#anjali foods

[natarajoilmills]

Nataraj Oil Mills which provides these oils along with other cooking essentials like Yenstar Groundnut Oil, a variety of rice, lentils, and cooking oils, all of which are essential ingredients to buy in many households ensuring a variety of options to enhance your well-being.

[anjalishopping]

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[intrepidbeans]

[sittinginsunflowers]

okay, I’m going full red string over the last episode. mainly because if queen amangeaux (put some goddamn respect on her name) had a child with her husband, wouldn’t that have solved all her problems? Sure, it would make her a target but the bishop was already warning her to lay low at the festival, and at least this would’ve secured her place on the throne until her child came of age. Unless she knew she was pregnant and then she decided not to say anything in trying to follow the bishop’s advice? Or she didn’t know at the time and then everything popped off. But that makes the baby at least a year and 3/4 months (if we use human pregnancy as the timeline??) and the baby read more as a newborn to me? Also in the adventuring party when they discussed the bishop’s secret, Anjali pointed out that he could’ve been poisoning her or her husband with the tea leaves to stop her from producing an heir. which could be a red herring, or could mean that the baby belongs to someone other than her husband, hence why she’s hidden him away. which would make sense since the coloring is a little different. So either the baby isn’t hers biologically and is just in her care, she had an affair while her husband was still alive, the baby is the true heir, or she got pregnant in the two year time jump.

how the fuck am I losing my mind over a mango’s sex life how did I get here

[fant-astic]

I wanna do this challenge in honour of the ravening war finale! Give me fodder pls!

[mishishiwritings]

@quiddie

The Ravening War Menu:

Apetizer (Colin & Raphaniel) : mini sandwiches with spiced apple butter, provolone cheese and lightly pickled radish 

 Main dish (Deli & Karna): pastrami spiced steak on a sourdough baguette with honey-mustard sauce, pickles, onion rings and spicy chilli salsa 

Dessert (Amangeaux): Pavlova with mango, peaches and grapes

And that is how it looks all together: 

[godaweful]

thank you @quiddie for running a massive official d&d game for a huge crowd and the official d&d people that featured:

immediately flirting w karlach

several small kobolds named after food including pasta, roughly cut ham, and also ratcheeks was one

making brennan and anjali warring dragons who are exes

giving astarion a talking possum to feel bad about eating

encouraging the description of brennan's old man cleric's nipples (and tattoo)

give con rolls for flirting (stealing this its so funny)

say "this is an official game for wizards of the coast so i should play this close to the chest... anyways yeah go for it!"

make me laugh enough to wake up my family

[trivia-yandere]

fuck it a look into "survival" with jin; apart of my valentine's day masterlist - dont judge ik it's only november :3

you apply to a dating-show in hopes of winning enough money so you and your sister can live comfortably. what you didn’t know that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched.

“Let’s get something straight, ladies.”

Your eyes turn towards who is speaking. The woman is tall, her skin almond and seemingly shining beneath the golden lights of the mansion. Her hair is neatly slicked into a bun, not an out of place hair in sight. Her eyes are dark as they roam around the room at each one of the contestants. She raises a manicured hand, crimson nails going around to point at each of you - six women in total.

“This is a competition.” the woman says, lowering her hand. “You all are not friends.”

You don’t respond, opting to listen instead as the other women chatter amongst themselves. One thing for certain, you didn’t have to be told at all.

“For the past week, you along with hundreds of other women had fought diligently to be where you are standing now. This is your final challenge. Look to your left and your right, as you are now competing against your direct rivals.”

--

“Ladies.” the host says, nodding to you all. “Place your plates right here onto the table.” she says, motioning to the large, glass table behind her. There’s cards that sit about six inches from one another that have each of your names labeled onto them.

“Now, Kim Seokjin-ssi will test them all.” she proceeds to say as each of you gather back into a line.

Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes begin to widen as a man, tall and slender, begins to strut from up the staircase to where you all stood. Your eyes are fixed onto him - as are the other women. Your mouth parts a bit as he bows before all of you, a mop of dark hair bouncing.

“Hello to you all.” the man says, a familiar voice dancing through your ears. The same exact voice of earlier.

Kim Seokjin was not an older man, no. He was young; and maybe you should’ve guessed by his voice. However, he didn’t look a day over 25. His skin was clear of any blemishes and porcelain similar to a doll. His eyes are beady as he looks between the six of you. His lips, plump and pink, form a low smile.

Jin is sporting a solid, black dress shirt that he proceeds to cuff toward his elbows. His dress pants are baggy and brown, however not a wrinkle in sight. You ponder just how much his outfit is, as you were told that wealth such as him doesn’t talk, but whispers.

“Now, let’s see.” Jin says, clapping his hands as he turns away.

Jin eyes the array of food on the table, humming to himself softly. 

It takes 10 minutes for Jin to try it all. Ten long minutes of you all waiting in silence as he eats, nodding his head a few times and then whispering to the host, who would either snicker or respond.

“Siobhan.” Jin speaks, his back not turning to face either of you. The host does, stepping away from Jin. “Come closer, please.”

Siobhan does, her long locks bouncing onto her shoulders as she comes face to face with Jin. He’s a beauty of a man and instantly, your heart jolts. Jealousy, sure, yet you weren’t here for true love. This wasn’t the bachelor. You were here for money and that only.

“Chan-Mi…Luisa…you two, as well.”

Your blood runs cold, your palms beginning to sweat. You’re unsure what Jin is doing - if you’re about to be eliminated or not. Your eyes glance at the other two women left, Zarish and Anjali. You suck in a breath, turning your eyes back to Jin. It would be humiliating to be sent home so early.

“Your food is…”

You swallow as the man slowly turns, his arms now behind his back. The smile on his lips he sported 10 minutes prior had disappeared.

“Lackluster.” Jin murmurs, and instantly his right arm jerks, a dagger held tight into the palm of his hand. He slices Siohban’s throat as quickly as yall all seen it, the woman gasping and clenching onto her neck.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 16

Beneath The Surface

If I told you what I was

Would you turn your back on me?

And if I seem dangerous

Would you be scared?

- ( The song of this chapter is 'Monster' by Imagine Dragons)

18 years ago

Arnav was born in Chicago. He spent the first twelve years of his life there, surrounded by relatively normal people, living a relatively normal life, before stepping foot in this country two years ago. The transition was a jarring experience. Adapting to the food, language, and traditions felt like stepping into a whole new world. On top of that, the gruelling physical training imposed on him made it all the more challenging.

He had grown up blissfully unaware of his father's ties to the mafia. He wished her mother prepared him well enough before thrusting him into this completely new world.

Blindsided and unprepared.

They lived in this sprawling multistory mansion owned by Mr.Rathore, the ultimate boss, aka the Godfather of this dangerous empire. While others had separate apartments within the estate, they all lived, ate, and trained together as one extended family. The mansion had a central open space where everyone gathered for meals, and another vast area was dedicated to training.

But Arnav’s experience was different. Unlike the boys his age who trained in the common area, he was sent to a secluded hall to train under Master Z. His full name was 'Malik al Zalam', but he preferred to call himself 'Z'. They said Master Z made lethal weapons out of human beings. He was the top trainer of the "League of Shadows." It's an assassin organization managed by the Chicago-based mafia group, "The Outfit." Arnav didn’t fully understand why he needed such extreme training from someone like Master Z, but he didn’t have a choice.

His diet was strictly monitored, and his workouts were mercilessly scheduled. For an entire week, he trained blindfolded, enduring relentless blows that left his body aching. Then another week went by slapping water. The only good part was Mr.Raizada secretly bringing him chocolate cake when Master Z and Mr.Rathore weren’t looking.

Why Mr.Raizada and Mr.Rathore insisted on preparing him this way was a mystery to him. One thing was clear, though--he wasn’t allowed to call his father “Dad” here.

If he said that didn't hurt him, it would be a lie. But he would never acknowledge that to anybody. His dad was his favourite person. He always wanted to be like him, dress like him, talk like him. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Every day, he watched the light fade a little more from his mother’s eyes. She was still here--physically--but only as a fragile shell of the woman she used to be. Her every movement seemed mechanical, driven solely by her duty to him, Anjali, and the baby growing inside her.

It tore at him in ways he couldn’t describe. She was dying in this house, suffocating under the weight of everything she couldn’t say. He wished when his new sibling was born, some of that light would return to her eyes. But deep down, a small part of him feared it might already be too late.

It was his first off day in what felt like forever, and he had plans--simple ones. After all the chaos of the past few weeks, he just wanted to play online games with his online friends and go to bed early.

The recent drama surrounding a failed wedding was still fresh in everyone's minds, but he couldn’t care less. Aunt Vedika, Mr.Rathore's younger sister, was supposed to marry someone from the Jha family, but the groom had fled before the wedding. And out of despair, he guessed, Aunt Vedika hanged herself in her room.

Mr.Rathore’s fury over his sister’s death was volcanic. Rumours circulated that he had kidnapped the daughter of the Gupta family as retaliation. Arnav didn’t know how true the whispers were, nor did he care. That world of vendettas and punishment seemed endless, and he wanted no part of it.

So, when a knock came at his door, cutting into his rare evening of freedom, he groaned inwardly. Mr. Raizada, stepped in, cradling a tiny, sleeping human in his arms.

“Can you watch her for the evening?” Mr. Raizada asked casually, as though this was an everyday request.

Arnav frowned, his gaze flicking between Mr.Raizada and the little girl, not more than four or five. “Is that the Gupta girl everyone’s been talking about?”

“I need you to watch her for me...like a few hours,” Mr.Raizada said, deftly avoiding the question.

Of all the things Arnav wanted to do with his free evening, that ranked dead last. He wasn’t shy about expressing that. “Why can’t you leave her with Mom or Anjali?”

“They’re not home,” Mr.Raizada replied, ever patient. “They went to the hospital for your mother’s check-up.”

Arnav slumped back in his chair. “I’m not doing it.”

Mr.Raizada tilted his head, considering, then offered, “What about...I’ll buy you that bike you’ve been eyeing. How’s that for a deal?”

Arnav’s scowl deepened. “Mr.Rathore doesn’t want me to have that bike.”

“You know what? Fuck Mr.Rathore,” Mr.Raizada said with a wink, laying the little girl gently on the sofa beside Arnav’s computer desk before turning to leave.

"What's her name?" Arnav asked looking at the little girl in a pink dress. She was tiny, unusually tiny.

"Khushi." Mr.Raizada replied shutting the door behind him.

And just like that, Arnav’s evening plans were obliterated by the arrival of a tiny sleeping intruder.

The little girl looked like a delicate porcelain doll, her tiny face framed by a cascade of dark curls that framed her head like a halo. She looked very fragile with her rosy, chubby cheeks and a button-like nose. 

He noticed her shivering, the icy temperature of his room too harsh for someone so small. He sighed and grudgingly adjusted the thermostat before grabbing the throw blanket folded neatly at the edge of the sofa. His mother always insisted on keeping it there for aesthetics, a habit he found unnecessary--until now. Draping it gently over the girl, he realized how useful his mother's quirks could be in moments like these.

Satisfied that she was warm, he slipped on his headphones and lost himself in his game, the familiar world of strategy and fantasy pulling him in. Time passed unnoticed, his focus entirely on defeating opponents and levelling up.

When he finally glanced back at the sofa, he froze. The little girl was awake, her enormous eyes--disproportionately large for her tiny face--fixed on him. They reminded him of cartoon characters, wide and unblinking, filled with a mix of curiosity and drowsiness.

What if she started crying?

He had no idea what he would do if she burst into tears. But the girl didn’t cry. She simply sat there staring at him, her chubby little head tilted slightly, her confusion mirroring his own.

"Uh... hi?" he tried awkwardly, unsure if she could even understand him.

The girl blinked, her small hands clutching the edge of the throw blanket. She yawned, her expression still half-asleep, and continued watching him as if he were the most fascinating thing in the room. And then out of nowhere, she smiled.

A completely radiant smile.

A smile that turned her cartoonish eyes into twinkling half-moons.

It lit up her entire tiny face.

He felt his own lips twitch as well.

Another knock at his door and he exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping it was Mr.Raizada coming to take the girl off his hands. But it was Omprakash, one of Mr.Rathore's loyal staff.

“Arnav Baba, Vikrant Sir asked to take the girl to the basement,” Omprakash said flatly.

The basement!!

Nothing good ever happened in the basement. It wasn’t a place for a little girl like her, hell, it wasn’t a place for anyone, not even grown men.

Since moving here, he had spent most of his free time exploring the sprawling property that Mr.Rathore called home. His curiosity eventually led him to discover the basement’s grim purpose. It was a place of torture, where information was extracted, enemies were punished, and murders were carried out.

What did they plan for this little girl?

Were they going to hurt her as retaliation for Aunt Vedika's death?

Or worse, were they going to do something similar to what they’d done to Payal?

His heartbeat escalated.

She was so young for any of this.

And so defenceless.

And so so small.

Omprakash didn’t hesitate, scooping the girl into his arms and heading toward the basement. She clung to the throw blanket Arnav had wrapped her in, her tiny face peeking over Omprakash’s shoulder.

Arnav hesitated only for a moment before springing into action. He needed to know what they were planning. Discreetly, he followed Omprakash down the hall, his footsteps light and deliberate. And the whole way, the little girl kept looking at Arnav over Omprakash's shoulder.

With her huge cartoonish hazel eyes.

Present day

She still has those cartoonish eyes.

And he wants to see those eyes as the life drained out of them, those damning eyes that push him into hell.

Every fucking time.

Every fucking way.

He watches her from the shadows as her car moves past the gates of the Gupta mansion, just like he spent years watching her from afar. She is both a punishment and a compulsion. She is a living wound that festers in his soul, poisoning his every thought.

Hatred claws at his chest, sharp and unrelenting, but beneath it lies something darker, something he refuses to acknowledge. He hates her with a rage so consuming it burns through his veins like wildfire. His hatred has a pulse, a rhythm that quickens every time he sees her.

It infuriates him.

It fascinates him.

And one day, he will take what he owes, and maybe then he'll find some peace. Maybe then, his chest wouldn't feel so tight every fucking second of every single day. Every single day she lived, every single day he survived.

Every single fucking day.

He's been thinking about it for so long.

She is going to die at his hands.

The most beautiful death.

It will be a sight to behold.

The roar of the bike engine fills the night air as he races down the empty streets. The cold wind bites at his skin, but it does little to cool the fire of his thoughts. The images of her, are like ghosts riding alongside him.

Haunting and relentless.

Her eyes, her defiance, the way she looked at him with a mix of fear and something else he couldn't quite place. His grip tightens on the handlebars.

Her voice echoes in the distance of his mind, soft and light, as though it isn’t built on the ruins of his life. It mocks him and tempts him until he can’t look away. She shouldn’t have this...this liberty to torment him. She shouldn’t exist at all. And yet, his mind is a prison, every thought chained to her. He imagines her face when he isn’t trying to, her voice slipping into his ears unbidden. The curve of her lips, the way her hair falls against her cheek...it infuriates him how clearly he can picture it all.

And then there’s the way she moves, the way she smiles at people who don’t deserve it, at men who dare to stand too close. It sends a rush of fury through him, cold and bitter. She doesn’t see him watching, doesn’t know he lingers on the edges of her life, orchestrating and unravelling her world in equal measure.

Something darker, stranger and far more dangerous coils tightly around his hatred, suffocating and exhilarating. He despises himself as much as he despises her for letting his hatred be tainted, for letting his hatred cross a line. His hatred isn’t pure anymore. It’s stained with something way more sinister.

It’s an infection, a sickness, a madness that grows with every passing day. And yet, he cannot stop.

She is his punishment.

His fixation.

His downfall.

All his life, he thrives on control in every aspect. And he has achieved it. Every emotion, every instinct, is meticulously reined in...his anger, his hatred towards her, and the burning urge to track her down and end her life.

And she comes and wrecks it all.

He hates her more for it. But, he hates her most for the way he craves her...

She is unbearable to look at.. intolerable even, not granting the mercy of looking away. Everything about her exudes a perilous beauty, like a rose unapologetically flaunting its thorns. She's alluring in the way deadly things often are.

Her beauty is..dangerously toxic.

It's venomous.

It's alarming.

It's unsettling.

He remembers how she looked earlier this evening. Every part of him burned the fire so fiercely it almost felt like his skin was being seared by her presence alone. His body stirred without his permission, a brutal, bone-meting wave of desire crashing through him, leaving him weak, exposed. He gritted his teeth fighting the rush, but it was futile, an insatiable hunger sank into his bones, making it impossible to think of anything else but her.

She was so close, yet a universe way. His hands twitched at his sides desperate to touch, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. Every inch of her called to him..her smile, her eyes, the curve of her neck, her bare back...

It's intoxicating.... lethally captivating.

It ripped through him, tearing apart his control, leaving nothing but an overwhelming need that clawed at his chest. His eyes raked over her, and the sight of her..so effortlessly enthralling, so unaware of the chaos she stirred....

He wanted to feel her beneath him, wanted to lose himself in the softness of her body, wanted to strip away every layer of resistance until there was nothing between them but skin, heat, and the sound of their breath.

His body reacted before his mind caught up, hard, aching, and wild with the need to claim her, to possess her completely. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to look away, but it was no use. She's seared into his mind, every part of her haunting him, wrapping him tighter in the need to break her apart and piece her back together in his image.

He turns his bike sharply, the screech of tyres breaking the silence of the empty streets. Her name echoes in his head, both a mantra he can’t silence and a curse.

He hates her for what she does to him. But more than that, he hates how he can't control himself around her...And it sickens him. He wants to destroy her, wants to ruin her for anyone else because if he can't have her, no one can.

There's no reason left. No logic. Only the raw, primal urge to have her, to mark her as his, to remind her that she belongs to his rage, his grief, his chaos.

He made plans, damnit.

Meticulous plans, to end the cycle.

To end her.

All his revenge would be served, and he wouldn’t even have to pull the trigger himself. He could simply sit back and enjoy the show.

It feels like fate is mocking him. The last 18 years of his life were spent believing who she was not. She is not who the world thinks she is.

Yet, still, she was the catalyst of the chaos that consumed his life. All the deaths he endured and caused, all the blood staining his hands.

He bought her life at the cost of countless others.

It shouldn't change anything for him after knowing who she is. He should have let his plan work as it is. He should have let the Wolves end her tonight.

But he is here again.

Back to square one.

Protecting her from the monsters again.

One that he unleashed upon the world.

And one that is raging within him.

The city lights blur into streaks of colour as his bike speeds through the empty streets. A creature of night.

When it comes to monsters, there's always one bigger and more vicious than the rest, like the one he’s about to hunt tonight.

Sex trafficking and the red-light district trade are colossal enterprises within the Triad, encompassing casinos, clubs, and high-society escort services hidden behind the facade of luxury resorts and hotels like The Crown and many more like that. All three families reap the rewards, their coffers overflowing from this grim business.

To avoid internal wars and eliminate competition, the Triad formed a separate syndicate solely for this venture. Profits are divided into four parts: one for each family and one for the employees. This syndicate, known as the Triad Tribe, operates independently, answering only to a specific captain, a leader chosen annually by the three bosses. It is an important position, overseeing a fortune that flows through the darkest veins of society.

That reminds him, he has a meeting with the Triad Tribe captain, Dhruv Rao, early tomorrow morning. He plans to approach the Tribe defensively. If Dhruv Rao gives him what he wants, he might grant the man a few months of reprieve...maybe.

The business of the Tribe has been bleeding losses for the family ever since their international shipment of trafficked women was intercepted by the CBI five years ago, due to an anonymous tip. Since then, the Triad Tribe has halted human trafficking operations overseas, focusing instead on managing red-light areas, brothels, casinos, and clubs.

However, controlling internal trafficking and sexual coercion has proven trickier. Over the last few years, brothels and clubs have faced frequent police raids--again, sparked by anonymous tips. While these raids rarely shut the businesses down permanently, they freed many girls held there against their will.

And through this very process, he has quietly built a network of spies within the Triad Tribe. The rehabilitation centre he's funded anonymously became a refuge for these rescued women. Some of them, determined to save others, agree to act as his informants. Pretending to be sex workers, they infiltrate the operations, gathering intel for him.

It is through one of these spies that he's learned about a Wolves member, currently indulging himself in a hotel room above one of the triad tribe clubs--a man working in the family’s security detail. Not the head himself, Adam Hunt, an ex-American Navy SEAL, but someone linked to him. The same man whose subordinates accosted Miss Gupta tonight.

According to his spy within the Wolves family, they still don’t know anything about the killing of Preetika Nair. If that were true, then why is this man in the city?

Dressed in all black, he moves like a Ghost. A mask covers his face from the nose down, and the hood of his leather hoodie is pulled low, shrouding his features. The darkness is his ally, and he knows how to disappear within it.

Tonight, he carries no firearms--only his crossbow. The absence of a gun doesn’t bother him. If anything, it adds a thrill to the hunt. Looks like he’ll have to get creative with this motherfucker.

Holding the upper edges of the window, he leaps onto the pipe running along the side of the building. His muscles, guided by memory, move efficiently as he begins to climb, one foot pressing against the window frame, the other braces on the pipe.

Stopping at the window five stories above, he peers inside and spots Vishal Hegre sprawled on the bed, grinning as two girls service him.

Moving with feline stealth, his parkour and martial arts training taking over, he swings to hang from one hand, the other securing a firm grip on the windowsill. Ensuring the room's occupants remain engrossed, he eases the window open and slips inside, landing silently before ducking behind a large couch in the dimly lit room.

"Damn window," Vishal mutters irritably. "Go close it."

One of the girls gets up, shuts the window, and returns to the bed.

Straightening, he strides to the foot of the bed and retrieves the crossbow behind his back. Before anyone can react, he fires, embedding an arrow squarely into Vishal Hegre's palm and nailing it to the headboard. A bloodcurdling scream rips through the room as Hegre thrashes, his wide, frantic eyes darting until they land on the figure in the shadows. Terror overtakes him.

Arnav raises a gloved finger to his lips, a silent command for the girls to stay quiet.

His gaze shifts to a wallet lying on the floor near the bed. Picking it up, he pulls out the bulging bills inside and tosses them onto the bed between the trembling women.

"Get dressed," his distorted voice commands through the modulator. "Mr. Hegre no longer requires your services."

The girls scramble to comply, heads down, avoiding the sight of the man writhing on the bed. Just as they’re about to leave, his voice echoes in the dark again.

"And what will you say when you go outside?"

"Nothing, sir," they whisper in unison, their voices shaking.

The door clicks shut behind them, locking the door automatically, leaving Hegre alone with him.

"What do you want?" Hegre stammers, still struggling to free his hand from the headboard.

"They all ask the same questions," Arnav remarks. "What do you want? Who are you?"

Ignoring the man’s pleading, he moves to the table, inspecting a bottle of whiskey. It’s a good brand. Opening it, he begins pouring the amber liquid around the edges of the bed, emptying the bottle methodically. Then he fetches another bottle from the cabinet and returns, tipping some onto the writhing Hegre, soaking him in the sharp scent of alcohol.

"Are you the one killing the Triad associates?" Hegre babbles, his voice breaking. "No--please! I'll give you anything! Anything you want!"

Ah, fear. Good old fear. His old friend. They reunite again.

He has been methodically dismantling the Triad, one member, one associate at a time--silently, ruthlessly. Each death was a calculated move, a slow bleed that weakened the organization from within. He moves like a ghost. Guess, his reputation precedes him. They feel the fear before they even know he’s there.

Hegre reeks of desperation and fear, the stench mingling with alcohol and urine. Disgust flickers across Arnav’s face. It isn’t just the smell, it’s the sound of his voice--grating, unbearable.

It disgusts him even more when he starts craving her voice, soft yet commanding, the one he can still hear in his mind.

Fucking hell.

Grabbing Hegre’s hair in a firm, gloved grip, he yanks hard, eliciting another cry of pain.

"Drink," he orders.

Gulping and trembling, Hegre opens his mouth obediently. Arnav tips the bottle, pouring its raw contents down the man’s throat. Hegre chokes and coughs, sputtering as the fiery liquid burns its way down. When the bottle is nearly empty, Arnav steps back, watching as a fleeting look of relief crosses Hegre’s face.

He lets him cling to it.

For now.

He drags a chair in front of him and sits down, quietly watching him.

People always underestimate the power of silence, the way it makes people squirm, their thoughts racing for an answer, a reason. He lets the silence take over, never speaking a word, knowing full well it will force their imagination to run wild.

Will he kill them? How? A bullet to the head? A quick, painless death, or something far slower, more drawn out? Would he make them beg? Suffer? Twist their limbs, pull their skin? Or perhaps strip them of something deeper, something that would never heal?

He doesn't need to ask them anything. He knows that the longer he sits there unwavering, the more their minds will unravel, and they'd begin to question their own fate. And when they crack, when they show the first sign of weakness, then he will strike.

Quietly.

Efficiently.

"I'll tell you everything just get this thing out of my hand," Hegre says again sweating like a dog. It's pathetic, the snot, the tears as he blubbers like a baby. "P..please."

"Why are the Wolves in this area?" Arnav asks as he watches Hegre squirm.

"Umm....to..to kill the Gupta girl."

"Why?"

"Because...Shyam Jha's minion killed Mr.Naik's daughter."

"Hmm..You're an interesting person, Mr. Hegre. Your men are dead, lying by the side of the road, and you're getting your cock sucked?"

"They said they'd got it under control," Hegre mutters, his voice cracking, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

"Tsk, tsk, overconfidence is never good," Arnav clicks his tongue. "So you started the celebration early, huh? What will Mr. Hunt say about that?"

"I don't give a fuck what that American dog thinks," Hegde spits out. "I have worked for the wolves for so long...and when the head of security was to be determined, it went to that fucking bastard. I will show him I am better than him. I wanted to get the work done and surprise Mr. Naik."

"So...Mr.Hunt doesn't look know that you are here or what you were going to do?"

"No."

"Who else knows about the serpent involvement besides you?"

"No one."

"Your men?"

"Those who knew, I sent them to do that job."

A Police siren wails in the distance heightening Hegre's panic. "Let me go, man! I can't get caught here. I have a reputation."

"Mr.Hegre, do you know how hard it is to keep the Wolves from finding out who killed Miss Naik?"

Hegre's eyes widen. "You have killed the right hand man of that American dog, haven't you?"

"He was too close to find out....but you amazed me, you slipped under my radar...how did you find out?"

"The bomb...that killed Miss Naik..I knew who can make this bomb. I worked with him before..he is one of the Serpent."

"And you didn't share this information with Mr.Hunt?"

"No....You...are the one they call 'The Ghost', right?" Hegde's eyes are telling Arnav that he knows his time is up, that he knows what they say on the street that nobody sees 'The Ghost' unless he is going to die. "Listen, let me go, I'll join forces with you. I have a family, two daughters. I can't be caught here. I would die of shame."

Arnav watches him squirm some more, his voice calm but cutting. "Let me end your misery then."

He flickes a lighter which he retrieved earlier that day, directly from the boss himself. A snake is engraved in it, the sign of The Serpents. He tosses it onto the bed. Flames erupt immediately, licking up the soaked sheets and spreading quickly. Hegre's screams grow louder as the fire consumes him. So does the Police siren.

He jumps back from the window to the narrow alley behind the club, leaving behind a symbol of the serpent in the scene.

A warning, A massage.

For the Serpent, because this lighter will soon find Mr.Gupta. And he will know 'the Ghost' is coming after the serpent next. He is closer than they think.

The mafia war between the Serpent and the Wolves needs to start, but he has to make sure the little bird remains untouched.

She’s off-limits. No one dares lay a finger on her. He will burn the entire city down and raze it to the ground before letting anything happen to her.

Only he has the right to kill her.

No one else.

The morning light pours through the glass surrounding his high-rise office. The city below remains a blur of waking motion, but up here, he is alone, staring at the picture of a girl he hasn’t seen in sixteen years. It’s not her real photograph, just an AI-enhanced image, aged from her childhood picture to reflect what she might look like now. He hopes, almost desperately, that it matches the real person.

His jaw clenches. So many years of searching, of following false leads, of tracking shadows...and now, here she is again, in front of him, just out of reach.

He has been actively searching since he returned to this country; not once did he think to look into the Triad tribe. He should have. He doesn’t know why he overlooked it. Since when did Mr. Rathore ever keep his promises?

"Sir, Mr.Rao is here."

"Send him in."

Dhruv Rao enters the room, his easy grin at odds with the aura he carries. Once a street fighter, now one of the Triad tribe's most trusted soldiers. He started as an underground fighter and fought his way up the ranks. At such a young age, he’s become the captain of the Triad tribe, mainly due to his tenacity and his ability to command the soldiers in the streets.

"Hello, boss, what's up?" Despite his reputation in the underground arena as a fearless fighter, he is quite chirpy.

Arnav motions for him to take a seat.

"Let’s get to business first, Mr.Rao." Arnav wastes no time. "I want a favour."

"Anything, Boss."

He slides the picture across the table. "I want you to arrange this girl for me," Arnav says, gritting his teeth. He’s been searching for her everywhere. He never imagined Mr. Rathore would hide her in a place like that. But the recognition in Dhruv's eyes tells him that he has seen her before.

Damn it.

"No can do, boss," Rao responds quickly, shaking his head. "That one’s exclusive for Mr.Rathore. No one’s allowed near her room except him."

Arnav’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his composure. "And, where it is?...Her room?"

Rao hesitates, "Boss, I am really sorry. I can't give you her location. It's not permissible. Mr.Rathore passed even strict orders to inform him if anybody does look for her.....she lives like a princess in there."

He could have approached Rao in the shadows and instilled the fear of God in him until he spilled everything. But Arnav has no intention of ruffling the feathers of the Godfather of the families, not yet. Let them bask in their false sense of security a little longer.

Arnav’s eyes narrow, his voice quiet. "Mr. Rao, let’s not make this unpleasant...let not expose youself to the bosses for the minor hiccups you have over the year...they might not take them lightly. They could even start questioning your loyalty."

"I don't understand." But Rao's eyes say he knows and understands clearly.

"Hmm... let me reprase it so that you’ll understand. Why do your reports show fewer girls when I know you’re bringing in double? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to count......"

Rao gulps first, then shifts in his seat, his confidence wavering. Rao looks uneasy but doesn’t falter. "Mr.Raizada, when I was summoned, I knew I wouldn’t walk out alive. If I give you the information, I’m dead anyway. If I don’t, I die too. But man to man, I really hope you’ll give me a chance to fight for my life." He pauses, his voice dropping a little. "Next week, there’s a match. You win, I’ll tell you everything. I win, we forget this conversation ever happened. I’m a simple man, boss. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire of these family matters."

Arnav studies him for a moment, then smirks. "A match, huh? Feeling pretty confident, Rao."

Rao straightens up, his smile returning. "They don’t call me Show Stopper for nothing."

Arnav lets the silence stretch for a moment, before he simply says, "Done."

As Dhruv Rao exits his office, Arnav dials a familiar number.

"I miss you too, bestie," comes through the line, after the first ring.

Mathur's annoyingly smug and sleepy tone made Arnav sigh. He summons every ounce of patience he can muster. At times, he isn’t sure if he wants to strangle the man or laugh at his absurdity. Somehow, though, the bastard is probably the only person on the planet who can get away with calling him bestie. Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

"Wake up, Asshole."

"Why, who died?" Mathur mumbles, the sound of a yawn escaping.

"You’re about to," Arnav snaps. "If you don’t show up in the office in the next 30 minutes."

"Okay Mr. Grumpy-pants, make it 45," Mathur replies lazily, then his tone turns serious. "How was the meeting?"

Arnav scoffs in the solitude of his office. The meeting hadn’t gone as he intended.

"Keep an eye on Dhruv Rao. Hack his phone. GPS, earphones, everything. I want to know where he goes, who he talks to."

Author’s Note:

Hello, everyone. I’m back and excited to share the chapter. I went to have some vitamin sea and it was a much needed escape from the hectic life.

Let me know how you are liking this dark version of ASR. Also I am open for suggestions. Leave a comment if there's any other way you want to see him.

Bye, bye.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @9artsdragon @chaiandtakkar @msbhagirathi

[ariadne-mouse]

Brennan, with the comportment of a Shakespearean actor: What is food, if never on is fed? When with strange disposals, even death lies dead?

Matt & Brennan: the most wholesome exchange

And bookended by Aabria and Anjali:

[natarajoilmills]

Which is best for health ? Anjali Gingelly Oil vs. Anjali Sunlora Oil

When choosing the best oil for your health and beauty routine, Nataraj Oil Mills offers high-quality options like Anjali Gingelly Oil and Anjali Sunlora Oil. Gingelly oil benefits hair by nourishing the scalp and promoting growth, while Sunlora oil, rich in vitamin E, is great for cooking and skincare. Visit Nataraj Oil Mills for these oils and more to enhance your well-being. ​- https://nompl.com/index.html

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi S!

Eager to know Jalebi's honest opinion. Is Arnav a classist? His actions and accusations of "gold digging" against Khushi seems to say so. Later on during the 'dadi track' he seems to oppose her evident classism. But is that because now Khushi is his wife?

Hey!

This is an interesting question because there is a yes and a no.

A yes because had Khushi belonged from a higher class, Arnav's treatment of her would have been different. So if a person is treated better because of their class, that's classism.

However, Arnav has absolutely no qualms with people from lower class. When he learns that Akash loves Payal, Arnav's main concern isn't that Payal comes from no money and lower social status, his concern is whether or not Akash is ready for a lifelong commitment and isn't being childish just because he's infatuated. That is Arnav being a really sensible brother.

Arnav actually has no difficulty gelling with Khushi's family. Any problem Arnav faces in Lakshminagar is a direct result of Khushi annoying him. He's, in fact, quite sensitive to Gupta's monetary stretch. He doesn't order Italian food for himself simply because the Guptas don't know fine dining. He actually orders it for everyone - even though he's annoyed the hell out of Khushi because ordering food for just himself at a guest's house is rude.

And let's not forget, Arnav gets annoyed every time Manorama makes a comment on class on either Payal or Khushi.

Dadi track had a lot of missed potential in my opinion. It would have been great for Khushi to point out that Dadi mirrors a lot of Arnav's earlier opinions of her.

To be honest, more than Khushi being his wife it's about the time when Arnav's misgivings about Khushi started fading (around post Janmashtami). I think that's when he figured out Khush is a bit stupid and absurd, but not the gold digger he assumed her to be.

Hence, he's a bit disturbed when he learns that Manorama accused Khushi of robbery (because Anjali is right about Khushi being unjustly treated at Shantivan).

[I've always interpreted Arnav asking Khushi tum theek ho that day for more than just the getting her earring stuck on his jacket - which is also a weird thing to ask if someone is ok after an accessory got stuck, lol]

And then during Dadi era he loves Khushi, so of course he's taking a stand for the woman he loves.

He loves Khushi. He loves her family.

But there is a slight, inherent, classism in Arnav because reality IS that Khushi would have had a lot of things easier for her if she just belonged from a better class (not even his equivalent but just if she spoke English, or came across as upper middle class).

And it is classism that it takes SO much for him to start viewing her nicely. To throw away his prejudice. Her class plays a key role here.

Anjali has to keep justifying Khushi's intentions. Khushi has to prove her kindness and selflessness MULTIPLE times to his family. Arnav has no hesitation to shove money in Khushi's face.

It is classism that he resorts to insulting her class when he wants a shield for his growing attraction.

And Arnav would have thought twice before hurting her because she holds some power. Now power dynamics is a whole different monster in this conversation because not just class but even gender, their careers, Khushi's family and patriarchy play a key role behind the grossly imbalanced power dynamic between Arnav and Khushi.

In short, there is classism because Arnav feels entitled to do his way when he's being ruthless. But also Arnav is completely accepting of people from different classes and he does not think he's amazing because of it.

So a yes, and a no.

Love,

S

P.S: Anjali exhibits privilege in and a very very slight classist nature as well. A person of lower class cannot tell Anjali no. She keeps compelling Khushi multiple times because of this class difference (not just because Khushi is kind).

Anjali is kind and cultured enough to say the right thing but she is not beyond manipulating situations to her benefit. Anjali cares far more for her brother, so she's completely fine subjecting Khushi to continuous interactions with her acrimonious brother, misusing her financial strength against Khushi, having Khushi constantly come over to her home even after her job is over so Khushi has to juggle looking after her parents and tuitions and being Anjali & La's buddy time while her transportation costs are totally not being covered.

Anjali is blind as hell to the fact that Khushi's time is of value as well.

[phantmheart]

dev patel, thirty-one, he/him   ⟡   —   is that AMIR KAPADIA i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for SIX YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE PLAYHOUSE. at face value, they’re said to be CREATIVE and PATIENT, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite STUBBORN and RESERVED. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them!   

basics

• full name: ashwin amir kapadia

• preferred name: amir

• nicknames: am ; ash (by his family)

• gender: cis male

• pronouns: he/him

• age: 31

• date of birth: 12th january 1993

• zodiac sign: capricorn

• sexuality: heterosexual

• place of birth: edinburgh, scotland

• nationality: british-american (dual citizenship)

• occupation: jeweller & metalsmith ; owner of charmed & co

• residence: a small two bedroom house

• aesthetics: the cool salty sea air, wax jackets, vintage books, piles of warm blankets, sparkling gemstones in the sun, steaming cups of tea, handmade cable-knit jumpers, old cinema tickets

appearance

• faceclaim: dev patel

• height: 6'

• build: average

• eyes: brown

• hair: black

• piercings: none

• tattoos: nautical compass on his inner left forearm ; two maple leaves on his right shoulder ; others tbd

• style:

personality

• positive traits: creative, kind, resourceful, intelligent, compassionate, helpful, hardworking, punctual, considerate

• negative traits: reserved, stubborn, shy

• mbti: infj - the advocate

• likes: art, literature, sweet foods, music, going for walks, reading when its raining outside, tea

• dislikes: extreme temperatures, arrogance, heavy metal music, poor standards, sports

• phobias: arachnophobia ; entomophobia

• hobbies: reading, listening to music, playing the piano, watching films, collecting old books, going to the theatre

• skills: ambidextrous (but favours his right hand), pianist (for 25 years)

• pet peeves: tardiness, sexism, prejudice, being interrupted, cutting corners

family

• mother: amrita kapadia

• father: rishi kapadia

• siblings: samira anjali kapadia (younger sister by three years)

• fiancée: tippi elizabeth saint-james

favourites

• food: anything spicy, usually his mother’s curry recipe

• drink: scotch whisky ; lemonade

• time of the day: evening

• weather: dry and cool

• colours: blue ; red ; silver

• music genres: anything classical ; film scores ; alternative

bio

— amir was born at 3:13pm on 12th january 1993 to rishi kapadia, a lawyer, and his wife amrita, an artist and art teacher. he has one younger sister named samira. they resided in edinburgh until amir was five and then moved to london to be closer to family.

— the kapadias had always been close, going out on the weekends to some place educational or of historical importance, and holidaying across the uk, sometimes venturing abroad to places like germany, italy, the united states, and mexico. the trips themselves served as valuable family time as well as creative inspiration for amrita. later amir would take inspiration, too, and use his wonderful childhood memories to create unique and beautiful things. 

— when amir was 11, the family moved back to edinburgh so his father could pursue a better job offer and his mother could set up her own shop in the city centre. on the weekends, amir spent a lot of time in the shop, helping out with daily tasks and serving customers; he grew to live the social side of it and also learned more from his mother about making jewellery. 

— amir was a daydreamer in school. he enjoyed learning, but would rather stare at a wall and think about the book he was reading or the documentary he’d watched on the weekend. it got him into trouble a couple of times, but the teachers were consistently impressed with his grades. for a long time he wanted to be a filmmaker, but having been inspired by his mother’s art from a young age and his fascination with her jewellery in particular amir decided, at the age of 15, that he wanted to make his own jewellery. his parents were very supportive of his choice and so was his sister, but only after a long period of teasing him for picking a ‘girly’ job.

— he went on to university at the age of 18, studying jewellery & silversmithing at the university of edinburgh, and loved it. amir made plenty new friends who were like-minded and enjoyed living away from home even if he had stayed in the same city. he excelled in his course and almost took a masters degree, but changed his mind at the last minute.

— after graduating, amir decided to spend a couple of months travelling alone in new england. it was something he'd wanted to do his whole life and also used it as a chance to gain inspiration for his work. he stumbled upon kilmer’s cove by accident, but felt strangely drawn to the place. he spent two weeks there and had to leave for connecticut, but he never forgot about it and looked back fondly through photographs he took.

— he returned home and worked with his mother at her shop as well as on his own jewellery making. amir began to sell his products in the shop and proved to be incredibly popular, especially with tourists, and it was this success that made amir realise he’d made the right choice in pursuing his passions and turning them into a career, even when there were times when he wanted to quit.

— at the age of 25, amir said goodbye to scotland and relocated alone to kilmer’s cove. it was daunting at first, but his heart was in that little coastal town and knew he had to give it a shot. with the money he had earned from commissions and with a little help from his parents, he managed to buy a little shop in the heart of town and establish it as a boutique selling handmade bespoke jewellery and metalwork. he named it ‘charmed & co’.

— amir met his now fiancée tippi not long after he made the move. he struck up a conversation with her as they waited in line at a café, with him asking what she would recommend off the menu. a few weeks later, she came into charmed & co and that’s when he asked her out on a date. the rest is history!

— he now lives with tippi and their cat shelby and are planning to get married in the summer of 2025.

[khaleesiofalicante]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2dhhn5M1pc/?igsh=MWp4b3J6N212Y2tvYw==

Anjali visiting LBs (but if alec is incharge of the food which let's be real rarely happens)

No but I totally see Alec doing this send help.

[the-butter-churner]

Those coherent thoughts i promised about TRW that really aren't that coherent i'm just excited

The Table. Of course I gotta start with the incredible table set up like oh. my. god. It's too perfect. Lou and Brennan at the table together with Aabria as a PC?? My ACOFAF loving heart is THROBBING I cannot wait. I'm also really really REALLY excited to see Zac up to more political intrigue shenanigans I love when Zac plays little shits. And of course, me being me, I love seeing more brown people at the table and Anjali Bhimani is levels of cool that I can only aspire to achieve. I cannot wait.

Expanding the world. I know a huge thing for me when I was watching ACOC was disappointment that we never really got to see life outside of Candia, or from a perspective that wasn't Candian. I'm SO THRILLED that we get to see characters from all over Calorum, and I cannot wait for their silly little accents and their silly little food things and just being steeped in new cultures like we were steeped in Candia.

I LOVE PREQUELS IN TTRPGS. I love prequels in general, and I love tragedy! I love that the story becomes something completely different because there is no endpoint, or rather-- the endpoint is preordained. I love being made to care despite the fact that I know how it ends. It's such a delicate way of storytelling, especially in an RPG setting, and I truly, TRULY, am waiting with baited breath to see how they do it.

Matt Mercer: As someone who really only knows Matt as loser ghost knight Leiland and someone who is not a Critter, I'm super psyched to see Matt's take on this world and the elements he's incorporated!! Calorum is up there with Spyre as one of my all time favorite D20 worlds and it's just gonna be so cool to see it expanded upon.

guys i just love dnd i love this game i love this show i love these people this is gonna be so good i might cry a little bit i cant wait to sob and laugh and scream and go through this torment with all of you

[msbhagirathi]

#IPKKND INCORRECT QUOTE-1

Everyone was at the dining table for dinner.

Khushi : Di humein toh lagta hai ki ab aapko bhi shaadi kar leni chahiye.

NK : Lekin Khushi ji uske liye pehle humein kisi ko toh sunghna hoga na.

Anjali (chuckles) : NK bhai 'sunghna' nahi 'dhundna'.

Arnav (smirks) : Nahi Di, sahi toh bola usne dogs toh sungh ke hi dhundh te hai na.

Mamiji : Lekin Anjali bitiya ke liye hum ladka kahan se find kari hein.

Khushi : Offo mamiji, aapko uski chinta karne ki koi jarurat nahi, kyun Arnav ji...*bats eyelashes at her Arnav ji*

*Arnav glaring at her while mouthing 'no' to her*

*Doorbell rings*

*Aman enters with some files, looking nervous.*

Khushi (gasps happily and cracks a big smile) : JIJA JI!!!!!

Arnav (eyes literally popping out) : SHUT UP KHUSHI.

NK and Mamiji (scratching their heads) : Jija ji....hein...!?!?!

*Anjali's eyes almost popping out in shyness and cheeks turning pink, looks away hiding her face*

*Aman (looking at everyone) confused.*

Aman : I am sorry sir-

Khushi (over excited) : Koi baat nhi Jijaji- humara matlab hai Aman ji. Ab aap aa hi gyein hai toh Di ke saath- humara matlab hai hum sabke saath khana khaa ker hi jayega. (winking at everyone to continue)

Everyone (getting the hint) : Haan haan Aman bitwa khana khaa ker hi jayiye.

*Aman looking at Arnav for permission.*

*Arnav glaring back to back from Khushi to Aman.*

Khushi (grabbing a plate to serve food) : Arrey Aman ji. Aap khare kyun baithiye na. Aur aapko chinta karne ki koi jarurat nahi hai hum Arnav ji se baat kar lenge.

*Aman sitting down on an empty chair (gulping).*

Aman(thinking) : I hope I will still have my job with me tomorrow morning.

Next One!