#patronshipping

[tarashima]

I was craving rarepair food yesterday, so I made rarepair food ♥

[nanoseven-art]

Drew this lovely scene for Tarashima's Big Bang fic, Break the path and walk alone 😌

[veiledlinks-vn]

GGs: #3 Round Reveal

Hello, hello, hello! Thank you to everyone who participated in the third round of the Guessing Games! It really makes me excited to everyone having fun with it :D Anyway, more people guessed it right this time. Sadly, we can only have one winner, and that's @celepom! Congratulations, Sally :D I'll be sending the prize to you via DMs as soon as this post is up!

For everyone else, here is the reveal: The identity for the third and final exclusive love interest is...Kusanagi-san!!!

Kusanagi-san is the exclusive love interest for Ryouken's route for VL, which I happily dubbed Patronshipping since there so far haven't been a consensus for their shipping name. As I mentioned above, this concludes the series of rounds for the LIs of VL. Once again, thank you everyone who participated. ;w;

As always, if you want to stay up to date with the latest news on VL, keep an eye out on the blog. Thank you! <3

[vrains-shiplist]

Here's proof of patronshipping, Kusanagi Shouichi x Kougami Ryouken twitter dot com/XxTarashimaxX/status/1493411368078295042?t=BzOJLI-Y5szkV8VVIQTPTA&s=19

Accepted. It’ll be added to the list shortly.

-Mod Akira

[correct-hermitcraft-quotes]

Tango, jokingly annoyed: Gives me some milk and a saddle to ride him with!

Zedaph: Hey! There are people out there who would pay good money for that, okay? And you just got it for free.

[marwahstudios]

Lucienne Dillah Ambassador of Chad Granted Patronship of Indo-Chad Cultural Forum

Noida, India – October 2024: In a significant move to enhance diplomatic and cultural ties, Her Excellency Ms. Lucienne Dillah, Ambassador of Chad to India, was granted patronship of the newly formed Indo-Chad Film and Cultural Forum during the prestigious 10th Global Literary Festival Noida 2024. The forum has been created to promote bilateral relations between India and Chad, particularly through artistic and cultural initiatives.

The patronship presentation took place at Marwah Studios, Film City Noida, with an emphasis on fostering greater cultural understanding between the two nations through film, art, and cultural collaborations. The forum will serve as a unique platform for advancing mutual interests in art and culture, thereby creating opportunities for both nations to engage more actively in cultural diplomacy.

Dr. Sandeep Marwah, Festival President and Chancellor of AAFT University, highlighted the importance of the forum and the existing positive relations between the two countries. He stated, “India and Chad share wonderful relations, and this newly formed forum will serve as an instrumental platform to further strengthen our cultural and artistic collaboration. This initiative is not just about enhancing bilateral ties, but also about nurturing love, peace, and unity through the medium of art and culture.”

Her Excellency Lucienne Dillah, in her remarks, expressed her gratitude for being presented with the patronship and said, “This forum represents a new chapter in the Indo-Chad relationship. It reflects our mutual dedication to cultural exchange, and I am honored to contribute to the development of these activities. Together, we will promote art and culture that will connect the people of India and Chad.”

The establishment of the Indo-Chad Film and Cultural Forum is expected to open up new avenues for cultural exchange and strengthen the bond between the two countries. It will encourage collaborations in the areas of cinema, music, literature, and other creative arts, making it a key component of the growing relationship between India and Chad.

The event was organized with the support of the International Chamber of Media and Entertainment Industry (ICMEI), AAFT University, and the Asian Academy of Arts.

[czortofbaldmountain]

Finally reading Paradise Lost in English and I actually love Milton's Apostate Angel as an epithet of Lucifer/Satan.

Also it could be used to signify their patronship of ex Christians, which is cool.

[braemjeorn]

CHAPTER XVI [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre/notes: general audience; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes

wordcount: 3.5k

summary: mari resettled her calibre and hyunjin celebrated his 10th birthday.

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

© Do not repost, copy, or republish into another site or under another name.

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big

Mari departed after Sunday lunch. Mother Ahn gave some of her biscuits and Junhee the flowers, while Inha tied the ribbons of her hat and hugged her warmly. The carriage—summoned in a rather sudden manner that Sunday—rattled away, and Mari thought that never before had she ached to be in another place within another company in her life when she was ever content to be confined in the school and the village of O–.

It was dark when she arrived at Barlnshore, but Mr Kang received her just as warmly as he did months ago. She meant to quietly go upstairs to clean herself a bit before surprising the boys by their bedroom. Yet Mari had but started to climb the flight of stairs when she felt and heard the thrum of footsteps, rushing down the hall and then descending the steps in a flurry. She laughed as Changbin’s voice rose higher in his excitement, “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home! Miss Son’s home!”

“I am home!” Mari laughed, as she caught him in arms on the landing. She sat down at the hurl of his weight, and the lad merely leaned further into her hold as he crouched down with her. Mari pulls him away to take a better look at his grinning face. 

“Did you grow taller? Our Changbinnie?”

“He grows wider,” came a biting grumble from above them.

“Minho, be kind—what did I say about your teasing?” Mari laughed, reaching a hand to the approaching figure. Changbin turned to swat the elder but moved to let him hug Mari.

“That I am not to be insulting— especially  to my brothers. I am to run my remarks through my head before I speak to them,” Minho recited flatly, by way of greeting. His punishment for the evening was a tightened hug that made him yelp, and then Mari nuzzled and ruffled his hair before letting him go for the next boy waiting for her.

“Hyunjin, sweetness—come kiss me.”

The boy gave her cheek a soft peck, melting into her arms. “You mustn’t leave, ever again!”

Mari might laugh at the statement to ease the boy otherwise. Yet as she looked into his wide eyes and found it grave, she realized that the settled arrangements would never allow it, and his eyes reflected her fears. It won’t do them both any good to ruin the joy with the truth now, so she settled by kissing him warmly upon his brow.

She let Jisung pepper her with as many kisses as he pleased and pulled Yongbok tighter as he giggled and nuzzled under her jaw. Behind their huddling figures was Commodore Bang, minding them all to let her breathe after a long journey, only for Seungmin to slip through him and crash into her arms. Mari smiled, and he relented to the nature of his overexcited pups.

“One would think you have returned from the other side of the ocean.” Commodore Bang shifted Jeongin in his hold and pulled one hand free to shake hers. “Good to have you back, my—... Miss Son.” 

Mari’s heart jumped to her throat, but she returned his smile, and they both ignored the slip. His grasp was a comforting reassurance. Mari was happy to note a warm, natural welcome in her heart. She knew she was in good company, and extended her thanks to him as far as his kind patronship over her all this while. Commodore Bang teased her for her sudden pretty words; the boys laughed; and Jeongin was stirred from his doze by the commotion. Mari cooed over his bleary eyes and tilted her head to be in his vision.

“Yen-ah,” Commodore Bang whispered, tapping the boy’s nose. “Look who’s back.”

The youngest took her in, quite in doubt with himself over the haziness. Mari chuckled. In that dreamy state, he extended his arm and reached out for her, thus eliciting raucous giggles from his older brothers.

“He’s so adorable!” came a squeal.

“Hyung, his eyes are barely open…” 

“He just knows Miss Son is here. Don’t you, Yen?”

“No, Yennie, she just came home from a long trip,” Commodore Bang said. Though barely awake, Jeongin made a most insistent effort. Mari let him come gladly, cherishing his warmth and weight.

“I don’t mind, Commodore,” she said. “Might as well take them all to bed.”

“You must rest yourself,” Commodore Bang replied, as Jeongin settled in her arm. “I’ll send for tea. We have rice cakes today with red beans - if you are hungry?”

Mari nodded, she could not refuse. “That will be lovely, Commodore, thank you.” 

It all felt too homey.

“A letter for Mr Bambam.”

The man had been lounging in the garden’s chair as if melting under the warm weather. But at the announcement he started, turned, and received the letter with glee that is almost childlike. “My angel remembers me!”

Sitting by him, Mari amusedly went on with her embroideries. They were enjoying the start of spring and the warm sun. The boys were talking with Bernard or playing, while the Commodore and Lady Jang took a turn around the garden. Mr Bambam opened the letter but closed it soon after a short perusal. 

“I must save it for later—before a warm fire, and a glass of good wine. Otherwise, she will distract me from my surroundings.”

As he folded the sheet, Mari noticed his gold ring, glinting sharply in the light. She paused and stared, wondering how she could have missed the article, being in his company all these months.

“You are married, Mr Bambam?” she found herself asking, more baffled than accusing. But quickly she felt it an impertinent remark, and continued, “Forgive me—it was rude of me to assume…”

Mr Bambam merely laughed. “I am. You are surprised, Miss Son? One would have thought you would be more observant. But then you already have seven heads to mind.”

“Bachelors are not uncommon,” Mari argued. “Or…—”

She nearly bit her lip at her slip, looking up rather fearfully at her companion. Mr Bambam’s eyes only glinted more playfully at her slip.

“Ah-ah-ah, come now—what ideas are evoked there, Miss Son?”

“Oh, forgive me. The thought of a lover did spring to mind,” Mari replied frankly. “My brains are quite scattered these days.”

“What if it is a lover?” Mr Bambam returned. “Will you think ill and lowly of me, Miss Son?”

“Perhaps,” Mari admitted quietly, for the lack of security and—in a way—general respect would not settle well with her. “I’m dreadfully proper and all… But I would not be unkind unless I genuinely dislike you, and I do not. I might argue a little, but otherwise… I would leave you to your stance of things.”

“Then spare your mind from such worries,” Mr Bambam said. “My wife and I were bound rightfully before the church and the law.”

They fell quiet for a moment; Mari wondered that the carefree uncle retained a bond with a woman like any other man. But with the state of things at present, it could hardly be measured as similar. Mari asked again. “Then why doesn’t she come with you?”

“You see how other couples are inseparable, we are quite the opposite. We don’t mind being as far apart as to be separated in countries, that is true, but not on bad terms.” The new look he gave Mari was more sincere but did not reduce his previous good humour. “Our marriage was arranged in our youth, and we married younger than you are now. We respect each other to not break the arrangement, but our desire for independence and exploration is yet satisfied. So we agreed to give each other leave to travel in our separate ways, delight in separate companies, and take responsibility for each endeavour’s outcome. People don’t understand how we can bear being separated for so long from one another, but then we are not united under normal circumstances. Others assume we loathe each other and were surprised at how warmly we’d greet one another if we crossed at an assembly, not knowing how long we haven’t seen one another.”

“I can imagine.”

“At least we do have a townhouse, a little place to retire to after the summer visits, balls, and excursions end. And well, there are the letters, which she has forgotten for some while, bless her soul. Considering the thickness of it, she must have missed me just as much to pay for so much news. My dear lady—even her writing delivers different comfort than those offered by friends.” 

His gaze was upon said friends, who were laughing with his boys. Mari felt sorrow and warmth from his description, and declared, “Despite the peculiar arrangement, I am glad. I wish you both great happiness.”

Mr Bambam turned to Mari, his humour returned with a chuckle, “Miss Son, you and your kind soul!”

“Please always be kind to one another. Should I not be able to find it on my own, I would like to see others having it.”

“I hope that will not be the case, Miss Son,” Mr Bambam said, taking her hand warmly and setting his expression into a hen-like aunt that made Mari giggle. 

“If you cannot find happiness with the prince of your dreams, then I hope you shall be comforted with one whose presence you can tolerate. And respect—that is important. But I wish you every good happiness under the sun—beyond mere toleration and contentment to a situation. You deserve greater than it, you deserve one who shares your regard and mind and admiration—for you are young and good, better than the rest of us common folks..”

“Mr Bambam, you know goodness doesn’t make happiness more deserved to few than others...”

Yet he dismisses her by shaking his head and grasping her hand with more insistence, “Take my wishes and fight for your happiness.”

Mari lowered her head, and Mr Bambam took it as a nod and returned to his tea. She picked up her needle again; after some quiet contemplation and boldness stemming from the sweet sponge sandwiches, found herself inquiring, "Do you think...one day you will live with her? Again, as couples commonly do?"

Mr Bambam paused from sipping his tea, a small smile rising on his face. "I should like to."

There was a reduction in the number of tables, therefore placing Mari at the end of the table. The boys were well aware of it.

“Where is her Ladyship?” Seungmin asked.

“She cannot leave the capital for so long—therefore she returned,” Commodore Bang replied. Mari felt it was somewhat too curt and sudden news. She barely expected it at all when they all adjourned for their soiree last night, in the drawing room. She recalled Lady Jang requesting Mari to play for her a particular tune, and her being quite reconciled to the state of beings to indulge the baroness—it was a rather quiet night for the adults, the children filling in the noise aside their playing. Commodore Bang and Lady Jang hardly shared glances.

“When did she leave?” so Mari asked.

Commodore Bang started as he looked up to her, seemingly surprised at her presence or perhaps placement right across him on the table. A cleared throat, then he answered, “At dawn; she wished to arrive by noon.”

Breakfast passed on with enough chatter, Changbin’s whines at Jisung’s teasings, and Jeongin’s giggles. The Commodore made another announcement nearing the end of the meal. 

“I shall look into schools starting tomorrow,” he said. “I have received my recommendations, and there is a particular institution I wish to look into. Who knows which might suit our Minho and Changbin better.”

“I suppose,” the eldest mused. The news didn’t bother him much, or he was in such good humour with a satisfied appetite, and thus Minho proceeded to tease the next eldest with winks. “Changbin’s school will have to be a particular one.”

"And some education would do good to smoothen that nonsense of yours, brother?” Changbin responded blandly. 

“Oh, but aren’t I taking you with me, Binnie? To occupy ourselves.”

“Minho…” Mari was concerned Changbin might strain his eyes squinting and frowning to the eldest. “Why don’t you finish your milk?”

“Yes, Mother.”

There was a strong thump in her ear, and Mari swore she cracked her neck looking up at the boy. Minho had returned to his plate, unaffected by his… slip? Was it intentional? A joke?

While she was frozen in place, Commodore Bang was as flustered by the words—his cup clattering upon the saucer as his ears bloomed red. He stared at the boy, who pointedly gulped his honeyed milk as the table fell silent. Changbin and Hyunjin gaped; the twins started; Jeongin persistently licked his jam, and Seungmin turned to look at the others. In the end, Mr Bambam’s loud entrance broke the tension and diverted their focus. 

The days pass with relative amiability. Mari kept her word that she would return a more energised figure, and their lessons went as well as she might have hoped. The following post-nap walks to the warming hills and fields under the blue sky allowed the spring’s warmth to envelop her soul. The eight of them went to the rivers and creeks they’ve traversed through the summer, delighting in the fresh green of the trees and flowers, pointing out the fishes in the now flowing river. Mari was revived in her pleasure of enjoying the boy’s company—everything was well in her world. Even as her final days as a governess were countable, and somehow busier than ever, she is determined to enjoy everything that passed in between.

One morning—not long after the Commodore’s departure to inspect a few schools—she was retrieving a better shirt for Jeongin and came upon Minho and Changbin sitting in the latter’s bed. Their vests were still unbuttoned and shoes untied, dressing forgotten as their heads leaned together in conversation, quite unaware of the flurry in the next room that is Hyunjin and Jisung bickering and the rest preparing themselves. Minho had glee lighting up his eyes; Changbin’s features more severe with his frown as he attended to the elder’s whispers, which were quite distinct for Mari to hear,

“…it should not be improper!”

Changbin groaned. “It’s too early in the morning to make any sense—should we not think of it further—?”

“Thinking would never achieve anything—we have to act!” In a harried manner, Minho pressed on, “Binnie, we’re running out of time—and who else would suit?”

“Does she even like him!?”

“Of course, she does!”

The floors creaked as she crossed to the wardrobe. There was a rustle of sheets. When she gazed back towards them, Changbin’s wide eyes flitted to her as he fixed his collar, while Minho began to tie his shoes. Mari tilted her head at them, more concerned at the lateness of the day.

“Breakfast is ready, come on and hurry down,” she said.

She didn’t see them again until they descended for the dining room, now fully dressed yet still absorbed in their low discussion; sharp whispers which certain bits came to her hearing.

“I could not care half the world if she’s not a lady, she’s better than the rest.”

“Was there ever any other?” came Changbin’s tired return.

“There you are kid, you’ve got the point! But then I meant it in the future probability…”

Mari wondered if their mischief had alighted, and thus sighed deeply at the possibility of injured and offended parties of people—especially if it involved matchmaking. Is it for the servants? She settled to keep a close eye on both without straining her nerves, just to delay the damage and urge them to take responsibility for any consequences.

Commodore Bang returned to the house just a day before Hyunjin’s birthday. The young man would say he was fine if they were to miss his big day, but Mari knew that everything fell into perfection for the boy the moment the carriage wheels rolled into the front of the house at the end of breakfast. The Commodore was in good humour, considering his laughter and the length of time it took him to relinquish Seungmin from his arms. 

At times Mari was concerned at the chances of Commodore Bang suffocating his boys with all his love—there’s no other word for it. It barely started and Changbin would send her this fatigued look (like he didn’t jab at his father every other hour) and Mari would ask the Commodore to release them from the coddlings. He’d sigh in surrender but gave them one last kiss with fondness lingering in his brown eyes. She wondered how he survived refusing all that love for three years. 

Studying was cut short for Hyunjin’s birthday celebration. There was nothing much for the party but Mr Bambam, Mari, Commodore Bang, Mr Kang, Minatozaki-san, and the boys. There was little acquaintanceship with the neighbourhood boys their age, but soon Hyunjin would grow older, and invite his friends home or assemble his parties in some apartment in the capital. A far too raucous image for Mari to think of the young black-haired angel before her at present. For now, she joined his delight over the books and toys from his brothers and Mr Bambam, receiving his beaming smile over the new handkerchiefs Mari stitched for him. 

“I feel like a true gentleman,” he declared as he hugged Mari, to the giggles of the room. 

There were his favourite foods and treats, but Mari was certain, nothing pleased and awed him more than the watercolour paints in the mahogany box his father presented to him. It’s a beautiful, polished wooden box; on the inner side of the lid, a picture of the brand, and the box itself is separated into several compartments: for eighteen watercolour cakes, the brushes, the sponge and napkin, a deep box for the water glass and the most interesting contraption of the drawer at the bottom. It was filled with thick papers, and the Commodore offered another rim of it wrapped in brown paper.

Unable to contain his excitement at being indulged so, Hyunjin leaped away to his feet, was all smiles and laughter upon his father as he skipped in the middle of the room. “Appa, Appa! There’s so many!”

He’s a sight of sheer childish joy; his older brothers laughed at him good-naturedly, and the Commodore smiled, satisfied and revelling in his son’s pleasure. “Do you like them?”

Hyunjin finally settled down his jitters, only to run and leap into his father’s open arms, clutching the man with his four limbs tightly.

“You're welcome,” Commodore Bang laughed, arms holding Hyunjin close to him and brushing over his back. “You know,” he continued. “There is a painter in town willing to give you some lessons. If you’d like to, I'll take you there every Tuesday and Friday for an hour of lessons.”

Hyunjin pulled away to look at his father with a gasp one might have thought exaggerated. Mari couldn’t blame him—she met the Commodore’s twinkling eyes and sighed, “Oh, Hyunjin, how wonderful!”

“I just thought it would be nice if you—”

“Yes, yes,  yes, yes! ”

“—know how to use these paints to create the finest art.” Commodore Bang chuckled halfway at Hyunjin’s eager nods, despite the loud reply that might have rang his ears. “All right, then?”

“I’ll work very hard for that! Oh, I’ll do very well—I promise you won’t regret it, Father.”

“I know, Hyunnie, I know.” They hugged warmly for another moment until Hyunjin slipped down to observe the paints more closely with his brothers.

“Anyone else joining the artistic endeavour?” Mr Bambam inquired from his seat and his glass of ginger soda.

“I’ll settle with my slate and chickens,” Minho said blandly. “At least Bbokie likes my chickens, right?”

The younger twin giggles, “Scrawny legs!”

Come Sunday, Minho paused in their walk returning from church, waiting for Mari who trailed in the back as the rest urged their Father to hurry for breakfast. He paced by her side, and by and by asked,

“Do you like Father? Honestly?”

Mari turned to the eldest. “All of a sudden?”

“You’ve known him for nine months. I would like to know your opinion of him.”

“And what purpose will that achieve?” Mari laughed but soon returned to a degree of seriousness, and said in a quiet breath against the fullness in her bosom, “Do you want my assessment? Well, I do like him. How could I not?”

“Truly?”

“He’s a good and admirable man, and I regard him with high respect,” so Mari satisfied the boy with some elaboration.

“As an… employer?” 

Mari nodded, and Minho fell quiet again, until he asked, “Do you—think of him as a friend?”

“I could not claim it. I think such a degree of relationship is something we both must agree upon.”

“It’s just friendship,” Minho mumbled. But then he gave himself a nod and they turned to speak of other matters instead. It did not quite leave Mari’s mind for some days, especially when she could take in the Commodore’s presence and consider him. It was easier to laugh at her meltdown earlier that month when she went home to Mrs Ahn’s—and the lack of Lady Jang’s presence did some good to relieve her from the miserable dread that she was doomed to eternal loneliness and estranged forever on from the house; the most depressing outcomes in her occupation as a teacher.

i edited this with my short free time, but I hope you like the reunion scene. minbin are picking up a scent, are they?

minho's the mom of the group but I do wonder what chaos may happen of the other six look up to him as an actual brother.

[vullcanica]

Nikodemus' avid interest in music and dance stretches far back to deep antiquity where his earliest iterations partook in peasant folk music and the oral traditions surrounding it. To him, melody has always begotten movement - whether of the body or mind or, likewise, spirit - and is at its best when written for such purposes. Krilnei was rich in folk music divorced from the ceremonial and religious movements of the outside world and held more personal connotations for its commonfolk and the various festivities celebrated in the village. The culture also freely borrowed from settling travellers and nomad musicians, who would contribute their own practices and foreign influences to the krilneian musical craft. There was unchecked freedom of expression and, tangentially, a staggering speed of innovation in rhythm, melody, lyricism and harmony, borne of experimentation. To this day, the Necromancer is partial to rich, full, layered music and multiple voice compositions.

Nikodemus' later venture out into the world and his several stints into organized religion - a leading authority on music at the time - left him bored of the stiff tenets of plainchant, where he nevertheless flourished into his natural baritone. He followed more closely the works of free composers who were spared the limitations of faith-sponsored musical education and largely benefitted from that - men and women whose contribution to the creative word were never recognized and preserved as holy, and thusly have not survived anywhere but the bowels of Nikodemus' libraries of personally transcribed songs. His curiosity about the originality of the sung word lead to him supporting - and even quietly pushing, through the orchestration of several religious rebellions and sects (already a frequent meddler in those affairs himself) - the full divorce of music from the limitations of the holy language, and then, from the whims and patronship of the rather droll ecclesiastic class. Then sat back and watched musical diversity grow as it moved away from the sacred.

He opted to finally pursue a musical education in later eras and in many forms from lands far more vivacious, just in time to catch several Golden Ages where he greedily picked up languages, songs and dances like a man parched - then returned to his homeland, taken by the rapid development of classical composition, the rudiment of opera and the transition from courtly dancing to partnered romantics. He sought brief operatic training - only so far as the whim held him - then resigned himself once more to participating in the creative world in other ways. Easy wealth - sometimes earned, mostly not - always allowed for patronship of the musical arts when he felt like it; money he would blow elsewhere anyhow. When the practical need to pose as noble or even royal arose, an excuse to fill courts and travelling parties with household musicians did too. He would always have a flutist, oudist, drummer and harpist in tow. In later centuries, a pianist as well. All always specifically famous for their dance music.

Every few centuries he would hire select musicians to try and bring to life his library of old krilneian music - at times to resounding success, other times to failure, but never to the survival of the chosen few. It's a nostalgic indulgence of his none are privy to - for long, at least.

[burt-reynolds]

I’d consider Letterboxd patronship if I could have a top 8 instead of a top 4

[tarashima]

What a wicked game we play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you...

[majorasnightmare]

o(*￣▽￣*)ブ (drops in your asks box and politely asks you to answer questions one thru five owo) (for durge) (please 🥺)

🥺🥺🥺 okay 💜

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their Class/Subclass?

gay sex cooperating with banes chosen for a LONG period of time

dirge's style as cult leader was brutal but focused on long term success rather than short term appeasement, and as such he prioritized situations that would result in more death than if he himself had simply killed someone. not just brutal familywide killing sprees, but encouraging a worsening of living conditions to increase the general crime rate, and allowing a web of lies, rumors, and gossip to proliferate to encourage so-called "acts of passion" so that others might be lured to bhaals embrace by enacting their own murders. this general approach inevitably led him into contact with gortash, who sought to ally himself with bhaals chosen, and then that first date at the halls of wonder went off fantastic. the issue started to crop up several years into their partnership, where despite dirges high intelligence, careful calculated approach to growing the cult of bhaal, and deft skill at keeping their actions relatively underground (ha), he was incredibly isolated and fairly ignorant of most anything that wasnt immediately relevant to bhaals interest. the more he worked with gortash, the more often he was on the backfoot simply by virtue of not knowing the intricacies of the discussion, and the more he was aggravated by his own lack of knowledge. in his own opinion, it wasnt enough to simply know the intimacies of murder and how to conduct it, if he was to slaughter the world then clearly he must possess knowledge OF the world and all it contained. the more awareness he gained of his own ignorance, the more it irritated him, and the more obsessed he became with filling in the gaps of his knowledge. eventually conventional studies just werent enough, and the more dissatisfied he grew, the more he strayed further from the temple, and the pursuit of knowledge became less a method of appeasing bhaal and more a method of attaining freedom from him, a pursuit gortash wholeheartedly encouraged.

this culminated in him branching into esoteric lore and eventually into the occult, ending with him gaining awareness of an eldritch entity seemingly perfectly suited to his goals. Caiphon, the violet star who itself is dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge heedless of costs. None of this is explicitly 5e canon PER SE but me filling in gaps from older editions, and while im sad baldurs gate cant cater to my exact ideas of warlock patronship it makes sense

see dirges NORMAL eye color is that rich red he has for his right eye (left side in the pic). the other eye is the price of his pact. when he reached out through foul ritual (which also resulted in his face scars) and invoked caiphon into this world, the pact he struck required only a relatively minor price on his part: caiphon would claim his eye and be allowed to view his actions through it, along with occupying a portion of his mind. it was a price dirge agreed to immediately, and the physical contact between him and the star god scorched his scelera black, and caiphons claim seemed to almost ignite the iris from within, giving it the glow it currently has. both of them feel theyve kind of cheated the other a little, and their relationship is fairly cordial and amicable. in caiphons view, it got front row seats to a repressed bhaalspawns lunatic plan to slaughter the world in a partnership with his fathers sworn enemy, AND gets to partake of whatever insane bullshit dirge does post tadpoling, including reading the entirery of the necromancy of thay. and all IT has to do is give the little freak some eldritch blasts? that doesnt seem fair at all, and it almost even feels bad. it tends to view dirge with some degree of affection and is happy he didnt die from the lobotomy.

from dirges perspective, he gets forbidden eldritch knowledge capable of warping reality without being beholden to the goddess of magic's inane whims and repressing standards and an endlessly refreshing powersource capable of acting in ways wholly unique from other sources of magic, all for the price of setting his eye on fire and letting an elder god shack up in his brain. most warlocks dont get half as much for twice what hes paying and he really feels bad for wyll, because he feels hes lowkey cheating caiphon out of power for basically free. he considers caiphon a reliable business partner hed happily pact with again if he ever had need to, and when caiphon kindly informed him just grabbing the blood of lathander might have lethal consequences, dirge was inclined to listen.

gortash had to be there for that summoning as part of caiphons ritual requirements and the resulting images have been permanently burned into his brain and occasionally try to chew at his sanity. not an experience he wants to repeat regardless of how close he is to dirge. if he had known itd be Like That he wouldnt have agreed in the first place and he tries not to be haunted by it, regardless of how much he supports dirges efforts to break free of bhaal

2. Did your Dark Urge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

other peoples durges can vary but my little freak 100% was fucking gortash. dirge was too committed to bhaal to entertain romantic relationships beforehand, but the cult considered the proliferation of bhaalspawn to be one of his "duties". he wasnt forced exactly, but sarevok applied a lot of social pressure for dirge to sire another spawn as bhaals "stud", so he did have quite a few deeply unpleasant sexual encounters with members of the cult throughout his pre tadpole days, that are responsible for his current traumatic associations with topping. nothing ever came of them, and all of them were with other members of the cult who both enthusiastically consented and were under the assumption their zealous leader was ALSO enthusiastically consenting. gortash was the first voluntary relationship he had, and it was characterized by self loathing and self destructive behavior. when they had gotten close enough to be companionable, dirge found himself spending more and more time around enver, and repressing his Urge becoming more and more difficult. as most of his schemes centered around controlling his Urge to maximize its effectiveness, this put him in an incredibly strenuous position that he eventually impulsively tried to alleviate by aggressively working that energy off by fucking banes chosen until he felt less insane. it didnt work but it DID kick off what he considered a very bad habit. gortash had a better sense for what dirge wanted underneath all the self imposed repression because once he had THAT book figured out, dirge isnt a particularly hard read, and gortash considered his service to bhaal to be something that confined his potential rather than enhancing it. plus being the man domming the bhaalspawn responsible for filling a graveyard by himself is QUITE the powertrip. the general durgetash cycle went something like this: bhaal asks something of dirge which hes conflicted about fulfilling, he fulfills it anyways, he feels upset and then guilty about being upset and then confused about why hes upset when as far as he knows this is the only thing hes EVER wanted to do, dirge doesnt go back to the temple and leaves orin in charge by default, dirge spends time either fruitlessly repressing the urge or unsatisfyingly appealing it, dirge ends up at envers, enver sees hes wound tighter than a bowstring and doesnt press the issue and lets him drag his bloodstained shoes all over gortashs new carpet, after an hour or two of silence gortash breaks the quiet and starts a conversation, dirge interrupts him angrily and starts trying to posture to regain some sense of control over himself, gortash pushes him into some kind of sexualizing position, then gortash offers to give him what hes actually here for (some mild relief in the form of allowing himself to submit and hand the responsibility of decisionmaking and pleasureseeking to someone else), dirge acquiesces and has a genuinely nice time so he doesnt leave when the scene is done, dirge doesnt sleep because the guilt of fucking a banite kicks in, dirge dips as soon as the sun comes up to slip back into the temple and enact some kind of self flagellating punishment to atone for a moment of weakness where he wasnt wholly devoted to bhaals goals. that cycle repeated for years leading up to the absolute plan, where dirge finally started to make progress in Not Literally Whipping Himself for Not Hating Gortash (slight. slight progress. meaning he might say bye to enver in the morning instead of leaving before gortash was up) but the habit of not going back to the temple in combination with Fucking A Banite is what would eventually lead to orins betrayal, as encouraged by bhaal and sarevok

the name he currently goes by, dirge, isnt actually his name as he only went by his various titles in his pre tadpole days. it comes from a comment gortash made regarding one of dirges little habits, that being when hes calm and engaged enough on a task that he can focus enough to tune everything else out, he starts to sing quietly to himself. gortash only got to be present for it a few times, and typically only after a murder, leading him to comment that the bhaalspawn was "his little funeral dirge" (a remark dirge did NOT take well at the time that he DID threaten gortash about)

the offhand remark was the only thing he fragmentedly recalled when he had to introduce himself, hence dirge

3. What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest skill? Is this accurate?

dirge thinks his best skill is his ability to hit the Kill Yourself button and watch someone blow their brains out at his recommendation. act 2 would agree with him.

4. What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

pre and post tadpole dirge considers his greatest flaw to be ignorance, pre because of his relative lack of experience with the world outside of baldurs gate, and post because of his amnesia. in reality its tendency to try and self actualize through handling stress and trauma by himself, which mostly just gets him into worse and worse situations because he doesnt feel capable of reaching out to others about his problems AND considers the fact he experiences those problems at all to be personal failings

5. What opinion does your Dark Urge have about the Gods?

FUCK THOSE GUYS LOL

pre tadpole dirge only considered bhaal worthy of worship because bhaal was meaningfully committed to influencing and impacting the material world of mortals in a manner that would actually have any payoff (read: killing the world)

post tadpole dirge has a deep abiding loathing of gods, their artifacts, their chosen, and most things relating to divinity, with a few exceptions. theyre petty and spiteful, and by virtue of their whims, not even their actions merely their WHIMS, meaningfully worsen the lives of the few people he actually considers people (ie the tadpole gang). bhaals divine connection to him is the straw that breaks the camels back and turns a negative ambivalence to a full on hatred of gods and their mettling.

the exceptions are gods that are willing to interact not as divinities but as people: loviatar gets a pass because she grants meaning and purpose to pain and suffering and reaches out to provide a tangible reward to the efforts one makes through suffering. pain reminds us why we want to be alive, and its a lesson dirge takes to heart after a particularly enlightening encounter with abdirak. while he participates in loviatars rituals of worship, its less about venerating a deity and more because the acts and the philosophy behind them resonate particularly well with him, and the lack of veneration isnt something loviatar punishes so much as she encourages truly focusing on the experience and ensuring its shared with her, which is something dirge can respect.

selunes on thin fucking ice but gets a pass because of dame aylin, isobel especially, and shadowheart (tho he does think selune and shar fighting over her is particularly pointless and petty but he appreciates the help in shadowheart living her own life)

mystra is on fucking sight the real reason gale didnt take dirge with him is because that convo would have ended with dirge choking a brunette out

[tragedynoir]

— MONTHLY PATRONAGES ARE OPEN!

I never quite had the chance to officially announce my monthly patronage (ko-fi membership) tiers, but I recently added a new tier and thought it a perfect time to share!

By becoming a patron, you help me continue to put out free resources for everyone, and can earn yourself exclusive rewards like:

access to all special delivery content

year-long discounts on all shop items & commissions

special discord server roles

patron-only polls to decide future templates

template of your choice from my shop every month (for opal patrons)!

if these interest you, do check out my patronship tiers here, or use the source link on this post!

[soaog]

Soggy reads: Münkler, Herfried - Marx, Wagner, Nietzsche. Welt im Umbruch (2021)

(It's another Münkler. I do actually think quite highly of him.)

Biographies are good. It might sound like I am regurgitating the great man theory, but if I want to get a feel for a certain place and/or period, the way to go is to read the biography of a pivotal figure and then branch out from there. In fact, here is a short list of biographies I've read in recent years that I've enjoyed;

Jackson, Julian - A Certain Idea of France. The Life of Charles de Gaulle (2018)

Steinberg, Jonathan - Bismarck. A Life (2011)

McPhee, Peter - Robespierre. A Revolutionary Life (2012)

Scurr, Ruth - Fatal Purity. Robespierre and the French Revolution (2006)

Siemann, Wolfram - Metternich. Strategist and Visionary (2019)

... and yeah, I'm really not beating the Great Man allegations.

So, I've read this one in fits and spurs over a period of months whenever I've had some idle time downstairs waiting on my father. As such, my recollection of it is maybe not as good as it ought to be. On top of that, it certainly doesn't help that I am a pseud who has at most a passing familiarity with the oeuvre of the three figures concerned. But, hey, starting points, right?

At first blush I did not think these three people had very much at all in common besides the fact that they are roughly contemporaries, and indeed, the interactions between them are sparse to the point of non-existence. But as it turns out you can fill 720 pages, hardcover to hardcover, with the parallels in their lives. If you for whatever reason just need three 19th century German guys battling health problems, the German nation-building process and messianic delusions; voila, there are your men. All three ended up in their own ways intimately involved with the attempted revolutions of 1848/49, were inextricably shaped by them and forced in one way or another to find a new way of life both for themselves and their respective field because of them.

They also all kind of ended up dependent on the financial, but more saliently, the intellectual patronship of somebody else to help elevate their life's work to the lofty heights of canon. Marx famously had Engels do double duty, Wagner was substantially funded by King Ludwig II. of Bavaria (better known for Neuschwanstein), his family squats on his work to this day and Nietzsche's apparently came to us chiefly through his sister who, because she was sort of an insane Nazi to the point of co-founding an "Aryan" settler colony in Paraguay, shaped it in such a way that at least initially ended up also being primarily received by other insane Nazis, so that's something you want to be careful about if you ever undertake some sort of intellectual project of your own.

I don't know, I thought it was enjoyable. It'd definitely have benefitted from me having more of an education to begin with (but what wouldn't), but even without it, you get a bit of a feel for why this place is like this from the vantage point of its nutty Poets and Thinkers.

[earth-scented]

🍂 Autumnal Granfathers (Dedy, aka Dziady) – Slavic Week Devoted to Commemorating the Dead 🍂

From October 21 to 28 (this year, 2023) Slavic Pagans celebrate Grandfathers’ Week – time dedicated to commemoration and communication with the dead. The veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, and it is time invite the deceased loved ones over to share a meal with the living. Those are not the days to be in a hurry. The house needs to be cleaned – it is really a shame to invite your ancestors into a mess; the commemorative dinner has to be prepared.

Finally, everything is ready – the house shines, the candles are lit, and commemorative dinner stands on the table. Extra plates and silverware are served. Now the master of the house invites the Grandfathers – deceased ancestors that loved us and wished us well. He calls out their names, remembering their deeds. “Dear Grandfathers, we’re calling for you. Dear Grandfathers, fly to us through.” Hot steam rising from the food tickles the nostrils attracting hungry spirits that miss the scent and taste of food in the Otherworld. Slavs believe that the food for the dead has to be hot, as the spirits ingest the steam instead of actual food. Crepes, cereal, pies – all these foods are enjoyed on the Dumb Supper by both living and dead. Traditionally, this meal is quiet, full of memories of the people that are no longer with us. If this year happened to be successful, Grandfathers deserve to be thanked for it, if not – it is okay to ask for help. Remains of food are left at the table overnight, and in the morning they are used to feed wild animals and birds.

Once the dinner is over, one can peek into the future and communicate with Gods and spirits by means of divination, be it runes, or crystal ball, or pendulum. The answers will be clear and easy to read this week – our own ancestors stand behind our shoulders helping us on our way. Protection spells are also very powerful at this time.

Friday on Grandfathers’ Week (October 28 this year) is called Makosh’s 11th Friday (11th Friday of Makosh). This is one of the chief festivals devoted to this Goddess for the whole year. A candle is lit on the household altar in Her honor and a traditional offering of a skein of natural fiber or a length of thread is left there for Makosh: later on, this offering may be cast into flowing water, left near a well – our ancestors used to throw skeins of fiber into a dry well, a wishing well may work, too, or tied to a healthy spruce tree – spruce and yew are trees associated with the Goddess of Fate. Older women spin a white thread while sitting by the window on this day. This thread calls on the patronship of the Ancestors and may be used in knitting, embroidery, ritual tying of knots, or spindle rituals meant to attract something or call for Ancestors’ help. Since Friday has been traditionally associated with women and the feminine, it makes sense to hold a ritual dinner devoted to all the deceased females in a family (Grandmothers’ Day).

As the week passes, spirits need to be thanked for visiting and released with words: “Dear Grandfathers, you stayed with us all week, enjoyed the food and things to drink. Now it is time for you to fly back”. After this, the candles are blown out, and the realization of magic that had just happened is slowly getting into conscious mind. Like never before, our life path stands clear before us.

Don’t miss this week. Slow down and listen. Turn around to remember and say “Thank you” for your very existence in this world.

Olga Stanton

[marwahstudios]

Indo-Slovenia Film and Cultural Forum Strengthen Ties with Patronship Presentation to H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh

Noida, India – The International Chamber of Media and Entertainment Industry (ICMEI), through its Indo-Slovenia Film and Cultural Forum, proudly presented its Patronship to H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh, Ambassador of Slovenia, during her visit to the prestigious 10th Global Literary Festival Noida 2024. The ceremony took place at the iconic Marwah Studios Film City in the presence of a distinguished gathering of esteemed guests, cultural ambassadors, and literary enthusiasts.

Dr. Sandeep Marwah, Chairperson of the Indo-Slovenia Film and Cultural Forum, welcomed H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh and lauded the growing cultural and diplomatic relationship between India and Slovenia. In his speech, Dr. Marwah emphasized the importance of cultural diplomacy and the role of cinema, art, and literature in fostering deeper bonds between the two nations.

“This Patronship is a testament to the rich and fruitful collaboration between India and Slovenia in the fields of media and entertainment. We are honored to present it to H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh, a true ambassador of cultural unity,” said Dr. Marwah. “We look forward to furthering our partnership and creating more opportunities for artists and filmmakers from both countries to come together and collaborate on a global stage.”

H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh expressed her gratitude and shared her vision for strengthening cultural ties between the two nations. She commended ICMEI and the Indo-Slovenia Film and Cultural Forum for their ongoing efforts in bridging the cultural gap through film, arts, and literature.

“It is a great honor to receive this Patronship from such a prestigious institution. Slovenia and India share a deep respect for the arts, and I am confident that together, we will continue to build a strong cultural and artistic exchange that benefits both countries,” said H.E. Mateja Vodeb Ghosh.

The Global Literary Festival Noida 2024, now in its 10th year, has emerged as a key platform for international cultural exchange, drawing participants from all corners of the globe. The collaboration between ICMEI and Slovenia through the Indo-Slovenia Film and Cultural Forum marks a significant step towards enhancing bilateral relations in the field of media, entertainment, and culture.