#spirit companions are not your slaves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrs-gauche · 7 months

Note

If the Spirit!Solas theory happens to be true—and I’m confident it is—then it really gives you a new level of respect for how much restraint this guy has.

I’m talking specifically about his interactions with Dorian. The part where Dorian is trying to convince Solas that enslaving spirits is cool and neat and not wrong because ‘spirits aren’t people.’

Imagine having the strength of character to listen to someone tell you to your face that you are not a person and therefore undeserving of the most basic civil rights without immediately decking them in the face.

Solas puts up with tool much, man.

Oh yeah, definitely! 😂 (As much as I feel for Dorian just trying to find some common ground...) I guess that one line in Tevinter Nights does a great job of putting Solas' attitude on this matter in a nutshell.

[…] roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, then your life is mine."

Keep in mind, Solas has witnessed spirits suffering from the consequences of creating the Veil for at least a thousand years at this point, if only from the Fade. When he's saying "It hurts. It always does." to the Inquisitor after returning to Skyhold and Wisdom's death, he's referring to the countless times he had to watch his friends being drawn to the waking world, either forced, or to see them “wish to join the living”, only to be twisted, bound, corrupted, killed, you name it.

"How small the pain of one man seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples."

Much like a lot of his banter with Sera taunting him about his grief for the past, at this point, Solas is so old and has witnessed so much history, so much pain, that Dorian's remarks couldn't possibly evoke any real anger from him. It's so insignificant compared to what he has seen. There's a reason why Weekes keeps emphasizing how friggin tired Solas truly is. This is after all the general perception of spirits in present Thedas, aside from a few cultures like the Avvar. He can't blame Dorian for Tevinter raising him to think of spirits as nothing more than "amorphous constructs", just like he can't blame the Dalish for the knowledge lost to time. Similarly to any other argument he has with the other companions, Solas' frustration/resentment is almost never aimed at them personally, but rather at the current state of the world that shaped their perspective. (As is also evident in how his banter always ends up with them eventually coming to terms and grow a mutual/respectful relationship. The only exception being a low approval Inquisitor and Iron Bull if he chose the Qun over the Chargers… In that case, the hostility was definitely personal. 😂)

(That being said, I'm SO hoping for any kind of serious emotional outbreak from Solas in DA4, since there's still like a thousand year old trauma that needs to be addressed. lol)

But yeah, I think, going by his actions in Tevinter Nights, Tevinter is definitely not ready for what's probably coming for them in DA4, now that Solas is actually able to change things. 👀 And isn't it interesting how he will now be facing the Imperium, which was essentially built on the ruins of the empire he brought down/the same slavery based system he once rebelled against, so history kinda repeats itself? lol

I think it's also very telling how Solas will immediately counter Dorian's comments on the treatment of spirits in Tevinter by directly comparing it to slavery.

Dorian: "There's no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well." Solas: "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?" Dorian: "What? Spirits don't have magical talent." Solas: "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

But the beautiful irony in this, as I've talked about in this post, is how this draws a direct parallel to how Solas, in return, doesn't recognize the people of the waking world as real either, at least not until after the Inquisitor considers Wisdom a living being worth saving. This and his admission to the Inquisitor after he returns to Skyhold is imo the turning point in his character development. Imo, this is what leads him to say "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong." in his high approval ending in Trespasser.

And this is also why I think that the theory of Solas intending to save the spirits first and foremost would make for such an interesting story actually.

The waking world doesn't view spirits as real people. Just like Solas can't accept the people of the waking world as real. So, what will happen if he tears down the Veil, and the Fade and the waking world become one again? The Inquisitor was potentially willing to save Wisdom despite it having already turned into a Pride demon. And in doing so, the Inquisitor unintentionally put up a mirror in front of Solas' face and basically went "If I can see them as real people worth saving, why can't you?".

And if the spirit origin theory is true, then it could make for a fascinating inner conflict. Solas, living in both the waking world and the Fade, having been a spirit and a corporeal person, is now facing the question of who "his people" actually are. Where does he belong? After all, his biggest fear remains to "die alone".

While this was said in more of a joking manner, Weekes' words from 2016 really put it into perspective here. Solas sees himself in that old fisherman he saw in the Fade. He is "the one who lived". So, I picture it like this… Solas is left alone in the Fade after the creation of the Veil. Spirits are now his only company for the next thousand years. Whether or not those spirits were the remaining souls of the elves he tried to save, we don't know, but regardless, I truly believe they are his people. But he is not a spirit. At least, not anymore.

Cole: "You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way." Solas: "I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit and sometimes it hard to remember such simple truths." Cole: "They are not gone so long as you remember them." Solas: "I know." Cole: "But you could let them go." Solas: "I know that as well." Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

In this banter, Cole reveals to us that Solas' mind immediately goes from "It's hard for me to accept I'm not a spirit" to "the people that were lost when Solas created the Veil". To me, this pretty much confirms that the people of Elvhenan and spirits are connected, if not one and the same. It's assumed that the Evanuris mined the Titans to somehow create bodies for spirits to inhabit, and that Mythal gave Solas a body against his will. There's also the theory about the creation of the Veil having caused the separation of body and spirit.

You know, I've written so much about this in previous posts and I don't want to sound like a broken record, but if we consider all those little clues and look at all of his dialogue in that context, it just makes so much sense to me, that what he wants to do is primarily to save the spirits/destroy the barrier for them to enter the waking world without their purpose getting corrupted. There's also still the matter of the Blights and red lyrium otherwise probably consuming the entire world. 😅 I think that's what he's referring to when saying "What I am doing will save this world" in Tevinter Nights.

And remember, "Dread Wolf" is still literally an anagram for "World" and "Fade". 😂 Both worlds colliding is quite literally in his title. lol Whatever the six eyed high dragon sized Dread Wolf actually is, as far as we know, he only seems to exist within the Fade, but how exactly is he connected to Solas and what will happen to him if he tears down the Veil (which btw is also definitely gonna happen… I mean, besides the fact that the Veil is getting weaker regardless of Solas' actions)? ANYWAY.

Sorry for rambling so much (and I feel like my English is a little rusty, too 😖), but I haven't talked about this stuff in a while and the lack of news is killing me. 😂 But your message gave me something to think about again, so thank you! :)

#oh no this got so long again 😖#solas #also again Bioware I beg you please give us that ''Solas calling his spirit army and charging into battle'' moment from TN 👀#tinfoil time #da4 #''Spirit self. Seeing the soul. Solas. But somehow sorrows.''#watch us play DA4 one day and none of this turn out to be true 😂#but I'm gonna die on that hill lol

89 notes · View notes

luminouslumity · 1 day

Text

Parts One and Two!

THE UNDERWORLD: JAY, YOU BASTARD!

Anyway, after Odysseus and his crew arrive in the Underworld, not that not only does he see his fallen men (including one who'd actually died while at Kirke's after he fell off the roof) as well as his mother, but many other famous mythological figures besides Teiresias as well; perhaps most notable among them in Agamemnon, who'd been killed by his own wife KLYTEMNESTRA (Κλυταιμνήστρα), Helen's sister and Penelope's cousin, as vengeance for the sacrifice of their daughter IPHIGENIA (Ἰφιγένεια) in exchange for a fair bit of wind (in some versions, she lives), which only happened either because Agamemnon had displeased the goddess ARTEMIS (Αρτεμις) in some way—be it by boasting he was more of a hunter than she after killing a stag or because that stag had been killed in her sacred grove—or because his own father ATREUS (Ατρέω) had failed to sacrifice a golden lamb to her after promising he would, so she cursed his son as punishment. In any case, Odysseus is horrified and says that both Helen and Klytemnestra have brought nothing but disaster, and Agamemnon then tells him not to treat Penelope too well, though he does praise her sensibilities.

As for Antikleia, I've mentioned before how she is a granddaughter of Hermes, and specifically, she is a granddaughter of Hermes through her father AUTOLYCOS (Αὐτόλυκος), who'd been a trickster in his own right, having had the power to change or make invisible whatever he stole. According to later sources, such as Suida's Sisyphus, the consequences of Autolycos' thievery eventually caught up with him when the titular king demanded his fellow trickster give him his daughter to bed as compensation for Autolycos having stolen his cattle. Odysseus was born not long after. Callimachus also tells us, Antiklieia had once been a companion of Artemis herself.

And because I'm feeling particularly evil today:

‘My child! How did you come here through the darkness while you were still alive? This place is hard for living men to see. There are great rivers and dreadful gulfs, including the great Ocean which none can cross on foot; one needs a ship. Have you come wandering here, so far from Troy, with ship and crew? Have you not yet arrived in Ithaca, nor seen your wife at home?’

I answered, ‘Mother, I was forced to come to Hades to consult the prophet spirit, Theban Tiresias. I have not yet come near to Greece, nor reached my own home country. I have been lost and wretchedly unhappy since I first followed mighty Agamemnon to Troy, the land of horses, to make war upon the people there. But tell me, how was sad death brought upon you? By long illness? Or did the archer Artemis destroy you with gentle arrows? Tell me too about my father and the son I left behind. Are they still honored as the kings? Or has another taken over, saying I will not return? And tell me what my wife is thinking, and her plans. Does she stay with our son and focus on his care, or has the best of the Achaeans married her?’

My mother answered, ‘She stays firm. Her heart is strong. She is still in your house. And all her nights are passed in misery, and days in tears. But no one has usurped your throne. Telemachus still tends the whole estate unharmed and feasts in style, as lords should do, and he is always asked to council meetings. Your father stays out in the countryside. He will not come to town. He does not sleep on a real bed with blankets and fresh sheets. In winter he sleeps inside, by the fire, just lying in the ashes with the slaves; his clothes are rags. In summer and at harvest, the piles of fallen leaves are beds for him. He lies there grieving, full of sorrow, longing for your return. His old age is not easy. And that is why I met my fate and died. The goddess did not shoot me in my home, aiming with gentle arrows. Nor did sickness suck all the strength out from my limbs, with long and cruel wasting. No, it was missing you, Odysseus, my sunshine; your sharp mind, and your kind heart. That took sweet life from me.’

Then in my heart I wanted to embrace the spirit of my mother. She was dead, and I did not know how. Three times I tried, longing to touch her. But three times her ghost flew from my arms, like shadows or like dreams. Sharp pain pierced deeper in me as I cried, ‘No, Mother! Why do you not stay for me, and let me hold you, even here in Hades? Let us wrap loving arms around each other and find a frigid comfort in shared tears! But is this really you? Or has the Queen sent me a phantom, to increase my grief?’

She answered, ‘Oh, my child! You are the most unlucky man alive. Persephone is not deceiving you. This is the rule for mortals when we die. Our muscles cease to hold the flesh and skeleton together; as soon as life departs from our white bones, the force of blazing fire destroys the corpse. The spirit flies away and soon is gone, just like a dream. Now hurry to the light; remember all these things, so you may tell your wife in times to come.’

NO LONGER YOU: According to one myth, Teiresias of Thebes came across two snakes in the middle of mating one day and hit them both with a rod. As a result, he was changed into a woman, until she saw the same pair of snakes again years later and was then changed back into a man. Zeus and Hera then asked him which gender enjoyed intercourse more, with Zeus favoring women and Hera men; when Teiresias said that women enjoyed it more, Hera blinded him and Zeus then gave him the power of prophecy afterwards.

Teiresias would go on to become a rather notable figure in myth, but to Odysseus specifically, the prophecy is described thusly:

‘Odysseus, you think of going home as honey-sweet, but gods will make it bitter. I think Poseidon will not cease to feel incensed because you blinded his dear son. You have to suffer, but you can get home, if you control your urges and your men. Turn from the purple depths and sail your ship towards the island of Thrinacia; there you will find grazing cows and fine fat sheep, belonging to the god who sees and hears all things—the Sun God. If you leave them be, keeping your mind fixed on your journey home, you may still get to Ithaca, despite great losses. But if you hurt those cows, I see disaster for your ship and for your men. If you yourself escape, you will come home late and exhausted, in a stranger’s boat, having destroyed your men. And you will find invaders eating your supplies at home, courting your wife with gifts. Then you will match the suitors’ violence and kill them all, inside your halls, through tricks or in the open, with sharp bronze weapons. When those men are dead, you have to go away and take an oar to people with no knowledge of the sea, who do not salt their food. They never saw a ship’s red prow, nor oars, the wings of boats. I prophesy the signs of things to come. When you meet somebody, a traveler, who calls the thing you carry on your back a winnowing fan, then fix that oar in earth and make fine sacrifices to Poseidon—a bull and stud-boar. Then you will go home and offer holy hecatombs to all the deathless gods who live in heaven, each in order. Gentle death will come to you, far from the sea, of comfortable old age, your people flourishing. So it will be.’

MONSTER: I really wanted to focus on this part here:

Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping Trojans cause he is vile? Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile?

I went over the Trojan War pretty briefly in the first post of this series, but as for the horse specifically, though Odysseus is credited as the architect, the idea—according to Dictys Cretensis—came to him from the captured Prince HELENOS (Ἕλενος) of Troy, who'd been a seer like his twin sister KASSANDRA (Κασσάνδρα). From what we currently have available of The Sack of Troy:

The Greeks then sailed in from Tenedos, and those in the wooden horse came out and fell upon their enemies, killing many and storming the city. Neoptolemus kills Priam who had fled to the altar of Zeus Herceius; Menelaus finds Helen and takes her to the ships, after killing Deiphobus; and Aias [Ajax the Younger] the son of Ileus, while trying to drag Cassandra away by force, tears away with her the image of Athena. At this the Greeks are so enraged that they determine to stone Aias, who only escapes from the danger threatening him by taking refuge at the altar of Athena. The Greeks, after burning the city, sacrifice Polyxena at the tomb of Achilles: Odysseus murders Astyanax; Neoptolemus takes Andromache as his prize, and the remaining spoils are divided. Demophon and Acamas find Aethra and take her with them. Lastly the Greeks sail away and Athena plans to destroy them on the high seas.

Afterwards, it's said that only Nestor and Diomedes returned home straightaway, but Menelaos and Helen get stranded in Egypt for years after a storm blows them off course and destroys most of their ships, Ajax the Lesser gets thrown against rocks after also being caught in a storm while accompanying Agamemnon, who gets killed immediately after returning home even despite being warned by Akhilleus, some Greeks make it to the city of Colophon, and Neoptolemus is instructed by his grandmother THETIS (Θετις) to return home, during which he even ends up reuniting with Odysseus for a brief time.

#greek mythology #the odyssey #jorge rivera herrans #epic the musical #epic: the musical #epic the underworld saga #epic: the underworld saga #the underworld saga

7 notes · View notes

relax-and-read-on · 2 years

Note

Math, please provide an outline for that Planet Swap AU. This is sending endorphins to my brain. And I need any excuse to write my version but I lack the confidence to do it without some or even any outside validation.

*crawl out of my hole*

Hey hey hey!!! I am back to making text post, I miss them too much lmao.

So! First of all, this planet swap auwas brainstormed with my lovely friend @chemos-factories , who gave me free reign to start yelling about it. So! Without waiting....

Primarch, planet swap edition:

Fulgrim, the flower of Nuceria: To start things up, let's go with the first one we came up with, Fulgrim! He had the horrible, horrible luck to be send on that planet... And to be too pretty for the fighting pit. Since his childhood, he was a pleasure slave for the high rider, sitting like a pretty adornment at their arms as he watched the people fight and dies in the arena. He tried to revolt, and almost succeeded... But he was recaptured in the end. And instead of installing the nails, the bastards on that planet figured out how to take away his biggest weapon: his voice. They removed his vocal cords, rendering him mute. He still is a prideful, elegant, spiteful bastard, and now that he is free, he will never bow down to another master ever again.

Ferrus, the blacksmith of Caliban: Ferrus was very lucky, as in, his pod was found by peasant out in the forest, looking for food. The old tales of Caliban would talk of little children abandoned in the forest by the fair folk, and he was welcomed into their home. His father was a blacksmith, and he learned the trade with him. But always, he was attracted to the forest. It's also where he met a dragon fallen from the sky, with a strange body of metal. He still slayed the beast, but his arms became strange after, covered in metal. Due to his feat, he became a page, and eventually became the most legendary knight of the planet, even his is gruff peasant attitude was often criticize by the noble knights house.

Magnus , the wild witch of Medusa: Magnus grew up very, very lonely. He had a craving, to meet other people, to see others, and yet he was always alone. But from a young age, through his loneliness, object around him would sometime start to glow, and animate themself, become his companions and friends. Magnus himself had no real comprehension of how he did those miracle, they came to him naturally. He would make fire appear in his palms and thunder rumble from the sky. Strange automata, animated by the wrap, would follow him around, and he would sleep under the star, dreaming of far away place, full of green and people.

Perturabo, the builder of Chemos: if anyone was in a perfect environment... It was Pert. He ended up on a planet size game of Satisfactory. Automations, mechanisation, optimisation- all of it were almost a game to him. By the time Big E was there, he had probably created of megapolis that was planet size. Fully self sufficient and automated, he started importing that concept to almost every planet he put under compliance. Think retro-futurism, jetson style. He was also often fighting with the mechanicus, creating quite a lot of tension between the two groups.

Horus, the Gangster of Nostramo: Horus was lucky. As a baby, he was found by people, and adopted, and raised in a loving, if poor family. But he saw the horrible corrupt system around him... And decided that he would be on top. He joined a gang, and climbed the rank, establishing his own empire in blood and fear, becoming the leader of the largest and most terrifying criminal syndicate on the planet. Rules are just suggestion in his eyes. To him, real power is being able to impose your will on others, and he has very few morals and what he would not do.

Corvus, the free spirit of Chogoris: In mongolian tradition, hunting eagles are an important animal. The legend say that baby corvus was found, because a large eagle screamed until the hunters came to discover her. She love the birds, and feel a deep, wild connection to them. Some say that they spy for her, that they would flew above the cities snd come back, whispering secrets. Other said that she could turn into mist and fly away with her beloved friends. In truth, she was mostly using her power, to hide and disappear, and strategy to take down the walled cities.

Konrad, The Oracle of Maccrage: Konrad Curze, this time around, get a happy story. His pod was found, and brought to Konnor and Euten, who immediately adopted the small baby with strange eyes. Quickly, they discovered that their sons had strange power, as their sons would go into fits and see the future, or wake up crying from nightmare of horrible visions. But always, his parents were there, reassuring him: he was burdened with a wonderful gift, a precious power that would help him make the world a better place, and they would always help him fight those apocalyptic visions of the future. As such, he was able to avoid the coup to assassinate his father, and became a symbol of hope and justice on his planet. He is an original, a little weirdo who babble about destiny and doesn't like clothes much, but he is, for once, loved.

Sanguinius, the cryptid of Fenris: the people of Fenris have a legend. Of a winged beastman, living in the mountains. It would slay wolves and bath in their blood, and sometime devour hunter that strayed too far in his territory. All his life, Sanguinius was hunted, feared and hated, by the people of Fenris. He was a wild creature, spoken of in legends, and had to be captured by the emperor himself, to finally become a human, and not a beast.

Mortarion, prince of Prospero: Morty, this time around, get the life he deserve. A kingly positions, love, family, educations... He learned to use his power, never feared them for a minute. But among the intellectual, his interest were seens as odd: he had a strange fascination for flora, and the way plants were linked to the wrap. Under his skilled hands, entire desserts could bloom into brilliant forest, humming with power. Such a strong link was sure to attract mysterious entities....

Lorgar, son of the Emperor on Terra: Lorgar, in a perfect roll of dice, went where Alpharius was suppose to go: right back home. He was raised by the Emperor and Malcador, and all his childhood, had a deep need to please his father, for him to pay attention to him. He is a skilled diplomate, knowing perfectly well how to navigate the high lords and politic of Terra, and would follow any order that his beloved father give him, blindly.

Leman, the Dog of Delivrance: Leman, even at an early age and away from any animals, had the instinct of a wolf. From a very young age, he would listen to the political dissident, and assimilate their belief. The good of the pack was important. They were all, in a way, part of his pack, and he should protect them all. He developed an extreme collectivist streak, and from then on, was a ride or die political activist and extremist. Every human life lost that could be prevented was a tragedy, and every soul mattered. They were all part of his pack. He is fiercely protective of his people, from the most noble of astarte, to the lowest ranked serf. Democratic voting should be applied in all major decisions, and he fully accept to be put in question.

Jaghatai, the barbarian of Baal: Jaghatai had the luck to lend on the mad max world, and he flourished there. He quickly was able to conquer most of his planet, and in general, was a proud road warrior, standing atop a roaring engine and smiling like a maniac, painted in the blood of his enemies. Hemight have encouraged and developed a cult toward motors and machine, wich fully developed into a mechanicus adjacent religion once they joined the imperium.

Rogal, the stolen child of Nocturne: Rogal Dorn was found on Nocturne, and very well loved by his parents, from a very young age. The problem was that, as a pre-teen, a dark eldar raid happened... And Roval was taken in as a slave. The following years were, for him, incredibly harrowing, especially since the drukhari were fascinated by this strange human that would heal fast and grow bigger than others. Still, they did not expect the white haired human to one day brake his chain, escape, and lead the slave of Commorragh into a large, open scale revolt. He was able to escape back into real space, with a large group of slave, and go back home, where he was seen as an hero. From that day onward, he became the terror of the Drukhari, as he swore to purge the galaxy of their race.

Roboute, the patient King of Barbarus: Roboute had... An horrible early life. You know what he endured. But when he was finally able to go down into the valley, to meet up humans, he promissed himself: he would clean the very air of his planet, and destroy the very mountains upon wich the monsters resided. He slowly, surely pushed the populations toward an industrial revolution, establishing large mines into those mountains, figuring out how dynamite itself worked, as he, slowly, prepared to force his own father down into the valleys.

Alpharius and Omegon, the Trickster of Ctonia: The twin were lucky- they were together. Not separated by anything or anyone. They never joined any of the numerous street gang, but instead become some sort of local legend, a vigilante hero, fighting corruption and crimes in the alley and protecting the people. Them being twins gave them an almost supernatural advantage, as they seemed to be everywhere at once, able to see everything. Their ability to pass as normal was also insanely usefull to their crime fighting Endeavor.

Vulkan, the revolutionary of Olympia: Vulkan, from a young age, was close to his sister. But he was also close to all the servent in the palace, and would often sneak out, to talk to the people, and realised early on that his own father was, well... A Dictator. And he did not like that discovery. He was emphatic, and did not see why they needed slaves, or why Calliphone could not rule the city, or why war was necessary! He started talking to the people... And they listened to him. More and more followed him, until he had fermented a full on revolution against his own father. His populist movement grew and spread to other cities, and quickly, his planet became a people's republic, and he had the pride to see his sister, who ha supported him every step on the way there, be elected first Chancellor of Olympia.

Lion, the Tyrant of Colchis: Lion was, in this world, found by Kor Phaeron... But also quickly adopted his way of thinking. He saw religions as a way to stay on top, a tool of power. He would readily conspire with the people around him, seeing assassinations as a completely valid way of asserting dominations. He never actually quite believed in the gods, but saw them as a useful tool, better than any law text to enforce one's will on the masses.

Angron, the Light of Inwit: Angron was dropped into a brutal world. It was not a cruel one per say, but it was one were you had to be dtrong to survive. And Angron, who could feel and take the pains of others unto himself... Could never accept such a situation. Their societydid not have to be as cold as the planet they inhabited, and he fought to establish to change all his life, backed by his beloved grandfather.

259 notes · View notes

strangepersonthefirst · 7 months

Text

Spirit Conjuring is creepy and gross.

Let's talk about it! Here's the core of spirit conjuring. Person is lonely. Person pays other person to summon a companion to be with them. Person A now has a spirit who is 'tailor summoned' to fit them, or is not tailor summoned but was BOUGHT after being chosen anyways. (If you're anywhere near 'the astral is as real as the physical' then this is a slave choosing a master, because you're still BUYING A PERSON.) Person A will often select more exotic spirits, like dragons or elves Person A will now show off their spirit, and depending on the environment, go into full sexual relations. Fuck all of that. None of that is ok. If I need to explain WHY that is creepy and gross to you, I will also break your knees while I do it.

#astral #astral travel #astral projection #astralwork #spirit conjuring #conjuring #spirits

15 notes · View notes

ghelgheli · 3 months

Text

At the end of the third week [of Ali's solitary confinement] a little relief came with the arrival of several new prisoners, who, even when separated, were so closely familiar to each other that they could have conversations just by speaking one word each in a stage whisper through their cell doors or windows. On their very first night one of them became tired of stealthful whispering and began to half sing, half recite a passage from the Iranian national epic about the successful revolt of Kaveh the blacksmith against Zahhak, a tyrant who ruled ancient Iran:

When Kaveh went out from the court of the king The crowd in the market came flocking around. Still loudly he cried and called out for their help, He summoned the whole world to justice’s aid. A long leather apron such as blacksmiths wear To guard at the forge against hammerblows Kaveh stuck solidly to the point of his lance. Then throughout the bazaar dust of movement arose. Crying out he paraded with the lance in his hand: “Illustrious men! True worshippers of God! Haste! For this ruler is Satan, father of lies.”

Here the word for Satan was “Ahriman,” the god of evil in Zoroastrianism, the religion of Iran in the pre-Islamic period that formed the subject of the epic. As everyone within earshot knew, the humble flag of Kaveh the blacksmith’s apron on a lance became the flag of Iran [derafsh kaviani], carried into battle by the just kings of Iran after Zahhak’s overthrow and death. The reciter was calling for revolution and regicide. Another voice began reciting a passage in which Rostam, the great hero of the national epic [the Shahnameh], “the great-bodied,” “the elephant-statured,” “the paladin” par excellence of the ancient Iranian tradition, is angry at the shah, Ka’us, for rebuking him unjustly:

The hero Rostam was amazed at the king: “Do not nurse such fires in the depths of your heart! Each one of your acts is as bad as the next: You are clearly not worthy of true sovereignty.” He went out in a rage and mounted his steed. “I am the killer of lions, the giver of crowns. When I am angry, then who is this shah Ka’us? Why does he reach for me? Who is his henchman Toos? The earth below is my servant, and my steed, my throne; The mace is my signet, and the helmet my crown. I light the dark night with the thrust of my blade; I scatter men’s heads on the fields of battle. The point of the spear and the blade are my friends; These two arms and this heart I own as my king. Why does he harass me? I am not his slave. I am the slave of the one Creator alone.”

One of the prisoners had begun to beat the marching, warlike rhythm of Ferdowsi’s lines on the frame of his cot, the way drums are beaten while Ferdowsi is recited in “houses of strength” [zurkhaneh] where wrestlers exercise. Suddenly they heard a guard coming up a staircase toward their corridor, and for a second they were silent. Then, against the sound of advancing footsteps, a strong, steady voice recited the gentler rhythm of a poem by Mowlana:

Like Jacob I am uttering cries of grief, I desire the fair face of Joseph of Canaan. By God, without You the city is a prison to me; Over mountain and desert I desire to wander. In one hand the wine cup, in the other, the tresses of the Beloved, Such a dance in the marketplace is my desire. My heart is weary of these weak-spirited traveling companions; I desire the Lion of God and Rostam, the son of Zal.

It was the voice of Parviz, [Ali's childhood friend]. The guard started to pound a stick on an iron railing and shouted, “Keep quiet, keep quiet!” Ali suddenly didn’t care what the man was saying; he knew that whatever happened, he would recite two more lines of this poem:

The bread and water of destiny is like a treacherous flood; I am a great fish and the sea of Oman is my desire. My soul has grown weary of Pharaoh and his tyranny; The light of the countenance of Moses, son of Imran, is my desire—

The guard now slammed his stick on the door of Ali’s cell and yelled, “What kind of fool are you? I told you—keep quiet!” and he hit the door a few times for emphasis. Ali kept quiet, but inside him there was a kind of humming and vibration of life...

One 1971 night in a prison of Pahlavi Iran, as described in The Mantle of the Prophet, Roy Mottahedeh

#reading #deen #vatan #roy mottahedeh

7 notes · View notes

rosexmary · 2 years

Text

By the way, your spirit companions are NOT your slaves. They are your friends/lovers.

This is how my binding works, they will be bound to either your vessel or your aura BUT they will always be able to unbound themselves if they are in these situations.

-their companion ignoring them on purpose (no they won’t unbound themselves just because you didn’t talk to them for a few months. I always tell them to wait for a year because we can get busy.)

-their companion abusing them

Please be nice to the spirits/entities. They are individual beings with their own consciousnesses and feelings.

191 notes · View notes

rodimissliveblogs · 5 months

Text

Fact about the Elfsong Tavern: it's named such because it's haunted by the spirit of an elf who usually would sing about her long-lost love. The song with lyrics heard in the background while you're camping there, I have no doubt is meant to be sung by her:

This song has almost the exact same opening line as the last time she shook up her choice of song: during the events of Descent into Avernus, she sang about Elturel, beginning with the lyrics O sing a song of Elturel.

(Rest of the lyrics below the cut: it's longer than her new song from the game.)

O sing a song of Elturel Of water, woods, and hill The sun dawns on her ruddy cliffs And fields green and still. This land of long-abiding joy Home of the strong and brave Renowned by all, across the realms, And never once a slave. O sing a song of Elturel When foes are at her door Her fields torn by cloven feet From some infernal shore. Arise the mighty Hellriders Take up your swift, keen swords Then charge into the hellish fray And scatter devil hordes. O sing a song of Elturel And when the night does fall Sleep safe beneath Companion's light Until the dawn does call. We're bound by mortal covenant That only ends with death And so we'll sing of Elturel Until our final breath.

(Found here.)

#roddy plays bg3 #i did a fucking double-take when i caught a bit of the lyrics #but i was talking to one of my companions so i only really caught 'o sing a song of--' and I was like IS THIS THE ELTUREL SONG???#and then i just hung out in camp until i heard it again and then went looking to see if there were lyrics #and saw online that the lyrics were in-game. anyway. fun fact.

8 notes · View notes

little-witchys-garden · 9 months

Text

Why I love using cats in my witchcraft

I love cats, they're one of my favorite creatures and one of the few creatures I love using in my witchcraft.

I love cat symbolism, cat figures, cat themed things, cat magick, connecting with cat spirits, and allowing my own pet cats in my witchcraft.

So let's talk about cats!

The spiritual symbolism of Cats:

cats are symbolic of rebirth and resurrection, per their nine lives. Because they are nocturnal, they are also associated with darkness independence, guardian energy, the esoteric, and mystery, elegance, curiosity, independence, protection, magic, and other notable qualities.

Divine cats connect with:

Bastet

Sekhmet

Eros

Nergal

Mafdet

Kasha

Wadjet

Mishipeshu

Nyx

Selene

Ceridwen

Palu

Dawon

the yule cat

The cat sithe

Brighid

Ovinnik

Hecate

Li Shou

Ai-Apaec

Bòge cat

Freya

Maneki-neko

Tezcatlipoca

Kapitángan

And that's not even all not them!

Different cats have different meanings:

Yep that's right! We all know the black cat = bad luck thing but did you know there's lots of superstitions around cats? I'll name a few!

Black cats are bad luck unless you're a sailor or a witch then they're good luck.

For sailors white cats were bad luck!

Calico cats in Japan are actually seen as good luck and even luckier if they have a bobbed tail!

It is bad luck to cross a stream carrying a cat.

If a cat purrs at nothing, a ghost is in the room.

Bathing a cat will cause it to rain.

A cat at a wedding is a good omen

If you can pluck a pure white hair from an all-black cat without being scratched, you will be lucky all your life long

Cats can see death

Fishermen’s wives believe that their husbands will be safe at sea if a black cat is kept in the house

A kitten being born the same day as your baby means your baby will have a lucky life.

Blue eyed cats are good luck

Cats spread gossip so they should not enter rooms where private discussions are taking place.

When you see a one-eyed cat, spit on your thumb, stamp your palm with your thumb and make a wish.

Killing a cat means 17-18 years of bad luck

If a cat jumps across a grave, that corpse will return as a vampire.

If a cat sneezes three times, someone else is going to catch a cold.

If a cat has kittens in your house, it is a sign that your house has no evil spirits

If you head off on a journey and see a cat on your left side, it is a sign of good luck.

Visiting a home with a cat? Kiss the cat for good luck.

And that’s just a few cat superstitions!

Cats in witchcraft/spirituality in history:

Cats were feared and thought to indicate the presence of evil, either being the Devil himself, or a witch in disguise, a demon, a faery in disguise, undead, immortal or a ghost.

As early as the 13th century, the Catholic Church linked cats to Satan, heretics, witches, pagans, demons, ghosts, the fae, vampires and zombies. Over time during slavery of both the Irishs and Africans the church connected them too hoodoo, voodoo and Irish paganism though it was mostly because slaves would keep these creatures as cherished companions during their years of slavery since cats were a plenty and often times were from/born on the plantations. Cats also had a connection to native Americans as well! Many cats essentially pregnant Cats get abandoned by their owners left on many reservations, these abandoned cats become the devoted pets and mouse hunters on reservations helping in keeping rodent populations down And with that came native based spiritual beliefs around cats! Cats have been beloved and faithful companions of the oppressed for centuries!

Also just adding in feng shui cats are seen as protectors and good luck!

Cats also are symbols of femininity, queerness, ABC being on trans spectrum.

There's so much more about cats in mythology, folklore, superstitions, witchcraft and other spiritual beliefs!

So if you wanna add animal symbolism into your craft then the protective, lucky and mysterious cat might be for you!

Artists name on photo!

15 notes · View notes

mllx-anazra · 2 years

Text

tis the damn season (part 2)

Here is part 2 (part one here, also on ao3), thanks for the likes and comment :) I just remembered that Dorothea is the companion song to tis the damn season, so I might use lyrics from this song too!

TW: smut in later chapters so minors DNI, talk of therapy and trauma in later chapters, Eddie Munson is pinning, so is the reader, mentions of asshole rockstar boyfriends, drugs (the old devil's lettuce), explicit references, reader is a Henderson to make my no Y/N rule easier but is a cousin so hopefully it's ""inclusive"" enough?

Part 2: I escaped it too; remember how you watched me leave

"So why the fuck are you back in Hawkins." Jesus, the kid could not even let you catch a breath after you were trying to not combust from the mere touch of Eddie fucking Munson on your finger.

"Language, Dusty," you gritted, probably driving from your house too fast.

"Spill it, Sparkle."

You chuckled at the use of your surname, covering your entire face in glitter for Halloween three years in a row to be a sparkle fairy until the ripe age of 11 would do that to you.

As you passed the all too familiar roads, you could not help the sullen sigh escaping your lips. For all his denseness concerning sarcasm, your baby cousin was not too bad at discerning emotions and inner turmoil.

"It's not going too well at the label," you offered, turning left on the main road. "Did they repaint the arcade's façade?"

"No, they did not, and what do you mean, 'not going too well; you're an amazing musician?"

The spirit of Dustin warmed your heart a little.

"Well, according to them, I'm an amazing composer, yes, but interpreter not so much. They're giving away my songs left and right to other artists." You tried to keep your tone light, but the reminder of why you came crawling back to Hawkins constricted your chest painfully. The snide comments of the senior managers cut through your confidence like knives. You apparently were too bubbly, too “small town girl”, to charm the Californian crowds, no matter the changes in appearance you had tried over the last years. You eventually reverted back to what you felt comfortable with, keeping some of the ‘edge’ you had gained in California. That also meant taking the backseat of the label, confined in the studios where you slaved away for non-recognizant up and coming pop artists, fearing your failure and trying to set themselves from you as much as they could.

"But that's okay, I had a hunch; good thing I registered for remote classes of English and Psychology at Purdue."

"That's BULLSHIT; if they can't see your talent, they must be fucking death of something…." Dustin's eagerness to defend you prevented any additional remarks on his foul language.

"I really don't mind the break, Dusty. My creative juices were completely drained. I swear to God if I need to write another syrupy breakup song about ocean blue eyes, I will drown myself in the lake."

The last few cavity-inducing ballads you had to craft made you want to cringe, their repetitive melody and dumbified lyrics (apparently wanting to include mercurial and earth-shattering in a love song was too much to ask from teenage girls) not even matching what you used to write when you were fourteen. Which was saying a lot, considering you could not even sing the word “hand on my thigh” back then without stuttering or blushing, opting for an awkward “aaaah” during the middle school talent contest. The dubious looks of your classmates were still burnt in your retina, but at least now you could laugh about it rather than metaphorically combust.

"But Chris, let that happen?"

The mention of your ex-boyfriend, stupid talented older cooler than you rock musician asshole, made you break a bit too violently at the red light, shaking your beat-up Ford too much for it to be unnoticed by Dustin, who squealed undignifiedly.

"Uh, yeah, he hum, he did," you stammered, completely giving yourself away.

"Are you guys…" Dustin started, eyeing you warily as he still clutched the handle atop the door and dashboard instinctively.

Your tongue clicked, and you responded with what you hoped was a neutral tone, "We broke up. I mean, I broke up with him, so yeah, we're not together anymore. Yeah." God, even your chuckle was awkward.

How could you convey to your cousin that the charismatic leader of "not like your typical garage band," literally ten years older than you, had planned to ditch you for the newer girl at your label? How could you explain the anguish of seeing a man to whom you poured all your affection, attention, and loyalty for over a year swapping you for a younger, edgier, hotter one, the minute she set foot in the studio? How deep it cut you because you dumbly believed him when he talked about his past, thinking his future was with you, stitching you to his life so intimately you could only blindly open your heart and legs when he said he loved you? How the number of arguments you had only increased, making you question your sanity as you screamed and bellowed and threatened and broke down? And how, to save the last shreds of your pride, you had been the one dumping his ass over lunch with his whole band witness to your falling before he could, the only thing hurt in his eyes being his pride and not his heart.

You had jumped in the literal getaway car that was your beat-up Ford, jamming all the trinkets you had accumulated in California and your still unopened Hawkins boxes in a trailer, leaving a scalding quitting letter to your former boss desk, and did not look back until the sign indicated that you were back in Indiana. The only persons aware of your itinerary were your aunt and dad, the latter offering a room at his new house in Maryland. You had declined, using your remote degree as an excuse to go back to what you still considered home. You did not want to see the disappointment in your father’s face as you explained to him how unhappy this two years and California had made you, and his impeding guilt following. He was the one encouraging you to leave the state when the occasion presented and chase your childhood dreams rather than stay in the confinement of Hawkins. He did not know that a pair of chocolate brown doe eyes, fumbling hands in the dark, and a slow dance at prom had made you reconsider the label’s offer.

"We… Looking back, I don't think Chris and I were a perfect match. He, he made me understand that I was getting in the way of, uh, his career. Or something", you opted for, cringing at the scandalized look on your cousin's face “So I, well I called it off preventively”.

“Preventively? What are you, an insurance company? I thought you loved the guy, it’s all you could talk about whenever I managed to have you on the phone!”

You groaned. You were not about to have a conversation about your complex feelings to your little cousin, who despite his best intentions did not need to know the intimate details of your romantic life. Especially when it included sex, lust, and the leader of his DnD group.

"Honestly, Dusty, I'm not sure anymore. It's been a couple weeks, and I'm glad to take a breather out of that place, and that guy, for a while (you wanted to say forever). But enough about me, how is the beginning of your high school experience going? You're buddies with Munson?"

Now that was a topic you were more interested in. How Eddie managed to not only stay as gorgeous as you remembered, all shaggy brown curls and laughing eyes, smirk, and quips intact was a delicious surprise. The fact he had grown a bit more in his frame, gained a little confidence in his step, and velvet to his voice only fueled the seemingly endless pool of desire the man could ignite in you with just a snap of his fingers. Fuck, his fingers, little bastard had added more rings since your departure, and you wondered if he had new ink too. You would love to map these newer additions with your tongue, getting drunk on his shaky breaths and shivering skin, like you did eons ago in the hidden crevices of the town where you would make each other fall over and over again. Yeah, you had missed Eddie fucking Munson.

'Eyes on the road, you animal', you chastised yourself.

"Yeah, because of Hellfire, duh. How are you two buddies, now that is a surprise. Even Steve seemed taken aback."

"Well," you chuckled, "it's not like Steve was particularly observant during my last year of high school, Dusty; he was too busy choking Nancy Wheeler with his tongue for that." The look of utter disgust on your cousin's face made you laugh. "I used to tutor Eddie in English and History; he was so bad. But clearly, I was no better tutor because he obviously still struggles enough to be stuck in Hawkins High for six years in a row."

The real reason for Eddie's poor results despite your tutoring was because riling him and seeing how fast and quietly you could get your hands in each other's pants was more fun than the Civil War or Shakespeare. The memories brought what you hoped Dustin would interpret as a fond, not lustful, smile. The kid did not need the trauma.

"Psychology and English, uh?" he commented, a bit thoughtful.

"Yes. About that, I was thinking of setting up an art therapy group or something; I'll pitch it to Higgins tomorrow. Whaddya think?" This made you sincerely excited about returning to the Indiana hole you had ripped yourself out of, setting up a workshop on how to process feelings and trauma through artistic expression, your lifeline since your Mom's brutal death when you were still in middle school.

"After all that happened, Will's disappearance, the destruction of the plant, the Starcourt mall fire… I mean shit Dusty, I still can't believe we lost Hopper."

Your curly cousin remained silent, which was an unusual indication from him. You tried to remain as light as possible, despite the churning of emotions threatening to overflow since you had read the articles on the violent destruction of the mall, and its fallout.

"I feel like the Hawkins community has gone through a lot, and an outlet to process and heal could truly benefit everyone, especially teenagers. I hope I can help in any shape or form in that regard."

"I'm not the one who needs convincing, Sparkle. But I'm glad you're back. Despite, y'know, your shitty label and boyfriend and all."

"Thanks, Dustibun, and it’s ex-boyfriend. For good." you sincerely said as you affectionately squeezed his shoulder, your aunt's house and second home looming closer.

She was at the door already, probably hearing the familiar dying noises of your car, cradling a cat that did not look like Mews at all as she waved at you. Upon asking the whereabouts of the old orange cat you were very fond of, Dustin gave you the most unconvincing story you had ever heard him spin. Strange.

After a bone-crushing hug, warm laughs, easy conversation, and enough boxed leftovers to keep you well fed for a week, you went back into the junk you called vehicle, both physically and mentally exhausted.

You rummaged through your tapes collection, a dusty one tumbling out of the depths of your glove box, its content making you both melt and ache again. "Songs I wished I had written for you," the scribbled writing of Eddie Munson greeted your growing smile. You remembered how he practically shoved the tape into your hands, red in the face and clearly uncomfortable, as you saw him for the last time.

He had driven you back to your house after you spent your literal final day in Hawkins fucking his brains out in his minivan by Lovers' Lake in a secluded area, only taking breaks to cool down in the water where you would inevitably rile each other again, playful nips and tugs turning in burning hands and searing mouths. You hoped the desperation of your wandering fingers and tongue conveyed the ache you felt growing inside at the prospect of leaving him behind. It was silly to miss someone already when you were not yet parted. Eddie's matching gestures and eagerness made you stupidly hope that he, like you, had fallen into the age-old trap of developing feelings for the friend you too regularly had sex with. Especially considering said friend's attractiveness, humor, talent, energy, magic fingers…

The raw vulnerability evident in his warm brown eyes as he handed you this tape, somehow more terrified of this than anything else you had done before.

It might have crushed your spirits to rip yourself from the warmth of his embrace, but your awaited future was calling. And you thought the road you chose was the right one, as you met and fell headfirst with who would be your walking nightmare. Onto the road not taken, then, you pondered as the familiar tune of The Cure, so unlikely the metalhead's favorite genre yet so evident for you two, enveloped you. You were struggling to quash down the hopeful hum in your chest, lodged where your heart should be if you had not ripped it at age 18 and shoved in the first hands you could fine to forget those who could make you come undone and cradle you like you were precious all at the same time.

Oh, how you still had it bad for Eddie Munson, the gold-hearted nerd who could see through all your fake smiles and rock this poofy dramatic hair only like Ozzy could, the sweetest man you ever found yet left behind two years ago in damp, terribly sad Hawkins, for somewhat sadder California.

87 notes · View notes

my-soliloquy-chamber · 2 years

Text

I’m in the mood for some headcanons (sort of, ish, kinda, I guess) so here goes.

Looks at this huge wall of text! Tremble in your boots!

Nikolaos has great love and pride for Sparta - the state - but since Mt Taygetos he feels deep resentment and even hate for the people of Sparta, at least the leaders and priests. These conflicting emotions have driven his actions since he lost his family, making both him strive to excel and to be petty and obstinate. This is why he refused to remarry despite the rule to produce children for the state, because he did and they didn’t want those kids. And when they argued that those children had to die for the good of the state he argued back that considering his track record, it was in everybody’s best interest that he didn’t have any other children. Eventually the pestering became too much and he decided to sponsor a boy for the agoge. They wouldn’t let him sponsor a slave or helot so he went out and found the most offensive perioikoi available. Not that the child himself was particularly offensive, no, Stentor was as good a boy as could expected to be considering his background. But his mother was Persian, captured long ago from that enemy across the Aegean and raised as a slave somewhere in Arkadia. Apparently her periokoi man had found her during some travel in his youth and fallen in love. Bartered for her and then brought her to Sparta to live with him and birth his children. The woman being a slave and from the enemy could be ignored if the man was impressively skilled, providing Sparta with valuable work and products. But no. The couple made cushions. Soft, colourful, and tasseled cushions. When the man and woman and all but one of their children died of sickness, Nikolaos was sure they were not really missed. The surviving boy ended up with his grandfather, a useless and needlessly angry old man who spent far too much time drunk and in the brothels. The boy was underfed, undisciplined and quick to anger but also scrappy and resourceful. They refused to let him sponsor the boy, so he decided to adopt instead and took the boy away from the city to train him and break his willful spirit. The boy, whom he renamed Stentor, would not survive a full day in the agoge with his anger and resentment of authority. It took time, but eventually Stentor turned into a strong, talented, and impressive man. Someone to be proud of. And Nikolaos was proud. He forgot that it had all started as a petty response to their insistence on children and loved the boy turned man as a son.

Brasidas famously lost his shield at the beginning of the battle of Pylos (not in the game though, but obvs I randomly chose to ignore that “canon” when I feel like it). That failure is a great shame he has since carried with him all his life. Because Brasidas was so accomplished throughout his military career - in battle, in strategy, in diplomacy - people around him would bring up this embarrassment to take him down a peg. Each time it drove a hot needle of shame into his heart, which spurred him on and made him vow to do even better and be even better in the future. The opposite of what the taunting hoped for. Sometimes he wonders if he would have turned out so successful if he had never dropped that shield, if he hadn’t been continually taunted for that failure. Strange how things turn out.

Kassandra doesn’t really like food. Well, no, she likes eating. She likes filling her belly when she’s hungry and hates when it’s empty and growling and painful. She just doesn’t like it the way for example Markos does. Markos has favorite dishes and will delight in the flavors or textures or colours, and lament in a poorly seasoned fish or overcooked lentils or charred meat. Kassandra eat to fuel herself. Where Markos liked his food juicy or crunchy or soft (and enjoyed describing the sensations to his table companions for some reason), Kassandra liked it cooked enough to not make her sick and liked enough of it available to still her hunger. She’d been in a tavern once, drawn into conversation with several other patrons and when the conversation turned to food and they learned that she didn’t care much what food tasted like as long as it didn’t make her sick, they were genuinely surprised. One of them, a self proclaimed healer and philosopher, started asking her about what smells she liked and disliked and prodded her about any past head injuries or broken noses. When he excitedly exclaimed that he wanted to conduct tests on her with dung and urine and rotten fruit, she had enough of being polite and excused herself, walking swiftly out of the tavern. The healer/philosopher/madman followed her, talking about how noses and smells and flavors and tongues were the same or something, so Kassandra had to slip away into an alley and then climb up and hide on the roof until the man left.

Alexios likes food. He’ll take whatever he can get of course, he’s not picky, and as a roaming mercenary it’s best to like whatever you get your hand on. But still, some food is good because it keeps you from starving and some food is just good. When he comes to a new town, he likes to seek out and try the local specialties and dishes. It’s amazing how people can use roughly the same ingredients to create so many different dishes and flavours. His favorite thing is to visit ports and walk along the market stalls and anchored ships to see if he can find something he’s never tasted before. He sometimes ends up invited for meals with merchants from far away, conducting awkward conversations through once or two or even three levels of translators where he learns about the new spice or herb or fruit or tuber. Where it’s from, how it’s grown, how to prepare it. In those moments he wishes he had somewhere to stay, where he could practice cooking and learn how make all these dishes these far foreign men taught him, where he could share them with friends and neighbors. With family.

Stentor loves his father. He is intensely proud to be his son and protégé. It wasn’t always so. He feels shame when he thinks back to how full of hate and loathing he used to be for that man. Nikolaos had just shown up one day and without explanation dragged him away from his street and his home and his grandfather and told him he would be Spartan, as if that was something worth striving for. Spartans were cruel, haughty, and useless men who didn’t know how to do anything but eat, fuck and fight. They would taunt and jeer his father and throw insults or worse at his mother and sisters, and after his family died, they would pile it all on him and his grandfather instead. He hated them. And he hated Nikolas for taking him. For bringing him in front of a group of those feckless spear twirlers and being forced to hear them laugh at him, forced to let them pinch his belly and thighs and arms and check his teeth and finger and feet, all the while laughing and insulting and telling Nikolaos no. No the dirty street rat is not good enough for our agoge. He thought Nikolaos old let him go back home then, but he had just smiled and shrugged and declared adoption now that sponsorship was refused. Then he took them out if the city, deep into the woods, and said he would conduct the training himself. Stentor’s hate had grown during that training, which consisted mostly of running, climbing, and twirling sticks. And beatings. Nikolaos beat him more and harder than anyone ever had in his life, and then forced him to train despite his injuries. Climbing with broken fingers, running on broken toes and twisted ankles, sparing with broken ribs and nose, blood splattering to the ground with every breath. He hated him, white hot and glowing and spent what little rest and sleep he got plotting murder. He would take all the lessons, and the skills and strength this Spartan fool was giving him and he would slay him like an animal. Nikolaos smiled at his threats and assured him that if he could succeed in that quest, Nikolaos would feel nothing but pride. Eventually, it became too much. He was too exhausted, there was too much pain. Time always moves on and whomever can keep up without giving in wins. So Stentor struggled less, talked back less, flaunted orders and rules less. The more compliant he became, the less Nikolaos beat him. The fewer beatings he received, the easier the training became. One day Nikolaos declared them finished and packed up their meager camp, marching them back towards Sparta. He brought them to the agoge, told the man in charge that Stentor was his son and would, from now on, be taught in the school like everyone else. There was an unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air between the two grown men as they stared at each other with hard eyes. The trainer broke first and gave a subtle bow, sly smile creeping onto his lips. Nikolaos had smiled back, the expression gleaming and threatening, and then he was gone. Turned on his heel and walking away without a backward glance. The boys of the agoge descended on him, showering him with kicks and punches and insults while the trainer laughed and cheered them on. The boys didn’t hit as hard as Nikolaos. They were not as skilled as Nikolaos. Not as fast, not as hard, not as clever. The boys beat him bloody and left him curled on the ground only because of their numbers. One on one Stentor knew he would be the one victorious. He was better than all of these useless Spartan boys, and it was only his first day there. They would see.

***

#ac odyssey #assassin’s creed odyssey #assassin's creed #nikolaos #brasidas #kassandra #alexios #stentor #headcanon #fanfic #I hope the formatting looks better for you than it does for me

86 notes · View notes

lifeofresulullah · 4 months

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Treaty of Hudaybiyah and Calling the Great States of the World to Islam

The Battle of Muta

(8th year of the Migration, the month of Jumadal-Ula / AD 629)

The Prophet sent letters and envoys not only to the rulers of the big states and invited them to Islam but also to the tribes and nations that were subject to them. He sent Harith b. Umayr al-Azdi with a letter to the governor of Busra (now Hawran). Busra was a principality. Its governor and people were Arabs but they were Christians and they were subject to the Byzantine state in terms of foreign policy.

When Harith, the envoy of the Prophet arrived at Muta, one of the villages of Balqa’, a town of Damascus, he was taken to the presence Shurahbil b. Amru’l-Ghassani, the governor of Damascus of the Byzantine Kaiser. When Shurahbil heard that Harith was the envoy of the Prophet, he killed Harith brutally.

When the Messenger of God heard that his envoy had been killed, he became very grieved. The Companions felt grieved, too. No envoy of the Prophet had been killed up to that time.[2]Harith was the first and last envoy of the Messenger of God that had been killed. Therefore, this brutal murder was very important. It was an ugly act that hurt and offended the Messenger of God and the Muslims. With this despicable act, Shurahbil showed his hatred and enmity against Islam and violated the basic international principle, “Do not kill the envoy.”

After evaluating the incident, the Messenger of God formed an army. He appointed Zayd b. Haritha, his freed slave, to command the army that consisted of three thousand mujahids.

After the Messenger of God stated that he appointed Zayd b. Haritha as the commander, he said, “If Zayd is martyred, let Jafar b. Abu Talib replace him. If Jafar is martyred, let Muslims choose an appropriate person as their commander”

Sagacious Muslims realized the subtle meaning in the Prophet’s sentences. They said by crying, “O Messenger of God! We wish they would stay alive and we would benefit from them.” The Messenger of God kept silent.

What about those who would be the commanders? They knew that they would be martyred due to the words of the Messenger of God, but they did not hesitate at all to go there and they obeyed the order of the Prophet willingly. Yes, they went to death consciously. However, this death would be different from normal deaths; and it would take them to the highest rank of life: martyrdom. The only desire they had in their hearts was to elevate the word of God; the only desire in their spirits was martyrdom. That was what made them go on the expedition enthusiastically.

The Islamic Army is Seen off Madinah

The Islamic army of three thousand people was in a single body and waiting for the command to proceed. Meanwhile, the Prophet gave Zayd a white standard and said to him, “Go up to the place where Haris b. Umayr was killed. Ask them to become Muslims. If they agree, it is all right but if they do not agree, fight them relying on the help of God.”

It is possible to understand only from this advice of the Prophet that the Islamic army set off with the lofty intention of asking them to be Muslims, free from the feeling of revenge.

Many Muslims went to the Hill of Wada together with the Messenger of God to see the mujahids off. The Messenger of God stopped there and said to the mujahids, “I advise you to fulfill the orders of God, to keep away from His prohibitions, to treat people who are with you well and do them favors. Fight in the way of God with His name. Do not misuse booty! Do not break your promises! Do not kill little children! Do not kill women and old men! Do not cut down or burn trees! Do not demolish houses! You will find some Christians who have retired into seclusion in churches and worshipping there. Do not touch them!” After that, he said to Zayd b. Haritha:

“When you confront the enemy, offer them to accept one of the following three things. If they accept one of them, do not touch them.

Invite them to migrate to Madinah, which is the land of immigrants. If they accept it, tell them that they will have the rights that muhajirs have and that they will be obliged to do what muhajiras are obliged to do.

If they become Muslims and want to live in their own land, tell them that they will be like Bedouin Arab Muslims and they will have the same rights and obligations as Bedouin Arab Muslims, that they will not be given anything from the booty and that only those who take part in the war together with the Muslims will be given their share of the booty.

If they do not want to be Muslims, tell them to pay jizya (tax paid by Christians and Jews). If they accept to pay it, do not touch them. If they do not accept to pay jizya, fight them by relying on the help of God.

If the people of the castle or the town you have besieged ask you to accept their surrender based on the judgment of God, do not accept their surrender based on the judgment of God but based on your judgment. You cannot know what God has judged for them and you might not make the same judgment.

If the people of the castle or the town you have besieged ask you to give them the guarantee of security of God and His messenger, do not give them the guarantee of security of God and His messenger but your and your friends’ guarantee of security. If you break your promise of security, it is less evil for you than breaking the promise of God and His messenger.”

After giving them the orders and advice below, the Messenger of God said good-bye to the mujahids. The Muslims who were there to see them off said, “May God protect you all kinds of danger and bring you back safe and sound.”

Abdullah b. Rawaha greeted the Messenger of God, who was returning to Madinah, by saying, “Peace be upon the person whom I said goodbye to in the data grove behind, the best person who sees people off and the best friend!”

The Islamic army was seen off among tears coming from the hearts. The white standard given to them by the Messenger of God was waving above them magnificently. Their hearts were pounding excited by the words and the spirit of the Messenger of God. Where were those mujahids, who were travelling into the vast center of the desert going? Seemingly, they were going to the principality of Shurahbil b. Amr near the border of Syria in order to call him to account. In fact, they were not. They were going there to call the arrogant army of the giant Byzantine Empire.

Shurahbil Makes Preparations

The mujahids, whose hearts were full of excitement and enthusiasm for jihad, were proceeding on their horses and camels by trying to pass through the desert.

Meanwhile, Shurahbil heard that the Islamic army had set off from Madinah.

Shurahbil started to make preparations at once. He informed Heraklius, the Kaiser, about the situation and asked for help. Meanwhile, he sent a military unit as an advanced guard under the command of his brother against the Islamic army, which had stopped at Wadil-Qura. The mujahids defeated them and killed Sadus, the commander of the unit. This defeat intimidated Shurahbil.

After getting rid of the first attack, the Islamic army left Wadil-Qura and went to Maan, near Damascus. When they arrived at Maan, they were startled by the news they heard: “Heraklius, the Byzantine Emperor, was coming toward the south with one hundred thousand soldiers. His army was equipped with very good weapons.”

What they heard was not a lie. Hazrat Zayd wanted to hear the view of the mujahids. Most of them had the following view:

“Let us write the Messenger of God (pbuh) about the number of the soldiers of the enemy and ask him to send us soldiers or to tell us what he wants us to do.”

There was someone among them who had not spoken but kept silent. Now it was time for him to speak. He was Abdullah b. Rawaha, the great poet and unique hero. He gave Zayd a heroic answer by saying, “By God, what you do not want now is martyrdom, which we desired and set off for. We fight the enemy not because we have more horses or soldiers than them but thanks to the power given to us by our religion, with which God honored us. We should go and fight them. We will have either of the two good things: martyrdom or victory!”

The mujahids listened to those sincere words as if they were not coming from Abdullah b. Rawaha but from another realm. Their hearts, which were hot with the love of belief and jihad were inflamed luminously by those words. They said, “By God, Rawaha is right” and started to proceed toward the enemy with courage.

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

4 notes · View notes

fluentisonus · 10 months

Text

With A Guitar, To Jane

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ariel to Miranda:--Take This slave of Music, for the sake Of him who is the slave of thee, And teach it all the harmony In which thou canst, and only thou, Make the delighted spirit glow, Till joy denies itself again, And, too intense, is turned to pain; For by permission and command Of thine own Prince Ferdinand, Poor Ariel sends this silent token Of more than ever can be spoken; Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who, From life to life, must still pursue Your happiness;--for thus alone Can Ariel ever find his own. From Prospero's enchanted cell, As the mighty verses tell, To the throne of Naples, he Lit you o'er the trackless sea, Flitting on, your prow before, Like a living meteor. When you die, the silent Moon, In her interlunar swoon, Is not sadder in her cell Than deserted Ariel. When you live again on earth, Like an unseen star of birth, Ariel guides you o'er the sea Of life from your nativity. Many changes have been run Since Ferdinand and you begun Your course of love, and Ariel still Has tracked your steps, and served your will; Now, in humbler, happier lot, This is all remembered not; And now, alas! the poor sprite is Imprisoned, for some fault of his, In a body like a grave;-- From you he only dares to crave, For his service and his sorrow, A smile today, a song tomorrow. The artist who this idol wrought, To echo all harmonious thought, Felled a tree, while on the steep The woods were in their winter sleep, Rocked in that repose divine On the wind-swept Apennine; And dreaming, some of Autumn past, And some of Spring approaching fast, And some of April buds and showers, And some of songs in July bowers, And all of love; and so this tree,-- O that such our death may be!-- Died in sleep, and felt no pain, To live in happier form again: From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star, The artist wrought this loved Guitar, And taught it justly to reply, To all who question skilfully, In language gentle as thine own; Whispering in enamoured tone Sweet oracles of woods and dells, And summer winds in sylvan cells; For it had learned all harmonies Of the plains and of the skies, Of the forests and the mountains, And the many-voiced fountains; The clearest echoes of the hills, The softest notes of falling rills, The melodies of birds and bees, The murmuring of summer seas, And pattering rain, and breathing dew, And airs of evening; and it knew That seldom-heard mysterious sound, Which, driven on its diurnal round, As it floats through boundless day, Our world enkindles on its way.-- All this it knows, but will not tell To those who cannot question well The Spirit that inhabits it; It talks according to the wit Of its companions; and no more Is heard than has been felt before, By those who tempt it to betray These secrets of an elder day: But, sweetly as its answers will Flatter hands of perfect skill, It keeps its highest, holiest tone For our beloved Jane alone.

#HELLO sorry for the long post but I'm still thinking about this poem. ough many thoughts #the living over & over again for the same people who never realize; the tree spirit becoming the guitar; the changing the shakespeare...#thoughts #also thinking. catullus 4 thoughts abt this

9 notes · View notes

hellafluff · 1 year

Text

list of theories i have about DA4's protagonist

Escaped Slave. The protag, regardless of race and class, starts as a Tevinter slave. Through shenanigans (planned revolt, happenstance during a different but also important event, maybe the work of the agent of Fen'Harel if you're an elf) you escape and become tangled up in the plot.

Escaped Sacrifice. Same as above but you were going to be used a blood magic sacrifice and maybe they started it but something goes wrong and the blood magic power goes into you, making you Special™

Return of DAO's origin mechanic. Your start is based on your race and class like in DAO, with unique opening. Elves regardless of class start as slaves, Humans can start as apprentice magisters or non-mage child of magister family, dwarves are (and this is self indulgent lmao) Kal-Sharok dwarves but more likely you're a surface merchant family that trades in Tevinter. Qunari are tal-vashoth and slaves and/or local oddities.

Fade Spirit in Mortal Body. I've had this theory for years. So, like Cole, and kind of like Justice, you are a spirit who is bound to a mortal body/becomes corporeal but you don't know what kinda of spirit, or even demon, you are. Your choices and actions throughout the game shape what kind of fade being you are (being nice and wanting to help people could reveal you're a spirit of compassion and give you buffs that assist your companions, being self-important and cruel could make you a pride demon with buffs to physical/lightning dmg, etc) Will this happen? no. I want it tho.

One time I had a dream the PC for DA4 was an Awakened Darkspawn. A bitch can (literally) dream. (BRING BACK THE ARCHITECT BIOWARE)

#dragon age #da4 #dragon age 4 #dragon age dreadwolf #Ordered by how likely they are to happen IMO #i think Escaped Sacrifice has a leg to stand on the most tho bc it has that Youre Special Now thing that DAI had with the mark #based on the early concept art we saw a few years back i think were getting class mixing so that would be useful for it #(by that i mean like a mage using their magic to make a rogue's bow and arrow and use magic enhanced stealth or #the return of duel-wielding warriors you know?)#dwarves get screwed on the magic front but i also think dwarves can have their own unique Stone based magic #like an enchanter subclass making explosive sigil ground traps (ala Sandal)#also in DA2 its implied Sandal has magic anyway sooo (the ogre he froze with 'Not Enchantment' in the deep roads)#crazee talk

24 notes · View notes

vosh-rakh · 2 years

Text

“So…Magister. Or should I call you Hortator now?”

Aryon casually pops an imported Jazbay grape into his mouth as he lounges on a chaise which floats magically over the ash and porous stone of Molag Amur. He is addressing his companion, a robed and armored Argonian who stands nearby. They both supervise the careful construction of Tel Uvirith, a new stronghold for House Telvanni. Construction was not the right word for this - growth was, as the builders slowly guide the upbringing of the giant fungal structure, tying it to certain supports made from wood, stone, and Dwemeri metal, a lattice for the mushrooms to cling to.

Ku-vastei glances at Aryon without turning her head. “You may call me by my name, Aryon. It’s a title in its own way, anyways.” She scratches the underside of her chin, her mouth reflexively opening a bit.

“Ever so self-serious, you are,” notes Aryon. “You’d have made a fine Redoran.”

“Perhaps,” Ku replies, but seems disinterested in pursuing that line of questioning. “Besides, I’m not Hortator yet.”

“Of course. The other councilors accept your claim - except for the late Therana - yet there remains the issue of the Archmagister.”

Ku-vastei grunts and nods slowly. She watches disinterestedly as the workers begin to hoist a Dwemeri beam into place to support a budding fungal growth.

“I trust you remember my advice,” says Aryon as he lazily rises from the chaise, grapes in hand, his feet landing in a soft pile of ash. “He will not be convinced.”

“I can handle him.” Ku turns her head to watch Aryon approach. “He’s an old man.”

“You’re not getting any younger, yourself.”

“I can handle him,” she repeats, swiveling her head back towards Tel Uvirith.

“Can you handle his Dremora? Remember, you must do this alone. He has no such restraints.”

Ku pauses for a moment before answering, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Very well.” Aryon scratches his bare chin in thought. “Shall I play devil’s advocate?”

Ku-vastei groans but says nothing.

“What will you do with all that power once you have it?”

“You know what I must do,” says Ku-vastei, scoffing.

Aryon smiles and glances downwards. “I didn’t mean as Hortator. I meant as Archmagister.”

“Oh.” Ku looks towards Aryon. “First of all, no more slaves. I don’t care who has a problem with it. I’ll just kill them if they object. Then I’ll -”

A yell cuts her off. Before she can even turn to see what happened, Ku-vastei reaches out a claw towards the buildsite. Then she turns, and sees lavender light supporting a half-fallen Dwemeri beam, a poor Dunmer laborer on his back underneath it.

Then the strain hits her. She reaches out her other claw to stabilize the telekinesis, but it’s still intensive. The beam inches closer and closer to the Dunmer’s face.

Then another splash of lavender light hits the beam, and it’s pushed to the side just before it completely collapses on top of the laborer.

Ku turns to the source of the magic, the councilor to her side. Aryon lowers his extended arm and smiles at Ku-vastei. Without a word, he bites a grape off of the bunch. Then he takes one delicately between thumb and forefinger, plucks it from its vine, and offers it to Ku-vastei. “Jazbay grapes have a wonderful property, best combined with Cyrodiilic garlic,” he says, “but just one of the two will do for now.”

Ku’s arms feel like scrib jelly, but she reaches out to take the grape and pops it into her mouth. As she chews on the hardy Skyrim fruit, she feels her magicka replenish deep within her spirit, sorely needed after her impressive feat.

Aryon smiles. “It is tempting to call you by the title you no doubt deserve already,” he says, watching the amazed workers whisper and point at the two of them, “but I will wait until it is finished.”

#short enough it doesn't need a readmore i think #oc: ku-vastei #aryon #master aryon #tes #tesblr #morrowind #dunmer #argonian #dwemer #telvanni #house telvanni #ends kinda weird but i never know how to end things #my writing

62 notes · View notes

xerxeswitch · 2 years

Text

Spirit “Keeping”

(This is a repost from my other account)

...

Yeah, I know it’s a very random topic from me, but it’s something I am passionate about, and it has been on my mind for a bit.

I’m not here to tell anyone I’m an expert, (I don’t believe in experts for spirituality; it’s extremely important to have a student mindset, for they are open to more information)...but I am really wanting to help out with some grounded tips. Just giving food for thought when you’re trying to get into spirit keeping...or currently working with these entities/spirits.

This isn’t a blog to explain why they want to be your friends, and this isn’t to educate you about things like faeries or dragons. Each bond is entirely different.

As a warning, I’m not sugarcoating. I’m not trying to scare everyone away from this, but this is to help keep new people stay on their toes, or remind those like me who are doing this. I made my mistakes as a learning experience as well -- I’m not above that, and I can only try to give my piece to help others who are interested.

Take it with a grain of salt.

This is mostly just pragmatic advice.

----

1. Don’t jump on it as soon as you hear about spirit keeping.

In my couple of years also learning about what it is, I held off for a long, long time. That’s because you’re faced with the reality that you’re dealing with something that is non-physical, possibly non-human, and something that will probably outlive your vessel to where they're possibly waiting for you when you pass. In other words, this isn’t like getting a pet. They are intelligent sentient people like you and I, and they got different personalities and different levels of tolerance. This is a very serious commitment. I would HIGHLY recommend you start learning and becoming aware of your own energy, and at least do some shadow work. Take the time to get to know yourself as much as you can...because when you start spirit keeping, you’ll really start to learn a lot about yourself, in ways you might not want to know at that point. Also, research, research, research! It’s not easy to find this sort of research at times, but just make sure you get the base idea.

Do NOT go in if it majorly feeds to fulfill a fantasy, or your ego -- but I think that's a very easy thing to go into, but you'll grow through the experience.

You don't want to abuse the entity or misuse the bond in general because you won't like what awaits you when you pass over.

---

2. There is no such thing as “keeping” in spirit keeping.

You don’t “keep” a spirit. They are not your slaves. Keeping a spirit in one place or “binded” to you on restricted terms isn’t right or really real. Most spirits/entities are not truly “binded” to an item/vessel, it’s a checkpoint base for them. It makes it easier to gain access and anchor near you and in your field. Think about it, when you are a spirit or entity yourself one day, would you like to be kept in one place for long periods of time? Energy is never stagnate. That includes you. My own Family don’t usually need a vessel at this point, but they can just go in and out whenever they please.

They can tap in then tap out to check how you’re doing if they care enough. If you call them for help, they can choose whether or not to arrive to help you -- depends on how you treat them.

You guys aren’t best friends as soon as the terms are accepted to be around, you need to work up your bonds naturally with them. You know...similar to having human friends. Forcing a bond will obviously end pretty badly for you...

Don’t forget they got their own lives apart from yours, and vice versa. If you have any issues with being controlling, do not go into this.

They are not your collections either. I met people who went with this mentality, and they realized they really bit off more than they could chew.

---

3. Buying spirits/entities are 95% false.

I frown upon buying entities and spirits for many reasons. I do not believe in putting a price on life. I find it extremely odd on the concept to “buy” a companion. First of all, I’ve seen most of these entities are bound against their will -- aka, spirit trafficking. I’ve seen many entities and spirits conditioned against their will to be a “dragon king that brings wealth” or an “incubus to provide gratification.” OR, they created servitors to fill a role for what they’re supposedly are by function. (A servitor is a near non-sentient energy that is created and programmed to play the intended part.) The very thought makes me shudder.

They may say one thing for what they’re sold for, but they have to keep up an image out of the trauma of what they went through. Yeah, you get the point. It’s immoral. Plus, countless sellers you will meet are just hoaxes who prey on people’s loneliness and desires, and turn it into profit. In almost all cases, you’ll just have an overpriced cheap necklace/ring; an empty vessel.

If the person is selling a “vessel” or a spirit binding that is suppose to help you with wealth, love, your wildest dreams, etc...run away.

Plus, there are many shops who will defeat the purpose by asking you preferences of what kind of spirit you like, instead of it being channeled naturally to find an entity/spirit who will step forward to match yours.

If it’s not spirit trafficking or hoaxes, they could also be malicious or trickster energies that will take advantage of an inexperienced seller, and parade that they’re your “seraphim angel” to infiltrate and eat your life away -- telling you sweet empty promises and words you want to hear.

So, I do not consider buying spirits/entities even an option.

The one time I did so was because it was screaming for help. To this day, it has a hard time to decide what it wants for itself due to its conditioning, but fortunately, the spirit is learning to make decisions on its own.

Last but not least, I don’t see a lot of spirits/entities who are “bound” to an item or to your essence quite naturally if it’s done by a seller. You really think a “binding spell” is going to keep them down? Do you really think they’ll want to stick around you in general, if you treat it like it should revolve around you? It can easily just break away and laugh at you -- while you think it’s somehow still around -- or they could have switched places with another entity to deal with you. (Unless that binding is actually pretty strong...)

HOWEVER, there is a very small percentage of sellers who are legitimate. I will not suggest anyone since I still don’t recommend it. Yes, I understand that there are real, true to heart conjurors (or spirited conjurors) who aren’t selling the spirit but used the money for the effort for conjuring, vetting, etc., but it won’t change my mind that a lot of these shops are flat out scams. To be honest, there’s something strange and off to me about spending money to have someone in your energy, than having a spirit who wanted to be in your energy to begin with down the line, but that’s just me. If you’re curious on how to get one without that option, then I would look a little bit closer to home. I’m sure you had entities and spirits who were working in the background who wanted to work with you on their own, while also getting their fair share. Read their aura and their intentions carefully. I would not recommend giving any offerings unless you are sure.

I personally didn’t buy my Family. They were with me as a child, and still are here today. But enough about that. The bigger picture is: ward up, get into a meditative state, understand the responsibility you will have, and just ask whom is willing to step through. If you’re unsure about the situation, you can ask to be accompanied by a trusted friend who is familiar with the concept.

Remember, you don't choose them. They choose you.

If you don't like who steps in, you can politely turn them down. Who you end up with is a reflection of your own energy, since it's all about the best match for you.

That just means they're may be adjustments you need to do for yourself. Aka, shadow work.

---

4. Let it build naturally.

I would highly recommend not setting idealistic expectations. Don’t pressure them to be your lover, the sister or mother you never had, or your best friend even. Just get to know one another.

---

5. This isn’t roleplaying.

It should self explain itself, but I do see that a lot going on. I don’t think it’ll be very pleasant for the spirits/entities to be represented through things they never said, or would do realistically. It’s not very respectful either. They’re not an extension of you to show off. Let’s just admit it, spirit keeping is great but it’s a breeding ground for narcissists to ruin the party.

---

6. Please don’t force them to be your favorite fictional character...

I thought this is common sense, but I do see this from time to time. I never thought I had to type that but here we are, and this goes along with roleplaying. I really did delve into this and tried to be open about why that was a concept, but it seems illogical as it can later be probably immoral in a very self centered sense. That’s just me though. If your spirit wants to take the form of...something from a media piece under the circumstances to help you, then sure. One of my Family members did something similar when I was a child going through some rough times. (I would be scared shitless if I saw their real forms then) But if you’re trying to force them to shapeshift into something you like and slowly give into a fantasy to escape from your life interacting with your favorite character? That’s just mentally harmful. Please seek professional help if it gets to Randy Stair level.

---

7. Keep a diary.

The one sure way that this connection is positive is to keep track of the quality of your life. How it’s going in your life, your health, and your mental health. If you notice there’s a decline ever since they came in, that could be a sign that they're not your friends. If it’s for other reasons, just talk to them about what’s going on with you. (It would be nice to also ask how they’re doing too. Communication is key in any type of relationship)

---

8. It’s not recommended to “bind” someone to your essence or soul directly.

Pragmatically, this is just common sense 101. For you and the entity’s safety, you don’t just siphon a foreign essence or energy into your own directly, without getting to know them extremely intimately.

It’s like taking in a stranger you JUST met into your home and giving them your bank account information, your social security number, access to your birth certificate, and seeing your browsing history.

This may just be me, but I like to take things with great caution -- set up a ward against the entity and slowly ease it off as you get to know each other. You are literally inviting a stranger into your home.

I’m pretty sure they’re doing the same thing when they first meet you. Don’t force yourselves to be comfortable even if you guys seem sure of each other. Build up your relationship, your trust, get to know what pushes each other’s buttons, look for patterns in their behaviors and how they affect your life. Do this in months or even years if you have to. Write down a diary, catch any off behaviors and emotions you feel.

If you REALLY want to get to the point of them anchoring to your energy directly, they better offer to do the same and make sure it’s legit. This is an extremely vulnerable act. This is an extremely intimate suggestion that can create lasting effects, and it can last longer than your lifetime. They don’t call it “Marrying their energy” for a reason.

---

9. Don’t let a narcissistic “spiritual” figure steer your journey. (Aka, manipulation)

I truly do believe any spiritual or religious subject is a notorious breeding ground for narcissistic/pretentious individuals to thrive. The fact is, there is no “one way.” Everyone has different levels and different buttons that shouldn’t be pushed, as well as different risks.

However, the ground rules that are obvious is the fact that both sides of this deal should be treated with basic respect, unless there isn’t any.

I’m talking about the people who are going to say to you:

...

-”This type of spirit only does this kind of offering.”

-”Your spirits/entities actually despise you. You must do this.” (Unless you’re actually being an outright jerk)

-”It doesn’t resonate with me or my journey, so that means yours is incorrect.” (Again, unless your morality is messed up)

-”I’ve been doing this for (insert X amount) of years, ”I’m a high priest/priestess/cult leader/speaker, etc. etc. I know what I’m doing/I’m an expert. You have to do what I say because of my seniority. Don’t worry, I’ve been where you are.”

-“I know everything about dragons/faeries/angels, etc. Your spirit isn’t one of them because I say so.”

-“You and your entity don’t follow Love and Light. Positive vibes only. Spirits don’t have egos, so you’re the problem. So bless bless bless. Nameste, nameste, nameste.” AKA, people who are spiritually bypassing.

...

The bottom line is, everyone participating in this, is ENTIRELY different as I said before. Each entity would want their own personal energy or materials that don’t fit in a box of expectations. Just because it works for one person very nicely, doesn’t mean it’ll work for the next person or for the entity/spirit. (Heck, think of it this way too: no entity is perfect to give you perfect tips as well. But it depends of course) Who knows! You’d probably know what’s happening better than anyone else -- trust your gut and use common sense. Don’t believe everything “an expert” tells you on how to run your own show unless it’s morally messed up.

In reality, there’s a lot of things we humans don’t really absolutely know, and there are so many interpretations.

Even for my own views, again, take it with a grain of salt.

---

10. Some entities will have their own moral code outside of yourself, or even outside of humanity's. They're not perfect.

If humans can't all have the same moral code or opinions as the next person, why should these entities do? It's a whole culture of its own and vastly more. Even they clash among themselves on what is logical right than the other. Don't expect you guys to just agree with each other all the time, I got entities in my Family who had different code of morals themselves and since they’re not human, they don’t have that same sentiment at times of what is acceptable or not. It’s a matter of being on each other’s level when working with each other.

11. Set your boundaries!

I cannot stress how important this would be. It’s like having a roommate. You set the rules and you guys meet in the middle for adjustments. There should be no absolute catering here. If that entity/spirit is not honoring them, kick them out. I personally don’t care if they claim to be a “god,” I will not hesitate to make sure they’re out of there if they’re not respectful themselves. Period. (An entity/spirit using the “god” title to exempt themselves will make me more inclined to actually never let them in)

You matter too.

I hope you find this helpful.

These are just my thoughts about the whole concept.

I’ll probably edit it later down the near future if there’s anything else.

#spirit keeping #spirit companion #spirituality #spiritualism #companion #spirits #entities

44 notes · View notes