Ding!

Rama and Krishna trading places

for @medhasree

“You killed him,” says one of Kaliya’s wives in a voice devoid of all feeling, even as her husband sinks deeper into the waters of the Yamuna. “He was poisoning our waters, and the very air we breathe,” Balarama says, even as his heart yearns after the greatest part of him lying coiled at the edge of the universe. Almost he could slip into the waters himself and, unaffected, slip his arms around his kinswomen to comfort them. Rama, on the banks, cleans his arrows and slips them into a quiver comically big for him, and says, “I killed him, as I kill all monsters who trouble my people.” “We are ourselves everywhere hunted by Garuda,”another wife protests. “If you retaliate by poisoning mortals, you turn from victims to villains yourself. Betake yourselves to Ramanaka Island, and live unharmed.”

“I would love nothing more,” Krishna reassures Surpanakha, “for I cannot remember when last I saw a woman so divinely lovely, bedecked in all the treasures the world can offer and yet needing none to add to her own beauty.” The rakshasi pauses, and the following smile has a distinct gleam of fangs. “You flatter masterfully, mortal, but I can hear a lie. You would love nothing more, yet surely you will find a reason to refuse me.” “I would love nothing more,” Krishna repeats, “but I have a wife already.” “An obstacle easily removed,” Surpanakha suggests, grinning wider than her slender face should allow. Lakshmana springs to his feet, outraged, but then sits again, arrow unnocked, at Krishna’s amused gesture. “But if you kill her I would mourn a hundred summers and scarcely be in a mood for love. You are far too intelligent to think otherwise.” “Since when do mortal men limit themselves to a single wife?” the rakshasi queries. Krishna grins back at her, sunny and careless. “My own father has three queens, and the jealousy of one has brought us to this forest. So I cannot take you for a wife unless you renounce your royal life and live with us as a mendicant, for to do otherwise would cause resentment in my wife. Yet I cannot ask you to sacrifice your life and all its many enjoyments to live with us as my wife does, for that would anger you. You see my dilemma?” “I… yes,” says Surpanakha. “I will have your brother then, if I cannot have you.” “You could marry him,” Krishna allows. “But he is sworn to celibacy, so I would not advise it for one so given to pleasure as you are, O sensuous one.”

“Of course we will fight for you, with all the might Dwaraka has,” Rama assures the Pandavas. “I could hardly do less when my kinsmen are offered insult, and one I have long called a sister.” “One might argue,” says Prince Satyajit, “that it was Yudhishtira who offered insult to our sister, by waging her as he might his slaves.” It is the position Panchal has been taking on the matter, Panchali not excepted, and even Yudhishtira has grown inured enough to offer no ,ore than a tired flinch. “If he were playing against an honourable man, such a wager would not have been accepted, any more than you would trust a drunkard with your beloved child,” Rama says. “It makes no matter; we go to war not for petty faults, but because of dharma and adharma.” “Then must we wait,” Draupadi asks, “while the world grows heavy with adharma? What keeps us from war this instant?” “A vow binds you,” Rama reminds her, gentle and inexorable as a god. “But it does not bind us,” Satyajit points out. Rama’s answering laugh lights up the day, shakes birds from the trees.

Krishna is the one who fetches his wife from the Asoka grove, swings her off her feet laughing, kisses the tears from her eyes, and tells her, “I know this will be difficult for you after all our years in seclusion, but we must do it for the army, and to stifle any rumours before they raise their heads.” In front of the army he embraces her again, this time a conquering hero and not a relieved husband, and says in the voice that massed regiments can hear in the din of battle, “Now is my life lit up again, with Janaka’s chaste daughter in my arms. All my war has been but for this, that I may have my wife by my side once more.”

So, I started watching the kids’ show “Just Add Magic” on Amazon Video last night. Something about it is so compelling.

It’s very much a kids’ show.

Three 7th graders acquire a magic cookbook. Shenanigans ensue. (There’s also a kid with a “food bike” until he can get a food truck, and he doesn’t need magic to cook awesome things.)

In the background, there are all sorts of adults having their own problems, a plot with a spell-trapped grandma that’s a metaphor for living with a senile relative, and a guest appearance by Mira Furlan (who played Delenn in Babylon 5 and basically plays Delenn in this show too).

Is anyone else watching this? Or am I the odd adult out?

it’s a super short scene in the show but it says so much. crowley never does anything that really harms anyone (see: paintballs & pennies & phone lines), little of it is cruel in the ways that humans can be cruel — which makes it even more meaningful that he chooses humanity in the end. sure, he needs to drink for days to deal with it, but when he’s sober again, he stays

When New Yorkers hear a violin 🤣🤣🕺🏾🔥

There are so many unintended consequences to well-intentioned actions. It feels like a game you can’t win.

#whipped

#justaddmagic #ThisSeriesIsAwesome

Miss silvers is my favorite character.. I have a weakness for grumpy old women with a secret soft side

If you and your partner practice frequent, non-sexual consent, your relationship will be healthier and easier.

“Are you comfortable with me ranting about my day for a few minutes?”

“Oh, this is your poetry? Would it be okay if I read it?”

“Do you mind if I use your phone for a few minutes?”

“Wow, your meal looks awesome. Could I try some?”

It will save a lot of grief, especially in a developing relationship. Eventually, with consistent “yes’s” and “no’s” you can figure out more permanent boundaries and guidelines.

“I need to ask before ranting about my day or taking their food, but my partner is okay with me using their phone whenever. However, my partner does not like me reading their poetry unless they offer first.”

i ate chef boyardee and began to cry bro that shit was so bad… i had noodles i could have eaten those

Crowley, teaching Aziraphale to drive: Okay, so you’re driving and Gabriel and Michael walk onto the road. Quick, what do you hit?

Aziraphale: Oh definitely Gabriel

Crowley, sighing: The brakes, angel. You hit the brakes.