#JB is thinking about rc

[webanglikethat]

KCD and KFS family tree!

Based on the family tree:

Radha Basu will give birth to Indira Basu, who is Amala’s grandmother. Radha Basu had this child with Raj Doobay.

Raj Doobay, on the other hand, will have two children with Amrita Rai: Devdas Doobay and Vimal Doobay.

Devdas Doobay and Sitara Dikhit or Dikshit give birth to Amrit Doobay.

Vimal Doobay, whose spouse's name is unknown, has two children: Rishi and Lalit.

There is no connection between Radha and the mysterious Sharma person, implying that she never married Devi’s uncle aka Anil Sharma. (this might suggest that she dies, as many have theorized, during childbirth)

Notably, Sara is not included in this tree.

Indira Basu is likely married to Aditya Thakur, Erit Thakur’s younger brother. Together, they have Kamal and Jatsuna Basu.

Jatsuna and a random British man then have Amala and Kiran.

According to the official wiki, Radha Basu is Amala’s maternal great-grandmother, and Raj Doobay is her maternal great-grandfather so this adds up.

[castle-dominion]

5x8 after hours

I saw the white neck thing I THOUGHT he was a priest! & then he brought out his rosary

Ooh nice dessert Rick can make those jokes but not you jim

Both your parents are lawyers?? MARTHA SHUT THE UP

CASTLE DON'T SHJKHDSKJFDHSDJKG

NO NO NO NO NO YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE YOUR DIFFERENCES IT'S OK IT IS OK ACTORS ARE ALLOWED TO BE NON-SERIOUS & HAVE FUN

RC: ‘Cause honestly that whole death thing is sounding pretty good right now. KB: There’s been a murder down town. RC: Close enough.

They are probs happy for the excuse to get away from their parents

Well in s6 you have a worse dinner with alexis...

*wiping off her makeup* JE: Wow, already? How’d that go? KB: RC: JE: Okay, well, JE: speaking of fathers, we have one right over here.

found religion lol oof holding his rosary must be good. Good marksman, picks up casings

Assassination is basically murder for political OR RELIGIOUS or similar motives.

MC-murtry, irish preist probs, is he ryan's priest? or not. Murdoch mysteries moments.

WOAH WE'R EINTERVIEWING A NUN? don't worry my irish friend, as a michif I know your struggle

Valid lol, acab & all you remember the address???

KR: *makes himself a coffee and he catches sight of the SISTER MARY exiting the elevator. He stills.* KR: A nun walks into a precinct. It’s like the beginnings of a bad joke. *He goes to take a sip of his coffee but stops. He sets the coffee down and works on straightening his tie.* JE: Want to borrow a comb or something? KR: Shut up. JE: (smirks) You know what this reminds me of? Watching one of those body switching movies where the guy looks like a grown man but he’s actually 12. KR, stopping his primping: Hey. Let me tell you something. Catholic school is like combat. Unless you’ve been there you don’t know. JE: Uhhh, I have been there. In combat. And it’s way worse than some old lady. ((he said it was LIKE combat, as in you DON'T KNOW unless you've been there)) ((also no bro catholic school can be horrible, I've been there, but thankfully not the one with nuns)) KR: goes back to fixing his appearance. As SISTER MARY walks by, she levels him with a stern look.

sitting up So Straight around the nun she's so horrible & annoying girl of COURSE you should care abt ppl despite thier soul JE: Of course, I'm-- I'm sorry *starting to understand ryan's perspective* who the HECK would leave for a phone call in the middle of mass?

Like Ford & Lee (also illegal to park blocking a way like that)

They were both insulting each other's interest Drop It Castle Wow I like castle's jacket, nice red hem

Wow just in his apartment,,, scary af

Ya think?!?

Castle is right abt the cement shoes & also right it is not helping (You need to sit there as homoerotically as possible while you set their feet in cement

calls her dude lol

that was NOT castle saying "get the car"

KR: Not that I'd ever doubt a nun! Reminds me of the episode in the near future, you know the one, the irish mob on KR: The guy took out a priest. We can’t just let him disappear.

A DOLLAR ARE YOU KIDDING ME? (not talking about it being expensive, but talking abt the wire being cut)

leo stfu

interesting transition sending esposito there alone?

He's right, cops don't rly come to this town

Leo relationship therapist moments WOAH SHE JUST BROKE THE CAR!?

can't you call 911 without the password?

esposito not wearing a vest? (also ryan is pretty af)

interesting angle & cant & all that this is sooo cute Bro don't talk to them!!! Check where the fingerprints are on the phone screen it HAS a schedule but it doesn't FOLLOW it Leo: I'm starting to feel like I'd be safer outside

Yeah lol just a joyride in a cop car

Martha & Jim <3 MR, long winded & dramatic: Well after I got a call from Detective Esposito I became very concerned, so I checked in with – JB: Well after I got a call from Detective Esposito I became very concerned, so I checked in with – VG: There’s no cause for alarm. It’s just that we’re having trouble pinpointing their perspective – MR: Oh please, stop. You are a terrible actress. ((GIRL)) There is no way that anyone would have called me if they weren’t really worried ((Lol probably true)) and I want to know what is really going on here.

MR: All right – where is that fancy coffee machine that Richard bought for the precinct? Over there? (she points)

flying to DUBLIN?

Don't u have only like 30 possibly attempts before it gets locked? So call me maybe <3 Castle GET TO THE POINT SAY YOU NEED HER TO CALL 911 Yes I LET her hang up Castle don't throw it outside like that rly quick wtffff

Why'd he fall oooooof Could have said "we need to get this man to a hospital he broke his ankle" bc the cabbie saw that

Oh no they ar egoing to get Locked In he COULD stand on it & run on it for a minute there when his life was in deep danger...

Gates in the interview uwu Hell, I'll even drive you to the airport! She's so good "My people" sfdjhfjdsh castle is one of her people

Get a deaf employee lol

Wait wasn't chinese relevant? RC: No. But I’ve seen every episode of MacGyver

PARTNERS partners Lol relationship therapist moments

Brings up the simple boring thing hhhsdjfhkjshfjs He's a new yorker ofc he likes baseball Big bro said that these two would end up together & it reminded me of sammy keyes she should NOT feel safe when he is watching Cut to them fighting? Ah sadly not RC: Yeah. C’mon. We’re a couple of idiots who can’t remember what we were fighting about. So … what were we fighting about?

Then enjoy the bubble while you have it! Breaking the bubble sooner is still breaking the bubble!

RC: Maybe I’m not speaking the right language. (he tries again, this time with a trucker accent) Breaker, breaker. I got a mama bear and two joes who need a ride back to the bear cave. (to BECKETT) I once had Derrick Storm beat up a trucker.

RC: Besides, it’s him they want dead, not me. Leo: Thanks for the reminder.

Remember in morse code: s is shorter than o bc s happens more

at least castle apologizes

.. . --- .- ..- . m e s a u e I'm too slow in morse code I should really practice

I love how he is just relationship therpisting

Ooh music NOT a journalist "figuring out" endings lol Poker moments Castle is totally double bluffing here, misleading him. Also what if you didn't know which side was north? LIke me? bad sense of direction!

DOLAN? THE BIG GUY IN THE MOB? ALSO HE DIDN'T KIDNAP THE DETECTIVES THEN

Get the gun wait... I THOUGHT MAYBE HE WAS THREATENING HER BC THE COPS GOT INTO TROUBLE

wait he IS the guy who kidnapped the detectives castle would totally make friends with them lol, like daniel in the lion's den in the veggie tales adaptation, got pizza

Did leo coach her on what to say?

... Baseball game? So should castle tell dolan that there is probably smth wrong or...?

Probably not a sociopath. Sociopaths often have social anxiety & are very flakey, not coldblooded killers

Also whose gun is that? Right, NOT beckett's, it was the gun of the mobster. Uness he took beckett's gun Why didn't they scout out the location first, there is ALWAYS fishy business

Should have kept one bullet for a double tap

Why didn't we hear the sirens before this?

Never never always Oh he got her gun & badge back

Wow new yorker whistled & magically got a cab. Yep.

He's OFFERING to do time? Also it was bright out, the sun is rising, they are all still in their clothes,,, been a long night huh Gates has what like snacks?

*seeing them kiss* k no nvm it was not a kiss lol

Hey I somehow only spent an hour on this episode! I started watching at 10, then I didn't get off until 12 (tho the goal was 11.30) but now I'm off at 1! that's only an hour! Proud of myself!

[lucasbarr]

I was thinking about Emma’s middle name again today.

I feel like Dean is very much the kinda guy to name his kids after important people in his life/family names yes this also applies to Bobby John because I secretly think Dean holds Bobby in higher esteem than John. He should have also been able to keep him!

I think at the point in his life that Dean is at when Emma is born (or she’s resurrected) he still clings to the idea of his mother. He still holds her on this pedestal of the ideal feminine mother figure, his Virgin Mary if you will. I think it’s very in-character for him. I think you also can see this with his choice of the name for the shifter kid in Season 6.

I think if Jack were to ask Dean for a middle name, I think he’d be inclined to pick something like Henry or maybe even Robert (for Bobby). I think this would reinforce in his mind that he associates Jack with those he loves. He would want maybe subconsciously to give Jack one of theses names because he loves him. I mean, if I was Jack and you told me that you named me after the closest thing you had to a father…I’d get all warm and fuzzy inside. I am now going to be using Robert as Jack’s middle name from now on.

I do think, depending on his partner, Sam would also want to honor their families. Like take for example my DeanCassie kid, Audra Millie Robinson. I’ve combined the names Audrey and Sandra, from both, to get her name. Then I just liked the name Millie and thought it fit well with Audra! Fun Fact: She’s also got a little brother named RC, which is short for Robert Cyrus!

That being said, I do not think Sam holds these same notions about names.

YES I KNOW HIS CANON KID’S NAME IS DEAN BUT CANON IS WRONG. Sam strikes me as the kinda guy who either picks names that sound good to him ot let’s just wife pick his children’s names. Idk why, but I just get that vibe off him.

Looking again at Bobby John as an example, I think Dean went with his heart while Soulless!Sam went with his head. I think this stems from a place within Sam that he wouldn’t have otherwise acknowledged had he not been soulless (at the time). To him, his soulless self, it was only logical that any of their proverbial offspring would be named after their father.

Now, we don’t really see any other kids that need naming except Dean Jr, in Sam’s case. Were Dean alive when this kid is born I think his name could go one of two ways.

Sam still name his kid after Dean but it’s his middle name. We then get something like James Dean Winchester (because I still think this fits within the confines of his naming conventions). Also I think the name is funny in-universe for one of their kids. Though I think they’d go with something more generic Jeffery 😂 or Oliver.

Sam wanting to honor Eillen’s family. While I don’t see him valuing his family names, I do see him wanting to carry on Eileen’s family (even if she doesn’t). So I could see them having a kid named like Maura Lillian or maybe Padraic Robert, or maybe even Maura Sandra (as Eillen’s little tribute to Mary since her first name was taken)

Bonus! The only Dean Winchester Jr concept I actually enjoy where his names stays the same is @archangelgabriel’s take! It’s because he’s also got a sister named Jody. Best take on IMO a bad naming choice for one of Sam’s kids!

Now your just going to get a list of some Sam, Dean, Cas kids that have been floating around in my head for a while! If any of them interest you feel free to drop an ask and I can tell you more about them!

Sam & Blurry WifeTM

Dean John “DJ” Winchester Jr I HAVE OPINIONS ON THIS BOY

Jody Charlie “JC” Winchester @archangelgabriel Your Jody is perfection and cemented in my head as his sister.

Mary Joanna “MJ” Winchester Jr

Sam & Eileen

Maura Sandra Leahy (twin)

Padraic Robert Leahy (twin)

Sam & Rowena

Moriah Elaine McLeod

Sam & Amy Pond

Jacob Pond (canon)

Abigail Pond

Sam & Gabriel

Remiel John “RJ” Winchester

Sam & Castiel

James Beckett “JB” Winchester (+Jack)

Sam & Jess

Elizabeth Rachel “Lizzy” Moore

Sean Daniel Moore

—

Dean & Cassie

Audra Millie Robinson

Robert Cyrus “RC” Robinson

Dean & Anna

Ariel Sarai Milton

Dean & Lisa

Benjamin Issac Braeden

Bobby John!

Mary Ellen Braeden

Dean & Benny

Bobby John!

Emma!

Paul-Henri Lafitte-Winchester (a werewolf kid)

Dean & Castiel

Emma!

Jack!

Claire!

Ben!

Jaime Grace Winchester (a baby they found on a hunt)

—

Castiel & Meg

Lailah Azrael Novak

[jarkenengaga]

The forgive me box part 7

“Sh!! Sh!!”

Baby Jackson begin to squeal “Zhuo~~mic~~~ang!!” (hide and seek)

He covered his little face with his hands and ran around.

BamBam and Yugyeom looked at each other with confusion.

BamBam “okay say that again for you hyung double B please”

Baby Jackson stop and looked at BamBam “Bee Bee Zhuo!! Mic!! Ang!!”

And with that he ran as fast as he could out of the living room.

Yugyeom “oh wait baby wait for us”

BamBam “No man! I got him haha! He want to play hide and seek!”

Yugyeom “ohhh I got it? Haha guess that means you are it? “ Yugyeom laughs as he leaves the room to. to go hide.

BamBam “what!! How that happen? Oh well!! you guys have to the Count of 20”

BamBam begin to count and the time was now 10am. “Okay one.. two.. three.. i’m coming to find you. Four, five, six there’s no where you can hide.”

Jackson could hear BamBam counting and knew he had to hurry and found that bottle and maybe the box too. He scurried into his bed room and looked around. {Okay where was I when I had the bottle last?} think Jackson think. {ah!! My bed!! I was on my bed} he ran over to the bed which still had a sleep Mark in it. He then looked around it. Then he crawled under the bed. he bumped his head a bit, So he stop to rub his head. When he finally found it. The Magic bottle!! “Hoorid”

He squealed. {oh baby I thought I never find this yes. Now to show them this, and we can found out how to break the curse}

Mark “hey! Little guy what are you doing under there?”

Jackson just noticed that he woke up Mark. He would be upset but this the best news. Mark being awake that means he can help translate.

Baby Jackson “Morc!!”

Jackson Crawled from under the bed and held his arms up for Mark to pick him up. Mark picked him up and set him on Mark lap. Jackson started to hug and cuddle with him.

“Morc” Baby Jackson said again

Mark “aww Jackson I missed you too! But what are you doing under the bed? How long have I been out?” He looked at the clock “10:30 am!! Oh my God! I missed everything.”

Jackson Patted Marks face. it was time to try to get him to understand him.

Baby Jackson “kanzhe wo!!” (Look at me or Pay attention to me)

{Mark please understand me! Please}

Mark “okay I’m looking at you. what is it?”

Jackson was so happy “ah!!! Morc Bang Bang wo!!”(help)

Mark “what do you need help with?” he place his hand on his head “I haven’t eaten today I’m still a little weak. can you be a little more clear?”

Jackson was ecstatic that mark understand him and that all he need right now.Eric was right Mark really is the only one who understands him no matter what. {know to make him understand}

He held up the bottle in his hand “pingzi!! Morc Bang bang wo! yishi zhao pingz. Du!! Morc yishi ka zhule yi disn.”

Jackson said {The bottle!! Mark Help! I find the bottle. Read! Mark i will stuck little”

Mark “bottle? What do you mean stuck little?” He take the bottle from Jackson. “What is this? Jackson what have I told you about taking this kind of stuff? You could get sick or worst die. Why do you do this?”

Jackson grabbed Mark face it his hands and made him look at him “Er! Si Oia oshi!! Minyou Ershsi!! Ershsi ahh aoo Cia Xia !! Oshi ka zhule bao bao!!”

Mark Had to work hard to translate this “what Jack? Two no four otters? No 24 otters? ctters? Oh wait are you trying to say hours? 24hour? Stuck as a baby?”

Jackson was so happy he got that much out of that nonsense. He could have kissed him. But Mark looked wrong again pale “Morc” {oh no no baby please don’t pass out on me again?}

Mark just stared at the wall behind Jackson “if we can’t change back in 24 hours he will be stuck like this” he said the right thing but, Jackson wasn’t sure he knew what he was saying. Was he going into shock. Jackson started to try to shake him out of it “Marc!! Ma!!rc”

But it was little used. because he didn’t come out of it. Youngjae heard Jackson and come into the room.

Youngjae “Jackson what on Earth are you doing? Mark!! What wrong with him?”

Yugyeom and BamBam ran into the room

BamBam “hey have you seen.... oh Baby Jackson there you are? Woo I was scared we lost you for real”

Yugyeom “what you really couldn’t find him but you said... never mind”

BamBam pick up Jackson and held him close “hey!! what up with Mark now?”

Youngjae “ I think he’s in shock. He must’ve seen baby Jackson and well I guess he went into shock” he look at the other two worried “what are we going to do?”

They heard the front door open and JB called them “hey guys we’re back”

Yugyeom “I don’t know. But I will try to get Mark out of this. You guy should see what they found out and we should probably keep Jackson away from Mark for now till Mark can except this without going all comatose on us”

Yugyeom has come up with some pretty dumb ideals, but to Jackson this takes the cake. {no I need him. Why would they do this! Mark you have to tell them. Please wake up}

Baby Jackson “Morc up up”

BamBam “aww did baby Jack learn a new word? Good job baby. up” he take Jackson along with Youngjae into The liver room where Jinyoung and JB were waiting on them. Jackson begin to cry again.

BamBam “hey guys what the news? Hey hey little jack it just.. aww I know you love Mark but he just need time okay”

Jackson was livid about this. time was exactly what he didn’t half. He started to cry harder so BamBam try to walk him around the room cuddling him. “Oh please calm down”

Youngjae set down next to JB he grabbed his hand. “Tell me you guys found something?”

JB look Youngjae in the eyes and then back Jinyoung Who just encouraged him to tell everything he knew

JB “okay we didn’t get much but, so last night, we found out that Jackson was on the phone with his manager. so we talk to him who is pretty pissed that Jackson didn’t turn in his work at 5am. So I wrote a song for him hoping that it would help him calm down so he could tell me what he knew. He said that Jackson was not working because he was with some girl last night. which we all know that was Mark and they had a big fight. His manager assumed that they had a fight because Jackson was upset on their last phone call. But Jackson assured him that he was no longer distracted working on assignment. So we found out that after he talk to his manager he talk to one of his friends named Eric Who owns this kind of drug shop or something I don’t know. Jackson can have some weird friend sometimes. But this guy said that Jackson bought a box from him. He said at the time he didn’t know what the box did, but Jackson insisting on buying it. Later the guy found out that box was called “ The forgive me box?” But he still doesn’t know what it does. That all we got.”

Youngjae and BamBam both looked At each other and shock and disbelief. BamBam looked at Jackson

BamBam “are you tell us... Jack did this to him?? How?”

Youngjae “better! Why?”

Jinyoung “we don’t rea..”

Mark “You little irresponsible child of a monkey...”

Jinyoung was interrupted by Mark yelling. Mark come running out of the room with Yugyeom trying to hold him back.

Yugyeom “Hyung calm!! Please it okay”

[silverbulletsama]

Hey Nicole! As a fellow biologist currently working with iPSCs and still learning the basics of stem cell differentiation, I absolutely loved your explanation about RC cells and stem cells!!! In this chapter, Kimi emphasized to Nishiki that Kaneki a human that turned into Dragon and there is a shocked expression on his face. Do you think this was a realization about the transcription factors affecting RC proliferation, ghoul vs. human germline and somatic cells, or something along those lines?

Hello! If you are working on iPSCs then you definitely must read the Nobel Prize paper on iPSCs by Yamanaka-sensei’s lab (both the version on mice in 2006 and the version on humans in 2007). If you are interested and you haven’t read them yet, I can give you the exact titles.

I have stated in my previous metas that the switch from the human phenotype to ghoul phenotype (aka Evolution) must lie in gene switches (promoters, activators, inhibitors, etc) that manipulate gene expression. This can be especially seen when looking at food consumption: Kaneki’s body does have the enzymes to digest normal food. The fact he can no longer do it can only mean a gene transcribed in trans is silencing the expression of genes that code for those digestive enzymes (Please review my older genetics meta if this language is too scientific for you).

I also stated in my previous metas that Kaneki’s germline cells are human. His somatic cells are a mix of both. It can be even noted that his entire body is human except for his transplanted organ... nonetheless, the possibility of having transcription factors and transposons in his ghoul cells affecting, again in trans, his human genes... then we can no longer have this dichotomy.

I have a lot to say about Kimi’s declaration that Kaneki is human... but I am waiting for JB’s translation to make sure the line is indeed there. This is why I’d rather delay my explanation until then.

[azure-alchemist]

...Twitter user SuperKawaiiDesu(SKD) has posted these photos of the Character Select screen and a Persona 4 Arena stage on his feed along with some TwitLonger links concerning his own initial analysis that I’ll link at the bottom but post the text in blockquotes here...BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle is debuting it’s playable build at New York Comic Con through today and the 8th of October..

So, game is designed to be pad friendly. 5 buttons, ABC, Tag, and Assist. First, A/B are standard normals. There are command normals, 4X, 2X, I don't think there's 6X because of the way run works in this game lol (there's no walking, you just run). There are auto combos via 5AA.../5BB... on hit and block. 5aa, 5aaa and 5bb, 5bbb are special normals you can't do otherwise. C button is...universal overhead or sweep for 5C and 2C respectively lol. Tag button just tags, no idea what else. Assist has 3 attacks, neutral, back, and forward. There's a mechanic where you cause your assist to stay on screen and you can keep using them to attack. Not sue what the input is to start it, I think it's like 236 assist. They like, power up when they land on screen and it starts draining the assist call gauge until it's empty and then they leave. You can command them to do their assist attacks without cooldown, not entirely sure what the input is to command them but I think you hold assist and press A/B/C. A is neutral assist attack, B is forward assist and C is backwards assist. ASSISTS CAN EAT SOME ATTACKS SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPECIFIC COMBOS EXIST Macros, there's...BC (throw) tech window looks like BB. I think there's a command dash at the start of it, lol. A+Tag is 2 button DP. ABCD I think, is burst (costs 1 bar) and causes the combo to break and you switch characters. Specials, 236 and 214 only it seems. A/B and C variants. C specials cost meter. Supers are marvel style. 236BC and 214BC for level 1 and level 2 super respectively. Intuitive DHC's for team supers.

So, the mechanic resonance blaze is kinda x Factor comeback mechanic like, you get it when one of your characters die (you activate it with assist button after they're dead) not sure what the effects are beyond red health regen and powered up supers. For incoming, not sure what dictates it, but I've only seen attacks done on incoming, lol. Mostly vertical, some side? not sure if its linked to characters, I'll explore that later. There IS TRM IN THE GAME and you can't be thrown during blockstun. Throw is actually proximity based, you can throw immediately point blank but if there's a little bit of space the throw input will automatically close the gap. Of course there's a maximum run before the throw comes out if you do it from far away. There don't seem to be air unblockable normals? Maybe anti airs. It seems like there's definitely head invuln moves, but ill dig deeper into this later. The other thing, I said there were 4x normals, it actually only applies to A attacks I think.and 2a seems to be universally low. So 4a, 2a, 5a, 5aa, 5aaa, 2b, 5b, 5bb, 5bbb, 5c, 2c, jA, jB, jC, and specials. It seems like characters have an air special, but only assigned to one direction. However, they still have variants. For example, ragna has nightmare edge and berial on j214a / j214b, and he has no j236 series but Narukami air fireball is j236X (no j214 series). That's about it for this update, give me ideas to think about! I'm going to look into Resonance blaze.

Well, first up, you can call assists during specials too, and even on whiff. While an assist is on screen, you can press tag to switch control to that character. I think  in conjunction with the assist install thing I talked about earlier, you can do some ridiculous stuff. The dual character control seems like the most open ended part of the game. Every character has an anti air, but I don't think they're the same input. 5b or 2b though. On normals and the gatling tree, yes (((you can reverse beat))). Gatlings look like 4x into 5/2x interchangeably, then into the other button strength, then you can go back. Looks like there's a repeat limit of 1, and 5aa for example cant go into 2a. This is really confusing, so I'll give an example gat narukami string 4a 2a 4a 5a 5aa 5aaa 5b 5bb 2b 5a 5aa... Pretty much if you understand the tree you can do a hell of a lot of gats. There's no IB/Pushblock. Persona DP/Throw os works, lol. You can also piano assist into dp and have it cover recovery, lol. On resonance, not sure what increases the stocks but it pretty much has lv1-4 and it dictates the duration you get when your character dies. I tried using resonance like an RC, it didn't work. You CAN act immediately after flash though, I had a normal on me during flash and DP'd it. Anyways, that's about it for now but really juicy implications. Bye

BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle is said to be releasing for unannounced platforms in 2018..The game will crossover characters from BlazBlue: CentralFiction, Persona 4 Arena, Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late[st] and RWBY.

(Photo Source) (Photo Source 2) (TL 1)(TL 2)(TL 3)

(Ruby Gameplay)(BlazBlue: Cross Tag Battle Official Site) (Famitsu interview translation) (Dengeki PlayStation Vol.643 Scan) (Cropped Dengeki Scan) (Teaser Screenshots) (Released Character Art)

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Huizhou JB Battery Technology Limited is a lithium ion battery factory,which was established in May, 2008, is a China based professional manufacturer and provides a wide range of battery types for customers. They are a professional lithium ion battery supplier with products include PDA batteries, GPS batteries, mobile phone batteries, MP3/MP4 batteries, digital camera batteries, laptop batteries, tablet PC batteries, remote control batteries, barcode scanner batteries, walkie-talkie batteries, two-way radio batteries, cordless phone batteries, server’s batteries, flash light batteries, LED light Batteries, printer batteries, headphone batteries, RC toys batteries, payment terminal batteries, power tools batteries, computer backup batteries, medical device batteries, emergency light batteries and chargers, etc.

For Product Inquiries

Contact: Person: David Liu

Company: Huizhou JB Battery Technology Limited

Email: info@jbt-battery.net

Tumblr:https://jbtbattery.tumblr.com/

Website: https://www.lithiumbatterychina.com/about-us/

Article Original From:https://www.lithiumbatterychina.com/why-people-choose-custom-lithium-ion-batteries-packs-in-wider-range-for-financial-equipment-and-consumer-devices/

[webanglikethat]

KFS MEMES | part 1

[castle-dominion]

c1x3 (technically 1x2? 1x4?) hell hath no fury

Coffee is just like that. He's present during paperwork for once. She's so pretty & looks so good in red & totally deserves to have that short hair. She looked so much better in the earlier seasons & now she's just some lady.

RC: No. Hiding would be building a fortress out of my comforter and then downing a fifth of Scotch, but apparently that's considered unhealthy.

Was THAT espt's voice? Woah. Lol two gay bois moving in together already huh.

KR: Dead guy in a rug. Naturally, we thought of you. JE: Ye Both: : ) uwu

Already jinxing <3

Castle just taking photos

Ok so ik I talk abt the outfits a lot but I love castle's scarf & beckett's coat & rysposito have swapped clothing

Hey, I'm a wise-ass, not a jackass.

Martha <3

I don't care about what people think... much.

Oh yeah even where I live we do roadkill furniture & gear.

[06:00, EXT. ALLEYWAY - DAY] Esposito and Ryan in a dumpster digging through the garbage. They are wearing coveralls to protect their clothing.

ESPOSITO I don't care if it was free. Even if you pay me, I'm still not gonna take that rug.

RYAN You tell me you've lived in New York your whole life, and you never scored a piece of road kill?

ESPOSITO "Road kill?"

RYAN It's an accepted practice, bro. You're done with your old stuff, you leave it on the street for those less fortunate. (waving a (still yellow) banana peel back & forth.) Artists, students, former hedge fund managers. It's trickle-down economics at its finest.

ESPOSITO Yeah, well, I prefer not to be trickled on.

RYAN :D You know that red couch I have? The one you like so much?

ESPOSITO 0n0 Don't you say it, bro.

RYAN 54th and Lex.

ESPOSITO That's gross. Gross. (Ryan laughing.) We are never playing Madden at your place again. (& I was wondering where the fanfictions learned this tidbit. Now I know.)

Btw you DO need to be careful. Dumpster diving is great but u don't want to end up with silverfish. (Happened at my church youth group.) (source: https://scriptline.livejournal.com/18193.html)

Bro never SAID he didn't, never said ANYTHING implying he didn't. He just said that the information wasn't a guarantee that he DID.

RC: Promise not to hate me. KB: I already hate you. RC: Fair enough.

Well, not exactly a friend. She's my interior decorator. But then we slept together, so I don't really know what she is now. WHAT Castle is the one who's kind of slutty, not nikki heat

Creason: *gagging on the coffee, shaking his head wildly* RC: I feel you, man.

KB: Hey, Esposito! JE: Ya? KB: See what you can find on that rug. If one went missing, what room it's from, and maybe who had access. JE: Yeh. KB: Thanks JE, to Ryan who is standing there on his phone: Road trip. RC: You're very good at bossing men around. KB: RC: I've noticed

RC, Through The Glass: You are so lame! You're Lamey McLamester! You're so la-la-la-la-lame!

JB: Mr. Bollinger's my father. Call me Jason. Me: Penis minivan lesbian was my father. Please, call me dick van dyke.

Lol councilman horny

lmao ryan in the background trying to give a gal his number & then he sends poor ryan after the drunk folks peeing in the flower pot & he goes to give the fellow his number even tho she already said she had a bf (well she said it to ryan).

Idk whether to laugh or get offended bc I'm no swerf:

Esposito, Ryan, Castle, and a couple other guys look over the prostitutes' website.

JE Damn! Those are some seriously fine five-star class-B misdemeanors. (XD)

KR: Dude, between you and me, you ever pay for it?

RC: Are you counting my marriages? (XD) KR: *one huff of laughter*

[Ryan clicks to a new page]

RC: Wait, stop! That's the girl in the photos. (See? Police work.)

KR: *sigh* Look at her. If I had your money...

[Beckett approaches and the other two guys takes off] KB: This isn't phone sex, Ryan. You don't just pay for the two minutes that you used.

JE: *Laughs*

Or you could just do it the easy way. (I love the way ryan is just looking back & forth between them & Espt just kinda looks up at beckett before awkwardly watching castle eyebrows HIGH, then beckett goes to hit him w her files; & then rysposito just turn to watch all smiley as she chases him down) No, no, no , no, no. You're the police. I'm just a lonely upscale gentleman looking for a date. Bet I find her first.

We all thought the pro was already there.

Beckett staring at him mad, Espt staring at him (eyebrows down but) interested, & Ryan staring at the box confused. RC: Yeah, just put it right over there. Perfect. Lift with your knees, man. Stay here for one second, would you? Because you guys have been so wonderfully hospitable to me, I just want to return the favor. And because your coffee is basically crap, I got you an espresso machine! How cool is that? Ryan looks at the coffee cup (which he is holding weird, point for the adhd ryan hc), espt is smilin & becks is just unimpressed

Goggles don't help like that but thanks.

Alexis <3 Martha <3

Firefly moments DX

I love Lanie & Kate. LP: Damn girl, you scared me. KB: Lanie, you're surrounded by corpses. LP: Yeah, I don't expect the living after seven o'clock. (So hearing someone talking is a shock.) KB: Funny. Neither do I. LP: I'm an M.E. What's your excuse? KB: Oh, don't be mean. LP: You deserve it. Getting a drink with me after work instead of getting your freak on with writer-boy? KB: Yeah, well, he is annoying, self-centered, egotistical, and completely-- LP: Fun? KB: LP: And take it from me, girlfriend, you need some fun. (Beckett's phone rings) LP: I mean, how bad can he be? KB, on the phone: Beckett. RC: Guess who's got a date with a prostitute! KB: *arms out in defeat*

He is a gentleman. Heck yeah, treat your escort with respect or whatever. True, big thing. Sex is a way to feel connected & men* typically feel more emotionally comfy if they are having sex with that person. Women* typically need the emotional connection to feel comfy enough for sex. Supposedly that's why marriages fail. Men* aren't getting the sex to feel emotionally safe & women* aren't getting the emotional connection to have sex. (*generalizations, probably cishet, etc)

Ryan looks almost normal rn, wearing that shirt & tie. Castle with his sweater today instead of his typical attire. Them all talking about the coffee.

RM: My three-year-old son could come up with a better story than that. Follow the money. Kirby: Hey! Hey! Can I go home now?

"Detective, with all due respect, there's no way in hell I'm helping you start a witch hunt against our top supporters. Now, you want to go through our campaign contributors? Fine. That's a matter of public record. But anything else and you're on your own." I mean he's right

RC: Hey. Finished your homework? AC: Yeah. RC: You want to finish mine? AC: Well, that depends. How much you offering to pay me? RC: Oh, I taught you well.

Kate just doesn't want to be seen appreciating castle's presence as a point of principal.

I figured it out. I knew it was the hair but I finally see where it is changed. I recently saw the 3xk sequel in s4 & Ryan with his "hello fellow kids" look. His hair is too far down. It is not brushed up away from his face, it is slightly curly & falling a little bit down. Plus, the lighting or makeup design has his lips lookin like mine did in japan. (The kids there had an app with filters but I was white so it made my lips way too bright.)

She has a right to see the warrant my dudes. U can't just waltz in there.

Ryan, flipping open his badge all prettylike: Stop running, bro. Campaign's over.

RM: Nice work. Very impressive. *Walking away* Oh, and uh, you, too, Beckett. KB: Sir??? RM: Just yanking your chain, Detective. Just yanking your chain.

Castle does readings like this, they could record it for esposito. (A point for an adhd esposito headcanon except u'r not allowed to be in the military if u have adhd, lucky for me.) (I remember in the pilot he asked for tapes. & then throughout the rest of s1 we can see ryan starting to get into castle's books.)

[sipotekchina-blog]

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For more about Custom Lithium Ion Battery Packs Manufacturers In China,you can pay a visit to JB Battery at https://www.lithiumbatterychina.com

About Huizhou JB Battery Technology Limited

Huizhou JB Battery Technology Limited is a lithium ion battery factory,which was established in May, 2008, is a China based professional manufacturer and provides a wide range of battery types for customers. They are a professional lithium ion battery supplier with products include PDA batteries, GPS batteries, mobile phone batteries, MP3/MP4 batteries, digital camera batteries, laptop batteries, tablet PC batteries, remote control batteries, barcode scanner batteries, walkie-talkie batteries, two-way radio batteries, cordless phone batteries, server’s batteries, flash light batteries, LED light Batteries, printer batteries, headphone batteries, RC toys batteries, payment terminal batteries, power tools batteries, computer backup batteries, medical device batteries, emergency light batteries and chargers, etc.

For Product Inquiries

Contact: Person: David Liu

Company: Huizhou JB Battery Technology Limited

Email: info@jbt-battery.net

Blog:https://customlithiumbatterypackchina.wordpress.com/

Blogger:https://batterypackmanufacturingcompany.blogspot.com/

Tumblr:https://jbtbattery.tumblr.com/

Website: https://www.lithiumbatterychina.com/about-us/

Article Original From:https://www.lithiumbatterychina.com/contributions-of-mini-ultra-thin-small-rechargeable-custom-lithium-ion-battery-ups-to-watchgps-and-pos-machine/

[nikfix]

Rocking With The Dawn’s Francis Reyes and Rommel “Sancho” Sanchez

I've seen and heard many Filipino bands, but no other band (in my opinion at least) in the country stood as strong as The Dawn. This band celebrates 32 years of making and playing music. I had the pleasure of watching them perform live at the Philippine Digital Convention 2017, where I handled tech booth duties. I am honored to feature the band’s guitar players, Francis Reyes and Rommel "Sancho" Sanchez.

How did the band evolve ever since you guys got in the band and did your musical influences change along the way?

Francis: I think every guitar player who has been with the band—from Teddy Diaz to Atsushi Matsuura to myself to Kenneth Ilagan to Sancho, and some of the duo guitar times— changes the sound of the band, but it always manages to sound like the band. When I first joined in ‘89, I was heavily into Living Colour and injected a bit of that. Living Colour has hard rock and funk in equal footing, plus jazz, prog, pop, and every other element that can inject into their music, and The Dawn has always been like that as well. I mean, listen to the first The Dawn album and there’s a lot of things going on, even if the image and overall tone was supposedly “new wave.” I got into other things when the band went on hiatus and when we reconvened in late-99, I was into Drum ’n Bass and Trip-Hop in general— and JB was into house music— and injected a wee bit of that.

Sancho: I guess it was natural for me, growing up in Olongapo City where there were a lot of good bands, and I would see them play live during the then annual Mardi Gras festivities. My father also had a collection of vinyl LPs and then cassettes so inherited it assimilated his love for music. 

Francis: Sancho and I still haven’t really explored what we can do together, but the possibilities manifest whenever we jam or rehearse. Exciting times!

I try to keep an open ear with what’s current in music and if I like whatever it is, it does influence me to an extent and I bring it back to the band. The Dawn is like a lab and playground for me… well for all of us really.

The other stuff may inspire or motivate you sometimes, but the spark, that desire to express something should only come from you.

What got you guys into music? And into guitar playing in particular?

Francis: Queen was the first band that I absolutely fanboyed over; still do actually. However, Brian May didn’t inspire me to pick up the guitar. His stuff was beyond guitar—I mean he simulated horn sections and string sections with that Red Special of his— and therefore way beyond my teenage aspirations. Then I heard Ritchie Blackmore’s wild reckless intro to “Speed King,” and THAT got me hooked.

It’s only in the last couple of years that I’ve attempted to learn some Brian May licks. His tone has always been a reference point though, and The Edge too.

Sancho: As part of an extra-curricular activity in grade school, I joined the rondalla and a chose the guitar as my instrument, having seen my father play kundiman on the guitar. It was love at first strum.

Let's talk guitars. What do you guys usually bring live aside from the ones here?

Francis: The Tokai Les Paul Custom-type is the only one I use live. At home, I have another Tokai, a Strat-style and I used to bring it too but I snapped off the vibrato arm. I love Stratocasters, and I love using the vibrato so it’s at home until I can get the vibrato block replaced. I also have an MIJ 57/62 Reissue Fender Strat and sometimes I bring it as a backup and a beautiful Tele Thinline from Vinci Montaner of Parokya Ni Edgar. It’s on a long-term loan, and only because he’s a friend and a wonderfully generous person.

Sancho: My main axe is a yellow Yamaha Revstar. I have a Japan-made Barclay guitar as a backup in case I break a string mid-set.

I gotta say, your rigs are really cool. Tell us more about how they work, which ones you can never do a gig without, and how you use everything during the sets.

Francis: My pedalboard is basically three different distortions plus three delays. I used to have a multi-effects unit which has its own set of advantages but I like combining different pedals to get, hopefully, unique sounds or tones. I also have a Budda Wah and a Digitech Whammy Pedal.

I have a little Zoom Multistomp for ambient delays and synth-like washes, a Line 6 DL-4 for basic additional delays and looping, and the Tech 21 Fly Rig’s Delay section for an “always on, tweak on-the-fly”  delay. The Fly Rig’s Amp sim is always on; I set it flat so whether through an amp or straight to the board, I get a consistent signal. I also have a Tech 21 Liverpool which is my go-to distortion/overdrive; I can’t live without it! I also have a Z Vex Fuzz Factory to get Hendrix-y octave-up sounds when cascaded with either the Fly Rig’s Plexi distortion or the Liverpool.

Sancho: I have a simple rig. I have a Morley Bad Horsie 2 Wah Pedal going into a TC Electronic Polytune and the Xotic RC Booster, then to a Boss Overdrive, then into a Tech21 FlyRig which I use for its amp simulation, as a secondary drive, and for its nifty analog delay section. That goes into a TC Electronic Nova System for various modulation and pitch effects, then into a Boss DD-20 Giga Delay. I won't survive a gig without the Giga Delay.

What amps do you use at home?

Francis: A 3-Watt Blackstar Fly. It’s the best micro-amp, ever! Big tones on that. I have a little Hotone Ravo Multi-effects Unit if I want to explore textural ideas, plus a Pedal Pimps Nitro distortion made by Jay Padua. Pedal Pimps pedals are Philippine-made, and they rock!

Sancho: I use Blackstar amps at home.

What do your kids listen to?

Francis: My kids are into my songs and riffs and I hope they listen to each other and make sense together! LOL!

Sancho: No kids, only two cats and they listen to whatever I listen to. 

What is your advice to people who want to play their music out there and do their thing, as well as aspiring guitar players?

Sancho: If you don't love what you're doing, don't do it. You're out there to entertain and please the crowd but you should also be having fun doing it. If you're not happy with or don't believe in the music you're playing, your bandmates and the audience will feel it.

Francis: Love it for the music, and don’t let the other stuff —fame, vices, female fans etc. LOL— get in the way. The other stuff may inspire or motivate you sometimes, but the spark, that desire to express something should only come from you.

Learn how the industry works. And it will not always be a pleasant experience.

Keep your ears open.

Pray: for clarity of mind, spirit, and gratitude.  

And learning is forever… there will always be a challenge: technical, theoretical, tonsorial… LOL!

What did you learn for being in the OPM world for a long while?

Francis: Patience. LOL!

Sancho: OPM is far from dead, really.

Catch The Dawn on their Facebook page: 

https://www.facebook.com/TheDawnRocks.PH/

And some of their coolest songs below:

Enveloped Ideas

Iisang Bangka

Salamat

Photos Courtesy of PLDT Enterprise.

Special thanks to Bernice Aspillaga for helping out.

[webanglikethat]

thinking about Ram and Deviya today: a long rant by me.

⚠️: spoilers for season 1! Ram Doobay — the younger son of the Doobay family, one of the top two most powerful and influential family in the Dozen.  each family who is part of the "Influential Dozen" has an occupation they are famous for and for him, it’s his role as Brahmin and his visions are more accurate than others, so he is associated with the goddess.

Deviya Sharma — the youngest child and only daughter of the Sharma family. the only child left alive of this powerful legacy. her family is the third most influential family in the Dozen. after the death of her beloved brother, she had to carry all of that weight on her shoulders. the Dozen gave Devi five years to learn the family business and prove that she was worthy to be head, otherwise the position would go to a distant male relative, because how could a woman lead, right? and so she did. she carved a place for herself in a world that didn’t want to accommodate her and she proved them wrong.

I’m thinking of how Ram sure he got Devi out of the house during the attack on the mountain before even going going to rescue his brother. he put her above his own family, above his responsibilities, over and over again. he went after Devi when she took off on an horse during the attack and carried her in his arms back to safety, the only place he can be sure she’s going to be safe. (and thankfully, it wasn’t his arms in which she died) 

I’m thinking of Deviya and Ram together. how even after not seeing each other for five years, or barely catching a glimpse of each other, the feelings they harbored still kept growing, spreading like a wildfire. I’m thinking of Ram’s hope and wishful desire to see her at every service, of how his eyes would search amid each throng, just hoping to catch her smile along the hallowed halls where once they met - a vision he could never forget. I’m thinking of him, watching Devi’s phoenix-like life before his eyes. though grief had struck a cruel, harsh blow in her life, her soul still glowed, and he basked in the light of that, a sense of pride he couldn’t decipher or explain to himself. I’m thinking of him “noticing an unfamiliar feeling rising inside him” when he met her.

I’m thinking of Ram always finding an excuse to touch Deviya, holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist, trapping her against the wall, putting his finger on her lips, a game of push and pull, of hide and seek, a game they shouldn’t be playing because they’re pawns in the game that is their life, yet they can’t help it. I’m thinking of how he said he missed her when she didn’t attend the religious services, and when she joked that he missed her, he said he missed her smiling at him. 

and now they’re both adults, she’s the head of her family, he’s still the powerful Bahmin. after all the loss, rebuilding, jest and teasing, they’re finally acting upon the passion they hid for so long as if it was something to be ashamed of. they finally give in to their sweet but forbidden temptation, one that had been building up for half a decade. I’m thinking of Ram drinking his wine, kissing her and making Deviya drink the same wine his mouth was holding, a release sweeter than anything. a sweet torment, a sweet sin, that was what their kisses felt like. 

I’m thinking of their game of prey and victim, of Ram falling into his own trap, of realizing he’s just as much of a victim of their game of love as she is. and why, why does he not mind that? he’s supposed to be like the rest of his family, marry someone he’s not in love with, cause what worth does love bring when you require power? that’s what his family line looked like, alliances, partnership, all devoid of love. but Deviya, he awakened something in Ram, a fire he couldn’t contain, a fire he didn’t want to contain. they weren’t kids anymore, playing seek and chasing, they were adults, and the whole Dozen be damned if they couldn’t have each other. he was ready to risk any wrath, if it meant being able to see that damned smile of hers. 

I’m thinking of Ram talking Devi through her anger at the reception so she wouldn’t make a mistake in front of her guests and lose the position she had so long worked for, in a world that didn’t make space for people like her. I’m thinking of him reminding her to not let their baseless scorn diminish her radiant dignity. 

I’m thinking of how, minutes after FINALLY giving in to temptation that has been built up for !! half a decade !!, they find out she got betrothed to another - who just so happens to be a colonizer, an enemy they’re supposed to turn into another pawn in the games of their parents/superiors - and how those few minutes of passion were supposed to be the end of their story before it even began, before the ink had even dried on the first chapter. 

for those few stolen minutes, the world around them ceased to exist and there was only their all-consuming passion. they came so close to unity and happiness, something they didn’t allow themselves to even dream of, considering their status, only to have it snatched away again. those five long years of silent pining, living for their secret smiles and tender touches across a crowded room, was it all for naught? he’s slipping away from her, she’s slipping away from him. their destiny was no longer their own, but had it ever been? it was always dictated by the merciless march of fate, a stone in their road they can’t destroy. 

“everything that had been blossoming between them for five years... those glances, their secret smiles, their light touches... was it truly all over?” 

I’m thinking of how perfectly their hands fit together when they kissed, but now hers is promised to another. how could hands so perfectly intered now part?

“it felt unbearably difficult to be attracted to one man while preparing to marry another” x “my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but it's been promised to another”. 

I’m thinking about how Ram, as a seer, is forced to support Mahakali’s will, under any circumstances. and yet, he lied, he lied and tried to save the girl who felt like his only truth in this world. he lied, perjury spilling all over the place, a truth he was willing to hide forever, like a shameful secret. (for he didn’t know what was worse, losing Devi to their enemy or to death.) he lied that the bride was another girl, he willingly let another woman DIE in Devi’s place !! because he couldn’t fathom losing her !! and this act had been committed five years ago, when the affection between the two had barely began blossoming. despite that, he still put his life on a silver plate to save hers. and yet, he now realizes that despite him trying to change the literal course of destiny, Devi has ended up being arranged to the British Lord anyways, which means she will die and so, whatever he does, he can't change that, he can't fix that, he can't protect her. and that explains why Ram kept Devi so close to him during the arson night in their Himalayan mansion, why he saved her before saving his own blood. 

I’m thinking of them breaking rules for each other, to craft and create a space that is just theirs. thinking of Ram entering Devi’s room to discuss what happened during the ritual, knowing fully that if a sight of them in that situation had been caught, they’d be in huge problems. I’m thinking of Ram telling her “such a rakhasi cannot possibly die. I need her” while teasing her, but I’m also thinking of how at the end of season one, his heart aches for her, turning this jest into reality. he knows can't love her in the open because they're both the head of their own families and she's arranged to the British lord but despite it all, despite the challenges and stares of dismay they’re certain to face if this were to be revealed, he finally mustered up the courage to ask Devi to be with him, even if it's in secret. he would rather have her in secret, than lose her, be it to death or another man. 

Devi said "those in charge bend the rules to their will. If the one I choose is my equal, then the two of us will have enough power to change any rule to suit ourselves." because that is the truth. they both come from strong families, they both already have everything, so why can't they bend the rules, why can't they unite these two strong families? Devi herself has seen the injustice of the world's power structures firsthand. she knew that those at the top could manipulate the rules to serve their own interests, bending them like twigs to align with their desires. there was a righteous defiance in her tone, a refusal to be constrained by arbitrary dictates created by the elite to maintain their supremacy. why should she and Ram, both scions of powerful families in their own right, be subjugated by rules that did not apply to their supposed "betters"? there was an almost revolutionary undercurrent to Devi's words. if the system was rigged to only benefit those at the very top and the goddess, then she and Ram had the power and pedigree to overhaul it entirely, to dismantle the unjust hierarchies and rebuild the foundations with equity at the core. Devi and Ram could author a new truth, a new legacy, one of freedom.

and I’m thinking of them, on her death day. of how Ram looked at her and thought to himself, “/ wish this had happened to me instead... hasn't she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?” and “when Ram realized how sincere his desire to take all Deviya's troubles for himself was, it quickly became clear that their secret relationship had taken on a new meaning … growing into something profound”. I’m thinking of him trying to change the prophecy, the fate, the will of an immortal woman whose power controlled them all. what had begun as a forbidden illicit affair, blossoming in fleeting glances and gentle caresses had evolved into something sacred - a bond so deep that he yearned to shoulder her entire burden himself. he had never known anything like that, because love in the Dozen was marked as weakness. marriages, union, relationships? they’re all pawns being moved by string pulled by people higher than them. 

if only Ram could rewind time itself and change the prophecy that had ripped them apart. if only he possessed the power to overrule the designs of Mahakali herself and spare his beloved from this cruel end.

I’m thinking of how weak he must have felt when him and Devi started their ritual. and yet despite that, he still put her first, caring about her before his own self, creating a quiet vortex where only she existed, cocooned in his devotion.

“noticing how distressed she was, he closed his eyes and then slowly began kissing her fingers. Devi noticed that his eyelashes were trembling. he’s nervous as well, but once again he tries to reassure me first, even though he could use some support himself."

and for all his attempts to be her anchor in the storm, he too was adrift on unsettled waters.

“they kissed each other gently and yet desperately at the same time, as only doomed lovers can kiss.”

“he was with her right at that moment. sharing her pain and fear... would that have been possible if what they had was fleeting? he always chose her, no matter what.”

Ram: “I'll be with you. no matter what.”

Devi: “I know.”

and I wonder, what is love if not tragedy? the greatest love stories of this lifetime are always tragedies after all. the greatest romances that echo through the ages are not those of simplistic bliss and happy ever after, but rather of all-consuming passions etched in unescapable sorrow. it is as if the cosmos demands the highest price for the grandest of loves - extracting an anguished toll, lest the intensity of that bond between two souls burn too bright for this mortal plane. as if the gods look upon a love too pure and decree that it must be forged in the flames of tragedy to temper its power. for how could we mere mortals comprehend the depth of a love not balanced by loss? how could we appreciate the rarity of two beings joined at the soul if not for the cruel obstacles that sought to sever their union? after all, the sweetest wine must pass through the bitterest of pressings to become transcendent. 

and I’m thinking of promises, of how Ram and Devi despite them because they are as fragile as glass and porcelain, worse than lies because they encourage hope to come out of that shell, in which it was hidden just to then they demolish it again. but this bond between them, it was more than a promise — a certainty. it is a whirlwind of love and passion which doesn't want to cease. everything that it's not about the other, it's cold, colorless, arid, impassive, of a glacial perfidy, that empties inside, overshadowing every corner. (okay I might be talking about my own mind but shh)

I’m thinking of her dying moments, of Devi’s thoughts tracing their way back home to Ram. she tried to close her eyes to “connect with him, to send to make him feel what she felt, to send him some part of her inner strength. he was there for her, last time. he helped her get out of the residence and protected her when the enemies attacked them.”

“the very thought of losing him was unbearable. and just as things were beginning to blossom between them.”

"I'm with him in my thoughts, heart, and soul."

"even if it doesn't make any real sense, it does for me. l feel calmer this way."

she tried to send him some parts of her inner strength and that reminds me of being a child, believing that blowing over your mother’s wound will heal her, because in your mind love is enough, enough to save you and heal you. in the innocence of childhood, we all truly believed that love alone could be the salve for any hurt or ill. that if we willed it hard enough, cared deeply enough, the sheer force of our adoration would be potent enough medicine to cure any malady. so when Devi made that offering of her strength to Ram, it resonated to me with that same beautiful naivete. a pure-hearted notion that the simple act of sharing her reserves of inner fire could reignite and renew his own flames, just by the power of her love alone. 

and what if this is what’s truly holy? their lives are controlled by a goddess, but what if their bond is what’s truly holy? for is not love itself a form of divine grace? where every caress, every whispered vow is a prayer more sublime than temples could endow. I’m thinking of how the ring on his finger is his connection to the goddess, and I wonder after all that will happen, he’s starting to wish it was a different kind of ring.

and in today’s papyrus — 

─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ──────

tags: @a-cloud-for-dreams, @astarotha, @pawaki17luna, @lanesrequiem, @ratanslily, @tremendouswolfsaladranch @haitianempress

[since you asked to be tagged (which made me so happy 🥹🥹) you’re now required to think of me as that one moot who obsesses over them] also I feel like it shows I’m a poet ☠️

[webanglikethat]

Ram and Devi | Moodboard

“I wish this had happened to me instead… hasn’t she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?” // “teri aankhon ka kajal na faile ab kabhi bhi, tuhje itna pyaar doon, haan.”

[webanglikethat]

she clocked that hag!

LOOK AT HER ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

she’s slaying (in looks) and slaying people with her quick remarks <3 I am so so proud of my girl (๑﹏๑//)

she went: no bitches ? no friendship ? no loyalty ? couldn’t relate even in my wildest coma

[webanglikethat]

We said our legacies were timeless (but we were not): Ram and Devi

Published on: 11/06/24 Also available to read on ao3: here (would appreciate comments and kudos!) (and look at the beginning note) Words: 4,626 Siri please play:

he didn’t know how it had happened.  all Ram remembered was Devi slipping away from the fight and his voice rising above the screams and clashing blades, urging her to run, to find safety. he would have her back, he reminded her, as she finally turned away, his eyes leaving their trajectory only when her shadow was too far to be seen. he released a sigh he didn't realized had been imprisoned within his chest — where an anxious dance had begun to take shape. so he turned around and resumed his fight, finding himself lost in prayers in his mind, a swirl of “please, please let her find a safe place” and “please, please if the choice is between me and her, take me”. Ram wasn’t a fool, he remembered the prophecy, as precisely as he remembered the way her touch felt on his body, a touch that felt like her birthright, as if the stars themselves had conspired to craft them two with the same cosmical particles. he knew the dangers that lurked outside, threatening to leave him bereft of her, the sole object of his reverence, the only one who had seen right through him and decided to still hold onto him. 

Ram was acutely aware of his reputation, after all, thatwas the only thing he had learned to protect in his life. only few had had the privilege of being close to him, and even then, they still felt like a storm trying to batter an unyielding fortress, an interminable fight which led them to wonder, was the prize behind this wall truly worth it? and the answer was always the same two letters. and so, any efforts to draw near to him were met with a barrage of biting comments and a distant, unapproachable presence that he used like a shield to keep others away from him (and keep himself away from others).

the thing is, Ram had always known his place in the world. he was the second heir to the second most powerful dynasty, a legacy that nobody could undo and if they tried, they would die in their attempt. he was a Brahmin, the chosen one to be connected with Mahakali, to interpret the goddess’s will and carry out her every desire — his life didn’t only belong to the last name he carried, but it did to her too. Ram was now nearing thirty, and for as long as he could remember, his life had never belonged to himself. each desire, each longing, each whim, each craving and anything that could show his true self were carefully tucked away, as if locked inside a box with no lock. he had slowly grown accustomed to this self-imposed austerity, wearing it like an iron cloak that shielded him from the frivolities of personal indulgence. to him, wants were mere whispers drowned out by the roaring call of responsibility, a crown he had to wear because its weight was only his to be burdened with. and as the years passed, he became a master of restraint. his heart had become a fortress where dreams dared not to linger (and yet still tried to knock and pleaded to be let into). his sharp tongue, his quick remarks and abrasive demeanors served as sentinels, warding off anyone who might attempt to pierce the veil of his solitary existence. friendships were fleeting, and connections remained superficial, for Ram had little patience for the frivolities of social niceties. he was a man of action, and his purpose left little room for personal “enchantments”. and so, he’d rather make the choice to isolate himself (in the stead of anyone who surrounded him, because he knew it was only a matter of time till they did that), for that was a better route than losing himself to a game of changes and chances. to him, they all were merely an entertainment for his mind, vessels of his jest, a warmth he couldn’t approach. 

but that all changed when he met Deviya. he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it had been about her that changed the trajectory of his existence, but he knew from the first moment that wherever she went, he would’ve followed her. it had been a crazy idea, an even crazier feeling, especially because he knew that in the road of his life, all stones had already been set. but diamonds are known for being the most difficult stone to destroy, and she possessed that same stubbornness and passion, one he never allowed himself to possess. Deviya was the direct opposite of him. she had always been wild, riding away into the sunset even when other looked down at her for her not ladylike behaviour. to her, the phrase “the sky is the limit” held no importance because a limit was a mere rule meant to be broken; and only they knew how much trouble she would always find herself into, as if she was a magnet for it. 

he wouldn’t admit it out loud but he had dreamed of her for five years, replaying his memories of her in his mind, painting her eyes like maple syrup, brown with golden highlights in the walls of his most vital organ. with all the features of her jointed beauty imprinted in his mind, lingering like a tattoo he couldn’t dermabrase (tere bina kya wajood mera?) he drew constellations on her body, a region of chaos that felt like peace to his starving heart. he painted her with a light colours palette, a reflection of how she would always illuminate life itself and he painted himself with dark colours, for balance and equilibrium and to remind her that hers is the light by which his spirits feels safe. if she was daylight, he would be her gloom. not the lonely and hurt type, but the one where you can gather your thoughts and breathe — a safe place some might even say. he wanted to be a place like that for her so badly that he might have reversed the roles.

and it’s ironic how even with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world at his disposal, he still couldn’t figure this out on his own. it was four letters eluding him, the same way his fate was. but he knew deep down that she ought to be with someone who could give her everything she deserved. he knew it wouldn’t be difficult for her to find someone like that, she didn’t even need to try. she could and would find someone who could be free, give her everything she wanted: someone who could embrace her desires, whether that meant building a legacy together or escaping from it. she needed not a spy in the shadows, but a light at her side. and he knew he couldn’t give her that, so why was he still trying? why was he playing this game of chances with her? what were the chances it would work out? for all his prestigious Brahmin status, his luxury and connection with Mahakali, Ram couldn't see the future. he couldn't predict the outcome of this risky affair and couldn't be sure that his efforts would lead to anything more than heartbreak, a feeling as foreign as freedom. his connection with Mahakali was supposed to give him insight, a deeper understanding of the world's workings and the answers to questions no one else possessed. but love, it seemed, was beyond even the goddess's domain. Devi was everything he had ever dreamed of, but he also saw her dreams, her aspirations, and knew that he might never be able to fully meet them. she needed someone who could be everything he aspired to be, everything he might never become.

but what is love if not an abstract concept leading you blindly through life, making you trust in something unseen yet so profoundly felt? it is the courage to embrace the unknown, to walk a path shrouded in mist, guided only by the light of shared dreams and whispered promises. in love, you don't always see the next step clearly. you don't always have the certainty of solid ground beneath your feet. for all you know, the stairs could open up, and you’d fall right into madness, drowning in a river of despair, leaving you stranded and bereft in a foreign land. but that’s the funny thing — you still take the step anyway, because love demands it and you crave it. it asks for your trust, for your belief in the goodness of the journey, even when the path is obscured; because through the midst, you’ll always find the lighthouse — love. so tell him, how was he supposed to un-love her, then? (to unlove her was to unstitch the threads that had woven themselves into the very fabric of his being, the same tapestry that kept him going and made him who he was. and so, to un-love her would be to deny the very essence of his existence, to extinguish the flame that resided in the fireplace of his heart. to unlove her would mark the ending of his existence, the unravelling of his story.)

he remembered the night before all this mess, how he had kissed her in her room; so deeply till he forgot where he began and where she ended. until the beat he heard couldn’t be claimed by only one of them, for both of their hearts danced in unison, playing the same music. he had laid down next to her, tracing his finger on her face, watching her chest rise and fall, wondering if he’d be the one to witness the last of it all. they’d talked about everything, from their past to their future, and he’d seen her blush and decided to tease her, “you’re blushing”, he had whispered, “and so? never seen anyone fall for your charm before?”, she had replied, watching the pink on her face match the one on his. she would’ve been his end, he thought at that moment, as he pulled her closer and kissed her again, as desperately as one would kill their lover before drowning in a blue ocean, as if she was his anchor and his shore. they knew that what they had possessed an expiration date and that it might just be momentary, an imaginary footnote in their stories no one else would know about, but they’d die trying to make it legendary. and so, despite the uncertainty, they revered in every moment together, chasing the fleeting seconds as if they were timeless. they understood the fragility of their time together but chose to live in the now, letting the future worry about itself. 

that was how they had spent that last night together — wrapped in each other's arms, dreaming of impossible tomorrows. they found solace in the small things — the way her hand fit perfectly in his, the sound of his heartbeat when she rested her head on his chest, the way she would laugh at his lamest jokes and shake her head, telling him he was insane. and he was. Ram knew he was difficult, he knew he was insane, but how could one differentiate love from insanity, for is love not the first madness that reigned in this world? for Ram, her laughter was the sweetest melody, her touch the gentlest caress of fate, her kisses the most intoxicating wine — one he could drink from until it ultimately led to his demise. they knew that in the end, it wasn't about the time they had left; it was about how they chose to spend it — loving fiercely, because in their hearts they knew that such a love, even if none of them had dared to utter those four letters yet, though fleeting, was worth every moment, every breath, every shaking hand, every whisper, every beat of their intertwined hearts, every infringement and every fear.

and sure, the most famous love affairs you can think of ended on a happy note, but not all great love stories have a happy ending, and they lived theirs with a fervour that defied and put to shame the beginning and the middle of any of them. 

now standing in the midst of the chaos that had erupted since that night, Ram couldn't shake the feeling that everything had changed irrevocably, a moment he couldn’t undo or stop. the room around him was a whirlwind of noise and movement, of screams and clashes, of blood and tears mixing together till he couldn’t feel the difference, but all he could think about was her — how her eyes had sparkled with promises of a future they both yearned for but could not yet or ever grasp. he thought of how just the night before he had promised her he’d always be by her side, even if it meant abandoning everyone else. but where was she? where had she gone? he had been so concentrated on defeating anyone who tried to curse her and hurt her that he had forgotten to make sure he knew where exactly she had escaped to. he rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the present.

“we have to get out of here," a voice called, snapping him back to reality. it was Kamal, eyes wide with urgency. "they’ll be here any minute, and while the three of us can easily defeat them, the rest of the Dozen is left unguarded." Ram nodded, though his mind was still lingering in that room, her scent lingering on his skin, memories of her shaking hands as he had begun the ritual, his trembling eyelashes and her rogue breathing. "I'll be right behind you," he assured, glancing one last time at the door they had come through, the same one she had used to leave. 

as they made their way through the narrow alleyways, occasionally stopping to defend someone or to push away the enemy, he felt a pang of guilt, rooting itself into his heart, taking place into his shaking hands. he had promised her safety, whispered reassurances in the dead of night. yet here he was, leading them both into the jaws of uncertainty, their Iives a feast for it. 

the moon hung high and all he could think was about his desperate hope that he wouldn’t lose her, not to a reincarnation of a star in the same nefarious sky that refused to give them a sign. it was getting late now and he was getting tired. he could feel his bone aching to rest and lie down, yet he could never get tired of her and her mere existence. every time the world exhausted him down to his bones, she was there to filter the bad and alter it into vitality. it was getting late and he still loved her. he had loved her this morning when the birds were singing and she has stepped out the carriage, he had loved her this midday as he awaited her arrival at the temple and noticed her buying earrings at a stall; he had loved her in the afternoon as she was walking around the place with him and she made fun of him for being so nervous; he had loved her in the evening as he was writing and her name filled all his notebooks to the brink. he loved her so deeply that he wished this had happened to him instead, that her fate had been his. hadn’t she been dealt enough pain already in her life? he knew he could take her pain and inject it into his vein, transform her scars into his own, asphyxiate the grief from her heart and drink it like a thirsty man. he longed to breathe in her sorrow, to swallow her suffering whole and let it poison his own blood instead. he would gladly bear the weight of her wounds, let it etch itself onto his skin until he was marked by her struggles. he could cradle her agony within his soul, let it drown him in its depths if it meant sparing her another moment of despair. he wanted to weave her nightmares into his own dreams, face the demons that haunted her, and fight them to his last breath, as long as she was safe. 

but then it happened.

and somehow, he knew it before it happened. he could feel it in his bones, on his palm, an interminable shaking he couldn’t stop, as if her existence was like clematis growing on the walls of his heart and he could sense it desiccating. he heard it despite the distance — her scream as she fell down. and he ran, he ran like he never did before, as if his life depended on it, because hers did. his breath hitched in his throat, every step a desperate plea against the inevitable because he knew, even if he couldn’t see it. the world blurred around him, enemies and friends, rain and buildings merging into a frenetic backdrop of panic and fear. his heart pounded a relentless tattoo in his chest, mirroring the frantic rhythm of his thoughts. not her, please not her. everyone, anyone but her. please. his lungs burned, a fire of exertion and dread, but he pushed through, because stopping meant accepting, and he couldn’t and wouldn’t accept a world without her. he had promised her to be by her side just a few hours before so he couldn’t leave her, not now and not ever. 

time seemed to slow down, stretching his agony into infinity, and he felt as if he was watching himself from the outside. the silence was deafening, the absence of her voice a cruel confirmation. he finally got outside the temple and saw before his eyes how the dagger had pierced her chest, as blood trickled from the wound, a grotesque river of life ebbing away. his gaze followed the red trail, only to find her hands clutching a matching weapon, driven with finality into her assailant's heart. even in death, she was defiant and her last act was a testament to her indomitable spirit. her eyes seemed to convey a silent triumph, a desperate, unyielding desire to have the final word. that was his stubborn girl, he thought to himself as he ran to her.

he stumbled, knees almost hitting the ground with a force that sent shockwaves through his body. he didn’t care who saw him, he didn’t care what others would say and he didn’t care if for the next days or hours headlines about him and her would be spoken through the mouths of hundreds. all he cared about was her. the world itself could have burned down in flames and swallowed them all, but all he could see was her. Mahakali herself could’ve appeared in front of him in that moment and he would've given away all of his powers, <u>if it meant saving her.<u>

Ram ran into her, pushing away the British Lord, not caring about how it would look to see a member of the Dozen disregard the Governor of Bengali like that. he whispered as he cradled her in his arms, “Devi, Devi answer, Devi.” she could barely open her eyes as she saw him and it felt like a mirage to her, a dream. she couldn’t tell whether it was wishful thinking or if, even in death, all her mind could conjure was him. 

someone tried to strike Ram from behind, using this moment at their advantage, but he stood up and summoned shadows from the ground. tendrils of darkness coiled and writhed around him, obeying his will as a necromancer. the shadows thickened and solidified, forming an impenetrable barrier that separated him from his assailant and the rest of the world. the assailant's blade halted in mid-air as the shadows surged, inky blackness wrapping around the intruder's whole body. the darkness tightened, crushing bone and sinew with force. the sound of snapping bones echoed through the chamber, followed by a guttural scream of pain.

he should’ve done that since the start, he thought to himself. he should’ve protected her as soon as he realised what her destiny was. how foolish they had been to think they could undo it all. he dropped to his knees, cradling her body, not caring about his clothes or the stares he could feel on himself, and the whispers of “she was the traitor! and look.. he must’ve helped her.” they could all go to hell for all he cared, but not her, not her. "stay with me, Devi," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "please, stay with me." her eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking onto his. "I’m... sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "don’t apologize," he choked out. "we’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. just hold on.”

“funny how I said I’d drag you to hell with me, yet I’m going way earlier than you are.” she whispered, her eyes meeting his, trying to mirror the love she felt into his reflection. “you — you damned rakhasi, this isn’t the time for that. please, just... just stay with me, damn it. I can't lose you now.” but for all he tried, he knew that the privilege of knowing her so well had come with one price; having her for too little and too fleetingly. 

his voice broke as he begged once again, "stay with me, Devi. fight, please. you’re so stubborn, so incredibly strong, you can do this.." she reached up, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek, as if to calm him down, even when that was supposed to be his job. "I’m sorry," she breathed, her voice a fragile whisper, a gentle sound he never wanted to hear again. "I wanted more time. more time with you."

he clutched her hand, tears spilling freely down his face. "we’ll have more time. we will. just hold on. please." he laid her head on his lap, clutching her body as if the mere nearness of his and hers could have a healing effect, as if he could undo it, reverse time and be the one to have felt the dagger in his chest. “at least I loved you till my very last breath” he felt Devi whisper, and Ram could no longer differentiate between the blood on his fingers and the tears on his face as he kissed her fronthead. “don’t talk like that," he choked out, his voice breaking. "you’re not leaving me. not now, not ever. you rakhasi are supposed to haunt me forever, remember?  but not like this, not like this.” she smiled weakly, her lips barely moving. "you always were stubborn." he let out a desperate laugh, mingled with a sob. "and you loved me for it." her eyes fluttered, her breath growing shallower. "I did. I do. forever."

he held her tighter, his heart shattering with every passing second. "stay with me, Devi. please, stay..” he pleaded, and he didn’t care who heard it, but he begged her, begged the goddess, begged the fate’s string, begged his own self to do something, to change this. a man of his status should never beg, never kneel and never show weakness — that was one of the first lessons he was taught since the earliest memory he possessed. but he looked to the sky, mud on his luxurious clothes, and begged. he begged until his words were a swirl of pleas and her name. but fate is a cruel parent, never giving, and always demanding. Devi’s eyes closed, her body growing still in his arms. he felt the life slip away from her, leaving him in a cold, silent devoid of her warmth. his tears fell onto her face, mingling with the remnants of the colour on her face.

he hadn’t even told her how he loved her yet.

he could hear the screams behind him, Saraswati’s voice as she saw her best friend’s body and the tiger’s roar as he sensed something was wrong with his master. somewhere between it all, he could hear Ian’s voice, but he didn’t care about it all. she had died, and in her death, she had taken him away too. but n one notices a corpse as long as its heart it’s still beating and blood is still gushing. the battlefield around him was a blur of noise and motion, but his world had narrowed to the fragile form in his arms. the once vibrant and fierce Devi laid limp, her life nothing more than a memory. he wanted to wield that same dagger to his neck which was dripping with her blood. the sight of it, smeared with the essence of her life, ignited a wild, despairing urge within him. it was the same dagger that had been a symbol of her strength and defiance, the very weapon she had wielded with such fierce determination, one he had to fight for, the same way she fought for a place in this world. his hands trembled as he gripped the hilt, feeling the sticky warmth of her blood against his skin. he could still feel her presence in its cold, unyielding steel, and the thought of using it against himself seemed like the only way to bridge the unbearable chasm her death had created. he wanted the same lake of vitality that had flowed in her to be imprinted on him, melt into his bones, reach where not even the sun had caressed him, where her touch hadn’t graced him with her golden touch and where it never would. his mind refused to accept the reality, clinging to the faint hope that she might still wake, that her eyes might flutter open and meet his once again. he begged that she would laugh and tell her this was one of her jokes and that she wanted to see whether the so grand Doobay heir would crack under the weight of his feelings and force to admit the to himself. she would wake up and make fun of him, with that intoxicating smile whose shape he could draw even in the darkness. she would sit up, brushing off the blood and grime, her eyes sparkling with mischief. he could almost hear her voice, almost see the curve of her lips as she teased him. she would wrap her arms around him and reassure him that it was all a test, that she was never truly in danger. he imagined her stirring, her eyes flickering open with that familiar spark of mischief. "did you really think I'd leave you like this?" she would say, her voice teasing. "come on, you know me better than that. I’m not our parents”. 

but the truth was, Deviya didn’t wake up. she would never wake up again. and Ram would never get to tell her he loved her back, that she was the utmost object of his affection and that in nearly thirty years, he had never felt so alive as he did when she was around. he would never get to tell her how, before she came into his life, even the sun scorched his hopeful skin, dissipating every ray of hope he had. but she, she was greater to him than the sun itself. she cast a light so strong on his existence that he would have gladly let himself burn in it, if it meant being closer to her. but Ram — he would never get to say any of that. Ram would never get to utter those three syllables or that four-letters word he had been keeping locked inside of him. 

Deviya Sharma had died without knowing his love.

and so, his love had died, unknown and unspoken.

they once had said that their legacies were timeless; turned out they were not. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳

taglist: @haitianempress, @pawaki17luna, @goddessofwonderland, @ram--doobay, @liykaii

[webanglikethat]

an aftermath of episode 8, a life for a life. (a Devi and Ram oneshot)

also available to read here: ao3 published: 2024-06-06 words: 5,123 btw if you read this and don’t leave a comment a fairy will lose her wings

Devi held herself high, walking towards the garden, almost as if hiding behind dirt and leaves could alleviate her anxiety. she couldn't wrap her head around what had just happened, but she couldn’t let anyone know, she couldn’t let the truth slip … how ironic, how could she demand the truth, if she herself was a vessel overflowing with falsity? and yet she ran, for she knew how to do that the best after all. she had come out of the meeting with Mr Vaish, a meeting whose ending she could not have fathomed, not even in the wildest vision of her most ardent migranes. a meeting in which she had discovered a truth that had been eluding her for five years, a truth hiding right in front of her, a mindgame one might say.

Deviya Sharma was meant to die,and it was a fate she could not escape, for it had been demanded and forged by the Goddess herself.

Devi was going to die when she married Ian.

Devi was going to die, and it was going to be soon.

the prophecy had been clear and crystalline. the stars aligned to seal her destiny, perhaps even long before she drew her first breath, a victim of an inevitability that had haunted her before knowing it. this cruel revelation hung in the air like a haunting melody, echoing through the chambers of her mind, a symphony that could never cease to play from now on. tick tock, tick tock, so the clock laughed in her face, as time went on but she felt frozen in it, trapped in a glacier of her doing. the world seemed to shift beneath her feet, as if the dirth beneath the garden was stairs, and each step was an interminable reminder of the weight of the knowledge she now carried, opening and daring her to fall into the pit of her new reality. the truth, elusive and spectral, had finally unveiled itself. for half a decade, she had wandered through a labyrinth of uncertainty, her heart traveling alongside unanswered questions. but now she knew — and life would never be the same. so what was worse, she wondered, the not knowing or the knowing? which was more haunting, knowing she had been laughing and kissing her lover with an expiration date on her body, or now knowing the expiration date of not only herself, but their relationship too? how could she have not known? even a pig to slaughter would notice. the knowing was a double-edged sword. sure, it provided clarity, putting an end to the endless speculation and anxiety that had lingered in the back of her mind. but on the other hand, it brought a firm finality. the path ahead was now clear, but it was a path she had no desire to walk.

in those five years, she had seen it all; she had experienced deaths, some closer than she could process. she was lacerated with disappointment and she combatted grief, a companion that had accompanied her throughout it all, a constant reminder of that fateful night — the night her brother was taken from her and the flames of arson devoured their joint world, leaving behind an existence bereft of him and all the love she had ever known. her throat closed up as the memories surged back with a visceral force, just another force to add to the list of which she couldn't control nor possess. it was as if she were back in that burning mansion, on that damned mountain, that summer night. she could perceive it all again; from the heat searing her skin to the acrid smoke clawing at her lungs like a tiger approaching his victim. she could hear the crackling of the fire, feel the oppressive heat pushing her towards the brink of suffocation as panic gripped her chest and her heart pounded in her ears as the flames danced in her vision, a relentless specter from her past, an interminable hologram that repeated the same movie every. single. time. so welcome to the manuscript of grief, she said quietly to herself.

act one began, the lights dimmed and the flames rose. Devi could almost hear his voice, her beloved brother, beckoning her to Kamal, demanding of her to run, to just run and not look back, to hide in a safe place because it would be okay. but it wasn't okay, it surely hadn't been okay. Devi could almost smell the charred remains of their life, taste the bitterness of the loss that had settled in her mouth that night. the overwhelming dread, the frantic desperation, the helplessness, the screams, the pair of arms holding her back, scratches of nails as she fought, the clang of jewelry as she shook her face, rain mixing with tears —it was as if she were reliving the nightmare all over again.

but this time it was her life that was meant to flatline, and not his heart. (what a cruel twist, it seems the Sharma family is forever meant to star in a tragedy.)

losing her brother had felt like losing herself, as if a fragment of her soul had been cut away, shattered like their dream of a future in which they could live together in happy bliss. the taste of loss was more than a metaphor; it was a physical presence, a bitter, metallic tang that coated her mouth and refused to leave like a distant relative trying to claim what was hers. sometimes, in the middle of the night, she could swear she would sense it again — that smell of rotting flesh, the blaring and deafening gun, denying her brother of one last wish, an honorable death. and instead of running to him, she ran away, like she had promised him to, but that, my dearest goddess, didn't mean she was able to outrun the guilt. she knew it had been the right thing, the only route to ensuring her family legacy and her own safety, but it gnawed at her like a child tugging at his mother's skirt. she should've been with him that night. she should've protected him, she should've gotten him outside before anyone else, and she shouldn't have let Ram lead her away. this was her brother, half of her soul, the vessel of her blood, the echo of her existence, and she left him. and perhaps, she could have saved him, but the lasting fact is she will never know. and once again, she doesn't know what's worse: the not knowing, the guilt, or the what if, or the knowdlege that his presence had been forgotten, as she escaped the mansion with Ram. he hand't even been a thought in the back of her mind. and what is a sibling, if not the first to love you boundlessly, and the first to leave you shamelessly?

as she reached the end of the garden, hidden away from any gaze that would drown her with snotty remarks, Devi’s thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a tempest, and honestly, she thought to herself, comparing her life to a tempest was an understatement. it was a litote where each one was a fragment of the revelation of her path in life, or more accurately perhaps, the path to her death. the reality she had known, the life she had lived, now seemed like a mere fragile illusion, a puppet show designed for the immortals’ joys. how could she reconcile the world she knew with the truth that had just been unmasked? she couldn't hide it, not to herself at least. tomorrow she would wake up, raise her head proudly, wear her Sharma ring, adorn her body with jewelry others could only dream of wearing in the afterlife, participate in the Dozen's meeting, smirk and hold her foot down as she quickly remarked every word or action from the others, and she would smile as if nothing had happened, as if her life hadn't turned out to be a slaughtering transaction. she couldn't let them know and she wouldn't let them know — because any sign of weakness would be seized upon, a chink in her armor that could quickly unravel the balance of respect and authority she had fought so hard to attain along with the place she had so forcefully carved for herself in society. her presence was no longer personal, it was political. and she would do everything to not lose it, even if it meant losing herself first.

but that is the funny thing about attaching your existence to a role so strongly. the very armor you wear can become your prison. and sure, it gave Devi power and respect along with strength, but it subsequently isolated her from her own humanity. and yet, despite it all, she couldn't fraud herself into forgetting or into pretending this truth wasn't a ghost now living in her room and her mind, occupying every land and surface of her existence, as the British had done with her homeland.

and … how different truly, were the British from her destiny, she wondered. she knew it was a foolish comparison, one that could have her even imprisoned and exiled from the Dozen, because how could one compare the brutality of the invaders to the path forged by the merciful goddess herself? the British, with their seemingly insatiable hunger for power and domination, had carved a path of destruction through her land, leaving blood and hope behind every one of their footsteps. they had plundered and pillaged, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. and the goddess — she was her creator. Devi was her child, but mothers often give birth to victims and not lovers, and Devi felt like a pawn in a game she hadn’t agreed to. so how different truly was the act of the British demolishing her country to the act of the Maharani demolishing her existence as she had known it? how difference is brutality truly, for isn’t it the same, regardless of names, status and history? the essence of brutality lies in its capacity to dehumanize and dominate, to destroy and relish in the chaos, to lead astray and drown the blindly faithful. power, whether human or divine, can be equally merciless. names and faces might change, but even a blind woman would agree that the suffering remains the same.

Devi had always been a fighter as her spirit was unbroken even by the worst trials she had faced. she hadn’t always been like this, but the death of her brother and the crowd of people beneath her, who urged her to give up her place in the Dozen, had turned her into a calculating woman. she had been a gentle and laughing child before, but she had to ice her heart because in a war between compassion and intellect, the winner was clear. “so this was no different”, she told herself. she could swim against the current, forging a new way forward. surely she could undo the reins of destiny, unstitch the tapestry of fate, and redo the prophecy. she has done this before, hadn’t she? she had showed everyone who told her a woman couldn’t possibly lead a family’s legacy that she in fact could. she could manage the finances, she could close a deal with the British Lord, she could gain the respect of Vaish, she could take part in meetings on her own without a guardian. she was Devi Sharma, head of her family, the last one remaining, a legacy standing longer than her grief so she would face whatever challenges came her way with the same stubborn determination that had carried her family through centuries. only time would tell whenever the manuscript of premeditated divine revelation would crumble first, or if it would be her stubborn heart.

as immersed as she was in her thoughts, she didn’t hear his footsteps, but she felt his presence and knew immediately who it was. she could’ve recognized him blindly, deafly even perhaps, though she wasn’t sure how that would work. after all, you do need ears to hear footsteps. she smiled to herself at her own joke. he hadn’t even approached her yet, and she was already joking around, if that wasn’t the premise of their relationship, then she didn’t know what it was. a lighthearted back and forth of teasing, of kissing between droplets of wine, of hiding behind curtains and dancing in front of thousands, of chase and run, of passion and a joy she wouldn’t have ever imagine.

Ram stood a few paces away, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination, a mix she hadn’t seen before. his face used to be a shrine of teasing, of smirks and small smiles, which never truly left his face when she was around, but this time it was different. «Deviya», he said softly, his voice breaking through her reverie. he rarely called her by her full name, it had always been either Devi or Rakhasi — so called man-eaters monsters, his stupid yet loving nickname for her. but what better setting to use her name? so she turned to face him, her smile fading as the weight of the prophecy settled back on her shoulders. his fingers grazed her cheeks, as he often adored to do. that was the thing with Ram — he would always find an excuse to touch Devi; whether it was holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist to surprise her, “trapping” her against the wall to kiss her, putting his finger on her lips, tracing words in her hair. it had always been a game of push and pull, of hide and seek. but it seemed now, they had been found and couldn’t hide, not from destiny, not from Ram’s duties as the goddess’s will’s interpreter, not from Devi’s imminent death. just uttering those words aloud asphyxiated the teasing out of Ram.

«Ram», she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. but Ram could see the turmoil in her eyes, the fear and uncertainty that had taken root — for it was a twin to the one in his own eyes. for how much she could try and hide it, Ram wasn't called a seer for nothing. he put his hand around her waist, bringing their bodies closer, as if the warmth of his body could ease the coldness of this reality, their new reality. «we can change this», he reassured her, but his eyelashes betrayed his calmness as they were shaking.

Devi let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching his, analyzing the face she had gone from finding annoying to being her only anchor in her slowly unraveling madness. «change this?» she echoed, a hint of her usual defiance creeping into her voice, the one he had learned to poke and to adore. "and how exactly do you plan to defy destiny, Ram? by charming the goddess with your smile? because that’s too egoistical even by your standards” she arched an eyebrow, looking directly at him with that signature smirk he had learned to trace even with his eyes closed at night, when he missed her the most.

Ram chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her, a sound she wishes she could trap into a bottle, perhaps a box, so wherever she went, she could have him with her. «if only it were that simple, my dearest demon. it might have worked with you, but I don’t think it will with her» he murmured, his hand sliding up her back to cradle her head. «but I’m serious. together, we are stronger than any prophecy. we will find a way. there is no way we were connected by Mahakali, if not because there is a way, an escape. nothing she does is ever a mistake, our connection is inescapable» his fingers grazed her lips and she leaned into his touch, her fingers gripping his shirt as if holding on to him could anchor her in this storm. «always the optimist„ she teased him, «you know, despite all the fun you make of my rule breaking streak and finding trouble even with eyes closed .. if this were a game, you'd be the one breaking all the rules». «and you'd be right there beside me», he countered, his lips brushing against her forehead, letting out a barely audible sigh. «my partner in crime, my rakhasi.» Devi's smile widened, her heart lifting slightly at his words. «well, someone has to keep you in check», she quipped. «we can’t have you, Mr Doobay, running off and getting us into more trouble than we are already in.» he laughed again, a rich, warm sound that made her momentarily forget the prophecy, as she wanted to just drown in it. Devi knew how to play many instruments, knew many dances, but she had never came across a tune she liked so much that she wanted to replay it and replay it until she went deaf from it. «I wouldn't have it any other way, miss Sharma», he said, his eyes locking onto hers with a determination that sent a shiver down her spine. «we will face this together, Devi. no matter what comes. I will be by your side, even if it means abandoning everyone else’s.» 

Devi shook her head slightly, as if he just told her a joke, «how can you be by my side, when we are akin to spies in the shadows? we can’t shine in the daylight. you can’t be seen with me, I can’t be seen with you .. well not like this. we are both heirs to different legacies, so how can you promise me this?» she said, her voice shaking on the word promise. what were promises, if not meant to be broken? her brother had promised her it would be alright, but it hadn’t been. it hadn’t been, not since, not ever again. so how could she trust another promise, from another man, once again? but what she didn’t say was how she deeply dreamed to shine in the light, to raise her head proudly, him beside her, and shape her own destiny so whatever they had wouldn’t be a secret but kept akin to a prayer. for what distinction exists between the tender caress of a beloved upon her visage and the heavenly benediction bestowed upon the devout? what semblance does religion bear if not the tender embrace of her lover in the nocturnal hours? and what is prayer is not if not the fervent plea of "remain with me" uttered in the hushed dawn's embrace? what is love, if not the first religion you put your faith in?

«what are promises worth, Ram?». she continued, her tone filled with a bitter edge, shaking away her thoughts. «my brother promised to protect me, to keep our family safe, and look where that got us. promises are just words, easily broken and forgotten when the weight of the world comes crashing down. why should I believe that your promise is any different?», she asked him, almost immediately regretting the vulnerability she had let slip, like a secret she couldn’t contain. but it was alright, for she knew he would keep this moment their secret, as they already did with their relationship. it seemed they were both amazing liars and thieves of truths, just how ironic.

Ram didn’t hesitate for a single moment and pulled her closer, his embrace a fortress against the world, as if the weight of his body against her could calm her turmoil, as if that nearness could be healing. (to him it was). his gaze softened, as it often did when his thoughts traced back to her. «I can’t promise that it will be easy, or that we won’t face more challenges. we both are too smart to believe that. we could die trying, our names could be dragged into the mud if this was ever revealed, but I can promise that I will stand by you, fight for us, and never let you face anything alone. I know that together we have the power to redefine what our legacies mean and rewrite the story. lion and falcon, remember? we can take both the earth and the sky.»

Ram couldn’t believe his own words, since when had he become so sentimental? since when did he began thinking of offering himself to bear her weight? when had his mindless teasing turned into emotions he couldn’t put a label on? all his life Ram had known one thing; relationships weren’t meant to amuse or to revere. they were to carry their surname, carry the weight of their household, carry their legacy. relationships weren’t personal, they were political. an alliance, a partnership, a confederation of sorts, an union for a greater good — a good that was never considerate of his own. 

but with Devi, everything was different. her laughter, her fiery spirit, her unwavering determination, her endless teasing, that raised eyebrows accompanied with her smirk, her eyes when she felt passionate about something, her quick remarks around him — she had so quickly become more than just a fleeting companion in his hidden world. he always joked that she was caught in his trap, but he now realized that if she was flame, he was the moth. the more he tried to distance himself, the more irresistibly he was drawn to her light. that was why he always searched for her in a herd of people, that was why he searched for her condescending smile during the Dozen’s meetings. Ram had always prided himself on his control and his ability to navigate the dance of duty and expectation with precision. but with Devi, all of that seemed to fall away. her presence ignited something within him, a longing he had never known, a longing he couldn’t put a name on. or maybe he could, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Ram had always believed that his life was predetermined, a series of obligations and roles he had to fulfill. it wasn’t a matter or if or when. it was a clear road ahead, made of stones he couldn’t turn around and demolish. he had to carry their name, get married, have an heir, and watch the story repeat, unfold in front of his eyes for decades to come. yet here he was, offering promises he never thought he’d make, driven by an impulse he couldn’t ignore, standing in front of a woman he shouldn’t pursue. now he knew; being trapped by her was more freedom than he had ever known.

Devi looked up at him, taking in the scent of lavender and sandalwood, a scent that already felt like her own when he pulled her towards him, «those in charge bend the rules to their will. you are my equal, and .. don’t you dare laugh», she interrupted her sentence, thinking Ram would make fun of her, of little miss Sharma comparing herself to a Doobay, but he didn’t tease her so she continued «we have enough power to change rule to suit ourselves.» Ram's eyes softened as he listened. there she was, the Devi he knew, the one who was able to find escapes in the darkness, solutions to problems no one else could. that was his girl, but for how much longer he wondered. «Devi, I've never doubted your strength or intelligence. you’re not just my equal; you're my partner in every sense.» Devi smirked, raising an eyebrow. «in every sense, huh? so does that mean you'll finally start taking my advice instead of just pretending to listen?» Ram chuckled, a teasing glint in his eye, «only if you promise to stop 'accidentally' forgetting our religious rituals.» and what he didn’t tell her was how often he found himself thinking of her during those, how his eyes searched for hers, just to catch a glimpse of her walking past him. in those moments of chanting and solemn tradition, Ram’s mind often wandered to her, more often than he’d probably admit to anyone, himself at the top of the list. while others were lost in prayer, he found himself lost in thoughts of Devi. (and what is love, if not a prayer? what is a prayer, if not thinking of the one you love?). he would remember the way her eyes sparkled with defiance and mischief, how her laughter could light up even the darkest of days. he would remember how she awkwardly flirted with him when she lost the bet with the Basu twins and how he enjoyed teasing her and seeing the pink in her cheeks, a shade of roseate he could wear everyday. he remembered hearing the wildest stories about her; of her running away riding a horse and getting injured, of closing a deal along with the British Lord, of creating trouble when she couldn’t find any. so he sough her out, lingered between doors to catch a glimpse of her, pretending forgetfulness had put roots in his mind just so he could turn back and linger in her presence again. catching her had become quite a challenge, one he was willingly participating in. in his almost thirty years of life Ram had never known a sentiment even coming close to this. he had always deprived himself of feelings, for he knew he was but a pawn in a game out of his reach, and he had accepted it. as a Seer, he was expected to support Mahakali’s will, under any circumstances or situation, but here he was, defying this one simple rule for a girl he knew he couldn’t have. but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t die trying. after all, Doobays are known for being stubborn. (so in a way, he is carrying the legacy by being stubborn, isn’t he?)

Devi chuckled and nodded, «I suppose I’ll attend, as long as you’re there too» and what she omitted was how grateful she was for him. she knew he was a mere mortal like her, but sometimes it felt like he possessed a healing power in addition to his Seer skills. a power that she could feel flow in her vein whenever he reassured her, a power as intoxicating as his words were, and she was but a drunk girl, hanging onto every word, the way a spider hangs onto its web.

Devi flashed a mischievous grin, and added «you know, Ram, for someone who's supposed to be the great interpreter of the goddess's will, you're looking a bit too serious today. did you forget to consult the stars this morning, or did they just refuse to cooperate with your grand plans?» she chuckled softly, her teasing tone a welcome relief amidst the weight of their conversation. «or perhaps I’ve been spending too much time daydreaming instead of focusing on my duties», he countered, a playful glint in his eyes, leaning in closer to her. «who needs duty when I can have the thrill of chasing after you instead?» he replied, watching the pink glow on her cheeks reappear and gods, he swore he’d love to die in a sea of that same shade. Devi arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. «well, in that case, you better keep up, Mr. Doobay. because this rakhasi isn't one to be caught so easily», she declared, her voice lowering, as she challenged him.

and so he took the challenge, as he finally kissed her, her lips on his, her arms around his neck, anchoring themselves to each other like doomed lovers drowning. their lips met with an urgency born of desperation, of “stay with me” hidden on their eyelashes, of “I will” on their noses grazing axis. Ram’s lips, soft and inviting, were a sanctuary that Devi sought refuge in, her own lips a testament to the depth of his longing. how could they kiss like this, if their relationship was a mere fleeting teasing object of foolish affection? they held onto each other as if they were dissipating colors and it was okay, as long as their shadows were inked together, imprinted on an immortal book of their story. each movement was a silent plea for their love to defy the cruel hand of fate. and as she felt his smile against her lips, his fingers tightening their grip on her waist as he could transcribe his fear of losing her in that simple act, Devi knew that whatever happened, it would be alright. if her past was engulfed in flames, he was the soothing stream, quenching the fires of uncertainty. if all she had ever known was a lie, the shadows of them in this moment were the only truth she believed in. «it will be alright», she told herself, and she didn’t realize she had said it aloud until she heard Ram whisper «it will be» back.

and so, at her soon to-be-grave they stood. they knew better than to beg or fall on their knees, pleading to the sky, to their creator. but that wouldn’t stop them from trying to redo the prophecy. destiny after all is just a tapestry made of stitches, and even the greatest pieces can be undone. and if not, if the threads refused to be shattered, at least they would live with the certainty that they, in this exact moment, had existed. Deviya Sharma and Ram Doobay had existed on this day, on the day where life and death had swirled into one. they had existed on this day, and they had tried, for love is trying, trying and trying, until your last dying breath. even as the threads of their existence began to unravel like cards, they knew they would have had each other on this day. and though the threads may never break, and their love may fade into a non existence, lingering between expiration and life, in this moment of certainty, they knew they'd never be bereft of love, even if they refused to utter those four letters — those two vowels and two consonants they weren’t ready to concede and confess. all came in pair of twos — vowels, consonants, mouths, eyes, hands, promises; Deviya and Ram.

falcon and lion, sky and earth, wings and roar — Deviya and Ram. the game has just began for in death one learns life, in drowning you learn the shore, in a trap you learn resilience. their fight had just started. but for now, they would hold onto each other, for their embrace was a temple of their crafting, a religion they wouldn’t let crumble. if their destinies were anything but not each other, the pen was in their hand and they’d craft another.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳

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