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deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

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Wonder how Buddha, Shiva, Hades, and Qin Ham Shi would react to a human fighter that uses their opponents fear against them? Totally won't be making an oc that does that nope

-You had been ‘blessed’ with a unique ability, the ability to project other’s fears back onto them.

-You used this ability to your advantage, taking out cruel and evil people when you were on earth, many calling you a vigilante or a hero, but many called you a monster for using fear.

-In Valhalla, you didn’t use your ability often, as you had no reason to, but it was always there, just in case you did.

-That all changed when Ragnarok came around, and Brunnhilde wanted you to fight for humanity. While uneasy about it at first, you agreed, planning on using your ability only once, so you wouldn’t put your opponent through any unneeded psychological abuse.

-Looking into his eyes, after removing your aviator sunglasses, you were instantly able to know his fear and your form shaped, your body being covered in shadows before you emerged as a giant (icky, nasty, disgusting, hairy, yucky) spider.

-The girly shriek that left your opponent was almost comical as he tried to run from you and with one well-placed kick with one of your eight legs, you were announced the winner of the shortest match in the tournament.

-Many of the gods were mad at your ability, finding it unfair, while many of them had been using their own abilities against opponents.

-You returned backstage and your eyes lit up and you ran over, leaping into the arms of your lover who hugged you back, a chuckle leaving him, as he knew you were going to win your match.

-Buddha- He grinned as you made it back to his private room, “So what was it like having that many legs?” you snorted softly in laughter before giving him a grin, falling onto his sofa and he crawled on top, resting his head on your chest, “Weird, but it’s not the first time I’ve been a spider.” He shivered in disgust, not liking them either which made you grin. Buddha knows you would never use it on someone who wasn’t attacking you, you had only used your ability once or twice in Valhalla, when someone tried to kill you, one was a stalker of Buddha, pissed that you were dating him, and you scared the bejesus out of her, and the other claimed you weren’t a strong person and didn’t deserve to live. You played with his hair, taking it out of his bun which he scowled at, as his bun is rather hard to put up, before he melted into you, cuddling you close.

-Shiva- Once in his private room you beamed and ran over, leaping into the pillow pile with his three wives who were instantly smothering you with affection before Shiva joined the cuddle pile, resting his head on your lap. Parvati was leaning against your arm, “Your match was over so quickly! But I’m glad you’re not hurt!” you thanked her, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before Durga spoke, “Can you control the size of whatever you turn into?” you shook your head, “Nope, I turn into whatever will scare people the most, so if it’s a spider, I’ll be the biggest spider I can!” Shiva laughed warmly, cupping your cheek tenderly, “And you were pretty terrifying!” you threw your hands up in a cheer, making them all laugh, finding it funny.

-Hades- He knew he had nothing to be afraid of from you, as you didn’t use your ability willy-nilly, like to get your way or something like that, you only used it when fighting serious opponents or threats. Hades knew this and knew you could be terrifying when you wanted to be, not so much from what you change into, but more along the lines that no matter who it is, even him, you can tell what they’re afraid of. You have so much blackmail, so much power, knowing people’s hidden fears, but you choose not to use it. Hades let you sit on his lap, turning him into your throne, cuddling up to him as you pouted, “My match ended too quickly!” he boomed with laughter, patting your head, “That’s what you get when you use your ability straight off the bat.” Your pout deepened, but then lessened after he pecked your cheek.

-Qin Shi Huang- Had a feast waiting for you, all the food still piping hot since your match literally was only about a minute long, most of it being taken up by your transformation. He sat you down on his lap, celebrating your win by feeding you, telling you what all the dishes were, since you had trouble sometimes with Chinese food, telling what is what. Zheng knows you would never use your ability for evil, which you easily could do and that honestly scares him as you would be unstoppable, but finds it relaxing that you don’t, giving him a small sense of relief. He couldn’t lie to himself, if he had such an ability, he would be using it to his advantage anytime and anywhere he could, grinning as he believed himself to be a super villain, but that’s why he’s happy you have it and not him.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror buddha #ror hades #ror shiva #ror qin shi huang

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drstonetrivia · 6 months

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Chapter 204 Trivia

What we thought may be a politics arc may in fact become a brotherly feud…

Galileo's quote is taken from his book "The Assayer", considered to be one of the pioneering works of the scientific method. At the time, most science was done by philosophical arguments rather than observation and trying to understand the mathematics behind them.

Math is the universal language because the symbols may change, but the meanings/axioms cannot. Because of this, the cover of the Golden Record placed on Voyager 1 (the probe leaving our solar system) has instructions written in math in the hopes some future beings can understand.

Ryusui wasn't wearing two swords last chapter, I wonder where they came from and why he's wearing them now…

(Maybe this is why Sai was running from him haha!)

Mathematical errors have ruined a lot of space missions: the Mariner 1 was destroyed because of a missing hyphen, and the Mars Climate Orbiter was destroyed on landing because of a failure to convert units.

Avoiding these errors was very difficult when it was all done by hand.

This seems to be at least partially true, however the practice has lessened over the decades. Indian-educated parents and grandparents may remember, but students these days probably only need to learn up to 19x19!

The HR industry in India is incredibly large, and are a very useful resource to have for any business looking to scale up. It's not surprising that the Nanami Corporation set up a university there!

Sai appears to be the 554th most popular name in India and can be used for both genders, but it's generally a male name.

The equations in the background here I haven't identified yet, but the gamma (γ) thrust here may be alluding to the thrust equation used with rocket engines in space. The gamma is the specific heat ratio of the gas.

The day is October 1st, so the team likely left Spain sometime between September 15th-20th if it did in fact take them 10 days to travel the distance (with some delays because of the Suez situation).

The food here may be a somewhat generic curry as the sound effect seems to indicate, or it could also be lamb gosht based on the color, region, and spices used.

Technically we don't know that Ruri specifically called for the defensive positions, but we do know everyone in Japan is probably in them.

I think this is the same sky image as the one Tsukasa saw in chapter 188, but with a different star pattern.

The Fellenius method and what Senku is actually doing here is dividing the slopes into segments and calculating how stable each one is using the properties of the dirt and rock. Putting the segments together should give you how likely a rock slide is. Strata are layers of rock.

The many-armed pose Sai is found in is a reference to Durga, a major Hindu deity. She is associated with protection, strength, motherhood, destruction and wars.

This comment I believe is Chelsea's from the "I'm not a fan" part, with the "baaad" learnt from Chrome's habit.

The meaning of her comment is confusing, but it might be because the last pretty-boy character introduced was a villain (Stanley), however shes also a fan of Hyoga…?

Sai's outfit is very simple and rather lacking compared to Ryusui's, however they share elements such as the collar type and addition of a belt.

The belt buckle is very interesting, it doesn't follow Ryusui's nor Nanami Corp.'s branding and looks like a C+.

My guesses for the meaning: -C+, the programming language, based off the fact he was petrified on his laptop presumably. -C, the Roman numeral, indicating 100+ because of the million-times brainpower comment (million in Japanese is 百万, 百=100). -C, from E=mc^2, for light speed.

Sai's odd yell ("peegyaaaah!") may be a computer joke, as the sound effect "ピ" (pi) tends to be used for computer beeps, like pressing a button.

A similar sound has been used in the past for Xeno's encryption device.

Sai's character could go a lot of directions since he's unlikely to be one of the traditional nerds they described, nor one like Joel since Joel exists. What Ryusui did to scare off his older brother though, I'm very curious about…

#trivia #dr stone #chapters #sai nanami #204 #bit of me-trivia here: i got spoiled from the leaks from someone updating ryusui's wiki page to include sai and i assumed it was a joke #until i read the chapter and was like “ah.”#i still wish there were more hints to sai's existence before he suddenly appeared out of nowhere

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maryoliverdotcom · 8 months

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Virah—Chapter 1

“Karim!” the woman yelled. “Does the girl look good? Does she need a bindi?”

Beside her, her daughter sighed. “It doesn’t matter how I look, Ma. Baba is shaving, leave him be.”

Ruma sniffled. “That’s the only thing your Baba does all day,” she said, quickly pressing a bindi between her daughter’s eyebrows. She pulled back, holding up her chin with her thumb. “Haan, you look theekthaak, don’t you think?”

Qameer mumbled something her mother couldn’t hear.

“What was that, girl?” Ruma snapped, hurrying from this room to that as she searched for her comb. “Speak up!”

“I said your comb is with Baba!”

Ruma paused, crinkling her nose. “Now what does that man have to do with my comb?” she feigned a look of great distaste. “Surely he isn’t shaving with it?” Before Qameer could reply, she had trotted off to find Baba and quite possibly leave him and his beard disgruntled for the rest of the day.

Qameer stood up, brushing invisible specks of dust off her kurta. She fiddled with the pearl necklace resting between her collarbones. A lame effort to make a good impression on the Queen.

She adjusted the mirror to give herself a full view of her face. Today was her big day. Nothing should have the chance to go awry. “Om namah Shivay, om namah Shivay, om namah Shivay,” she muttered under her breath. A much more pleasant way to threaten the god. Nothing should go wrong, you hear me? would perhaps be a more accurate representation.

With one last look at herself, Qameer walked towards the door. Ruma was already standing there, a plate, diya and batasha in hand. “Uffo, look at her going to get a new job without my blessings,” she scolded, placing a batasha in her daughter’s hand. “Eat this on the way, theek hai? You get hungry when you’re stressed.”

Qameer fought the urge to smile. She kneeled and touched her mother’s feet thrice. “Hey bhagwaan, please let this go well,” she murmured, almost to Ruma’s feet.

“Durga, durga,” Ruma whispered, waving the diya around Qameer’s face. “If you get the position, know that you deserve it. Okay, beta?”

Qameer nodded, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Ma.” Her grip on the scroll in her fist tightened with every word she churned out. Thank you, Ma. And for what? What if she returned empty-handed?

Her hand wrapped around the doorknob. She felt Ma’s eyes on her, watching her intently. No, she decided. This daughter would do what generations of them had only dreamed of.

It is a simple truth learned by every girl before they are of marriageable age. There is no place for fear in a girl’s mind.

At least, not when the girl in question is armed with a scroll of her poetry and a single batasha.

x—x

“Maharani, someone is here to see you.”

“Tell him I do not entertain suitors.”

The guard fiddled with the ribbon tied to his spear. “Maharani, it is a woman.”

A slight pause. “A woman?”

“Ji, Padshah Begum-ji. A woman. Looking for a position as a court poet.”

“Court poet? A woman?”

“Ji, Padshah Begum-ji.”

Another pause. The guard succeeded in his heroic effort to not scratch the nape of his neck. The pause stretched on, and the urge to scratch grew.

“Send her in.”

The guard bowed. “Ji, Padshah Begum-ji.”

@ad15124 @amrut-aa @orgasming-caterpillar @someonefromawarmclimate @musaafir-hun-yaaron @lemongrass77777 @ioverep @janaknandini-singh999 if you'd like to be added to/removed from the taglist, please let me know!

#virah chapter 1 #its hereeee i'm super scared

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totallylost4you · 1 year

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“being with Karlie is probably the one time when Taylor can feel invisible.”

It’s difficult to parse exactly what attracts Swift to models: I’ve had friends explain it in terms of body-matching (Swift’s finally found her tall, wispy people) or that Kloss, like her, has juggled fame since her early teens. The writer Durga Chew-Bose told me that “being with Karlie is probably the one time when Taylor can feel invisible.” I don’t think any of these explanations is necessarily wrong. But I think there’s something even deeper about Swift’s model affinity, especially to the Kloss-like variety that currently dominate the industry.

In the absence of boys or friend drama, the only thing left to gossip about in Swift's life is her friendship with Karlie Kloss. Photos of them hanging out (and embracing/maybe kissing) on a balcony were quickly transformed into evidence of a relationship. Even the gossip press, which should be sated with the stream of Swift paparazzi and Instagram photos, is on board.

As evidenced by the abundance of “Kaylor” fanfic on Tumblr, there’s a serious audience and appetite for those rumors coming to fruition. But Swift’s popularity ultimately hinges on her image being mom-safe. Perhaps that’s why she can hang out with Lena Dunham but never say a word about Girls or Dunham's memoir, why she distanced herself from Gomez when she went back to Justin Bieber, and why she spends more of her time with Kloss, who spends her time promoting her charitable vegan cookie line for Momofuku, than Cara Delevingne, a model in the bad-girl Kate Moss tradition who parties with Rihanna and dates Michelle Rodriguez. (Buzzfeed January 2015)

Isn't it delicate.

#Third floor on the West Side #me and you #delicate #taylor swift #karlie kloss #kaylor #gaylor #gaylor swift

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allari-ammayi · 8 months

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Rain | Pt. 1 《Varsham》 D. Shekar

☆Danny Shekar x Fem! OC☆

Synopsis: Having never exchanged words despite their obvious romantic tension, the younger sister of 'Bheemla Nayak', Durga, and his enemy, Danny Shekar, are strandered alone at a bus stop during an hours' long rain fall, left together and start to feel an obvious spark. 《Pt. 1, 2.2k Words》

Note: First post, very excited, and yes, I know my writing is very bad, but trust me, I'll get better!! Anyway, massive smash to the loml. Pls tell me I wasn't the only one violently simping over Danny from the moment he appeared on screen. Btw, this is the OC version of this fic, if you would like to read the y/n version, it will be available on my y/n masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

“The rain was unexpected- Just like us. But instead of embracing it, we ran from it. Over and over until we got tired and relented to our yearning desires for each other.”

The duo repeated this very phrase to each other every single night when the moon hung low on the starry night and their windows were wide open to let the fresh breeze of the night sky in as they cuddled together under their silken sheets.

One night it was Durga and the other it was Danny. But it was always the same. The rain was unexpected. Just like them, but instead of embracing it, they ran from it. Over and over until they got tired and relented to their yearning desire for each other.

It was a sort of weird comfort to them. A grateful reminder to thank that one sudden summer rain that brought the two together in the first place.

But some nights, the duo thought over and even reconsidered a little, was it really the rain that brought them together in the first place or was it Durga’s brother, the famous ‘Bheemla Nayaak’, who just so happened to be Danny’s number-one rival and vice versa.

But whatever it was, boy were they glad it happened. That night was the same, Danny and Durga were lying on their shared bed of their home, surrounded by a comforting homey feeling. A feeling of belonging and comfort.

Durga’s back was pressed against Danny’s chest as his arms were secured around her smaller body, his fingers fidgeting with strands of Durga’s hair. No words needed to be exchanged between the two to confirm their safety and love in the relationship.

All they needed was each other’s presence and all else was set into place by itself. Their love was enough to fill the room up.

But of course, it wasn’t always like this. It never starts like this and ends well. Maybe that’s why Danny and Durga’s futures were so secure and well-tied together. Because they had a rocky start.

Because the first thing they witnessed of each other was their worst. Because they accepted each other’s worsts and embraced them, rather than finding out about them later in the relationship and seeing them as deal-breakers.

For Durga, when she first saw Danny, all she could remember of him was his arrogance. His rotten wealth. His disgusting attitude. His shameless disobedience of rules. His horrid way of getting his way with his money. And of course, her brother’s loathing for him. And of course, even she hated him at the start. As far as hating someone simply because of their sibling’s hatred for them goes.

For Danny, when he first saw Durga, he was initially mesmerised by her. She looked magical. Half drenched in the dark night’s rain as she stumbled into the police station where Danny was being held for travelling across state borders with restricted amounts of alcohol. He stared at her with semi-wide eyes.

Maybe it was a trick of his sleepy daze or the hallucinogenic lick of alcohol still simmering on his lips because only a second later, it disappeared and was replaced with a dreadful annoyance.

But this only happened when Durga entered the station, looking towards the one person who Danny wanted to stab the life out of, simply for existing and called him ‘Annaya’ {Trans. ‘Older brother’}.

Then, he saw some more negative traits in her. They didn’t exactly make her a bad person, but they made Danny feel a somewhat weird emotion towards her. What do they call it? Hatred? Loath? Disgust? No. That’s right. It was pity. Pity’s a rare feeling to come from Danny, so when it came, it was definitely something special.

The more Danny saw her, the more he noticed them. And the longer he observed her, from afar of course, the more he knew why.

And the more he observed, the more pity he felt for her.

Her over-obedience. Her pitiful submissiveness. Her pride, or rather a lack-there-of. Her dependence on the male figure in her life. Her inability to stand up for herself.

But the longer Danny harboured his animosity for Bheem, the more he realised that none of this was Durga’s fault, but rather came from the way she was raised. The way she ran her brother’s errands for him, bringing him his lunch boxes and his tea, needing him to drive her to places and back home. She was basically his shadow. Never her own person, with her own feelings, responsibilities or opinions.

Durga was almost always around Bheem, which meant that Danny and Durga saw each other far more than they wished, but the two never exchanged words. Merely stolen, short glances towards each other or the few seconds of awkward eye contact they would share occasionally.

It became almost a routine for Danny to hope to coincidentally bump into her during his next antic with Bheem. She was practically his driving force to constantly torture him. His small hope that the next time he and Bheem cross paths due to his latest plan, he’d have Durga trailing behind him. So he and Durga could share a few more seconds' worth of eye contact with mixed meanings and cloudy intentions.

But one evening changed it all. It changed their entire dynamic and it changed the way their entire worlds moved. It changed the way their feelings danced and it changed the way the other perceived the world.

Durga, who took it upon herself to run home for another one of Bheem’s silly little errands for her, and Danny who had successfully gotten himself lost in the dry land and borders of the forest collided for the first time. Not literally, but almost.

Durga, who was practically out of breath from all the running in her not-so-comfortable footwear and Danny who had been roaming the area for hours, frustrated and dying of dehydration crossed paths when Durga finally gave up running, dropped her palms to her knees and huffed for breath like there was no tomorrow.

Danny only caught sight of her when he roughly shoved some stray long dry grass out of his face as he exited the maze of madness, still lost as ever, being new to the area. He looked around desperately to find something or someone to help him, but when he caught sight of the out-of-breath Durga who was pink in the face and clearly tired from running, he felt his heart physically jump.

He didn’t exactly know why, he’d never felt this way before. Maybe it was because he and the girl had never been alone together. Previously, on every occasion that they were together, there was always her brother in between them nagging about justice and his job and what-not. But why would he even feel this way in the first place?

It’s not like he felt anything for her. But maybe it was because of the countless hours that he thought of her even when unnecessary. The hours he spent laying on his bed, initially only feeling pity for her, then starting to spend hours analysing her emotions and traits and why she does what she does before eventually spending more hours, laying on his bed, staring into the ceiling, thinking of nothing but her eyes. Her beautiful doe eyes.

But of course not! Danny shook his head to get those ridiculous thoughts out of his head. Danny spent the next few seconds, thinking of an actual, reasonable and proper reason, and came to the conclusion that he only felt a jump in his heart because he was worried that like always, the siblings would be together and where Durga was, so was Bheem.

And Danny couldn’t afford Bheem’s bitter satisfaction from Danny being so lost and helpless. Yes, of course! That’s the only reason! Or at least that’s what Danny said in a hopefully convincing manner. But who was he trying to convince? Himself? But still, even that thought bruised his ego a little. But still, this was the only idea that didn’t include some ridiculous fantasy about Durga. Danny watched as Durga regained her composure and landed her hands on hips or on her back, before she looked up at the sky.

Only then did Danny realise how creepy he looked, staring at a helpless girl, half-hidden in the tall bushes. Danny jumped out from the bushes, glad that Durga hadn’t spotted him yet and when Durga looked towards him and realised his presence, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his chin up in a better-than-you kind of way. The second Durga saw Danny walking around the bushes, she tensed up for a second, half-scared of the fact that he could have planned something related to her in hopes of attacking her brother and half for the same reason he was. Simply because they had never been along together.

Durga’s breath hitched when Danny began walking in her direction, looking as prideful and arrogant as ever. Danny gulped as he walked right past Durga, his eyes secretly trailing to the side of his face to catch a glimpse of her as he went. Durga twiddled with her thumbs and at the awkward moment between them, the heavens groaned and urged the two together with a little crazy weather. Unexpectedly and completely out of blue, the initially bright blazing sun was covered up by heavy and dark rain clouds, meaning that nothing good could come from this.

Durga looked up at the clouds and when she felt a soft kiss on her nose from raindrop, she felt her heart drop. She had no umbrella and she was miles away form home which meant it’d take her another half-an hour to get home, and that was if she ran.

The same was with Danny. He also didn’t have an umbrella. After-all, who could’ve predectied this weather?

“What-?” Danny let out as he wiped a raindrop off his forehead, the duo started to get worried, still exchanging no words. When the sudden sound of pitter-patter surrounded Danny and Durga, they turned to each other in mutual worry and Durga looked desperately around.

“Come, Follow me.” Durga said after a short consideration. She couldn’t escape the rain by herself and let Danny die out in the wet cold. He too was a human. A human that was hated by her older brother, but still a human. Bheem could have argued otherwise, but it didn’t matter.

Danny turned to Durga and when he saw her already sprinting away, he looked around before back at her.

“Hey-!” He called out reaching an arm out towards her, but Durga didn’t stop. Danny let out a sigh of frustration, raked his hair back with his fingers before he begrudgingly followed behind her.

“Just this way,” Durga said, lifting her voni a little as she ran.

“Do you even know where you’re going??” Danny asked her, struggling to keep up with the slippery little minx of a girl, Durga was.

Durga came to a sudden halt, and when Danny nearly crashed into the smaller girl, she threateningly pulled her index finger out at him and she narrowed her eys.

“Do you want to get drenched in the rain or do you want to get shelter?” She asked, her voice dangerously leaking with threats.

Danny was left speechless at this. Never once had he ever seen Durga this way. But then again, he never really saw her that much to begin with, but still. This was a true shock for the man.

“I- Uh- Yeah- Yeah, I want to- I want to get shelter.” Danny struggled out, stumbling over his words at the threatening smaller girl.

“Aithe noru musukoni ra. {Trans.: Then keep quiet and follow me.}” Danny automatically nodded, Durga’s sudden high demanding voice instantly taking control of him.

Within seconds, Durga led Danny straight to a tattered old bus stop. It was not at all what Danny had in mind, but he was willing to take whatever he could to get out of this rain even a little. The duo rushed to get under the shade, their clothes already damp from the early rain.

From the moment their skins were no longer being tapped on by the rain drops, Danny and Durga were both quick to start drying themselves the best they could.

The tattered bus stop consisted of just one, one and a half meter long bench with a shade that looked like it could fall apart any minute.

“This was the place you were talking about when you said shelter?” Danny asked, looking around before taking a seat. Durga opted to sit as far as she could, even willing to let half of her leg hang off the end of the bench if it meant putting some distance between her and Danny.

“Let me know if it isn’t up to your fancy posh tastes, and I can tear it apart in seconds,” Durga said, looking at the ground, and pulling her knees to her chest. “Then we can happily die out in the rain.” She added, quietly.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine for now.”

“It will be. We just have to wait a few minutes, it’ll be gone and we can go our own ways.” If only it were that easy.

To Be Continued...

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 None yet!

Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

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ze-preserveur · 2 months

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...Who's the person with red text yelling at my father?

-@my-name-means-dawn

LOL that's Durga Devi, one of Parvati's ( @press-shivt-blookie aka Mahadev's wife) forms ☠️☠️

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imarvelatthestars · 2 years

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Searching

Notes: Some important things to keep in mind while you're reading - ibib means darling in Ancient Egyptian & priya means beloved in Sanskrit (I think?); the heart was the only organ left in the body after mummification because it was believed to hold your thoughts and feelings and would be needed in the afterlife; Mundeshwari (or Mundesvari) temple in India is the oldest Hindu temple in the country, dating from 108 CE, and was dedicated to Durga.

Pairings: Durga x Khonshu; Marc & Steven x Desi Durga!Avatar!Reader

Warnings: multiple points of view; brief reference to the reader masturbating; this is really just a drabble in disguise

Steven dreams a lot. He's used to it by now, almost expects to wake up in the morning with a strange bruise that can only be explained by a bout of sleepwalking, and he always expects that his dreams won't make any sense. But lately, lately there's something different about them. Lately, he wakes up with a name on his tongue and visions of a woman with a third eye and too many arms to count. He thinks maybe there was even a lion once, but he's not too sure. It's all a little hazy when he tries to focus on it.

He carries on with his life. He goes to work, eats, comes home, watches telly, and puts as many precautions into place as he can to keep himself safe. And he pretends that he's just a normal man living a normal life.

॰ ☆ ॰ ☽ ॰ ☆ ॰

"Don't tell Steven." That was the one rule you'd been given and you were keen to follow it, but at some point London stopped being a massive metropolis and started to turn into that backwater little town where everyone knows each other. This week alone, you've narrowly avoided bumping into Marc's alter three separate times. Last week, you almost ran your shopping cart into his at the store and had to duck behind the pomegranate display so he wouldn't see you, and then had to bury your face in a newspaper when he got on your bus the following day.

You don't tell Marc about it when he comes crashing into your hotel room late on a Friday night, don't tell him how you're intrigued by the awkward tenderness you see in every single thing that Steven does, especially while an invisible jackal tries to tear you to shreds. And you certainly don't let your perfectly crafted mask crack when the jackal dies with a crescent dagger in its back and a trishula in its chest and you see those impossible eyes that make your knees week. You don't say anything when Marc reaches for you, stops himself, then jumps back out your window as if nothing had ever happened. But you think about it for the next three nights every time your hand is pressed between your thighs.

॰ ☆ ॰ ☽ ॰ ☆ ॰

Why don't libraries have shopping carts? It boggles the mind that no one until now has had to check out enough books that they need a basket to lug it all around in. Steven has half a mind to ask the librarian about it, but decides not to when he sees the way she looks at his check-out stack.

"I know I'm only s'pposed t' take out, like, 5, but I was hoping that since I'm a star student as it were, you might be able to make an exception for me? Just this once, yeah? Not like all the time." He smiles. "It's really important."

He looks over his collection once he gets back to his flat and he's not entirely sure where he's going to put them all, but he'll make do somehow. There's a spot on his desk with just enough room for some of the smaller ones, so he starts there. He pulls out his readers, a pencil with way too many chew marks, and a notebook and sets to work.

Steven learns a lot of things that night, about Kali and Mahadevi and Shakti, about Sanskrit mantras and puja, and about the mother goddess Durga, the name that strikes something deep in his heart that he cannot comprehend. It reminds him of the scent of jasmine, of a stolen trident he lost in a dream, of lion's claws and a cotton saree in the sand. He thinks maybe he's going a bit loopy from staying up too late.

॰ ☆ ॰ ☽ ॰ ☆ ॰

"The worm is learning."

The moonlight is cool and familiar on Durga's shoulders. It ripples and spills over her hair, down the bare length of her spine, and highlights the golden edge of her saree where it brushes her ankles.

"Is that such a terrible thing?" she wonders.

Linen wrapped hands, ancient bones poking through the gaps, brush over her skin like they have a million times before. The musk of her lover is older than the pyramids and older than her temple in Mundeshwari, older than a thousand lifetimes, yet still he remains.

"Do not think of him tonight."

Khonshu grumbles and leans back against the chimney he's perched himself on. Durga follows him, sinks into the firmness of his ribcage and smiles.

"There is too much to think of." His voice rumbles through her. "Harrow is amassing followers by the thousands and Ammit awaits him, yet my avatar relinquishes his control to a fool who stumbles about as if in a dream."

"You're too harsh on him." The unspoken "you're too harsh on all of them" lingers in the air. It's the one thing she struggles with, even now, the one thing that makes her doubt the choice she made too many years ago to count. "Even a god must rest, priya, and you are no exception."

A heavy sigh rattles deep in Khonshu's bones. He's tired. She knows him too well for him to put up pretenses, so he relinquishes the last of his fight and lays it at her feet. "As you wish, ibib." He wraps an arm around her shoulders to bring her in close and finds himself falling even more in love with every whiff of sandalwood he catches.

"Undo my braid."

He bathes in the jasmine of her hair and she in his frankincense wrappings, and they let the worries of avatars and gods drift away for a night. She unfolds herself for him and he remembers to unwrap his heart for her, the only thing left inside his body after a millenia of decay.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #desi reader #hindu reader #reader of color #durga #khonshu #for snisha #enjoy the interlude while i brainstorm more ideas for them!!#i can't fully understand why but khonshu x durga have me feeling a million billion things rn i love them #marvel #moon knight #lmao i forgot to add those

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elvenladysakura · 1 year

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"No, Charu, you don't understand. I'll never forget. I'll always look for you - in every thought, every pause between thoughts. I'll keep looking over my shoulder, I'll keep coming back until one day, one day, you'll let me stay."

"Tum - tum aisa nahi kar sakte - Anir - Anirban!"

"Now don't misunderstand," he says with a ghost of his mischievous smile. "Tum na mila toh mar gaya. Tum jeet gayi main haar gaya. You kept saying you don't- you can't- you will never love me. Chalo phir maan gaya. I won't ask again. I promise."

"Ani-"

"Tum karo na karo mujhe toh kud se pyaar hai. Main ab iss uljhan mein jeena nahi chahta. Tum mera sauda karo yeh mujhe manzoor nahi. Toh lo. Let us put an end to it. Let us put an end to it all.

"Let us not meet again."

His head is still heavy in her lap, her fingers still locked in his mattered hair, his blood on her face, on her forehead, all over her. Fresh tears streaked through its brilliant and stubborn red, washing it away, diluting it until it faded into palest of stains.

Charu wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand furiously.

"I'll bring help. I'll save you. I won't let you go. I won't. I can't. I -"

He holds her by her wrist, holds fast enough for the first few of her bangles to crack. That bloodied grin on his face had grown mocking.

"Durga ke liye?"

He coughs, air makes a painful wheezing in his wind pipes.

"Tumhare dil mein kaha kissi ke liye pyaar honga, tumhe Durga se fursat hi kahan?"

"Let me go Anirban - I - I'll-"

"Didn't you tell me its wrong not to love someone who loves so much? To let them live without their fair share of love? Kya woh sirf Durga ke liye sach hai?"

"Anirban main tum se -"

"Pyaar nahi karti. Pata hai. I'm not enough. Pata hai. Then let me go, Charu. Let me go. It hurts to be half loved. It hurts to live like this. See you everyday and to know that you are mine but not mine. She's not mine but is mine. Main kud apna nahi raha. Ab iss Dard se aur guzara nahi hota."

"Anirban-"

"Tumhari kaanoon toh gunegaron ko bhi ek aakhri ichcha mangne ka mauka dete hai na? Toh humein bhi do, humari joh bhi ghuna rahi ho. Saza e maut se badi toh koi saza nahi suna sakti tum. You can't sentence anyone to live. Aur humari aakhri guzarish yahi hai."

The sob breaks through her now. Her hands warm with blood and his words drowning out with his own breath, Charu knows the battle is lost.

"Aur mera aakhri ichcha yahi hai."

Over and above them the storm ranges, bringing with it the first snow in decades over Darjeeling.

"Tumhare saat jee nahi sakta par - tumhare bahon mein - Mar- ar toh sakta hoon, na?"

"Nahi," the word stutters in her mouth. "Nahi."

"Tum mujhe chod kar nahi jaa sakte. Sab - sab chale jaate hai. M-ma - baa-baapu - aur ab - ab -t-tum -"

He brushes a thumb over the word.

"I never wanted to. But you did. Tum humesha yahi chahti thi na. Bhagvaan tumhari sunli. Mujhse chutkara dediya."

"Anirban."

"And you have your family now. Your sister. Your Durga.

"You have everything. Mujhe apne zindagi se kuch pal nahi de sakti? Pyaar nahi toh kya - hum dost toh the na?"

"Let me go Anirban. Let me save you. Let me -"

"Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay Charu. Stay."

He is no longer holding her, it's she who gathers him close, her frame shaking with sobs and making him tremble too. Anirban presses his head against the rhythm of her pulse, it takes effort and he feels nauseous, still there is a peace upon him. He closes his eyes to the thrum of her heart, the ripples of her breath.

"Stay," his lips form the word soundlessly, face cradled by her palms. "I want to sleep. I don't want to think anymore. I don’t want to fight anymore. Stay. Stay - Charu. Cha - ru. Cha..."

"ANIRBAN!"

They snatch him from her arms, cruelly, mercilessly - so thoughtless that it makes her screach.

"No. No - I have to stay with him. I have to protect him. I - he wanted me to stay."

Heedless. They are heedless. They don't understand.

"Durga karengi." Someone says. "Durga usski rakshakavach hai. Durga -"

"Durga unki kuch nahi hai!" The words spill forth in a spell of rage and self loathing fury. They could hold her back, tie her down, she would not care. "Kuch nahi hai! Unki patni main hoon. Anirban ki shaadi mere saat hui thi!"

"Has this girl lost her mind?"

She's painted in his blood, blinded by her own tears and Charu doesn't pause to think if she truly looked like a mad woman raging as she turned upon the only woman who knew what she was talking about.

"Masi ma! Tell them the truth! Tell them!" Charu takes hold of the older woman and shakes her. "Tell them!" She sobs. "Tell them before they take him. Please don't let them take him away. Anirban didn't want to go. Aap - aap hi ne kaha tha na? Mujhe - mujhe unke saat rehena hai? Mujhe - unki raksha karna hai? Woh log une le jaa raha hai Masi ma. Anirban ko nahi jaana tha. Une rokiye, une Sach bata dijiye! Une rokiye! Mere pati ko - mere pati ko le jaane mat dijiye."

She falls on her knees keening, until the older woman collapses beside her, claps her in her arms.

"Shona! Charu - shona meri baat sun. Meri baat -"

"Anir! Anir! Masi ma stop them - stop them - please!"

Sampurna cups her face, stills her trembling urgency. Her own eyes swimming, her own mouth quivering she raises a hand and deliberately wipes the blood streaking- half dry on her parting.

"N-nahi."

Sampurna bites back a sob of her own and shakes her head, holds her girl closer and rocks gently.

Dragging a shaky inhale, she looks at the others watching them suspiciously.

"She's telling the truth," she keeps it short, passing many shocked faces her eyes find Durga's. The shock has paled her, her hands tremble, her eyes fill. Sampurna drags another tortured breath, holds one grieving girl in her arms and stretches out a hand for the other; the collateral damage of that one wrong decision. "Durga...?"

Durga doesn't move, doesn't take that offered arm.

"Then, woh sab Sach tha? What Latika Ji aur Chumki were saying? How could you Masi ma? Why would you make me live with my sister's husband?"

She lets the disgust take over and turns away from her, just as the Banerjees work out their own fury.

"Do you realize what you did - Sampurna ji? You - you are responsible for this! Humara beta - our heir - we did tell you how important it was for his wife to -"

"As if you people were any better!" For the first time in her life Rajshri raises her voice. "Apart from wanting to keep him alive so that you have a heir on display, did you even consider Dada to be a human? Did you consider he had a heart and it was being broken all over every day? Aap sab ko apni izzat ki, pratishta ki padi thi! Aap sab - aap sab ne milkar dada ka iss haal kiya hai!"

"Rajshri -!"

The accusations is a hum around her, a hum of angry bees, stinging, scratching - Charu wants to scream. They still did not care. Still, all they wanted was to pass the blame on to somebody and wash their hands off. Wash - hands -

She looks down at hers, still caked with his blood.

He had always saved her, always been there, even if she kept running from him and the truth. Now that she was screaming the truth, demanding it to be accepted, the one man who would have lived had she dared to raise her voice before, the one man who would have supported her without a question - he was no more.

It claws at her, the realization.

They weren't worried about the swap at the wedding anymore because she was a bloody Roy Chaudhary. But Anirban had loved her before that, when she was just Charu.

He had proved her innocence when she was just a convict on parole. He had given her proof to win against his father when she was merely grasping at straws during her first trial. He'd asked her to rip out his heart and see, measure the truth of his feelings for her.

She'd dismissed him. Broken him over and over again. He'd been patient, he'd been trusting, he'd always been more than she had deserved. She'd driven him to the end of his patience, refusing to see anything beyond her unquestionable loyalty to Durga.

She'd driven him to death, simply in seek of peace from her.

The chaos around her fades into a dull hum as Charu shrugs off Masi Ma's consoling hand. She walks away from them on unsteady feet, another monster among the monsters, who saw nothing beyond her own purpose.

He'd come here running from her.

"Tum mujhse yeh paap nahi karwa sakti," he'd told her, his voice had trembled with the weight of it. "I'm not my father - I'm not him! My mother had died knowing that there had never been a single day when he'd been faithful to her, when he'd been true to his vows. His betrayal had killed him. Aur tum! Meri patni ho kar - yeh chahti ho ke main Durga ke saat -" he swallows his own bitterness. "Mare aur Durga ke beech kuch nahi hone wala. Suna tum ne? Kuch nahi. Explain it however you will. Tell her whatever lies you want. I am not going to take part in this dirty game of yours."

"Agar yeh mera haq hai toh main -"

He'd pressed a finger to her mouth, effectively shutting her up. It was not the usual playful gesture she'd remembered from before, no, it was the fury that drove him.

"Haq lene ke liye haq dena bhi pad tha hai," he tells her slowly, allowing his breath to fan over her. "Jab tumne mujhe koi haq diya hi nahi toh tumhara kaisa haq?"

"Tum kya chahte ho Anirban?"

"Let me be!" He tells her wearily. "Mera peecha karna chod do. Nahi aane wala main. Nahi maanne wala. Chale jaao. Aur Agar tumhe meri zindagi main nahi aana hai toh, mere zaamne bhi mat aaya karo. Chale jaao! Chale jaao!"

Had he stood by his word, he'd have lived. But he'd come to save her, despite all the cracks and thorns between them, he'd come when nobody else did, when it was her life that Chumki and her mother had wanted to take.

He'd come and saved her, left her to stew in the realization of her mistakes. She had let it happen thinking her death would have saved all the problems, taken out the obstacle between Durga and her happy ending - Anirban and his conscience - with her gone, nothing would have stopped them.

But she'd forgotten, some cruel fate had bound her life to his, made her his raison d'etre. And he'd taken the doom meant for her, knowingly, purposely, while making certain she remained unscathed in his arms.

"This," he'd said, "is the only possible ending to us. Because I'll never forget. I'll always look for you - in every thought, every pause between thoughts. I'll keep looking over my shoulder, I'll keep coming back until one day, one day, you'll let me stay. Today, you'll let me stay - won't you - Charu?"

A stone in her path makes her stumble and she collapses on her feet.

"Anirban..." it starts as a whisper.

Today, she'll burn the heavens and raise the hell if it meant that he'll stay. That he'll come back.

The futility of it burns her, the loss eats her through. None of these people she'd have died for, none of them loved her as she was - no, being Devi meant something to them, being Roy Chaudhary's daughter meant something to them. Not to him, never to him. And he'd died for her, for Charu. She'd lost him to her own foolishness.

"Anir!"

The cry is torn from her, for every unspoken word that has turned into acid on her tongue, for all the times she could have called out and he'd have just returned to her.

"ANIR...!"

Her hands fist on the dirt, the sand cutting into her skin. Now he no longer heard. No longer looked over his shoulder. No longer came running.

She chokes on that name now, the tears running free, the sobs making her drown on her own follies, it has become a broken chant, the name she'd die calling.

"Anir...Anir...Anir!"

They find a new topic for their war of tug soon. Where would she go, to the Roy Chaudharys to be their Devi, newly found or to the Banerjees to be their Bahu, the last link to their departed son.

Charu goes to neither.

In his last ditch attempt to escape the mockery she'd made of their lives Anirban had made a home in Darjeeling, where he'd told her she'd be only welcome if she came to accept their reality.

It is home to him in a way the Banerjee haveli had never been. It feels home to her too, in a way no place had ever done. She doesn't bother to explain why. She doesn't bother to find out. The time stands still there, a soft fire burning in the fireplace, scent of its wood filling the house, an open book with his place marker still in place, his favorite record in the gramophone - as if, her heart clenches painfully at the thought - as if he'd left in a hurry, meaning to come back, as if - he'd walk in any moment.

As if the very house stood on that hope, existing for him to come back, feed that fire, read that book, hum along with that record.

It's a world full of him, world he had wanted to, yearned to share with her. She drowns herself in it now, discovering him a little every day, falling a little deeper in love every day, breaking slowly apart with each day.

Charu wouldn't call it a penance, for Anirban wouldn't have punished her, wouldn't have wished pain upon her even when she'd been cutting him upon on a daily basis. No, it is no punishment. It is learning, in grief and loss she learns how beautiful life could have been, how simple - how joyous. And how shallow and empty it was now.

Who if left, she is cordial to them, but distant. She couldn't see either family without thinking how attached she'd been to them once, the idea of them loving her, that she'd openly ignored the hurt she'd been causing on him, the hurt they'd been causing on him.

She couldn't love them the way he had yearned to be loved, knowing he'd died for it and still did not get an iota from her.

She learns, she works and she wins most of the time. But it never leaves that sweet taste in her mouth which her first victory had given, when he'd been there to take her in his arms and hear her gloat about her achievement.

She never dines with others. The invitations she get she declines them.

Her evenings have a patten, the fire, the book, that soft music of his favorite record. She dines in silence, in her heart she tells him all the little happenings of her day.

She becomes a senior member of the bar. Gets appointed to the bench. Serves a term and steps down when it becomes too much of a stress. The Darjeeling law school seeks her out, it suits her just as well. The youth in her classes inspire her, reminds her of her own hot blooded days. She remembers each student she ever teaches for she tells all about them to him in the evenings.

They make her their first female Dean, an achievement that she knows would have made him happy. His Charu was not just Charu anymore, but senior Counsel Charu; with three books on jurisprudence to her name. She signs her name as Charu Anirban Banerjee, and finds a little solace everytime she sees their names together, entwined in a way they'd never been.

The years go by. She never forgets. She never forgives herself.

When Dadi passes away, Charu is in London, she never manages to come and see the woman in her last days. They never call her when Abhiroop dies, breaking his heart over how his most adored younger son was ruining his name and reputation.

Charu remains by her side during Masi Ma's last days. In her delirium, the woman keeps apologising to her, asking her to forgive her, forget this mistake she'd made, get married again. She tells her nothing, just that she'd married once - and it's enough for a lifetime.

Durga doesn't talk to her for years, furious over what a mockery she'd made of their lives, just like Anirban had warned she would. They make up at Masi Ma's deathbed, become tentative sisters - but never grow as close as they'd once been.

That is another loss she mourns, but not every day, like the living breathing wound on her heart that Anirban had left.

Charu lives through all the losses she'd once thought she wouldn't be able to take. Takes all the separations, deaths, and distances she'd once feared to imagine.

Durga passes away two years after she'd been made Dean of that law school. The winter's been hard on her, her son tells Charu over the phone. Yet, she died happily, after seeing the third of her grandsons being born.

The winter is hard on her too, and she couldn't travel - They do not wait for her.

Finally, half a century later - she's the only living breathing person who'd remember Anirban Banerjee. Who'd seen the way sunlight played with his hair, who'd known that no photograph of him did justice to the way his eyes sparkled with mischief. Who'd known his friendship, his fierce loyalty, his kind heart - his potent love.

The fire still burned, the book was still marked, she puts the record again, the soft notes chasing one another.

"It's just you and me now, Anir," she whispers to the dancing shadows of the firelight. Her voice long grown raspy with the age. "And I'm tired today."

She hums along the tune, takes a mock turn around the room. It's a music of a slow dance, she'd seen the actual performance once in London.

There's a hand on her shoulder, warm and light as it had always been in her dreams. She jerks and whips around, eyes widening in surprise.

"Tum? Yahaan? Kaise?"

The firelight highlights coppers and golds in his hair, brandished the lines of his face in molded fire. His eyes are dark, full of that mischievous spark, his mouth crooked into a sideways grin.

"Kaha tha na tum se - pyaar hoon. Kabhi bhi kahi bhi ho jaata hoon," his grin deepens as he draws her closer, his breath on her face is warm. "Kyun? Tumhe bhi ho gaya na?"

She closes her eyes to a surprised smile, draws in a lung full of that unforgettable scent, beneath her palm his heart beats, her own feels younger by decades - enlivened by some witchcraft.

She doesn't think. She doesn't fight. He reaches over and presses a kiss to her wrinkled brow.

"Haan," she sighs. A woman finally home, a woman finally forgiven. "Haan. Haan."

#tragic #major character death #mini fic #extended epilogue #writing #paper trails #Durga aur Charu #AniRu

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