#ek villain returns songs

[biplobice]

Dil Lyrics

Dil Lyrics- Phir Agar Mujhe Tu Kabhi Na Mile Humsafar Mera Tu Bane Na Bane Faaslon Se Mera Pyar Hoga Na Kam Tu Na Hoga Kabhi Ab Juda Maine Tera Naam Dil Rakh Diya Maine Tera Naam Dil Rakh Diya Dhadkega Tu Mujhme Sada Maine Tera Naam Dil Rakh Diya Tere Vaaste Kabhi Mera Yeh Pyar Na Hoga Kamm Maine Tera Naam Dil Rakh Diya Maine Tera Naam Dil Rakh Diya Dhadkega Tu Mujhme Sada Maine Tera Naam Dil…

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: With your father off to serve the Continental Army, you've taken up the mantle of protector for your family - so when redcoats arrive on your property looking for him, you stand your ground. Sure, this ends in your arrest as a prisoner of war, but you don't plan on making it easy for them.

Until, of course, your interrogation is co-opted by Colonel William Tavington - the cruel, brutal Butcher of the Continentals.

Unfortunately for you, he's also the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

Words: 5500

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, William Tavington is Not Nice

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: THIS IS CO-WRITTEN WITH MY GORGEOUS PERFECT LOVE, @bastillia.

If you made it through, thank you for reading this first chapter to a mini-story about a villain from a film that's 24 years old. No better way to celebrate Fourth of July than fantasizing about fucking a British soldier!

Bastillia and myself are currently in a Jason Isaacs phase and we desperately need him and in particular William Tavington. So! Here you go. <3

Love y'all so so much!

Grace found you in your father’s rocking chair, dressed in his clothes. Taking a seat on the porch bench next to you, she let her head fall back, her gaze following the ceiling. When you didn’t speak, she sucked in air through her nose and sighed. 

“Are you going to sit out here all night again?” 

You shrugged, and she nudged you.  

“You and one gun won’t stand much of a chance against a bunch of redcoats.”

You frowned, glancing from the pistol in your lap to the dirt path cutting across the grassy field in front of you. Evening’s claws crept across the village, sank into the horizon. Since the fall of Charleston to the British, darkness carried an hourglass with it, the bottom growing heavier every night. Jaw stiff, your eyes followed a firefly as it drifted and winked out like an ember over the grass.

“You would rather I let them burn our home?”

Grace sighed again. “They won’t burn our home.”

You turned on her. “Won’t they? Mrs. Miller has a cousin outside of Charleston. Told me they fired her barn.”

“That’s one person.”

“Mr. Allen said his brother told him about a whole town down the way from Camden they found burned to the ground.”

Grace snorted. “Ah, yes, Mr. Allen, our esteemed purveyor of truths.”

“Grace. If…” You gripped the barrel of the pistol, your mouth drawing tight. She didn’t know, and it had to remain that way. There was no ‘if’ to your father’s return in her mind. He’d left the truth behind his departure only with you.  “I won’t let father come home to a pile of ash.”

A family of crickets swelled in song. Grace shifted closer to you. “You would rather I let him come home to your grave?”

You looked at her. Seeing her expression, a small part of you softened. She wasn’t wrong to worry. Your eyes ached, your head heavy from the lack of sleep. But even when you decided to lie down, your mind refused to release you to rest. Your shift as sentinel would end when your father returned home. With a sigh, you slumped back. The chair eked back and forth on the planks, the drumbeat of your station. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” you said. “Nathaniel’s been paying you quite a bit of attention, hasn’t he?”

Grace stiffened, battling a grin. “Yes, he has.” She folded her hands in her lap, her cheeks reddening. “Why?”

A laugh rumbled in your throat. You knew it. “What do you think about him?”

She pinched her lips between her teeth. “Well, he’s very sweet. Very kind. He always has been, you know the Joneses, they’re such good people.” Her shoulders melted into the bench. “He’s been walking with me after church. Just through the town. We look at the flowers.” She sighed, finally letting herself smile, her gaze drifting until her eyes hesitantly found yours. “What do you think about him?”

“Me?” you replied, as if you didn’t know the question was coming. “I don’t know him that well.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. What have you noticed about him?”

You hummed in thought. Nathaniel Jones. 

“Well…” His jawline was seldom free of razor wounds. “Probably a little clumsy.” The grooves in his fingers were always tread with dirt, the collar of his shirt tanned by sweat. His hands had stained almost every page of his Bible. “Not sure if he ever washes without needing a reminder.” He always showed up to church with at least one piece of tack fastened wrong on his horse. His mouth would mimic reading aloud during service, but his eyes would be trained on the floor. “And I don’t think he’s very bright.”

“Really.” Grace studied you. “Mrs. Jones taught all of those boys, though.”

“Doesn’t mean they all have the same capacity to learn,” you mumbled. But before Grace could protest, you shrugged. “Kind is good, though.” You offered a small grin. “Kind is very good.”

With a laugh of relief from Grace, the two of you lapsed into comfortable silence, basking in cricket song. The rocking chair squeaked back, forth, back, forth. It squeaked in tempo with your heart, rumbling, louder, a vibration skittering through your toes. Deeper, deeper it grew, staccato in its cadence, a pounding that rocked your porch. 

It wasn’t until Grace turned to look at you, her eyes shimmering in starlight, that you realized it wasn’t your heart at all. Torches floated over your lawn and up the dirt path, bobbing in rhythm with horse hooves. A dozen of them, each illuminating a soldier in a crimson jacket.

Your throat thickened. Your stomach tightened. You squeezed the handle of your father’s pistol. Beside you, Grace whispered your name.

“Quiet,” you said. “Just get behind me.”

You leapt to your feet, crossing over the top step of your porch to lean against one of the wooden columns, gun held slack but unconcealed at your side. The officer in front—a white-wigged man with a sword on his hip—held his fist in the air. Behind him, the squad stalled to a stop, dust swirling in the halos of light. 

Swallowing, you stuck your chin toward the sky, hoping that your father’s farm boots made you a little bit taller, that the breadth of his shirt made your shoulders even a little bit wider. The officer in front dismounted his horse and waved his hand, and a soldier behind him joined him on the ground. Together, they marched toward your home. 

“Officers,” you said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

At the foot of the stairs, the inferior officer looked between you and Grace. His brow furrowed, he leaned toward the ear of his superior. “No record of a son according to our intel, sir.”  

You frowned, but didn’t correct him. Being mistaken for a man had its benefits in this situation.

The superior officer scrutinized you, hairline to hips, his lips screwing in thought. Whatever he was considering, he didn’t say it—instead, he cleared his throat and pulled a piece of parchment from one of the pouches on his hip. 

“Good evening,” he began, his nose wrinkling as he glanced at you and Grace. “You may call me Sergeant Dalton, this is Corporal Bancroft. Is this the home of Michael…” His eyes narrowed as he tried to read the last name. But you didn’t care to wait.

“Yes,” you said. “This is his home. We’re his children.” You stared between them. “Is that all? My sister needs to be getting to bed soon.”

Dalton returned the parchment, his hands meeting behind his back. “You’re aware your father is an officer in the Continental Army?”

Your heart—it was definitely your heart, this time—thumped in your temple. This was the part you didn’t want Grace knowing about. The soldiers waited, studying your face. You needed to say something. Words died on your tongue.

“What?” Grace stepped forward, peering around you. “No, he’s not. He’s been away—”

“Grace, be quiet,” you hissed. 

But she’d already caught the interest of Dalton. “Would you like to continue, young miss?” He advanced a step toward you both, and your finger slipped into the pistol’s trigger well. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to submit to questioning regarding your father’s whereabouts?” He glimpsed your hold on the gun. “Come along, quietly, and you may very well be pardoned by His Majesty’s army.”

You shook your head. “Just take me. She doesn’t know anything.”

Grace whispered your name, grabbed your hand, and proceeded to undermine you. “No,” she said. “Take me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Dammit, Grace—”

“That’s enough.” Dalton looked at you, then at Grace, then at Bancroft. “Arrest them both.”

---

In the tent, the air was thick with breath and sweat. Candles swayed in the center, their lambent glow hovering on the walls, deepening every shadow. Voices filtered in from outside, so low that they clogged together through the canvas. Sharper was the ache where your bindings had begun to bite your wrists to rawness. Louder the pulse in your own eardrums, and the sniffled prayers coming from the young man bound beside you. 

Twisting your wrists sent a knife of clarity to your brain. You bit back a hiss—you needed to think. 

By your estimation, they’d brought you between two and five miles beyond the outskirts of town. But between the darkness and the burlap sack which had been so benevolently foisted upon your head for the entire wagon ride here, it was impossible to say for sure.

More alarmingly, you’d lost track of Grace somewhere in the weave of shoves and barked commands. When the tents had been erected, you’d been thrown in with the men—Elijah Smith, Adam Brown, and Nathaniel Jones, as fate would have it. Whether this was somehow a genuine mistake even after your thorough handling by the soldiers, or some drawn-out taunt to your choice of attire, you also had no idea. 

Each unknown seemed to hook itself upon a tender sinew in your mind, and stretch it taut. You tried shaking your head, but that only set off a ringing in your ears. 

Beside you, Nathaniel sobbed out another prayer. Your teeth ground together.

Craven would have to be added among the placards you’d already tacked to his character, you decided. 

Outside, hooves thundered again. As they slowed, one pulled ahead of the others and into the heart of the camp. Your ears pricked. There was an unevenness to its gait, the rattle of a bit shank as the horse threw its head before slowing to a halt several yards away. Voices rose and hushed, soldiers shuffling. A distant chorus of acknowledgement to a new arrival.

“Colonel, sir,” said one that sounded like Dalton. “The Dragoons weren’t—I wasn’t aware you’d be arriving.”

“Another detail among many which seem to slip your awareness, Dalton,” said the voice belonging to this colonel, whoever he was. “The rebels, then. What have we learned?”

Dalton was silent for a moment. “Well… Nothing yet, s—”

“Nothing.” 

“We haven’t begun the interrogations, sir.” 

Boots struck the ground. As his horse was led away, the colonel dusted his coat twice. And, with the manner of someone chiding a forgetful child, said: “Well, no time like the present, is there, Sergeant?” 

There was movement, grass rustling, canvas flapping. You stuck out your neck as if this would help you hear—all it managed to do was strain your collarbones. Beside you, Nathaniel was still sniveling, sorry for himself and his whole family, as if now was the time to be crying. Closing your eyes, you caught the frayed wisps of voices, drowned by the sound of his sobs.

“Nathaniel,” you murmured. When he didn’t respond, you kicked his boot. "Nathaniel.”

He snorted up snot. “What? Who are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s me. Grace’s sister.”

“Grace’s—” He inventoried your outfit. “Dear God. I didn’t recognize you. Is that why you’re in here with…” His eyes gained focus through his tears. “If you’re in here, where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” You tilted your head toward the origin of the other voices. “Be quiet.”

Nathaniel choked and nodded, his nose still leaking, his face ruddy. You caught a sigh in your chest and sat straight, listening for intakes of breath, stammers, the scrape of metal, the chime of glass, anything that would give you insight.

The colonel’s voice first, dipping in and out of your perception. “All of you have… Captain Michael…”

You swallowed. This was about your father. But he should be with the Continentals up near Virginia by now. 

“... his crimes against the King’s army… may be spared and released.” 

Spared and released? Civilians weren’t targets, torture wasn’t permitted, you had nothing to fear from soldiers who would be your future brethren—this was according to the Loyalists in your village, anyway. Recent reports sparked doubt in their confidence. This colonel concealing threats stoked it further.

God, you hoped Grace wasn’t in that tent.

Silence. The candles wavered under the sodden air. One, two, three steps in the grass. You closed your eyes. 

“Very well.” The click of a pistol. 

Your breath stalled. 

“Wait! Don’t—don’t…” 

Grace. Grace was in that tent. Your consciousness slipped with a skip of your heart, but you sucked in air, fighting the ring in your ears. If you were going to help her, you needed to be alert. 

“Is—is that Grace?” said Nathaniel.

You kicked his boot again.

“I’ll tell you everything I know. Michael is my father.” Grace’s voice was tight, trembling. “But he’s—you have the wrong idea about him, sir. Or the wrong man entirely. He’s not a soldier in the Continental Army, he’s been away visiting our grandmother in Pennsylvania.”

“No,” you whispered. “No, Grace, no…”

“How very interesting,” came the colonel’s even reply.

A gunshot split the night. 

All three men beside you flinched at once, and your bones flashed to ice. When the tin-whistle screech died in your ears, someone outside was screaming. Another was pleading.

“No! No, no…” It was Grace’s voice. Relief hit like opium. She was sobbing, incoherent between retches and sputterings of "you killed her,” and “oh, God, no, please no…”

You swallowed bile. Nathaniel resumed his prayers with fervor, now rocking back and forth. Elijah joined him.

“Colonel Tavington, I must protest,” came Dalton’s voice through the chorus of grief, before dropping lower. “... cannot abide… protocol… my jurisdiction—”

“Fortunately for you,” the colonel—Tavington—said, “these prisoners are no longer under your jurisdiction. They are under mine. But do feel free to stand by, Dalton, if you’ve the stomach for it. Perhaps you and your men could benefit from a demonstration, hm?”

“Sir,” was the only acknowledgment Dalton offered.

“Tavington,” said Adam, looking at Nathaniel and Elijah. “William Tavington? The Butcher?”

Elijah met his gaze and nodded without stopping prayer.

Your father had never mentioned any Butcher, but tonight was giving you plenty of context. Bracing against needles of panic, you closed your eyes, forcing your breathing to slow. Wails wracked Grace, and your chest squeezed. She had never seen death. Perhaps naively, you had hoped to keep it that way. 

A gasp rippled through the women, and then Tavington spoke again.

“Now, now, darling girl. Shall we try this once more? Perhaps without lying.” The scrape of a ramrod resounded, then another click. 

“I’m not lying” The tone of her utter despair tightened your throat. “I—I promise, that’s the truth. You can ask my sister. She—”

“Which of you is her sister?” 

“I…” Silence. “She’s not in this tent. I don’t know where she is. But you arrested both of us, sir, she’s around here somewhere!” Another whimper crawled its way out of her. “There’s no need for anyone to die, please.”

You chewed your lip. You’d had enough. “Colonel!” you called out. “Leave her alone. I’m in here.”

“Stupid girl,” growled Elijah, “you’ll doom us.”

Ignoring him, you sat up straighter and willed your nerves to harden. Grace cried out your name, but was cut off with a yelp as leather cracked against skin. Fury roared within you.

Through the hot surge of blood, you heard footsteps marching toward the opening to your tent. Whoever this Butcher was, you’d halfway convinced yourself you’d spit in his face. But you needed to play it smarter than that, needed to keep Grace safe. With what little information you gathered, you at least knew he was a man, and from what you knew about men, they were easily swayed with a bit of physical encouragement.

With the shards of a plan coalescing, you shifted up onto your knees and thrashed your shoulders. Pain leapt from your wrists up your arms, but the movement had the intended effect—the front laces of your shirt slackened, the collar slipping open until it threatened to drape off of one shoulder. Pulse thundering, you settled back onto your heels. Exposed. Ready to bare your throat to the enemy. 

Boots came to a halt outside. Then the entrance peeled open, and the Butcher stalked through. 

You could make out little more than his silhouette. Tall and broad, head bowed to accommodate the tent’s low threshold. Then he straightened, took a step forward, and another, until candlelight thawed the shadows from his face. And as it did, the searing core of your anger surged and flashed to mist. 

He was disarmingly handsome. High cheekbones framed a face carved from cruel marble. His eyes, alive like blue signal fires, penetrated the dimness from beneath the bastion of his brow. Peering down a curved nose, he struck a hawklike poise, with shoulders squared and hands clasped behind his back. His long, dark hair was combed back into a bond at the base of his skull. Immaculate, apart from a single errant strand that drifted down to brush his jaw. Even beneath an ink wash of darkness, you devoured his shape. 

And, against every rational instinct left thrashing for air—found him exquisite.

A prickling sensation rose under your skin, spread hot across your bare collarbones and up your neck. You bolted your eyes to the floor, shifted on your knees. His presence stole even more air from the tent than you’d thought was possible. With a pang of frustration, you blinked hard once. If you were to have any chance of surviving this encounter, if Grace were to have any chance, you needed to pull yourself together. Now. 

One slow, controlled breath flowed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You dared to glance up again. 

The colonel’s head swung down the line of men, surveying his prisoners as a wolf might a flock. And then his eyes landed upon you.

“The sister,” he said, advancing. “Playing soldier with the men.” He clucked his tongue. “Quaint.” Your teeth ground in your skull, but words were not as forthcoming as you’d hoped when you’d shouted his summons into the night. The Butcher moved closer. “Is your father so thoughtless, leaving his daughters vulnerable while he dies in war?”

“My father,” you began, “trusts me to take care of the family while he’s away.” 

Tavington’s eyebrow cocked. “You’ve done a wonderful job, then, haven’t you?”

The venom his beauty had diluted was gathering on your tongue again. With effort, you swallowed it. Stick to the plan. Eyebrows pinching together, you made a show of slouching in capitulation to his jabs. You then conjured a pained whine and wiggled in your restraints, hoping your shirt would expose more of your clavicle, that he’d be able to see the sway of your breasts when you moved.

The colonel frowned, but did not drop his gaze. “Something the matter?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You pulled breath through your voice, fluttered your lashes. The focus required not to crumble under the frigidity of his gaze could have earned you regional acclaim. “These restraints are just so tight.” You wrested your shoulders back and forth as if to demonstrate, gasping from the very real pain that screamed in your wrists. “Perhaps you could loosen them just a little…”

Next to you, you felt Nathaniel watching, caught from the corner of your sight his mouth agape in horror. The realization irritated you. What had he done for Grace other than whimper like a beaten dog for God’s help? Yet another strike against him.

He wasn’t important. Bargaining for Grace’s safety was. 

Meanwhile, Tavington had tracked your movement, his expression indecipherable. Your palms sweat in fear you’d managed to find the one man impervious to the temptation of sex. 

“Poor dear.” He crossed behind you, and you stifled a sigh of relief.

Strong hands slid down your forearms and found the bindings on your wrists. The leather warmed your skin, his breath skimmed your nape. Goosebumps raced over you along with an undeniable desire to shiver, but you held your breath, fighting it off. Instead, you tipped your head to the side, exposing the bare skin of your shoulder to his view, along with the intriguing pocket of darkness that had formed down the front of your shirt, between your breasts. 

Tavington paused. Your breath stalled. With an unforgiving grip on the ropes, he undid the knot—and then yanked it tighter. The fiber gouged your flesh, air fleeing your chest. 

He stood and wedged the sole of his boot along your spine, shoving you forward. You smacked the dirt with a cough.

Your cheeks burned. So you had managed to find this previously-assumed-mythical man. Fine. If your body wasn’t going to work, you would find an alternative strategy. 

“Perhaps that may help you focus less on squirming and more on the task at hand.” Tavington’s boots crossed your vision, shiny enough that you could almost glimpse your own pathetic reflection. With a grunt, you twisted to glare up at him. He was watching you like a child might watch ants under a magnifying glass on a sunny afternoon. “I’m going to show you a map. You’re going to show me where we can find your father. And if your sister gives me the same answer, you both may leave with your lives.”

Hoping the ground would yield a new perspective, you studied him. The horse he arrived on—it’d had a lame gait. Then there was his hair—a single thread of it kissing his jawline. His hands were concealed, his jacket and boots impeccable. But his stock-tie—the knot had been pulled slack, one tail creeping from beneath his collar. 

There was so little to gamble with. But you had to try your luck anyway.

You snorted, using your shoulder as leverage to hoist yourself back onto your heels. “That will prove fruitless for you. She doesn’t know where he is.” You leveled him with your stare. His own bore into you, almost hollowed you. “My father only entrusted me with that knowledge.”

Tavington stepped forward. “A mistake on his part, perhaps, given the situation you find yourself in now.”

“No,” you said. “I think he had the right idea.” 

A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk curled his mouth. “Then you’ll have no problem telling me exactly where he can be found.” He exhaled, the next words drawn out as if your lives were an inconvenient tedium. “Or you and everyone in this tent will suffer until you do.”

Nathaniel quailed. You jut out your chin. 

“Do your worst.” 

Tavington’s lip twitched. He snatched his pistol from its holster.

“You won’t kill me!” you spat. “You need me. Or you will fail.” Your voice was tight. 

Tavington regarded you coolly from over the pistol’s frizzen. That moment’s silence was admission enough—a mote of triumph surged within you.

“Terribly sure of yourself.” As stony as his expression remained, you caught a certain bile now laced through his tone. “Pity,” he tutted, moving forward to rest the barrel between your brows. “To think such a pale imitation of bravery could save you.”

“It’s your risk to take,” you spat out, heart drumming your chest. 

Something flashed across his expression. Seizing your chance, you held his gaze and pressed your forehead into the gun barrel. 

“No cavalryman of honor rides his horse to lameness.” Fear bubbled in your throat, but you swallowed it. “Look at you, Colonel. Your hair, your stock-tie—utterly disheveled. One might think you rushed here. One might even think you need something. Desperately. But you won’t get it if you kill me.” You flicked your eyes toward the other tent. “And if you hurt Grace, you’ll have to, because I promise that if you lay another finger on her, you will leave here with nothing.”

The tent was silent. Tavington dropped to a crouch before you and pressed the pistol under your chin. The barrel moved, guiding your head side to side as he examined your face. You swallowed, heat creeping onto your neck with the intensity of his attention. He was reading you, calculating his next move. You followed the single strand of his hair. You wondered how it felt against his skin.

”Tell me,” he murmured, his breath brushing your nose, “upon which observation I struck you as a man of honor.”

Tavington stood, unsheathed his sword, and in one swift movement, sliced Elijah across the throat. A sheet of blood draped down his chest. Your eyes widened. Adam and Nathaniel screamed. The sword gored Adam’s neck, silencing him, and with its blade still lodged there, Tavington raised his pistol, cocked the hammer, and blew a bullet right through Nathaniel’s head.

The blast flayed your senses to a single tone pealing through your skull. When the world reformed, something warm and slick had smattered your face. You smelled iron.

You heard Grace shout your name, ripped through with terror, and as you heaved a breath to reply, Tavington wrenched the sword from Adam’s flesh and trained it against your windpipe. Adam’s body joined the rest, the dirt rusting with their blood.

“Ah, ah,” Tavington said, eyes sparkling with glee. “Best if sister dearest thinks you’re dead. Kinder that way, don’t you think? At least, of course, until we find out if you have anything of value to offer.” 

Dalton charged into the tent and cursed. He gestured toward the bodies still soaking the ground. “Colonel, please,” he said. “I must insist. I won’t know how to explain all of this to the General.”

Tavington turned toward him, his excitement waning. “How unfortunate for you.”

“I—I know, sir. But please. Let us just take the rest of these women to Charleston. We can handle this there.”

Crickets hummed in unison again. Tavington looked back at you. The terrible thrill flickered alive again.

“Take them, then,” he said, regarding you like a cougar would regard a lamb. “But leave this one with me.”

The sergeant nodded. “Uh, yes. Yes, Colonel.”

He disappeared again. Orders echoed to round up the women and get them on carts to Charleston. From the other tent, you caught Grace’s horrified, desperate tears. Everything inside you was bursting to call out to her, to soothe her despair. But Tavington’s blade prodded your throat. One noise could send it through.

You waited like that with him until the carts creaked off into the night. The bodies around you settled into death, their final breaths a gurgled epode to the dirt. It was impossible to stop the tears of anger that stung the corners of your eyes. Worse still, there was no way to hide them. No move you could make that wouldn’t add you to the litter of cooling corpses. All you could do with your last scrap of dignity was hold the Butcher’s stare.

A smirk flashed over his face. Your throat thickened.

“Now, there’s an obedient little soldier, hm?”

You held your breath, cheeks hot with humiliation or agitation or something altogether unfamiliar. God, what a bastard. If only you’d had your gun on you; you would’ve been happy to demonstrate just how much of a soldier you could be. 

Tavington watched you, checking your compliance as if you were his dog in training. The closer he moved, the greater the heat in your chest, the thinner the air waned. His attention in any other scenario would've felt flattering—he followed every line, every curve of your body, eyes scouring your skin like chipped timber—only he sought the evidence of your deceit, anxious for an excuse to pile you on top of his casualties. 

In any other scenario, the something altogether unfamiliar would've been simpler to define. In any other scenario, you might have wanted him closer.

Tavington raised a brow. Whatever he was searching for, he didn’t find it—or the weight of your information while alive was greater than his desire for your death. 

He lowered the blade. You exhaled.

“Your father is a fugitive. Tell me where I can find him,” he said quietly, jaw tight. “And your sister may fare well in her trial for treason.”

Your heart pounded in your throat, in your temples. You had no idea where your father might have headed, and you didn’t have any intention of handing that information to this monster, regardless. But you first needed to survive him. The rest would come later.

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “If you show me on a map where he escaped from, I can show you the path he likely followed.”

Tavington considered you for a moment, then offered a mirthless grin. “I advise you not to move.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding outside. Breath trembled through you, your eyes jumping around the tent. They’d stripped it of anything potentially useful—no knives, swords, guns, not even a damn rasp or a pair of nippers for the horses.

“Colonel Tavington, sir,” came a voice from outside. 

“Do I appear at liberty, Bancroft?”

“Well, no—”

“Then it can wait.”

“But sir, it’s—”

“As you were.”

“It’s correspondence from General Cornwallis, sir.”

Silence. Your head cocked. He was unmoored. And behind you, candles crackled dutifully. 

If you had any stitch of time to take at all, it would be now. 

Your limbs moved autonomously. You rolled onto your side, working your bound hands beneath your thighs, tucking your legs to your chest. Wincing at the strain in your wrists, you forced them all the way around your legs. Now in an awkward quadrupedal position, you turned and focused on the candles. With a dizzying level of concentration, you managed to suppress the cries of pain as you dragged yourself forward. 

Your wrists throbbed. Numbness pricked your fingertips. Your lungs screamed for air. None of it mattered. Balancing on your heels once more, you wedged your shirt collar between your teeth. Then you reached up and held your wrists over the flame. 

Pain wasn't immediate. First there was only heat. Heat, and the acrid taste of your own heartbeat in your mouth. The fibers between your wrists frayed, dissolving like sugar upon the little tongue of flame. And then, it began to bite. 

If you’d wanted to shout before, it had been nothing compared to this. Everything inside you lurched with the singular need to snatch your wrists from the flame, cradle them to your chest. Your teeth tore into linen. Your eyes squeezed shut.

Blisters bubbled to life on your flesh, agony lodging in your throat. Vision blanching, you could feel every muscle shake violently as they went to war with your will. 

Just as surrender mapped a cannonfire course down your arms, the fiber snapped and your wrists sprang apart. You collapsed to your knees and elbows, wrangling the sobs that clawed your chest, blinking against the cotton fog that threatened to blanket your senses. 

Move. You need to move.

You spared one glance back toward the tent entrance before prying a candle from its pricket and shambling for the lip of the tent. As you flattened yourself to slide under, you caught the vacant stare of Nathaniel Jones. Behind him, the shapes of the other two men could have been cloth-covered stone. A lump wedged in your throat, which you swallowed with force. 

Was it regret? Maybe. Pity? Assuredly. Either way, all you could do now was slip beneath the edge of your canvas prison and light them a pyre. You left the candle on its side, the flame licking at a piece of rope rigging. And you ran.

Silhouetted against the summer night sky, you could just make out a treeline. That would be your haven, if only you could make it. Your feet attacked the uneven ground, somehow keeping you upright. You looked back just in time to see the tent erupt in flame, to hear the bellowing of redcoats and screeching of their horses.

The fire’s ghost haunted your skin. Pain hammered up your shoulders, and as you made your way into the forest, you bit your tongue to silence a burgeoning whimper. Familiarity with the terrain was your advantage, but you needed silence to make full use of it.

You leapt to avoid leaving footprints and snapping branches and dropped against a tree. The tent’s blaze pulsed in your periphery. Drawing a slow, long breath, a familiar rhythm rumbled close, closer. Rumbled, then pounded and clanked in an awkward, head-tossing gallop. 

Tavington’s horse. 

You froze, sunk to the ground, spying the torch that danced with the horse’s gait and watched as it met the treeline, spilled light on the leaves. It tracked through the forest, a flame aching to swallow a moth. The light’s edge nearly skimmed your toes. 

Tavington growled—a deep, furious grind in his chest—and tore off down the perimeter.

When you were certain he’d gone, you stood and kept moving, pressing your wrists together to will the pain away. You’d find somewhere to hide. You’d wait them out tonight. 

Tomorrow, you’d find Grace.

[themovieblogonline]

Gadar “The Rebellion”: Part 2 (2023) -- The Return Of “HINDUSTAN ZINDABAAD!”

The Lion prowls once again, not in the jungles, but in Pakistan! After 22 years, the rebellion returns to the Bollywood big screens with “Gadar 2: The Katha Continues”. The Gadar film series is a brand in India and I am here to review the sequel to the 2001 mega-blockbuster which was released on August 11, 2023. Written by Shaktimaan Talwar, and produced and directed by Anil Sharma, Gadar 2 stars “The Star With 2.5 Kg Biceps”, Sunny Deol as the legendary Tara Singh. Gadar 2 (2023): Starring Sunny Deol As Tara Singh! https://youtu.be/4Rklb7IY8F0 Watch Gadar 2 to witness the rampage of Tara Singh in Pakistan once again, this time, not for his wife, but for his son! Click here to check out my narration of the epic periodic action-drama Gadar (2001): Ek Prem Katha! Gadar 2 (2023) Official Trailer: https://youtu.be/vhwr4vc_GY0 The Good: Tara Singh needs no introduction! If you don’t know who the legendary Tara Singh is, then you cannot be addressed as a Bollywood fan! Sunny Deol, the He-Man of Bollywood, who has been known to beat up the scariest and the deadliest villains in his action movies, brings the character of Tara Singh back to life in Gadar 2! Sunny Deol has aged a lot and is now 66 years old. But still, he has managed to live up to the vigor and valor of the character of Tara Singh at this age. The amusing fact is that Utkarsh Sharma who was in Gadar (2001), then a kid and now all grown up, was supposed to be the hero in Gadar 2. But who can have the personality or power to overshadow Sunny Deol? In every movie of Sunny Deol, he comes like a roaring lion with his violent dialogue delivery and demolishes every villain with blows of his massive fists. He did the same in Gadar 2. Manish Wadhwa plays the lead antagonist in this Gadar sequel. His character of Pakistani Major General Hamid Iqbal was intriguing as well as intimidating. I truly missed the late veteran actor Amrish Puri who was the lead antagonist in Gadar (2001). Honestly, there cannot be a villain ever who can match up to his legacy. Ameesha Patel, who was the lead actress in Gadar (2001), convincingly reprised her role as Tara Singh’s wife Sakeena. The action choreography, cinematography, and visual effects in Gadar 2 are outstanding and even surpass that of the 2001 prequel. In Gadar 2, you will witness Tara Singh overturning trucks with his bare hands, breaking down massive poles, and of course, sending villains hurtling and flying in the air. In short, the 2-hour and 50-minute screenplay is laden with action and thrills. However, no one can forget the “hand pump” scene of Gadar (2001) where Tara Singh uprooted a massive hand pump and demolished the masses in Pakistan with it. I liked the songs in this sequel, especially the ones like “Udd Jaa Kaale Kaava” and “Main Nikla Gaddi Leke” which brought back the memories of the unforgettable Gadar (2001), the most violent and thrilling romantic action movie of all time! The Bad: The plots of Gadar (2001) and Gadar 2 (2023) are more or less similar. The story of Gadar (2001) is set in the year 1947, during the partition of India whereas the story of Gadar 2 (2023) is set in the year 1971, during India’s war with Pakistan. In Gadar (2001), Tara Singh goes to Pakistan to save his wife, and the same story gets repeated in the sequel, where Tara Singh is again in Pakistan, this time to save his grown-up son, who has fallen in love with a Pakistani girl, just like him. So, it’s the same familiar story, only remastered with a new level of action choreography. https://youtu.be/2nK6WBcGPOw The Verdict: Gadar 2 is a sure-shot blockbuster and its earnings are causing Tsunamis at the Box-Office collections. It is not a very high-budget movie, like many Bollywood and South Indian movies which have crossed INR 500 Crores, but its profits are sure to reach sky-high! It’s obvious, a movie like Gadar 2, and all Anti-Pakistani Bollywood movies are banned in Pakistan. Who can tolerate his or her own defamation? I bet neither you nor I. So, doesn’t Pakistan. The fact is that the release of Gadar 2 set up an outrage amongst Pakistanis where massive posters of Sunny Deol were burned by them. You may not be aware that Sunny Deol has been banned forever from traveling to Pakistan after the release of Gadar 2. Pakistanis have been considering Sunny Deol as their threat for decades. https://youtu.be/IJ8jJfnL3Sc Overall, the Gadar film series is a mass entertainer, one such movie that is close to my heart and the hearts of every Indian citizen. As for my personal opinion, I would say that it doesn’t matter if you watch this movie or not! You may burn posters of Sunny Deol or any other Indian, shower your rage upon Indians, and try to demean them. But, before you mess with an Indian, always remember what Tara Singh (Sunny Deol) said to Ashraf Ali (Amrish Puri) in Gadar (2001), “Aapka Pakistan Zindabaad Hain, Isse Humhe Koi Aitraaz Nahi. Lekin Humaara Hindustan Zindaabaad Tha, Zindabaad Hain, Aur Zindabaad Rahega!” which means, “We take no offense if you chant that Pakistan is victorious. But talking about India; India was victorious, is victorious, and will be victorious forever!”   Read the full article

[getmemymicroscope]

Continuing the trend (it's been happening for years, of course, but it feels like it's exploded recently) - a Bollywood remake of a South Indian film - in this case, a Tamil movie (Thadam) that was also previously remade in Telugu (Red).

But whereas some of the others make some drastic changes that apparently really mess with the conclusion (looking at you, Forensic and Cuttputlli), it appears (based on the Wiki article for Thadam) that this doesn't get overly ambitious in making changes. So, overall it flows pretty well.

The movie starts off immediately with the crime - in a way that feels very similar to Malang and Ek Villain Returns. And then, of course, flashback - though, thankfully (I guess), it only takes up half the movie before we return to the scene where we'd departed from.

Simple enough plot: a murder has been committed, and thanks to some lucky coincidence, they have a picture of the murderer at the crime scene. Also, luckily, the head inspector immediately recognizes him (from a previous grudge and desire to nail him for some crime) - luckily, apparently, no one cares enough to say "you're too close to this, so we're going to sideline you" (though, I've seen enough TV shows and movies to know that that never works anyways). Of course, it can't be straight forward - so right when they're about to call the case closed, a guy who is the mirror image of the suspect they have in custody shows up, complicating everything.

The flashback - I sorta get that, and it does eventually lead to an explanation of everything, but also - I'm not sure we needed multiple songs in quick succession. And I understand wanting to build up some backstory, but, it really just sorta hampers the flow of the film. Like, sure, we need to know why the murder was committed, and we need to know that lookalike guy's life isn't perfect and that he desperately needs money, but ... half the movie may have been a bit much. And then you have the extended flashback of childhood, which - while also maybe (though, just maybe) necessary, further prolongs things.

What makes this work, I think, is the acting and the second half of the story (the 'current day' stuff). It'sn't perfect - Mrunal's consistently ignoring her phone is a bit annoying (I don't know why they keep focusing on that); the constantly focusing on a fingerprint that is ultimately never even noticed just seems to further point out the inadequacies of those in charge; and the random attempt to give some sort of creepy personality to the lab tech is just that, creepy - but overall when things get flowing it's not bad. It's just that they've made the decision to interrupt the flow, constantly, with irrelevant side plots (Ronit Roy's personal vendetta, just to give us a weak alibi later; the whole childhood thing, setting up a fight scene; the cop with an apparent phone sex addiction, and his eventual accidental destruction of evidence).

They destroy a lot of glass in this movie. And our hero(es) overpower multiple cops at once, and yet at other times, are easily overpowered by random guys on the street. And the cops are essentially useless - in detecting, in following orders, in solving the crime, in keeping the two witnesses from seeing each other, in avoiding previous biases.

It amounts to nothing in the movie, and this is just my brain going weird, but I'd be interested in seeing this unfold from the point of view of that fingerprint (assuming it did eventually become important). That would be interesting storytelling.

It's not a bad movie - it just does enough damage to itself to keep it from being a good/great one.

[bolllywoodhungama]

Top 10 Bollywood actresses at the box office post-pandemic: Deepika Padukone, Alia Bhatt, Shraddha Kapoor, Katrina Kaif, and Kiara Advani occupy the Top 5 spot

Deepika Padukone – Rs. 543.05 cr.

No of films: 1 (Pathaan)

Her hot appearance in the song ‘Besharam Rang’ added to the film’s buzz. She had a prominent role in this blockbuster film which was lauded by critics and audiences alike.

Alia Bhatt – Rs. 193.27 cr.

No of films: 2 (Gangubai Kathiawadi, Brahmastra – Part One: Shiva) Alia Bhatt spread cheer among the industry and trade when Gangubai Kathiawadi (2022), the first biggie to release in cinemas after the third Covid-19 wave, took a huge opening.

Shraddha Kapoor – Rs. 149.05 cr.

No of films: 1 (Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar) Shraddha Kapoor made a solid comeback after three years with Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar. Post-release, the film was well-received for its message and the performances of both Shraddha and Ranbir.

Katrina Kaif – Rs. 105.01 cr.

No of films: 2 (Sooryavanshi, Phone Bhoot) Katrina Kaif featured in Sooryavanshi (2022), the first major film to hit cinemas all over India in the post-Covid era. Her pairing with Akshay Kumar and her sizzling moves in the song ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani’ became a talking point.

Kiara Advani – Rs. 90.67 cr.

No of films: 3 (Indoo Ki Jawani, Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2, JugJugg Jeeyo) Kiara Advani’s popularity has gone higher many by many notches post-pandemic. Apart from the success of her digital films like Laxmii (2020) and Shershaah (2021), she scored with her theatrical films. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 (2022) was a blockbuster as it collected Rs. 185.92 crores.

Manushi Chhillar – Rs. 68.05 cr.

No of films: 1 (Samrat Prithviraj) Manushi Chhillar made a fine debut with the Akshay Kumar-starrer Samrat Prithviraj (2022). Sadly, the film bombed at the box office

Kareena Kapoor Khan – Rs. 58.73 cr.

No of films: 1 (Laal Singh Chaddha) A lot was expected from Laal Singh Chaddha (2022) but the Aamir Khan co-starrer failed to entice the audiences.

Kriti Sanon – Rs. 49.61 cr.

No of films: 3 (Bachchhan Paandey, Bhediya, Shehzada) Kriti Sanon hasn’t had an impressive run at the box office. Bachchhan Paandey (2022) didn't impress at the box office. Shehzada (2023), too, failed despite the hype, mass appeal, and pairing with Kartik Aaryan. Bhediya (2022), however, was her best-performing film in the pandemic era.

Disha Patani – Rs. 41.69 cr.

No of films: 1 (Ek Villain Returns) Disha Patani’s sizzling avatar was one of the USPs in her sole release in cinemas post-pandemic, Ek Villain Returns (2022).

Jacqueline Fernandez – Rs. 41.22 cr.

No of films: 1 (Attack – Part I, Ram Setu, Cirkus) Jacqueline Fernandez had three releases post-pandemic and none of them set the box office on fire. Attack – Part I (2022) flopped despite a novel concept.

Click her to Read more.

[education-time]

ANKIT TIWARI ALL SONGS LIST

Ankit Tiwari is an Indian playback singer, music composer, and actor who primarily works in the Bollywood film industry. He was born on March 6, 1986, in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, India.

Ankit Tiwari began his career as a music composer and has since composed music for several popular Bollywood films, including "Aashiqui 2," "Ek Villain," "Roy," and "Baaghi," among others. He is known for his ability to create soulful and melodious compositions that strike a chord with the audience.

In addition to his work as a music composer, Ankit Tiwari is also a popular playback singer and has sung several hit songs in Bollywood, including "Sunn Raha Hai" from "Aashiqui 2," "Galliyan" from "Ek Villain," and "Tu Hai Ki Nahi" from "Roy," among others.

Ankit Tiwari has won several awards for his work in the Bollywood film industry, including the Filmfare Award for Best Music Director for "Aashiqui 2" in 2014. He is considered one of the most promising and talented music composers in the Bollywood film industry today.

Apart from his music career, Ankit Tiwari has also acted in a few Bollywood films, including "Do Dooni Chaar," "Saheb, Biwi Aur Gangster 3," and "Sadak 2." He has also made appearances as a judge on various reality shows like "The Voice India Kids" and "Indian Idol Junior."

Phir Na Milen Kabhi Song Lyrics

Main Nahi Jaunga Song Lyrics

Taarifein Song Lyrics

Tum Se Hi Song Lyrics

Ishq Namazaa Song Lyrics

Rula Diya Song Lyrics

Aaram De Song Lyrics

Bandi Tot Song Lyrics

Hum Dum Song Lyrics

Shaamat Song Lyrics

Galliyan Returns Song Lyrics

Galliyan Song Lyrics

Gawara Nahi Song Lyrics

Dil Todiye Song Lyrics

Taake Naina Song Lyrics

Juda Hojaye Song Lyrics

Musafir Song Lyrics

[proborton]

You Can Share Your Ideas In Comment Box. ============================================================ #shortsvideo #ytshorts #shorts #mayajaal #viral #মায়াজাল In this channel, you will find Bengali mysterious, fact, extraordinary, funny, entertaining and interesting videos. So if you like these subscribe, stay tuned. ============================================================ making pen,animal sounds,anurager chowa today episode, bangla video,borisaler tiktok,bujbi tui kadbi tui jokhon ami thakbo na, cld 2020,dr zakir naik,ek villain returns trailer song, gorur video,hasbi rabbi,kala game,konjus natok, miraj natok,movie kolkata 2022, movie south indian hindi dubbed, এই দুনিয়ায় মন বোঝার চেয়ে ভুল বুঝার মানুষ বেশি,দেশি মুরগির বাচ্চা পালন পদ্ধতি,

[lyricsbest]

Naa Tere Bin Lyrics in Hindi | ना तेरे बिन

Naa Tere Bin Lyrics in Hindi | ना तेरे बिन

Presenting Naa Tere Bin Lyrics in Hindi from bollywood hindi movie EK VILLAIN RETURNS. The song is sung by Altamash Faridi and music given by Tanishk Bagchi. Lyrics of the song is written by Tanishk Bagchi. Starring JOHN ABRAHAM, DISHA PATANI, ARJUN KAPOOR, TARA SUTARIA in lead roles. Naa Tere Bin Lyrics in Hindi | ना तेरे बिन Song Details – ना तेरे बिन SongNaa Tere BinSingerAltamash…

[rudrjobdesk]

Ek Villain Returns का रोमांटिक सॉन्ग 'दिल' हुआ रिलीज, एक घंटे में मिले इतने लाख व्यूज

Ek Villain Returns का रोमांटिक सॉन्ग ‘दिल’ हुआ रिलीज, एक घंटे में मिले इतने लाख व्यूज

Image Source : INDIA TV Ek Villain Returns, Dil Song Highlights ‘एक विलेन रिटर्न्स’ का नया गाना रिलीज रोमांटिक सीन से भरपूर है ‘दिल’ सॉन्ग का वीडियो वीडियो को जमकर मिल रहे व्यूज Dil New Song Ek Villain Returns: जॉन अब्राहम (John Abraham), अर्जुन कपूर (Arjun Kapoor), दिशा पटानी (Disha Patani) और तारा सुतारिया (Tara Sutaria) स्टारर फिल्म ‘एक विलेन रिटर्न्स’ का लोगों को बेसब्री से इंतजार है।…

[browngurl99]

Dude they are making a remake version of Teri Galliyan in 'Ek Villain Returns' 😭😭😭 Why can't they make original songs for once?

[bollywoodmixtape]

Song: Galliyan Returns Movie: Ek Villain Returns (2022) Starring: John Abraham, Disha Patani, Arjun Kapoor, Tara Sutaria Music: Ankit Tiwari, Lyrics: Manoj Muntashir Singer: Ankit Tiwari

-- Galliyan Returns Full Song: Ek Villain Returns | John,Disha,Arjun,Tara | Ankit, Manoj, Mohit, Ektaa (via T-Series)

[ankushlyrics]

Dil Lyrics in Hindi from movie Ek Villain Returns (2022). Dil song lyrics written by Kunal Varma and Beautifully sung by Raghav Chaitanya and music composed by Kaushik - Guddu. Dil song starring by John Abraham, Disha Patani, Arjun Kapoor and Tara Sutaria.

More

[salmankhanholics]

★ Salman Khan Bharat Exclusive: I have done mediocre work for friends. Now I have to intensely like the script !

Salman Khan, in an exclusive interview with IndiaToday.in, speaks on his Eid 2019 release Bharat, Katrina Kaif, the kind of scripts he chooses and more.

Ananya Bhattacharya  | June 4, 2019 

It is the evening before the release of Bharat. Salman Khan's big return to the big screen. His last Eid release was a dampener and all hopes are pinned on Bharat, the film that will see Salman reuniting with Katrina Kaif after 2017's Tiger Zinda Hai.

The superstar speaks to IndiaToday.in on Bharat eve. Excerpts from the conversation:

What is 'Bharat' - the idea of Bharat - for you?

Bharat. The film Bharat, we have produced and we are very proud of. Bharat to me, is the place where I was born, the place where I will die. There is no better place anywhere than Bharat.

When the Prime Minister swore in, you could not attend because of Veeru Devgan's death. Has it always been family and friends above everything else for you?

Yes, it's always been that. When you see my whole journey, it's always been about my friends and my family. For them too, it's been the same thing. For those people for whom they are not, they are obviously not for family. So obviously, it has to be reciprocal. And if you also see from the time I started, from Maine Pyar Kiya, the love that I have got from the fans, from kids, from senior people, from just about everyone... it's been phenomenal. So it has just been a really really phenomenal journey. All these 30+ years that I have been in the industry. I think since the time I was born.

You have ruled the film industry for the past 30 years...

Not ruled... I wouldn't say ruled...

I think the most part is love in your case...

Yes, it's love.

In Sultan, we saw that belly. In Tubelight, we saw you as a simpleton. In Bharat, we have you as a 70-year-old. After Bajrangi Bhaijaan, has it been a conscious effort to step out of your comfort zone?

This is actually my comfort zone. When you have a great script, and it is demanding in the same kind of genre... it is actually that. What is difficult is to make a bad script work. No matter how good you are, no matter how good you are as an actor... you can never pull off a bad script.

From Bajrangi Bhaijaan in the recent past, you have chosen scripts that resonate with your audience.

It was much before Bajrangi Bhaijaan. It was during a time when I got complacent and I used to do films that my friends produced, ki yeh ho jaayega, kar lenge. And then I realised that it was mediocre work. And that also I did because there was nothing better that was coming my way. I gave those films my best, or whatever I could put in, some emotion... and they also did very well.

Then I tried something different in Tere Naam. Tere Naam se... these films were different kinds of films; same genre but emotions, drama, romance, comedy, but the backdrop was different. It is more something, more someone, more love, larger than life, maybe love for the country, maybe a Tiger, or Radhe for love, or Bajrangi Bhaijaan for this little girl... I've been fortunate that so far I've been able to do all of that.

As soon as I hear the script, the narration of a film, if I doze off or I feel sleepy or say that 'theek hai, ek aur baar sunenge', that means I will never do that film. I have to really, intensely like the subject in the first narration. I hear the plot first, then if the plot is interesting, I hear the whole subject, and after that, the suggestions come in and we work on it.

Sometimes also there's a lot of improvisation in it, then the plot is discussed in the living room or in the hotel room; the entry, exit, dialogues, the new things coming up. So that also, so far it's been working. So far, by the grace of God, it's been all correct. But you never know which kind of film the audience will lap up.

Nobody wants to make a flop film. They all want to make a Mughal-E-Azam. They all want to be better than the last film, better than the success and appreciation of the last film. I always want to make the best film ever.

Whenever we promote a film, everyone talks really good things about the film because they genuinely like the movie. It's not like picture kar li, aur iske baare mein jhoot bol de aake. Aisa nahi hota hai kabhi. They have been to the films and liked it, that's why they come out and talk good things about the film and are excited about the film's release.

After the Lok Sabha results, you tweeted Swachch Bharat, Fit Bharat. Was it also meant to say that your film is a clean, fit-for-family film?

No no... I am promoting the film Bharat any which way. The film is shot in Bharat mostly. I also make sure that wherever I go, I promote that state. Like I was in Madhya Pradesh, I promoted Madhya Pradesh. Earlier I went to Arunachal Pradesh, I went to Kashmir.

Wherever I go, without being the brand ambassador of any place, I go and promote that place because our country is really beautiful and I feel tourism should happen in our country.

So we went to Switzerland because Kashmir mein tab problem chal raha tha. But then we shot Bajrangi in Kashmir, and back-to-back two films we shot there. I love going to Kashmir to shoot.

A lot of films you do, you can shoot them just like that. But for a film like Bharat, where there is a historical narrative, do you study these references? Or do you leave it to the director and surrender yourself to him?

Yes, I mean I know mota-mota about the film. Once the information is given [to me], then I check it. Is mein yeh hai ki World Cup ka reference hai, and that whole Abu Dhabi ke andar jab tel nikla tha and how people went there. And woh Merchant Navy ka ek daur aaya tha jab sab Merchant Navy join kar rahe thay. The Jai Jawan Jai Kisan part, then Railway mein naukri hai... a lot of these things are there. And then of course, there is the backdrop, this larger-than-life picture.

The songs in your films are usually a mix of Hindi and English, written for you, to match your persona and the story. Are you also involved in the creation of the music in your films?

In my own films, yes, I am a huge part of the music. I take the final call on the music. Yeh gaana achha nahi laga, yeh gaana theek hai, change karo... Ali [Abbas Zafar, the director of Bharat] himself also has an ear for good music and Vishal-Shekhar are very good musicians. So five or six songs that we have, they all have to be good.

Woh time chala gaya hai ki gaana ko hammer karte karte karte karte woh gaana ek cringe value ke andar chala jaata tha. But now, the gaana is the first thing about any movie. There is a lot of pressure on the music directors, there is a lot of pressure on the director, to select the right song.

Har ek ka taste alag alag hai. Music hi kuch different chal raha hai. Mai kuch alag hi music karta hoon. That's also doing well. People say it's Salman Khan, that's why it's good. But that's not what it is. If it sounds good, feels good, people listen to it and we think yeh chalega, and zyadatar yeh jo gaane hai, woh jab koi do-teen saal ka bachcha woh gaana gaana shuru karta hai, woh barometer hai ki yeh gaana hit hai. I am not looking at the music pandits to give their opinions on the song. The opinion for me is, I think, of that kid.

I am not making films for [other] actors or I am not making films ki other directors are impressed or [for] the critics. I am making films so that my fans go to the theatre and have a great time. Thoda kuch seekhne ko mila, thoda dance kare, thoda sa roye, aur thoda sa us character ka 10-15 per cent ghar pe leke jaaye and usko implement kare.

Your films are fit for everyone to watch. They will never have an awkward moment in a Salman Khan film.

I myself am very awkward in those moments. You can never say never, but so far... I have never done it.

Katrina recently said that she can't be in every Salman Khan film. Are you involved in choosing the actress opposite you in your productions?

No... not really. Woh... if the director suggests that let's get Katrina, then Katrina. For example, I've done Dabangg. There was this thought that Dabangg 2 ke andar, we will take Chulbul Pandey's character and go ahead. But I said that it is the whole family's journey. There's Sona [Sonakshi Sinha], there's Mahesh [Manjrekar], the cop gang... The villains keep on changing but I think we should stick by this that if it's Sona, whenever there is a Dabangg, we will have Sona there. Now, Kick will come. In Kick, Jackie [Jacqueline Fernandez] will be there. The Tiger series will always have Katrina. It's the continuation of that one film, those characters. We can't keep on changing the heroines.

We know a lot of good things about you. What is the one thing that you think is bad about you?

Lots of bad things... Really bad things. But I can't share them. Those bad things I will take with me to the grave!

IndiaToday

[laplaylistes]

Galliyan Returns Song: Ek Villain Returns | John,Disha,Arjun,Tara | Ankit T,Manoj M, Mohit S,Ektaa K

Galliyan Returns Song: Ek Villain Returns | John,Disha,Arjun,Tara | Ankit T,Manoj M, Mohit S,Ektaa K https://laplaylist.es/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/hqdefault-1214.jpg