teen belongs to a gang he decides it's worth taking his potentially ill-gotten gains.
The clever trickster points a single finger in the direction of the teen's pocket and silently casts the handy spell. A thin line of energy lances out of his extended digit and sails through the air toward the teenager. When the teen begins to move Lucas hisses in annoyance and expends a bit more magical energy to take advantage of the first skill he's gained as a result of an attribute hitting 50: arcane manipulation.
Days ago the young adventurer's passion for magic and healing resulted in two classes leveling up on the same day: mage and white mage. This resulted in his intelligence going from 49 to 52, and as a result of that he gained the ability to manipulate magical energy, so long as he can detect the magic in question and is willing to spend some magic of his own. In this world, where the figure is reasonably certain that no other magical beings exist, this means that to hone this skill the wizard needs to manipulate his own magic. Still, that hasn't stopped the young professional from tirelessly doing just that.
With a significant amount of focus the mage is able to manipulate the thin beam and twists and turns it so that it circles around the teen before snaking into his pocket and striking the young gangster's wallet. When Lucas feels the wallet enter his inventory he chuckles and makes his way out of the department store. The rest of this particular bout of training is filled with similar feats of arcane finesse and hilariously minor acts that will steal from those willing to enact violence on others in exchange for money. Lucas's clever usage of his skills coupled with his willingness to act in stunningly petty and annoying ways make him great at harassing those he designates his foes. Lucas, lacking an ability to kill those he fights thanks to a drawback affecting him, has thus far refused to actually engage those he has marked as his foes in direct battle but his desire to annoy them has led to willingly target people associated with criminal groups with some of his spatial magic.
In hours the figure is back home and he is toying with the newest toy he's received from his gacha system. A guitar sits on his lap and he fiddles with the instrument, even he listens to a video about how to tune the thing. Lucas is experimenting with something, and behind the tablet he gained some time ago is a book that contains information on tuning guitars. The tablet is in use, recording what the man is up to. An app is in use and it records the sounds the guitar chords make. The self-taught musician relies on some of his new skills for this, as he has only recently gained the "Guitar" and "Guitar Maintenance" skills, and he got them at different times so they are different levels. Nonetheless, the figure patiently records himself, occasionally stopping the recording and examining it. He is diligently using his long-term planning skills and sticking to his broad plan. At the same time the figure patiently uses magic and steadily hones the "Mage" class, using his magic skills to farm multiple sources of experience while adhering to the schedule he has informally given himself.
Eventually the next day rolls around and the figure, predictably, gets out of his apartment and goes to work. If you had explained the concept of "Jumping" to Lucas a year ago and asked him if he thought so much of it would be just working a 9-5 job he'd not have believed you and yet in the context of his experience with the unusual profession a stunning amount of time has just been him being a regular employee of a perfectly mundane business.
Time continues to pass for the would-be adventurer at a steady pace. In this mundane world a figure with legitimate supernatural abilities is a uniquely powerful presence, and this is especially true of one that is determined to keep his head down and nose clean. Lucas's determination to live a regular, relatively risk-free life does not stop him from living, but it does stop him from suffering from some sort of "Middle School Second Year Syndrome" as a result of the fact that he has gained trainable superpowers. Instead of going mad with power or gaining an unhealthy mentality Lucas has just enough knowledge of how jumping works to know that while he might be a big fish in this world he is not a big fish in other worlds like Fallout, The Elder Scrolls, or even something as aggressively hostile and oppressive as the general setting of Minecraft is.
If an objective, impartial onlooker viewing Lucas's life is given the chance to describe the sort of "Television Show" that they are watching, they'd say it could easily be considered slice-of-life. For the first few months of his time here the most exciting times are the rare moments he adds something new to his slowly expanding list of activities and the even more slowly growing list of things he can do, such as when he begins to walk the streets of the city he lives in at night and cast healing, positive, restorative magic on the sleeping homeless people he encounters. This activity ultimately earns him the peculiar title of "Unsung Saint", a title which enhances the effectiveness of his restorative or otherwise beneficial magic on those not aware of the fact that he is using magic on them.
Days of work, training, and controlled, planned forays into new pastimes, turn into weeks of steady and anticipated progress. Weeks of steady and anticipated progress turn into months of upward mobility and the healthy establishments of new baseline feats. That said, eventually progress slows and becomes more difficult for the jumper in a world as relatively safe, for supernatural beings, as this one. It doesn't take terribly long for Lucas to go from a somewhat predictable, fairly focused figure who is very specialized in a number of areas, to a somewhat more well-rounded figure with a steadily increasing repository of skills and abilities, thanks to a subtle shift in growth strategies.
​Just a few days short of eleven months into his stay in this jump, the jumper is facing a new foe but is participating in an activity he's come to enjoy; sparring.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I dodge a well-aimed right-handed punch intended for my face, though thanks to my agility I easily had enough time to dodge it, It took a long time, from my viewpoint, for it to get close to me so long enough that I only let it get this close on purpose. I'm holding back in terms of my speed and strength but my opponent, a friend I made at the gym a few weeks ago, doesn't need to know that. I have way too many supernatural advantages for it to be a fair fight if I don't hold back.
I give my opponent enough time to register that I've dodged the blow before I begin to telegraph, purposefully, my next attack. I purposefully overextend my left arm and launch a powerful, but slow, strike. The man grits his teeth and moves to intercept my strike. He is fast enough to position his arm in front of it but that is still a mistake. I guide my blow into his arm and watch as he lets out a sincere, pained, grunt. Even with me holding back I still allow DPS to work its magic, and that perk coupled with both my trained and perk-enhanced strength is enough for me to deal him a decently powerful blow.
I retract my fist with a sly smile and note that the bars that cover my field of view are all going up at different rates. The bar for "Brawler", a class that's the result of "Fighter" giving me access to a new class when it hit level 10, my currently equipped class, is going up at a healthy clip as I spar with this man, as is the bar for "Precision Strikes" and "Acting", some of my skills. Most of the things going up at a decent clip are affected by "Jack of All Trades" a perk thatreduces the time and effort it takes for me to train up new skills to around the level of my average. Most of my other bars are only slightly going up, but this is acceptable. This sort of training is vital, long term, for my very survival, and thanks to my perks is pretty easy for me to do.
Behind me I hear a familiar voice cheering; Hannah's. The lovely redhead has begun to accompany me to the gym, but this is a somewhat recent development. Before a few weeks ago we only occasionally saw each other on Saturdays at the cafe she worked at, though we have been texting buddies ever since we met. Marcus, my sparring partner, grins savagely at me as he listens to my friend and gym buddy's cheers.
"I can't let you show me up in front of your girl, Lucas. We're not close like that." Marcus tells me, though the words are insincere. Marcus is a friend of mine, one who has even tasted my food, and that's something I don't let others do as much as I once did, barring people who go to the soup kitchen when I'm one of the volunteers on duty. My cooking can now do some decent stuff so I don't want to get anyone who isn't an ally or someone I need in my pocket overly reliant on my skills. I grin at the muscular bruiser of a warrior and dart back before gesturing for him to come at me like he means it. The man lets out a hearty laugh as he begins to pursue me. He is a touch taller than me and he has muscular, wide arms that take up a lot of space.
I watch, diligently, as he swings them at me when he is in the martial sweet spot of being close enough to hit me with a fully extended fist and being far enough away for me to strike back in an effort to preempt or counter his blow. I dart forward even as he stops advancing and duck underneath the strike before I use an active skill from my "Dancer" class to infuse my agility into my strength and hit him with a blow that disorients him. He steps back, a look of pain and confusion on his face as I step forward and move close enough to hit the man with a much softer blow to the chest. I feel his solid muscles block part of the harm done to him, but the blow is still solid enough that I watch his HP lower.
He gasps in pain and staggers back, and I smile at him and sense my triumph. He's only lost a small portion of his total hit points, but for normal people, one's total stock of HP is an abstraction of their physical health. For me, my HP serves as a skillful shield that protects me at all times, and for me to fall in battle someone has to whittle away my entire bar before they take me out. In fact, right now my HP is not maxed out; earlier I took a hit from Marcus that I'm still recovering from.
I take a step forward before Marcus signals that he needs a break. I laugh, the sound filling the part of the gym we're fighting in, and stop approaching the man. Hannah walks up to the ring and offers me some of her water as I walk toward one of the corners of the small ring. I silently gesture that I'll accept it and she tosses it at me. When the object is in my hand I use subtle telekinesis to mess with my boxing glove just enough to more easily hold onto the water bottle and sip from it. The cool water tastes good, and I smile as I feel it helping me relax as I wait to continue the fight. This is the sixth time I've beaten Marcus, but I'll give the man one bit of praise: he's persistent. He likes fighting enough that he is always eager to try and fight me, and I like fighting just enough to appreciate his resistance to the idea that I can beat him. It's not always easy for me to keep on finding partners that I can spar with.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
In the days that follow this fight, the young jumper continues to spar with Marcus. He steadily trains his "Brawler" class, and takes on class skills that do things like make him a more efficient hand-to-hand fighter, even gaining skills that he suspects, and hopes that he won't need here; like the ability to launch a punch that can inflict damage at a distance.
The figure's volunteering remains a steadfast facet of his in-jump identity. The man gains popularity throughout the place that is, functionally, his hometown, as he becomes a well-known volunteer. He even makes the places he volunteers at more popular, using a steadily increasing amount of local and online popularity to advocate for the organizations he supports. This first began to occur about three months into his stay in the jump, but he really begins to leverage it at the six month mark and he quickly begins to slowly become a minor force in the community, taking advantage of his heavy charisma build to sway hearts and minds to his cause.
His days at work continue to remain fairly unchanged from how they were at the start of his time in the jump, though on very rare occasions he creates reports and the in-jump equivalent of PowerPoint presentations about the data he has compiled to his supervisor. He has also overseen a day of service for members of his department to go and volunteer at the soup kitchen where he volunteered on the day he met Hannah, allowing him a pleasant chance to practice his leadership skills. He earns his first pay raise just under a year into his stay in this setting.
Minor missteps occur along the way, such as the figure overbooking himself during one particularly hectic weekend, which annoys his friends and fellow volunteers but serves as a decently humbling experience for the overly eager adventurer and also shows his friends that he is, ultimately, human.
Lucas continues his relaxed, fairly peaceful days for more and more time. By the time he has been in the jump for a full two years his pre-jump life feels like a memory or a strange dream, though this change to his state of mind does not actually mean he cannot recall such a time only that he has fully acclimated to the realities of being a jumper. At least as much as someone who is still on their first jump can acclimate to such a thing.
A/N: I like this episodic style for the necessary time skips that a standard (or mostly standard) jumpchain story will require. Now I'm gonna say that this style won't be universal across all jumps since some jumps may be better suited to shorter timeframes. Heck some more story-intensive jumps may benefit from longer focuses on individual events and sequences of events, but we've gone past the tutorial phase for this jump and I think minor episodic looks at broad timescales is better than a thousand chapter story that only hits one year in a jump and ultimately gets dropped. That said, I know that I'm not doing this style of writing PERFECTLY, so I hope that I can use this to grow as a writer and to become better able to convey how long time skips affect the characters, relationships, and strengths of the people involved over time. Still, if nothing else this was fun.
ALSO, as an author's note that is unique to the subreddit: this story is being published on Spacebattles and the white line that cuts through parts of the story indicates a narration/viewpoint shift. On Spacebattles and several other places I write there are in-built formatting options that allow you to cut through a textbox with a horizontal line which serves as a visual marker for some significant change to some aspect of the story. The line I made was my attempt to do that here on Reddit. It's... not perfect, but hey I'm trying.

Eivor is a bit of a strange protagonist.
She’s basically flawless and without blame. She’s brash and bold, proud and unashamed — brave and wise far beyond her years, yet able to be soft and compassionate when not brandishing spears. She’s got a knack for leadership, a strong moral compass and an even stronger muscular system with which to enact justice.
And she’s got bars?
As someone not deeply versed in medieval European histories, imagine my shock and confusion upon discovering that Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla included rap battling.
My first experience with Flyting had me asking so many questions about what I just witnessed that I couldn’t wait to begin Googling. I figured flyting probably was historically accurate, but if that’s the case, then what else can it tells us about the medieval warrior and about Eivor’s characterization?
I set off to find out.
--
Wikipedia and howstuffworks combined gave me a robust definition of flyting.
A ritual, poetic exchange of insults practiced mainly between the 5th and 16th centuries. Examples of flyting are found throughout Scots, Ancient, Medieval and Modern Celtic, Old English, Middle English and Norse literature involving both historical and mythological figures. The exchanges would become extremely provocative, often involving accusations of cowardice or sexual perversion.
The idea behind flyting was to influence public opinion of the participants and raise both of their profiles. And each participant wanted to make himself look better than the other, even if they were friendly.
Not only that, but flyting’s also the first recorded use of shit as an insult. That right there is worth this whole essay and then some.
--
I came away from those definitions with some small Euphoria, as they reinforce what I already expected from Ubisoft — historically accurate and (arguably) immersive side activities grounded in realism.
Unfortunately, none of the flyting foes that Eivor faces in this fantasy are founded in any real-world flyters. I was particularly frustrated when I realized Fergal the Faceless and Borghild the Alewife’s Bane were fictional features, not real historical fiends of rhythm and rhyme.
Two of Eivor’s syntax competitors are “real” in some sense, however.
In Norse mythos, Odin, Thor, Loki, Freyja and more would handle their Family Matters over a flyte from time to time, dueling wits and words as competition and entertainment.
In fact, one flyte we do see in game — Odin as he flytes over the river with Thor in the Asgard Arc — is likely a reference to a real medieval Norse poem; The Hárbarðsljóð.
In it, Thor jaunts back to Asgard after a journey in Jötunheim. He comes to a junction in which he must jump a large river, and thus hunts down a ferryman to shepherd him across. The ferryman, Hárbarðr, is Odin in disguise. He then begins to diss guys.
Ahem. ‘Guys’ being Thor, obviously.
First, Odin drops a yo-mama joke:

Of thy morning feats art thou proud, but the future thou knowest not wholly; Doleful thine home-coming is: thy mother, me thinks, is dead.

He keeps going, taking more shots than a First Person Shooter, this time saying Thor dresses like a girl:

Three good dwellings methinks, thou hast not; Barefoot thou standest and wearest a beggar’s dress; Not even hose dost thou have.

Thor says watch your mouth before I clap back:

Ill for thee comes thy keenness of tongue, if the water I choose to wade; Louder, I ween, than a wolf thou cryest, if a blow of my hammer thou hast.

Odin replies by saying Thor’s wife is fucking another dude:

Sif has a lover at home, and him shouldst thou meet; More fitting it were on him to put forth thy strength.

The version we play out in game isn’t identical to the real-world poem, but carries some similarities; Thor’s threatening to cross the river to fight Odin as well as his boasting of slaying giants are present in each.
Ratatosk is the only other ‘real’ flyting enemy in Valhalla. While Odin doesn’t flyte with Ratatosk in Norse myth to my knowledge, the flyting against the squirrel is thematically accurate, at least.
Ratatosk’s purpose is to scramble up and down Yggdrasil, scurrying spoken messages from the eagle that sits at its peaks to the snake that slithers at its base. The nature of Ratatosk’s messages is in line with the act of flyting — the mischievous rodent carries falsehoods and aggressive statements to stir up drama and distrust between bird and serpent.
Flyting took place not only in poems and folklore, but in town squares and royal court. It was a facet of medieval life and social interaction. This weaving of prose then, in this time period, seemingly was just about as much of an admired skill as the swinging of a sword. It’s no wonder our unbreakable warrior Eivor is so proficient with word.
--
Like, really proficient with word.
I mean, I know it’s me choosing the dialogue options, but sheesh, is there anything she can’t do?
Actually, Eivor’s expertise in flyting is strange to me. It feels random and unearned — out of character, even. It comes more unexpectedly than Kendrick Lamar’s Not Like Us.
It probably only feels out of character, however, due to our modern understanding of proficiency with words versus proficiency with might. Our current interpretation of verbal ability compared to physical ability would perceive verbal ability as the ‘softer’ of the two skillsets. Physical strength is typically interpreted as tough and more dominant. You don’t expect to see an MMA fighter composing poetry, do you? The qualities that modern thought attributes to writing and physicality don’t mesh.
But in reality — and historically accurately in Valhalla — medieval warriors weren’t just blind berserkers. They were actually artists, poets and writers.
We’ve already demonstrated how Odin and Thor — Norse myth’s most famous warriors — carried out flyting. There are plenty more examples of the burly and the brawn, the Viking and the warrior breaking out poetry and song. Other poems and sagas include the same thing, among the most famous of which is Egil’s Saga — Egil, a tough Viking warrior, would frequently break out into prose throughout the saga’s telling.
Beyond Vikings though lie other other examples from around the world. The Illiad contains instances of public, ritualized abuse. Taunting songs are present in Inuit culture while Arabic poetry contains a form of flyting called naqa’id. Further, Japanese Samurai were known to be frequent composers of haiku, while Japanese culture also gave birth to Haikai, poetry in which vulgar satire and puns were wielded.
This historical accuracy ends up eliminating the randomness of Eivor’s flyting ability. Despite her verbal finesse feeling unearned, we can surmise historically that Eivor has practiced the wielding of words plenty in her life before we take over as the player. She’s dedicated time to this.
Now that we know why she has it, we can take a closer look at what it does for her.
--
So, Eivor can rap. She can match you with her axe or she can match you with her words. She’s just about unbeatable.
Her mastery of words demonstrates on some level that she’s not all Push Ups and might is right. She’s not all bruiser and bluster, burn and berserk. She’s an appreciator of the finer things — the more abstract, mental skills that require brain power, deftness and finesse.
This duality of strength and genius rounds out Eivor into a deeper, richer, more admirable character. More than just raw muscle in pursuit of glory, Eivor’s mastery of verse demonstrates her prioritizing not just her body, but her mind.
And it goes a long way for her.
Eivor can use her prowess with prose to progress past pointless plot points throughout Valhalla’s plethora of arcs and missions. It’s just a stat check in the end, but with enough practice flyting and enough charisma gained, Eivor unlocks new dialogue options that bend the world around her to her will.
Witch hunters in Eurvicscire on the brink of terrorizing Moira can be dispersed verbally rather than brawled or killed. There’s an entire riddle-solving fetch quest in Wincestre that can be skipped completely by telling King Aelfred’s abbot fuck off (figuratively). Eivor’s sharpening of her mind protects her body, saves her time, and allows her to frictionlessly fell her endeavors.
Her articulate advances don’t just alter her into admirability, they allow her to influence people and progression. With semantics from her mouth and twists from her tongue, Eivor can have her way whenever she wishes. In a game this large, I’m only left longing that the opportunity to make use of this charisma wasn’t relegated to niches.
Regardless, if medieval England is butter, Eivor’s tongue is the hot knife that behooves her move through her subduing more smoothly.
It all just goes to show that ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ flyte is right.

Hello all,
I have gallbladder removal coming up in about a month and i am ready to get this out. Ive done just about everything i can i think.
Anyways, like many of us Redditors, i come for some reassurance of success of course, and i know everyone’s stories/experiences are different. but i am interested to hear stories from folks who experienced improvement with health issues or symptoms less commonly associated with gallbladder problems, after GB removal- even if they didn’t expect them to or were surprised by them improving or hadnt connected certain health issues to GB until removal made them realize it was connected.
Curious to hear about improvement with issues apart from the GI stuff- like nervous system disruption or mental health disturbances, hormonal issues, vaginal biome issues, chronic pain, sleep issues, myalgic Or muscular, sciatica, back problems, autoimmune issues, chronic fatigue, inflammation, etc. its like i have a cascade of things all happening at the same time as my ailing allbladder and i wonder if its all connected sometimes.
I have plenty going on in the obvious GI type ways but just interested to hear others’ experience in any unexpected improvement with less commonly associated health issues with gallbladder after they got their gallbladder out, or improvement in general quality of life, etc. Thanks

Gesalec leaned back in his favorite chair and felt something pop before sitting back up. He liked this spot in the bar. He could see all the various races come and go, some would even ask for his advice. He was an old spacer and his knowledge of this sector was vast. It’s said he’s visited almost every system and most inhabited planets in his 170 Galactic years. And some of the young would ask for stories of his adventures. But he was tired of traveling and settled down on this station orbiting the planet Miasma.
So he was only slightly surprised when a tall, reptilian-like alien approached him. The being looked familiar but he couldn’t quite place which race it was. At least 2 1/2 meters tall, 4 muscular arms, bipedal, and a torso covered in tough, leather-like plates. Its head was triangular, with a blunt face containing 6 eyes, a pair of nostrils, and a wide mouth with dozens of small but sharp-looking teeth. It also had 8 pronounced fangs, 4 on top and 4 on bottom.
It wore only boots, a type of pants, and a utility harness on its torso.
“You are Gesalec of the Tharo?” The alien put it bluntly.
Gesalec stared up at the tall being before replying “I am and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“I am Buhazum of the Cudraix.” He answered
Ahh yes, The Cudraix He remembered now, his mind searching for what he knew about them. No wonder he didn’t recognize them, they were rarely seen outside their body armor and enclosed helmets.
They were a warlike race from out near the Rim. They only appeared in this sector 20 years ago by raiding the outer worlds. 5 years after that, they carved themselves a foothold in the sector at the expense of the Fatiri.
Without asking, The Cudraix sat down next to Gesalec. “I understand you know many things about this sector,” Buhazum stated
Blunt and straight to the point, Gesalec thought to himself before answering, “Yes, I am well-traveled.”
“Good, you will come with me,” Buhazum added
Taken aback Gesalec replied, “ Why in the hell would I do that?”
“To meet my superiors, you will be well compensated,” Buhazum said
Getting paid does change things. Gesalec thought to himself
“And how far would I have to go? He asked
Buhazum promptly replied, “Compartment 10, level 1”
So they are at the station and in one of the 1st class quarters. Interesting. Gesalec thought before replying, “Lead on”
It took about 10 minutes to reach the compartment and when the door opened, he was slightly surprised to see just how many Cudraix were in there.
There were maybe 11 of them but after studying the Cudraix for a moment, he concluded 6 were guards. Unlike Buhazum, they wore a variety of raiment that concealed their bodies.
It suddenly occurred to Gesalec, that since they are rarely seen without their helmets and body armor, they were essentially in disguise. And able to move about freely with no one the wiser. He started to wonder just how many Cudraix were hiding in plain sight, across the sector.
Buhazum stepped forward and bowed, “This is Gesalec of Tharo, as ordered Your Majesty.”
Buhazum stepped aside so the others could see Gesalec.
Finding out he was meeting Royalty caught him off-guard but he managed to recover. He gave a bow and spoke “Your Majesty.”
And then added, “I apologize but I do not know who is who.”
A richly dressed Cudraix stepped forward, “ I am Inubasa, Vestes to Empress Shiptu, 2nd wife of Emperor Anunnaki IV. “ He said while using a sweeping gesture to the Empress. Gesalec turned and bowed to the Empress. “My apologies your Majesty for not knowing who you were.”
The Empress just gave a regal nod of her head.
To be honest, Gesalec couldn’t tell the difference between male and female Cudraix, or were they all female? He wondered
Another Cudraix stepped forward, “Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana.”

The Grand Straktigo stepped forward and pushed a button on the console. A map of the sector appeared and the political boundaries were marked on it.
“We are embarking on a new campaign and we need information about races that might be involved. What their military capabilities are, who their allies are, and which are their most important worlds,” he said

Gesalec was shocked at the question and without thinking uttered, “ I can’t do that! Help you kill an untold number of sentients”
Empress Shiptu nodded to Inubasa, who then stepped forward, “The Empress understands your reluctance and offers a compensation of 2 million Galactic credits.”
Gesalec almost fell over from shock. He could almost buy his own station with that much, not a big one but still. After wrestling with his conscience, he agreed to this proposal.
The Empress nodded in satisfaction.

Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana pointed to an area on the map. “We plan to attack these Hamuns and absorb their territory into our Empire. We’ve heard rumors they do not maintain a large fleet and that they are afraid of war. That they’ll negotiate a way out of it.”
Gesalec stared at them in horror. “ You mean to attack the Humans (taking care to pronounce it correctly for them)?”
“ Yes, in 2 standard months” ’ The Grand Straktigo informed him.
After Gesalec regained his composure, he said, “No one in their right mind attacks the Humans.”
Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana laughed, “Why is that? They barely have a dozen systems, we have thousands.”
“What kind of threat could race afraid to fight be to us?”
“Ask the Tekarzions,” Gesalec muttered to himself, not intending for the Cudraix to hear.
But their hearing was better than he knew, “ Who are these Tekarzions? How can we contact them?”
By summoning their ghosts. Gesalec thought to himself.
“You can’t, They are extinct in this sector, and they’re only rumors of small Drifter fleets of survivors. Never staying in one place too long.”
“And these Humans are responsible? So they beat some minor power, probably only a few planets and we’re supposed to be afraid of them?” Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana scoffed.
Gesalec replied, “ Over 80 Galactic years ago, the Tekarzions once controlled most of this sector.” Using his finger to indicate where it was. “138 systems, 600 habitable planets and moons. Hundreds more with vast resources to be harvested.”
“Including the dead rock we currently orbit.” Gesalec finished
For a moment, Gesalec thought he saw doubt on some of their faces, but not being familiar with them, he wasn’t sure.
Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana was not one of them. “We are the Cudraix and fear no one! Especially a race afraid of war, even if they won one decades ago”
“Go on with your explanation as to why we shouldn’t attack them.” The Empress said.
All of the Cudraix seemed shocked that she spoke. “Your Majesty, this alien is not worthy to hear you speak!” Inubasa exclaimed
Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana also spoke out, “Your Majesty, forgive me but as 2nd Empress, you are only here in a ceremonial role.”
With a glare, The Empress addressed them both, “ That is usually so but I feel this is important enough for the Emperor to hear all of it and not just selected tidbits”
She addressed the Straktigo directly, “Would you like me to contact my husband, the Emperor, and see how he responds to my break-in ceremony? Especially after I tell him how you are ignoring the Tharon’s warning?”
I like this one, Gesalec thought to himself.
Both of the Cudraix acquiesced to the Empress.
Looking back towards Gesalec, “Please continue” she ordered
“Yes, Your Majesty” Gesalec bowed and replied.
“The Humans are not afraid of war because of what an enemy may do. Humans are afraid of what it can make them become.” Gesalec started.
“I had a Human friend long ago that once explained it to me.”
“Like you, the Tekarzions saw them as easy pickings,” Gesalec explained,
“The Humans were new to the Galactic community and had just started to expand out of their home system. And when the Tekarzions found out just how much time passed between the Human's first steps into space and how it took almost 2 centuries to leave their home system, they assumed they weren’t very smart either.”
“I found out from my friend later, that it took them so long to leave their cradle because they had been warring amongst themselves almost the entire time,” Gesalec stressed
The Empress spoke up again, “ So they were fighting a civil war that whole time?”
“No, Your Majesty, They were never a single government in the first place. They only formed that after finding out that other races existed. A damaged ship inadvertently fell out of FTL in their system. The crew was dead so the only source of information was the ship.”
“So they examined the ship and reverse-engineered what they found, mixed with their technology,” Gesalec added,
“It had long been a dream of the Humans to find life outside their world, so they were ecstatic to meet other races. They explored, they traded, they shared knowledge freely.”
“So they were caught off guard when a Tekarzion fleet entered their home system and attacked them without warning”
“The Humans suffered enormous casualties at first but they weren’t helpless,” Gesalec said
“They’d fought wars amongst themselves for almost their entire existence and they were very good at it.”
“But they were comparatively novices at deep space combat.”
“It took them months to drive the invaders out and the cost was high. For both sides.” Gesalec paused, “I’ve heard rumors that Tekarzion survivors were traumatized by their later engagements with the Humans. Especially the ground forces.”
“As a departing act of defiance, the Tekarzion launched a missile containing a biological weapon at Earth, the Human cradleworld.”
“My Human friend told me it caused an ecological disaster on their planet. Vasts swaths of their planet became sterile.”
“The biological agents were less effective, against Humans than the Tekarzion hoped”
“ The Humans had a long history of dealing with virulent and deadly diseases, which helped to protect them from the biological agents. It just made them sick but only killed the weakest of them.” Gesalec explained
“Unfortunately for the Tekarzion, this included large numbers of their youngest children.”
Gesalec continued, “As my friend told it, they could forgive the initial invasion. It wasn’t something they hadn’t done in their internal conflicts, they might have answered the ecological devastation of their world with a punitive expedition against the Tekarzion. Something of equivalent damage.”
“But the Tekarzion killed their children by the millions. And that enraged them.”
“Most races only have a couple of words that refer to revenge. The Humans have dozens and none of them are good.” Gesalec explained, “ Vendetta, Revenge, a Reckoning, Retribution, Reprisals, Retaliation, Vengeance, Eye for an Eye, Vindictive and others.”
“But the Tekarzion’s actions brought one of the worst types to their borders. The Humans call it Blood Vengeance. What the Tekarzions did could only be answered with their blood and lots of it.”
“My Human friend explained, that the Human race contains a darkness inside their soul that they fight to suppress. When it escapes and takes over an individual, the death and destruction they cause can ruin dozens of lives.” Gesalec continued, “But when that darkness escapes and runs free through their entire race, then it can inflict horrors beyond your imagination.”
“He once showed me their history and I thought I’d seen enough in my lifetime that nothing would shock me. I was wrong. The things they’d done to each other were the most horrific things I’d ever seen. And that was to each other, so imagine what would happen to an alien race.”
“And this act brought out the very worst in them. It was like they went insane with grief.” Gesalec said

“They combined the things learned from captured Tekarzion technology with their own. These new warships were black as night with wings to make them look like some kind of nightmarish bird.”
“Their body armor was jet black with the helmets stylized into monstrous faces. Not just things from their nightmares but from the Tekarzion too. They called this part of psychological warfare.”
Gesalec shuddered at the thought, “ They attack their opponents' minds, not like a psychic or something but by bringing your deepest fears to life.”
“This is what traumatized the Tekarzion survivors so badly.” “They couldn’t understand the Human’s ways of making wars. They’d stand up and fight when necessary but the Humans preferred to use tricks and deception and mind games.”
“They were like spirits, always striking where the Tekarzion didn’t expect them to, destroy something vital or kill some Tekarzion soldiers and vanish before guards could respond.”
“But things were different now. When their fleets came roaring out of their territories, they did not sneak but bellowed like a charging Ganarak beast. They wanted the Tekarzion to know they were coming and they left a trail of destruction anywhere they went.” “Military or civilian, nothing Tekarzion was left. No ships, no bases, no industries, and no Tekarzion. Those that didn’t flee were roasted in nuclear fire or died choking on the dust flung into the air as Human Mass Drivers lobbed asteroids at their colonies.”
“Even abandoned facilities and colonies were obliterated like they didn’t even want a memory of the Tekarzion. They didn’t even bother garrisoning the worlds they took intact. They wrecked everything Tekarzion and left.”
“This tactic also made it hard for the Tekarzion to determine where the Humans would strike next. And left them running around to places still smoldering from the Humans attacks but no Humans were there. But there were times when the Humans stayed and ambushed the Tekarzion ships that arrived. Their wreckage orbited a dead world ”
“The Humans left the Tekarzion homeworld for last. And after 5 years of war, they were ready for the end and surrounded the planet.” Gesalec finished.
“What happened to the Tekarzion homeworld?” The Empress asked.
Gesalec pointed out a window before saying, “Look for yourself. We are in orbit above it. The Humans renamed it after the war was over.”
“Once the war was finished and their children were avenged, they stepped back from their insanity and took stock of what they had done.” “They had a word for it, Genocide, it was something from their past that brought great hatred towards the ones to carry it out. And now their entire race was stained with that crime.”
“So they pulled back and abandoned all but the systems they now possess.”
“But before they withdrew, they renamed the Tekarzion homeworld Miasma and requested it be used by everyone else as a reminder,-” Gesalec said, “ No one was eager to draw the Human’s ire so they agreed”
“A reminder of what? Of what they would do to anyone else that attacked them?” one of the Cudraix he didn’t know the name of.
Gesalec thought for a moment, “Well, yes but that wasn’t why they did it.”
“The term Miasma was from one of their earliest myths. A term for a type of guilt that runs so deep, that it permanently stains all of their race/their blood. It affects all of them, even the ones living today. They collectively let that darkness run free and the results were so horrific, that they don’t feel it can be forgiven, only atoned for.” “Every year they mark the fall of the Tekarzion homeworld, not with celebration but reminders of what they did.”
“Their avoidance of war is not to protect themselves. It’s to protect others from them.” Gesalec finished
He could tell that only the Empress truly got his point. The rest of them didn’t seem convinced and Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana still thought their military was too superior to lose.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gesalec sat in his favorite chair, enjoying just being among others. It was 3 years ago this week that he tried to convince the Cudraix that attacking the Humans was a bad idea. And that killing their kids was a worse idea. And now they are losing the war, badly. Of the 138 systems they started with, they have less than 21 left.
But not all of those systems fell to the Humans. 57 of them broke away to form their own Empire and allied with the Humans. They are led by a very smart Empress who not only listened to my advice but took it a step further. When her foolish Husband allowed Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana to attack the Humans. After the Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana tried to intimidate the Humans by glassing several civilian colonies, she sent a message to the Humans.
She offered a solution allowing them to get revenge but avoid making the same mistake as before. She would break away from the Empire with as many systems as possible and ally with the Humans. Cudraix civilians could flee to her new Empire for safety. Her forces could even help evacuate those who surrendered, including military personnel.
Meanwhile, the Humans could wreck Her former husband’s Empire as they liked. She also told them she would be handing over any of the officers responsible for glassing the Human colonies, for trial. Gesalec looked forward to seeing Grand Straktigo En-Shag-Kush-Ana on trial.
Author's note
I hope you enjoyed the story.
Constructive criticism is welcome.
https://ko-fi.com/tomcarey in case anyone is feeling generous.

Disruption
First Prev
There was a moment where Alex thought it might be prudent to reach over and grab Carbon’s jacket, just kinda ground her a little bit given what she’d done to the Royal Guard the other day. But the soldier had specifically told them to move away from him, so that might look like trying to take a hostage and he knew fuck all about this guy’s intentions.
He could say for certain he didn’t particularly enjoy looking down the barrel of a gun, though.
The only upshot so far? This guy, and the whole crew behind him, were composed. The translator was good at managing the nuance of voices and while he was loud, he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t nervous. He was doing his job. Presumably that job was protecting the ship.
From Alex. For reasons that were not obvious to anyone else in the room.
“Sergeant. I assume you believe you have reason to point that rifle at the Prince, but I would like it if you did not.” Carbon switched to Tsla, and she dropped right out of that friendly tone she’d just had, the pleasant demeanor she had carried discarded in favor of an unspoken preparation for violence. Her voice carried that as a promise, hard and low.
To his credit as a professional, the Sergeant didn’t react. He stood his ground, one eye hidden behind the sensor cluster of his rifle’s scope, the other still trained on Alex. “Princess, step away from him. He has attempted to compromise this ship.”
“Fu-” While Alex was emboldened to speak his mind by Carbon’s reaction, cussing the guy out first thing was probably not the best idea. He still refrained from making any sort of movement, as well. He had no idea how he could have compromised the ship sitting around talking about heraldry. “I haven’t done that.”
“He would not.” Carbon swiveled her chair to fully face the Sergeant, the systems on her clothing coming back online with a soft hum before racks of shield emitters that dotted her protective gear popped back to life. “Stand down now or I will make you.”
That got his attention, eyes darting to Carbon and back to Alex even though his firearm never wavered. He seemed to be taking Carbon’s words into consideration, at least, even if he did look unsure of himself now. He swallowed, ears flattening as he gripped the rifle tighter.
“I’d do what she says, just as some friendly advice.” He tried to act nonchalant despite his voice rising as fear crept up his spine. He didn’t enjoy the idea of getting shot, even if he was sure that he could get it fixed up if it was just a round or two in the chest. More time in the mediboard was not on his list of stuff to do. Alex cleared his throat gently, placing his hands on the table before he continued, hoping to set the Sergeant at ease. “Not big a deal anyway, I’m staying in this chair until I find out what’s going on.”
It didn’t seem to help, at first. He was clearly conflicted but his body stayed tense, gray eyes intent on Alex. He lowered the barrel slowly, the weapon still pointed in Alex’s direction but no longer covering him. The rest of his team followed suit.
“Thank you, Sergeant. Explain why you are here.” Carbon had dialed the venom back but her words were still sharp, commanding.
“Lady Sorenson, Communications alerted us to an unexpected transmission from this compartment’s intranet link.” He continued to eye Alex, still ready for action even if he wasn’t set to gun him down immediately.
Alex kept his hands on the table, turning just his head to look at the Sergeant. “And how does that implicate me?”
“Approximately fifteen minutes ago, an unregistered computer accessed the Human Solanet connection and began transmitting an encrypted datastream. All secured non-Tslao equipment has been checked to prevent espionage. You are in possession of the only unsecured Human electronics on the ship.”
“Okay, you know what. That is pretty good.” Alex nodded in agreement. Fifteen minutes ago was about when they arrived in the area, so potentially anything he had on him could have accessed the network. There was one little issue, though. “But. I can’t send any information. The only Human technology I have with me is my translator and implants, and neither of those have the modems to connect to networks like the Solanet. What’s more, no one in their right mind is going to let their brain implants touch the internet.”
Carbon gave a little nod in agreement.
The Sergeant was not so easily swayed. “There is no other place for it to have originated from.”
“I’m just saying, if I wanted to send data, I’d just send it via the milnet. I wouldn’t even have to roll out of bed.” He was getting a little more animated as he worked up his defense. “I had no hand in making this appointment, and I’m supposed to be the one using it as an excuse to ‘compromise’ the ship? Besides, if I had known there was a live Solanet connection, I would be up here daily.”
“The prince speaks the truth. I have seen him and he has no interest in deceit.”
The Sergeant shook his head, obstinate, which was probably a good trait in his line of work. “This is the only compartment with an open link to the Human public Solanet right now. All others are limited to their milnet. Communications stated that the stream originated from an unnamed device, not the workstation that had been issued here.”
That gave Alex something to chew over. Admittedly, it sounded like it locked him in pretty tight, even if he didn’t have the equipment, or inclination to do anything like that. He did have some lived experience that would prove his intentions out, though. “We can settle this right now. I’ll show you what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen minutes. The whole damn morning, if it makes you feel better. Come on, get those things out.” He gestured at the Sergeant’s antenna, currently resting in an interface on the back of his combat shirt.
He looked from Alex to Carbon, even glanced over at Lyshen for half a second. “You can do that?”
“Yeah.” Alex closed his eyes and exhaled a very annoyed sigh. “Yeah I can. I don’t have the antenna, but it still works. It’s a brain layout thing. You know how it works for babies or people who are unconscious?”
“I do.” He contemplated what Alex was saying before shaking his head. “It does not matter. I am not here to determine your innocence. I am here to take you into custody and move into an area where you cannot continue to transmit data.”
“Really. I’m telling you, I’m not transmitting any data. I have no way to do that.” So just fuck off. He didn’t say that part, but it was there. He wasn’t here to compromise the ship, whatever that meant exactly. He wouldn’t spy on anyone! Not on purpose, anyway. He didn’t even like the way just thinking about it made him feel...
But he worked for people who would gladly do so without issue. That was their entire reason for existing! It wasn’t the Civilian Pilot Program on the paperwork to get his Amp replaced, it was the Office of Naval Intelligence. It was the ONI that provided the Internal Translator with a custom language package. Who likely had fingerprints all over every part of his substantial list of wetware, which had been exhibiting unexpected behaviors since he got them. “Oh, fuck!”
“What? What is wrong?” Carbon jerked back around towards him, startled by his sudden burst of profanity.
“I'm fine, I just think he’s right.” Alex looked up at the Sergeant, the easy tone he’d been affecting so far gone, replaced by sudden intensity. “They cut the transmission?”
His eyes had widened slightly, the rifle back up at Alex’s chest. “Yes, it was stopped automatically.”
Lyshen’s Solanet link hadn’t gone down, it had been shut off by Communications.
“Good. Could you put that fucking thing down? You’re about to get what you came here for, so chill.” He slipped his external translator off his shoulder and started picking at the latch on the back with his fingernails as he turned to Carbon. “Could you call Eleya? I don’t have her number.”
Carbon had Eleya dialed in less than a minute.
Alex plucked the battery out of the back of the translator and dumped all the parts onto Lyshen’s desk. The lights on the device going dark after a few seconds, his Amp complaining as it lost the connection. He took the phone from Carbon. Remarkably, it worked just like a Human phone did. You just press it to your head and talk.
When the Empress picked up she sounded pleasant again, familial warmth cranked all the way to eleven. “Hello, my dearest niece. I am-”
“Hey, it’s me.” Even with the soldier’s rifles lowered again, each second waiting for Eleya had been an eternity. His suspicion about the transmission was making every moment stretch out, even though it would likely take some time to find out one way or another. “You remember that time I almost got killed?”
“Yes.” The charm had gone away, though she remained civil.
“I know you had some research done while I was out.” He assumed as much. They had the opportunity, it stood to reason they would take it particularly after what they had found out yesterday. Was that bad? Maybe. Did he care? Not right now. ”Did you do anything with my Amp?”
There were a few heartbeats of silence on the call. “Are you in a secure location?”
“Yeah.” Alex looked from Carbon to the Sergeant and over to Lyshen. “Of course.”
“All of your on-board technology was studied.” Eleya was clearly reluctant to say even that.
“Super. I need someone who’s gotten familiar with it to take a look at mine. There may be something wrong with it. Security and privacy problems, for you and me respectively. Big ones.”
Another hesitation. “Come to aft research lab six. I will meet you there and we will discuss these problems further.”
“Aft research lab six. See you there.” Alex tapped the button to end the call, which he seemed to have gotten correct. He handed the communicator back to Carbon. “I’m going to need you to translate for a bit.”
“Of course.” It sounded more like a question, but she nodded in agreement as the black rectangle disappeared back into her jacket. “What is in the research lab?”
“Something related to my Amp.” He assumed, anyway.
“Ah. I see.” Carbon seemed to be putting things together with him.
“Alright, this is going to look weird so everybody just chill. Don’t. Fucking. Shoot. Me.” That last bit was aimed squarely at the Sergeant. Alex reached up and began tapping his face in a particular series of locations. Left temple, right temple, nose, left temple again, left cheek... He ran down this physical cheat code and ended it by tapping his chin three times. All his machine interfaces shut off. “Okay. Somebody say something.”
Carbon was first to react. “What was that?”
She said it in English.
“I meant in Tsla.” He paused, a stressed laugh escaping him. That had been a little funny. “Deep brain interfaces have hardcoded shutdown sequences that sit in the body interface layer - also hardcoded - so it can’t be intercepted, or otherwise bypassed. Y’know, in case of runaway processes, lock-in, spyware your government installed. That sorta stuff.”
She rattled off something in Tsla that sounded a wee bit accusatory. He caught a ‘you’ in there, but that was it.
“Ok, it appears to be off. All the electronics I received from the ONI are currently off.” Alex stated that loudly, this whole endeavor suddenly feeling much more martial. He shrugged off his jacket, piling the translator and its battery into it and then wrapping it up into a tight bundle, which he stuck under his arm. Good thing he opted for the plain t-shirt today. “Sergeant, per the instructions of the Empress, please escort me to aft research lab six.”
It was weird to walk in such a large group and not have anyone talking. Seven people there, following Carbon as she actually knew where the lab was without having to consult a map. Everyone just walking. The single-note step of a Tsla’o footfalls was even more noticeable when that was the only sound, Alex’s heel-toe stride an outlier.
Ship security had their own maglev lines, running above the main line. There were multiple tracks, with smaller, windowless, cars. Everyone filed in, and they departed for the other end of the Sword of the Morning Light.
For the first time in quite a long while, he didn’t feel like chatting with Carbon about whatever was on his mind as soon as his butt was in a seat. Alex did reach over to her and pat her knee, smiling when she turned to look. She returned it, faintly, though the thin smile disappeared when the Sergeant looked over at them.
Since they were going to be looking at them, Alex turned his attention to their escort. Two gray, two red, one blue. Wearing the gray camo uniform that Amalu had worn, but none of them were wearing body armor, or even carrying much extra equipment aside from what fit on a belt.
The Sergeant had the most detailed rank marker, despite being ‘just’ a Sergeant, and was the only one carrying a rifle. The next down was a red-furred female that reminded him of Zenshen, but clearly wasn’t. Older, more muscular. About half as much detail on her rank, and sporting what looked like a snub-nosed SMG.
The remaining three were probably the Tsla’o equivalent of Privates. One of them had a single line carved in his plate, and looked almost as young as Haraya. All of them were packing some sort of sidearm, all stowed in holsters now. Alex did recognize the Tsla’o symbol for ‘electricty’ on the neon pink magazines on the belt of the closest soldier, clearly different from the plain black mags the two real guns had. Obvious visible differences for nonlethal weapons, if that convention held between their races. It was nice to see they hadn’t all come ready to kill. If the stun baton was anything to go by, those pistols would still hurt like hell.
The car dinged its arrival, the sound more business than the friendly notes that the regular maglev played, and they exited. Two stops from the furthest aft, and Carbon gestured for them to follow to the nearby lifts.
The ride had not done anything to ease the obvious anger that was simmering just below the surface. Alex assumed he was the only one picking that up because he’d come to know her well - her face was placid as they piled into the elevator, with the exception of a brow crease that he hadn’t seen since the early months of the Kshlav’o expedition.
They went all the way up to deck twenty.
While Alex was fully comfortable with Carbon’s navigation of the ship, the Sergeant and Not-Zenshen were discussing something quietly behind him, both of them looking at a map on his communicators when he stole a glance back. Neither of them sounded worried, but the Sergeant’s tones were much more relaxed as he traced a finger along the screen. Trust but verify, apparently.
There was a particular scent in the air as they approached a massive white blast door. Ozone, and a hint of something else hidden under it. Something bitter. Large block letters in Tsla marking the door as leading to... whatever was in there. Alex still couldn’t read enough of their language to decipher it, but he did recognize the symbol for ‘6’ at the end of one line.
Carbon leaned into the access panel and it scanned her - not the usual blip of a retinal scan, either. This took seconds, lasers sweeping across her face. Down and then back up, left to right, right to left. It beeped an affirmative and the heavy doors began to retract, the better part of a meter thick.
Beyond it was a large, brightly lit social area. Benches, plants, doorways and corridors running off to who knows where. There were even a few Tsla’o sitting at tables in the back trying to eat with the Empress standing right there.
Eleya had made good on her word. The Tsal’o Empress was waiting for them on the other side of the doors, arms crossed over her chest. Clearly annoyed, and flanked by the indistinct forms of her Guard. The most curious thing about her today was the shift in clothing. Her usual formal jacket replaced with a black version of the shirt the soldiers behind him were wearing, but buttoned to the top and bereft of any adornment. She wasn’t even wearing her piercings.
“Hey, my favorite aunt!” He lied, tossing his arms out and pulling her into a hug. Alex was careful about this, putting Eleya’s head between him and Carbon and lowering his voice to the faintest whisper. “She’s already mad. Best behavior.”
He released her before the guard did anything about that, which... Alex couldn’t tell if that was a training issue, or if he was on the OK to hug the Empress list. Perhaps the shakeup that Eleya had spoken about the night before was already underway.
Eleya said something to him, unaware he did not have his translator on. She didn’t spill the beans about what he’d said, as near as he could tell, a brief glance she shot him while smoothing her shirt out did make it clear she caught it. The Empress turned her attention to the Sergeant and rattled off something that sounded very official, ending her statement with a short bow.
The entire crew that had brought them there bowed back, deeply, and turned to leave. There was another Royal Guard on the door controls on this side, the blast doors sliding closed as soon as they had crossed back into the hallway.
Eleya turned back to Alex, and started talking.
He held up a hand. “Hang on. All my hardware is off.”
“He is not getting a translation right now.” Carbon added.
Eleya’s eyes widened at hearing a version of Carbon through her translator. They started conversing, going back and forth until Carbon looked over at him. “Explain what’s happening.”
“Short of it is that your Comms team caught something on my person attempting to send data using the public network. I left my Human-made phone in our cabin, and all of my wetware shouldn’t be able to access it anyway. My going theory is one of my implants was modified to secretly record and then send that data out, but only on public networks where something like that would go unnoticed, to maintain deniability. I'll bet you anything that the Human computer in Lyshen's office has a mesh node, and that's where it gained access.” All of that came spilling out a little faster than he liked, but it was good to get it out. The idea that the ONI would use him as a tool to spy on them, well, in retrospect it really did fit. The assertion he wouldn’t actually be spying. No tradecraft. So much easier to load him up with technology and let him bumble his way through whatever might happen, soaking up who knows what in the process. And when he inevitably came back to a Confed station, or went back to Earth, it would dump it right into their lap. “I’m really hoping you’ve started developing a way to drive a keyed PIN, because that’s the only way we’re going to be able to check it.”
Eleya spoke, gesturing up a flight of stairs.
“She says we will speak with the head researcher.” Carbon was still terse, but it wasn’t directed at Eleya for once. They both had their attention drawn to a problem that needed fixing.
“Alright.” Alex breathed in deep and heaved a heavy sigh. The bitter scent in the air was a little more clear now. Something he definitely recognized, a familiar taste on his tongue. “Ok, just a little aside here... Who's making coffee?”
 
First Prev
*****
This guy and his priorities, I swear.
Art pile: Carbon reference sheet. Art by Tyo_Dem

The last category, of course, is those service-to-self oriented entities who have decided that their way to the Creator is to love themselves more and more purely and to attract to themselves those entities which will help them and then put them to work as, shall we say, slaves or very obedient servants. You may see this kind of structure in place in organizations like your armed services and some of your churches.
The truth of the service-to-others polarity is just as viable as the truth of service-to-self polarity: no more and no less. Therefore, it is not surprising that some entities choose the service-to-self polarity. We are not of that polarity and have never been drawn to approach that polarity. We have found that the Creator of this particular sun system, of which we are also a part, has a bias towards service to others.

And we find that it is a straighter and more muscular path, one that is more fun to work with and one that yields a much greater harvest as one moves on. It is straighter, my friends, because one does not at some point have to switch polarities. For the negative polarity can only go just so far. Nevertheless, from the standpoint of an entity choosing between service to self and service to others, it is a very viable choice.

For those who have not opened their heart because they refuse to do—and that is the conscious choice of a service-to-self entity—the incoming vibrations will not be particularly troublesome. Such entities have long chosen to put themselves under the most rigid discipline. Emotional affect does not serve them. Being out of control in any way does not serve them. Consequently, they cope very well with a surprising amount of difficult catalyst because they really have to be firm in their desire to love themselves and very confident before they can make any progress whatsoever in that very difficult polarity.
We do not see a great deal of the global surface being filled at all thickly with those who have made the service-to-self choice. However, those who make the service-to-self choice have a tendency to seek earthly power as well as inner power and consequently they tend to create systems of governance which tend towards the enslavement of some beings for the benefit of others. We would ask entities who wish to think about this further to gaze at the world scene with those particular thoughts in mind.
Source text : https://assets.llresearch.org/transcripts/files/en/2006_0917.pdf

Hey Guys,
So I was diagnosed with AS at 20yrs old. Before that I always had pain in my ass/lowervack whenever I sneezed but that was literally it, I was extremely fit and had the stamina to match. Then, middle of the first covid lockdown in AUS, I woke up in the middle of the night now able to move. The pain was so agonising that I could barely breathe, this prompted all the dr appointments that lead to my AS diagnosis and being prescribed biologics.
Fast forward 4 year's and I'm currently on Cosentyx, I have just had my dosage upped to two jabs every 30days. The flare ups when I'm unable to move have stopped, but the constant agonising pain in my lower back, ass, and knees is just unbearable. I cannot sit for longer than about a minute on the toilet before I have to stand up and walk (not a fun experience) I struggle to sleep, move around my tiny apartment, even get my work done (pain is too distracting).
I've gone from being extremely fit to as skinny as a twig due to being scared of going going back to the gym after the last couple times I went (2 years ago) and flared up in the middle of an exercise causing serious injuries and almost being crushed by 200kg on the leg press.
I feel empty, sad, tired, and every negative emotions inbetween. The inflammation is causing my eczema and psoriasis to flare up leaving my skin looking horrid, plus the fact I have dermatillomania causing my eczema to turn into massive open wounds all over my body through picking.
I'm at my limit, I can handle pain but this is something else. My rheumatologist just said the pain is "muscular skeletal" but didn't elaborate further, I'm in the public health care system so i cant see him again for another 6 months.
I don't even know what the point of this post is to be honest, I'm just lost and cannot enjoy life any more.

Guys, I'm 22M with mild CP and I work out and stretch daily. I've been reading more about this condition and stumbled upon post impairment syndrome, apparently it's related to overworking your muscular system. Does anyone got it? I'm afraid of getting something like this as I'm super active physically, got really amazing results related to my CP and really wouldn't want to lose it.
Also, do you got any injury that made you more disabled as an adult? Anything you would have done differently?

Yes I watched something expecting not to like it and I in fact did not like it, sue me.
Season 22 episode 15 of Family Guy, Faith No More, starts with Brian meeting yet another boring woman who Brian inexplicably falls hopelessly in love with, real strong start to this episode. Due to her Christian values she doesn't want to fuck him so Brian gets mad and does the only sensible thing and goes back in time to sabotage Jesus.
In the past, he encounters Jesus and discovers Jesus isn't interested being a messiah and is only involved in the whole messiah scene because his father, God, is pressuring him.
Oddly enough for an animation that is, I think, trying to criticize religion, God canonically exists in this universe, and he canonically created the universe and all that. I enjoy that Family Guy, unlike the average TV show, has the guts to depict God as an actual character and give him a face. However I'm a bit confused that he's just a regular guy living in a house where he bosses around his son. I'm not religious and I know nothing about theology, but somehow I feel this isn't how it works.
Brian and Stewie sabotage Jesus's messiah career by convincing him to get into stand up comedy instead. Because he's Jewish, of course. God is mad, but can't do anything about it, because I guess Stewie's time travel machine > God.
Speaking of Stewie, what's with him being gay as a personality trait? Originally he was an evil genius, but now, it seems like 100% of the jokes are just him being gay. Is being gay funny? I don't think it's funny. Especially if the "joke" is done 1000 times. In this episode, Stewie witnesses a muscular shirtless man from ancient Israel walking by and is attracted to him. That's it. That's the entire joke. Is that funny? Or interesting? Or necessary? Is it anything?
Stewie being gay might have some entertainment value if they leaned into it and explored it further, like going into his identity, or place in society, or anything, but somehow Family Guy doesn't even have the guts to do that. Not in any episode I've seen anyway, I'm not an expert. Between Brian being a scumbag hetero male, Stewie's queer attractions constantly being the butt of the joke, and many female characters like Meg only existing as punching bags and/or cheap plot devices, I don't think Family Guy is establishing the liberal moral high ground they somehow think they have.
Back to the plot of the episode: Once Brian and Stewie get back to modern times, everything appears exactly the same with technology, society and culture, except all the characters are stereotypical Jews and also doctors. Brian doesn't mention that woman he was in love with or see if she's willing to fuck him now, because I guess she's not plot relevant any more despite being the initial reason he violated the laws of space time.
Brian is delighted to discover there is no legal drinking age any more, because apparently Christianity is the only reason that exists. (???) Unfortunately he discovers that during the Sabbath Jewish people like to take a break from technology, something he was somehow unaware of prior despite his personality being "smart educated snob." So he goes back in time again to troll Moses, stop Judiasm, and stop rules from happening.
They come back to the present, and now there is apparently no religion any more. A world without religion would actually be an interesting concept to explore, so of course, they do not explore this at all. Instead, God shows up again, as an ordinary mailman, and beats up Brian and Stewie, successfully coercing them to restore Christianity back to normal. The means through which God requires Christian worshippers to prevent him from becoming a mailman are unexplained, the power system of Family Guy is a mess.
That's it, that's the end of the episode. Judaism isn't even an evangelical religion, so even without competition from Jesus it's unlikely Judaism would become dominant compared to something like Islam. I'm also confused how they believe religion didn't exist before Moses, like what happened to polytheistic or animistic religions? In b4 "it's a comedy you're not supposed to take it seriously."

Lotus eye: The pupil of the shogas have a similar look to a lotus and it allows them to see the soul of other living being and give some sort of equivalent to mind reading but that depends on how strong they are
Female shoga: Female shogas are pretty tall going with height going between 6 and 8 foot and their body type can range from lean to pretty muscular. Their physiology is much stronger than human's physiology, a healthy shoga could take over a planet in about two months and it gets faster if they're stronger
Male shoga: Male shoga can be tall and athletic too but they don't possess the same control of the shoga's abilities but they still have the eyes normally
Soul switching: So when one soul take control of the body the body change appearance and gender and they can also take the appearance of the other soul if they want but don't really do it except for reproduction
Death: after thousands of years the shoga found a way to prevent their death and make themselves immortal and without a finality. This is the reason why Finality came on their planet and made Cookie
The queen: Mai was made by selective breeding and genetic engineering so that she would be the peak of their race, and they succeeded. She's strong enough to take over dozens of solar systems in a day but what they didn't anticipate was that she would be a pacifist. Her ability to see and feel the soul of other is so strong that she basically feel it when anyone dies in big radius from her so she knows how death feels and don't really wants to inflict that on other so their creation kind of back fired and the shoga's laws and politics completely changed.
Cookie and Chip: They're kind of a special case but to put it in simple way they both have half of finality existence and shoga DNA that makes chip a little shorter than other shoga and a bit less muscular. Chip's power is way beyond her mom as she exists to eradicate the whole race including her mom and she's not really a pacifist like her mom because of Finality's existence inside of her making her a little antipathic to other people's pain and sees it as a game and she knows her purpose.
Powers and abilities:
average shoga:

• Shoga physiology
• Super human perception
• shapeshifting
• Spiritual Awareness
• soul reading
• low space-time manipulation
• cosmic radiation resistance
• self sustenance

Mai:

• Shoga physiology
• Super human perception
• shapeshifting
• soul reading
• spiritual awareness
• memory reading
• Retrocognition
• space-time manipulation
• cosmic radiation resistance
• self sustenance

Chip

• Shoga physiology
• Super human perception
• shapeshifting
• soul reading
• spiritual awareness
• memory reading
• Retrocognition
• space-time manipulation
• cosmic radiation resistance
• self sustenance
• Disaster manipulation

Anyone else feels this way? I'm rewatching the old seasons and Fessy is a muscular baby... so entitled and does not admit his mistake. Poor Kaycee, she hurt herself by trying to keep up with Fessy. Noone else pushed their partners like he did. Even after getting hurt, she tried to continue. Listening to "messy" say he worked hard all season had me rolling my eyes. Challenge people pls make a season where they do not have to be in teams, voting is always a secret and just goes by a point system. I'd love to see where some of these challengers end up if it's not by working as a team. Because Fessy and Josh are either complaining, crying or blaming it on someone else.

I was originally going to post this is dating_advice but I kept going on into my problems so I think I need some different kind of help (i copy pasted the text I was writing there here, but also kept typing on it.) Halfway through I start talking a lot about my family so that’s not as relevant. Also this is an alt account because I wanted to be anonymous while posting this. I tried formatting it by different issues I guess. I formatted it after writing and i’m on phone (i’m trying to follow the community rules. Lemme know if this is acceptable or not):
(Intro and main topic) ———————————— • As of last year i’m a freshman in college just finishing up the second semester and I haven’t even made a single friend in college. Well I have met and talked to some people but the connection isn’t all too deep. It’s like we would call each other friends because we see each other “sometimes” but it’s not like we hang out for the sake of hanging out if that makes sense. So this entire year of college I haven’t made a single friend. This problem of not being able to approach people extends to my inability to find a girlfriend. I’ve never been in a relationship like that so i’m not even sure I would make a good boyfriend. But I know i’m longing for deeper connections with new friends or a girlfriend. I’ve never tried approaching someone or asking someone to go on a date. Except one time in high school where I thought I had feelings for someone but I’m still unsure I even did. I texted them asking them on a movie date but they said no. It was upsetting a little bit and made things awkward because I was unsure how to talk to them after that but I also wasn’t that worried about it later.
(Why approaching people is hard) ———————————— • Sometimes I think about approaching someone but then I think that there’s no point. The interaction won’t go anywhere besides a couple little back and forths and then we’ll never talk again. Or lots of times never see each other again. Why should I say anything. I end up overthinking like this until the chance is gone. I tend to keep to myself a lot.
(Personal issues I guess) ———————————— • I think I have social anxiety. I don’t like places with a lot of people so it makes approaching even harder because if I say something stupid other people will hear. Since middle school i’ve been conscious of my volume thinking other people might listen in on my conversations with others. It’s easier to talk to people one on one. It made it hard to be myself to the point I didn’t know how to be myself. I acted like other people. Adopting their mannerisms because I thought it would help me fit in. One time I got called out on it and I felt.. despair I guess. They didn’t directly say why I acted like that but they did point out that I acted like someone else specifically they said “you’re not (person’s name)”. I try not to act like others. I feel like I’m a boring person to others because I can be very quiet. I try and balance this by speaking confidently on the rare times I use my voice.
(Why I don’t think I can get a girlfriend or be a good boyfriend) ———————————— • Back tracking to the relationship thing. I also don’t know if i’m even worthy of having a girlfriend. As i’m writing this i’m trying to find the words to defend that sentence because I know everyone is worthy of love and I know that what I wrote is wrong but all I have is the reasons I feel like this. I’m already 18 and I don’t feel like i’ve matured enough to deserve a girlfriend. I’ve never had a job, I don’t have my license, and it’s embarrassing to admit but I live with my grandparents because they live 10 min away from campus. Maybe if I was really good looking or something none of that stuff would matter but i’m just average. Not fat, not muscular, just skinny and kind of short but I am pretty athletic actually but I have asthma (my body is a system of checks and balances). I’m taller than my dad who’s kind of my role-model so that gives me a confidence boost.
(Why i’m grateful for my family/not as relevant) ———————————— • I don’t see my dad a lot (only in the summers) but he’s an amazing father and I want to be just like him when have children someday. I can’t help crying right now. I’m very thankful to all of my caring family. Even if I can’t make friends I know every single one of them will always be there for me. I know not everyone is as lucky with the family they are born into and I cherish the connections I have with them. I’ve been told many times by them that they’d accept me for who I am no matter what. Just recently I had some awful news that was difficult to tell my mother but she didn’t get angry like I thought. She just said calmly that she’s glad I told her and then she comforted me about it. I’m so glad my dad taught me the importance of honesty and owning up to my mistakes quickly. I’m sorry if this is off topic but I just suddenly feel like I need to give them thanks. I will always be connected to my brothers and sisters as we grow older. When I lived with my mom over the school years I always had a best friend but when we drifted more and more apart I felt more alone. I couldn’t make that connection with anyone else again. We’re still friends but I can’t honestly call him my best friend. We were friends in elementary and middle school is when we drifted apart. Still close then but not as close as I thought especially because now we went to the same school(in elementary we didn’t). So i’m very grateful for being able to understand the experience of being an only child when I lived with my mother and the experience of having siblings when I was with my dad. It makes me grateful for my siblings because i know i’ll never be alone in the world. Not truly. My mom eventually gave me sisters when I was 12 and I love them to death.

Hi everyone,
I wanted to share with you my response to the introduction found in the only edition of Use of the Self currently in print. I believe it's a rather misleading intro to FM Alexander's work, so I'm sharing this in the hope that I can help clear up misconceptions people may have about the Alexander Technique, not derived only from Anthony Kingsley, but many bland blog posts one tends to encounter when researching the Alexander Technique. That said, this is not intended to be an introduction of its own, but rather something experienced students, teachers, and anyone enthusiastically learning the Technique may find useful. In the tradition of Alexander himself, I've included extensive footnotes, some painfully long. I'm happy to answer any questions or otherwise discuss what I've written. Understand these are my own interpretations and opinions about what some call "the work," so take them as you will. I've taken lessons for a number of years and currently am training as a teacher, so my view of the Technique is based on these experiences, as well as my interpretations of Alexander's writings. Some of these interpretations you may object to, but I hope you find my arguments reasonable.
Response to Anthony Kingsley's Introduction to The Use of the Self
The Use of the Self may be FM Alexander's most important work, since it contains his own account of how he developed what is now called the Alexander Technique. While Alexander's other volumes are available from Mouritz, the only edition of The Use of the Self currently in print is published by Orion Spring. This edition replaces the philosopher John Dewey's introduction—which praises the technique's "genuinely scientific character"—with one by the contemporary teacher Anthony Kingsley, who is heralded on the book's front cover as a "leading Alexander Technique teacher." Therefore it is probable that many readers' first impressions of the Alexander Technique will be framed by Mr. Kingsley's opinions. I submit this is problematic, since his introduction is in my view contradictory to fundamental principles of the Alexander Technique. I write this response to address the introduction's two most dire faults: Kingsley's misrepresentation of the concepts inhibition and direction, and his dismissal of the concept of the primary control. I'll begin with the second, since it is a more straightforward error.
Primary Control
Kingsley opens his paragraphs on the primary control with the opinion that the concept should be "recast," then describes Alexander's definition of the primary control as a "particular relationship of his head, neck and back [that] acted as a master reflex that conditioned his whole organism." Then he discards this definition, claiming the head-neck-back relativity should instead be "regarded as an indicator[sic] of overall health rather than an area considered in isolation." He concedes the "region of the neck and back is a [...] barometer of our state of being," but concludes that "no single element is actually primary," since our eyes, breath, digestive system, and all other psychophysical elements are "simultaneous and interdependent" and also like barometers. Finally, he reveals his "recast" of the primary control, defining it as "the unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism that can be restored and vitalized."
In sum, Mr. Kingsley has presented the primary control—which Alexander wrote extensively about and considered central to his technique—with an ill-defined mystical force which, accordingly, Alexander must have unwittingly stumbled upon and mistaken for a certain relativity of the head, neck and back.
Ironically, it is in The Use of the Self where Alexander wrote of discovering the necessity to first free his neck in seeking a better condition for his vocal apparatus, since that was the sine qua non of taking his head forward and up, of widening the back, and so forth, which are in turn the necessary conditions of freedom and stability in the limbs. This is the genesis of Alexander's use of the word "primary" in describing the head-neck-back relationship, and in my experience, as in Alexander's, it holds true: the sequence of directions given to oneself matters greatly, since tense feet, for example, can hardly flatten on the floor if the head is taken back and down, whereas the head can be taken "forward and up"1 to a fine degree even if there is tension in the lower extremities, particularly while sitting. Further, and maybe most significantly, the relativity of the head-neck-back rarely need change during any manner of activity, whereas the arms and legs are constantly bending, rising, stretching, and so on. Small wonder Alexander considered this relativity primary.
Of course, Kingsley is not wrong to point out the interdependence of all processes in the body. It is certainly true that undue tension in the feet creates a downward pull on the head, neck and back. Yet what is crucial to understand here is that in the context of learning and teaching the Alexander Technique, the primary control is an indispensable concept. It instructs the pupil to guide his or her attention through the body in the sequence most fit to facilitate proper relativity of all the parts, and it names succinctly that natural, visible, dynamic yet enduring relativity of the head, neck and back observable in little children and animals as well as many great musicians and athletes. Thus Kingsley discards a practical concept in favor of a truism about "interdependence;" and so we come to his second, graver error.
Direction
Here it begins to seem that what Kingsley writes of in his introduction is not the Alexander Technique at all, but in fact the Kingsley Technique, since he has redefined not only the primary control, but two other conceptual pillars of the technique: inhibition and direction.
First, he takes aim at direction, neglecting to elucidate Alexander's own definition of the concept before setting out the axiom that "aiming for postural improvements using postural directions leads to a bodymind[sic] attitude of effort and trying, which simply reinforces the problem." Dismissing as superfluous all "ideas and images about heads, necks and backs," he declares that "the trying[sic] self is the obstacle, and the shift towards a non-trying[sic] self is the solution." Finally, he offers his own definition of the directions as "the natural flow of energy and vibrancy that exists within the organism," directions which are interfered with "when we are in a condition of stress and reactivity."
Here, again, Kingsley takes a practical concept which Alexander developed based on careful observation of his own muscular action, and replaces it with a kind of mystical or spiritual phenomenon which, implicitly, only the initiated can perceive.2 Thus the famous directions are not, as Alexander described repeatedly, a series of mental orders or intentions projected to oneself before and during muscular activity along lines one has reasoned out in advance, but a "natural flow of energy and vibrancy"—just as the primary control is not, as Alexander saw it, a concrete, observable relativity of the head, neck and back, but an "unknown and unseen self-righting and self-healing mechanism." These pseudo-spiritual definitions do a massive disservice to neophyte readers, and reveal Kingsley's muddled seeing in relation to the central problem addressed by the Alexander Technique: how to shed habit and coordinate the bodymind through reasoned conception and conscious awareness.
But for a moment let us leave aside direction, since a subtler and more misleading error still lurks in Kingsley's presentation: his dismissal of conception itself. He explicitly warns that "ideas, concepts and cognitive efforts reinforce the very mental instrument that is the problem in the first place," he advises us to simply trust that "the prevention or inhibition[sic] of reaction, maintains or liberates this stream of energy [or direction] in the body."
To understand Kingsley's error, we must return to Alexander. In Man's Supreme Inheritance, Alexander sets out four stages to the "performance of any muscular action by conscious guidance and control:"

1. The conception of the movement required;
2. The inhibition of erroneous preconceived ideas which subconsciously suggest the manner in which the movement or series of movements should be performed;
3. The new and conscious mental orders which will set in motion the muscular mechanism essential to the correct performance of the action;
4. The movements (contractions and expansions) of the muscles which carry out the mental orders.

Alexander considered "conception of the movement required" the very first stage in his technique, to precede even inhibition. Thus he made clear, if indirectly, that in the context of his technique, clear conception is essential to achieving a desired end. Incidentally, this is a fact any competent artist can attest to; if a composition is not unambiguously understood and organized within one's memory, it cannot be brought to fruition. Even the most simple act, such as extending one's arm to grasp a nearby object, requires a detailed conception of distance, weight, strength, and so forth; if the object turns out to be heavier than expected, the conception of these variables and their relation to one another, and hence the muscular action, must change. This is direction in action, albeit subconscious.
Yet Kingsley belittles conception, instead leaning on concepts like "ease," "letting go" "acceptance," and the like. He is not alone in this among teachers, but in my opinion, they overlook the influence of what Alexander termed "erroneous beliefs," a concept closely related to that of "unreliable sensory appreciation." Both could be read in the spiritual lexicon alongside "letting go," etc.; but that would place their referent outside the realm of what words and concepts can describe. On the contrary, Alexander was pointing to something concrete and empirically observable: to errors of spatio-motor perception able to be observed phenomenologically and in other people's behavior; not to transcendent truths about observation itself. Thus the classic example of an Alexandrian "erroneous belief" is a person who raises their arm and believes their shoulder has remained still when it has not. The key for the pupil in this instance is to gain an accurate conception5 of their own muscular action, in reference to bodily sensations; not to simply "let go" or "do nothing."3 And this conception must come about through active tutelage—e.g. Alexander Technique lessons—or, dare I say, the way Alexander himself did it: by reasoned experimentation, conceiving hypotheses based on careful register and analysis of his own sensations, and also by watching the behavior of others. John Dewey called the technique scientific for a reason.
All of this is not to understate the importance of concepts like "release" and "effortlessness," including in the context of the Alexander Technique. Seeing more or less what is meant by them is doubtless the key to mastery of all activities, all practices, all techniques. Yet those spiritual concepts should not blot out the very concrete technique Alexander developed for improving what he called "the use of the self:" that coordination of the muscular system, achieved through conscious reason, which influences for better or worse the functioning of the whole organism.4
Inhibition
So much for direction. What about inhibition? Under the heading "Inhibition and Non-Doing," Kingsley describes Alexander's understanding of inhibition as "an artificial pause between stimulus and reaction," after which he could "give directions to himself." Then he lays down the gauntlet, stating that in the "real world […] life does not offer us the choice to inhibit:" since according to neuroscience research, "neural reactions take milliseconds and are faster than conscious thought processes." In other words, "we either react to the stimulus, or not." So, with inhibition proven impossible, Kingsley is left with no choice but to "reformulate" another of Alexander's concepts, offering us a supposedly scientifically enlightened6 view that inhibition is really "a quality of non-doing[sic] that needs to be already available in the organism before the receipt of a stimulus." This is "a way of being[sic] rather than a way of doing[sic]."
This Kingsleyan inhibition turns out to be the essence of the technique, since it is this very "condition of non-doing[sic]" the teacher is supposed to transmit, through a touch Kingsley describes as "a dance of poetry and a symphony of silence." With it, the teacher imparts a "deep sense of acceptance" by which "change emerges in the pupil."7 He goes on to compare the Alexander Technique to "Zen Buddhism, mindfulness and the philosophy of non-duality," identifying the uniqueness of the Alexander Technique in "the transmission of immediate experience." In fact, there is no Alexander Technique as such, but only inhibition:
The Chinese Tao has a concept of Wu Wei[sic], which translates as surrendering to the effortless flow of life[sic], or non-doing[sic] action. Ultimately, the Alexander Technique needs to reinvent itself and relinquish the Technique. The Alexander Teacher really teaches nothing[sic!]. But this nothing or emptiness is in fact the deepest essence of being and the fullness of life. Like grace, it drops onto us and into us when the conditions are ripe.
The problem is that Alexander's own writings indicate that inhibition is not a "quality," a "condition," or a "surrendering to the effortless flow of life." On the contrary, according to Universal Constant in Living, it is "the act of refusing to respond to the primary desire to gain an end, [which] becomes the act of responding (volitionary act) to the conscious reasoned desire to employ the means whereby that end may be gained." As clear as day: inhibition is an action in response to the stimulus of conscious desire: a conscious, continuing refusal to do a thing the way one normally does it. Alexander saw that this inhibitory act had to precede in every instance any attempt to change his habits. Everyone is well familiar with the inhibitory act. The act of not indulging an immediate desire, however small, is it. So, inhibition is not an "artificial pause," but a phenomenologically observable process within the organism, a process that can be made habitual through practice. It is no more abstract and transcendent than blinking or moving one's finger.7
Here Kingsley again takes something ordinary and concrete and makes it mystical, going so far as to "relinquish the Technique." The trouble is that there is a good reason the Alexander Technique came to be known as such. A technique is a skillful way of doing something; a mental tool; a procedure. Ways of doing can be found everywhere: techniques for dance, for romance, for healing, even for attaining nirvana or enlightenment. Each has a goal in mind and is based on what worked in the past; each resorts to concepts to explain itself; each prescribes action, or doing something a certain way. Yet Kingsley dismisses the idea of doing anything at all. Equating the Alexander Technique with "nothing," he tosses out the concepts Alexander spent decades refining, when Alexander's genius was precisely to conceive a useful, coherent way of doing things through patient observation of the phenomena he termed inhibition, direction, primary control, and the rest.
So, the technique may encompass all the acts of living, but it is still a technique. Alexander often used the term "procedure" to describe it, and I think procedure is as apt a word as any to describe the application of his technique to the acts of living. He constantly stressed the technique's sequential, stepwise nature and recorded countless practical examples of it in action, both in hypotheticals and accounts of lessons. The technique is not a metaphysics or a philosophy like non-duality; it is a practical procedure with a clear purpose: restoring
advantageous, natural relativity of the head, neck and back.
Conclusion
The technique is blindingly simple but surprisingly subtle and difficult to master; and, as far as I am aware, it is unique. Unfortunately, Kingsley is not alone in overlooking the uniqueness and subtleties of the technique in favor of spiritual truisms and platitudes. I suspect there are two main reasons for this.
The first is the tendency of serious pupils of the technique to become more open to "spirituality," both philosophically (e.g. non-duality) and in terms of sadhana (e.g. meditation, yoga, self-inquiry). Many are enthusiastic about the similarities between the Alexander Technique and, for example, mindfulness practice. It is certainly true that the technique requires the pupil to have some degree of "mindfulness," or the ability to realize when the mind has wandered; and it is also true that a few people who devote themselves to the technique come upon some of the same insights one might find in spiritual practice. Yet spiritual insight is not the purpose of the technique. In my opinion, the Alexander Technique is a relative of energy practices such as Hatha yoga, qigong, and TRE (trauma release exercises). Such techniques are often used in tandem with spiritual practices meant for the cultivation of insight, but their purpose has traditionally been preparatory and salutary, not "spiritual." One need not stray too esoteric to encounter the idea that the real goal of spirituality has nothing to do with "ways of doing." On the other hand, Qigong explicitly aims to regulate qi in the body; kundalini yoga is concerned with the flow of prana; the Alexander Technique seeks to restore the good use of the primary control. More practically, the technique teaches mental discipline, and ultimately the ability of the nervous system to regulate itself. Such a practice may lay the groundwork for spiritual realization, but it is by no means indistinguishable from it.
While there is no point speculating about Alexander's private insights, one thing can be certain: he left us a definite procedure with a practical, concrete purpose—not a transcendental one. Yet Kingsley's introduction continually implies the Alexander Technique is an essentially spiritual practice with heavenly fruit. Disparaging the core concepts that constitute the Alexander Technique, he invites us instead to simply "surrender," "let go in faith," and blindly trust that its real essence—nothing less than Wu Wei—will be transmitted through the "rare, "unconditional" touch of the teacher.
The second, more obvious reason Alexander has been so misunderstood is that he rarely wrote concisely, and in any case, recognition and conception of the primary control can never be refined through words, but only through unfamiliar sensory experiences—either reasoned out, as Alexander did, or in the hands of a good teacher. Hence there is more than a kernel of truth to Kingsley's view of the "supreme value of guidance with the hands;" yet I differ from him in that I insist the Alexander Technique cannot be divorced from intellectual understanding and, indeed, conception.
The Use of the Self and Alexander's other works certainly were not without their flaws, but at their best they illuminate concepts which are nuanced, rich, and useful when applied. Primary control, direction and inhibition are three such concepts. Whatever their flaws, Alexander's books point the way to a wonderful technique, and they deserve thoughtful, probing introductions like Dewey's—not dismissals.
1 Like many other Alexandrian terms, the concrete meaning of "forward and up" seems incredibly controversial among Alexander Technique teachers. While I conceive it roughly as freedom of the atlanto-occipital joint, the term cannot be understood in isolation from the rest of the parts—namely, from one's conception of the primary control. It seems to experience it, one must discover it, as Alexander did, or be shown it by a teacher.
2 This is not to say there are not phenomena only some people perceive.
3An overemphasis on "letting go" and the like obscures the fact that Alexander always described the technique as consisting of stages or sequential steps, which in my opinion constitute the "means whereby" he wrote of.
4 "Use of the self" is another problematic term. Related to the concept of "good form" and "good technique" among athletes and musicians, it refers essentially to coordination of the musculature along reasoned lines, which is not separate from conception of the primary control. Equal and opposite is the term "misuse," since one's idea of misuse depends on one's idea of good use. Different teachers understand the term differently. Kingsley states that "bodily tensions and distortions become fixed and reinforced as we react to the general stimuli of living." True enough. Yet he goes on to imply it is associated only with fear, anxiety and distress. Again he couples this concept to the language of contemporary spirituality, trumpeting that it "alienates us from our own true nature." This is to completely ignore the point Alexander returned to again and again in his own writing: that the use of the self is inextricably linked with conception. No doubt, tension and imbalance are very often inextricable from fear. But there may be another class of misuse: one based on misconceptions about the body, unexamined movement patterns from childhood which have little or nothing to do with manifestations of stress or emotions in the body. I suspect one may experience profound psychophysical quietude yet still tend to throw their head back and down in relation to their neck and back, especially in movement.
5Kingsley writes that the teacher's touch indicates the "negation of trying and doing within the pupil." Even a token mention of guidance viz. the relativity of the body parts is nowhere to be found. Yet in my opinion this discussion of touch is misleading, since nothing like it can be found at all in Alexander's writings. On the contrary, Alexander stressed that the teacher's role was to demonstrate manually the proper relativity of the pupil's parts, with the means whereby of the technique; not to transmit "a way of being," nor indeed enlightenment or gnosis.
6 Neuroscientific findings relating to will and volition have proliferated in recent years. They may raise fundamental questions about the nature of self and will, but in my opinion they have little to do with the Alexander Technique, no more than they do with dancing or playing an instrument. If there are really recognizable activities Alexander termed "inhibition" and "direction," then his writings are timeless, since they speak from direct observation and experiment, not philosophy about "free will" and the like.
7 In spiritual literature one encounters, almost universally, the idea that there is no "doer" of action, or no "doer" but God. Hence Kingsley is implying that Alexandrian inhibition is somehow related to this concept, which Buddha famously summarized: "Events happen, deeds are done, but there is no doer thereof." In my opinion, the Alexander Technique has nothing more to do with this than does reading, writing, or playing a game. There may be "procedures followed, but no follower thereof."

I'm just curious.
My aim gets significantly worse after coming home from the gym.
Especially after arms/shoulders and back since you fry your forearms with pulling movements.
Must have something to do with taxing the central nervous system and muscular fatigue.
On restdays aim is crisp and I feel my mouse better, anyone else?

Tissue
Polysemous title- Tissue • Tissue- paper + skin (human life is fragile [criticises arrogance, encourages us to protect]) • Also paper (not alive) + skin (alive)- criticises monotony of life, not really living • Tissue paper- found in bibles and holy texts, but fragile (overinflated importance of identity causing wars and discrimination, really it’s very fragile and identity isn’t real, we’re all just people (tissue as in skin)) • Tissue- used to wipe away tears, togetherness can reduce suffering • Tissue- medical term for deep skin- poem shows deeper nature of humans and our potential for goodness, can be wounded and damaged by outside influences but can always heal
"Paper that lets the light shine through, this is what could alter things" - reference to religious texts paper, light as Jesus and Allah (power of religion) - or coexistence with nature (Dharker is a Muslim Calvinist)
Enjambment- freedom, lack of control of humans, rejecting constraints
Free verse- same thing
"Let the daylight break through capitals and monoliths" - power of nature, criticism of authority, weakness of humans- “break” violent personification, destroying authority, daylight + break = sunrise + hope
"The sun shines through their borderlines" - nature overcomes human segregation identity, criticism of war, power of nature) sibilance shows power, “their” still shows separation, criticise that
"fly our lives like paper kites" - childish metaphor, mocking control of money over life (criticism of authority)
"the back of the Koran" - “the” repetition shows importance, “back” shows it is hidden/shunned by society, still holding onto identity
"Transparent" - repetition, criticism of dishonesty of authority
Exposure
"Merciless iced east winds that knive us" - personification of wind shanking people (first line not about war but nature- more significant) (power of nature)- subtle sibilance (just as dangerous as bullets but most people don’t realise)- Germans were in the east, but the only thing from there is wind
ABBAC rhyme, structure is built only to be taken down (tension of soldiers expecting fight but let down)
Pararhyme- unsatisfying for reader, reflects how the soldiers are always nervous but never get to chill
“What are we doing here?” Rhetorical question to criticise authority, or actual question to show PTSD confusion, can be asking what they are DOING or why they are HERE
"For love of God seems dying" ok 1. The soldier's love of God is dying 2. God's love for the soldiers is dying 3. To show love of God, you should die
"forgotten dreams" - juxtaposition, loss of hope, forgotten dreams on purpose to be less sad? war made them forget? “forgotten” disassociated from PTSD, “dreams” as happiness from the past that seems unreal
“a dull rumour of some other war" reference to the Bible and Armageddon, metaphorical end of the world for the soldiers be suffering "sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence" - sibilance represents sound of bullets, jolting reader out of relative lack of noises, feel like soldiers
Epistrophe "but nothing happens" cyclical structure, stuck in suffering
“we” “us” “our” collective pronouns, shared experience, comradeship, loss of identity, relatable to all soldiers
Kamikaze
Title- single word, only military rank- only seen as a kamikaze pilot by others
Structure- 6 lines per stanza but free verse and lots of enjambment- conflict between control and freedom (military/social expectations/duty vs love for family/nature/memories/life)
Constant shifts between first person and third person- disconnect from family due to shame
“Her father embarked at sunrise” -sunrise as power of nature + Japan’s military flag- conflict
“a shaven head full of powerful incantations” -incantations are deliberately vague- orders from military? prayers? inner conscience against it? It’s “powerful” tho and influences him, and it’s “full” showing his distress, shaved head like most kamikaze pilots
“green-blue translucent sea” beautiful imagery, “translucent” shows how things are unclear but getting clearer- nature helps him decide what to do
Describes fishes “like a huge flag”- patriotic semantic field shows brainwashing, but reduces as the poem goes on, simile shows how he is starting to disconnect and change his mind,
also as “a figure of eight”- shows thoughts of pride and prosperity-
“The dark shoals of fishes/flashing silver as their bellies/swivelled towards the sun” - • sibilance shows ocean noises and beauty, “dark” -> “flashing silver” things get brighter and easier to see- knows what to do thanks to nature • “Silver”- medals he would have gotten for being a kamikaze pilot, but true reward is in nature • “Sun”- represents beauty of nature and also Japanese flag- conflict but now there’s also nature in the mix • Belly up- death on his mind
“bringing their father’s home safe/-yes, grandfather’s boat- safe” repetition of “safe” shows reason to come back- wants to return to family, memories
“a tuna, the dark prince, muscular, dangerous.” • first mention of danger = power in the whole poem, danger to the mission as it causes the pilot to have doubts, true power is in nature and memory • First full stop in the poem and lots of commas- makes us stop and think like the pilot about what he’s abt to do
“laughed” “loved” at the end of the poem- all in past tense- nothing left for the soldier
“we too learned to be silent”- “learned” should be positive but contrasts with what they learnt- criticises how they were taught shame by the older generations- but it’s said in first person, the daughter is criticising this and teaching her children not to think that way
Poppies
Title- honours and grieves dead soldiers, short single word title shows full intent of the poem and how the mother’s life is consumed by grief
Dramatic monologue- emphasis on the domestic impact and how the soldier isn’t present in the poem
Free verse, enjambment- chaotic, lack of control over the son, distressed
Domestic + military semantic fields- life has been ruined by war
“Spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade of yellow bias”- mix between war + domestic • “spasms” and “red” is injury and pain- mother is worried or is hurt by letting go (spasms is involuntary muscle action- involuntary letting go), • “paper” is the fragility of the son • “blockade” is military language showing her worry abt the conflict, how she wants to “block” her son from going into the military • “disrupting” the fabric - the son becoming a soldier disrupts the peace or she is trying to disrupt him from going to war
“The dove pulled freely against the sky, / an ornamental stitch”- dove represents peace and grief- she and her son is at peace with death, “pulled freely” is an oxymoron- inner conflict with grief or letting her son go, the comma shows a pause to reflect on the grief, the “ornamental stitch” metaphor for the mother (pretends to hold it together)
“I was brave”- takes down ideas of just the soldier’s bravery but also the mother’s, but past tense shows current weakness from grief
“Sellotape bandaged around my hand” • Bandage shows wounds • Sticks them together one last time- cat hairs are removed, no more reason to stay • Claustrophobic feeling- stuck in the domestic role, can’t go and protect the son
“Blackthorns of your hair”- religious connotations of Jesus on the cross, sacrificed for the country- metaphor for the son
History Boys
"Enemy of education" war metaphor and alliteration, opposition between true understanding of literature and grades only used shallowly “Cheat’s Visa”
"a fact of life" indisputable and unchangable, in opposition with Irwin's views on history (truth does not matter to him until now?)
Drummer Hodge: Intertextuality, Tom Hardy (the poet) represents Hector, sympathising with the ordeal of the youth, Drummer Hodge represents the Boys, thrown into the chaos of life without proper guidance
"She's my western front" war metaphor objectifies Fiona, personal pronoun further expresses how women were seen as objects to be owned
“... all the other shrunken violets you people line up" [you people] segregates gay people, [shrunken violets] derogatory language
"Some of the literature says it will pass" looking to literature for solace and comfort during a sexuality crisis
"All literature is consolation" Dakin changes his mind on literature symbolising him changing to Irwin's side. No need to look for solace in literature when he can pursue Irwin
Parallels with "all knowledge is precious" from Hector - A.E. Housman, one of the first intertextualities and used in the intro to establish his character
“cunt-struck” “a cunt”- Mrs Lintott repeats the colloquialism “cunt” twice, to describe Dakin as “cunt-struck” and Headmaster as “a cunt”. This is the hardest swear in the play and is used show that it wasn’t a slip of the tongue, and to break down stereotypes of women being gentle and passive
“history is women following behind with the bucket” - her big scene about women in history at the end of the play (which is typical for Alan Benett’s plays such as “Kafka’s Dick”) so it would be recent and stay in the audience’s mind when the show ended
Irwin intro as politician in the future "etc., etc." while talking abt freedom- that man gives no fucks about freedom really, just waffling on (first impression for the audience too!!)
Parallel with Holocaust debate- Lockwood uses the SAME EXACT PHRASE while talking abt how the holocaust was bad, (dismissiveness of mass genocide? in this education system? it’s more likely than you think) then goes on to argue that they should be unique with their arguments- Irwin passed on thr mindset even on such an important subject
Hector is set up to be looking cool and all (motorcycle scene dramaticness, greek name connotations, fav teacher) but is absolutely uncool when we get to know him- purposeful? "studied eccentricity" and all. clinging onto youth?
Posner is actually rather helpful as the "dictionary person" bc i doubt the audiences know what "otiose" means
SCRIPPS IS THE MOST RELIGIOUS ONE AND CLOSEST TO POSNER it can dismantle the idea that religion is against queerness
Irwin didnt know how nietzche was pronounced bc from what we know of him he would call Dakin out on that