rupindalvi

[rupindalvi]

Relationships:: Tarin Adler

Tarin and Rupin have an unusual relationship built on friction and bad blood, mostly stemming from Rupin’s side more than Tarin’s. These two men, as polar opposite as they may seem to be, do have one thing in common: Constantine. Both were mentors to the younger student. Rupin was there for Crowne-related training, while Tarin was a strong supporter of Con’s psychiatric pursuits, especially since his own background included being the Crowne’s resident psychiatrist for over a decade. 

Over the years, Dr. Adler has seen Mr. Dalvi’s temper first-hand, especially when it related to Darla during her life, but it was after her death that his true hatred could be felt. As claims were swirling around that tarnished Darla’s reputation, Tarin, knowing better than anyone that they were false, did nothing to stop them. Rupin has always felt that he was a distrustful snake and coward, running when it was convenient for him. In truth, he’s not too far off the mark, but the psychiatrist has tried to explain himself by saying that he warned Darla about the Executive Director but was ignored. Only this statement has kept his nose from getting broken thanks to Rupin’s fist. 

These days, feelings haven’t abated that much, but it is utterly one-sided. Tarin, well-aware of the other’s feelings towards him, is just as cordial as ever, even willing to flirt to make his skin crawl. However, it is rare for them to see each other and has remained that way ever since Tarin retired from the Crowne. 

[rupindalvi]

Go win Con back from that Emory Light, show him who's the boss

Ah, I’ve become the other man? That’s news. I don’t care about the chipku and Constantine was a student. There’s no need to win back what’s not lost.

[rupindalvi]

White + Constantine

Send me a color and I’ll write a drabble with our muses with that color as the theme.

Winters were starkly different in India than they were in New York. It was the first thing Constantine realized when he came to the country his mother fell in love with. Coming in February was a considerate move on Rupin’s part, exposing his young pupil to a milder form of the harsh climate that ravished the land most of the year. Instead of the white flurries that coated the Manhattan skyline, there was the sun high in the sky, highlighting the white linen shirts that draped a large portion of the male population. Both Constantine and Rupin were among the statistics, adorned in the color from the casual pants to the top, where the length was longer than American fashion veered towards and the sleeves loose for warmer weather. Rupin’s darker complexion made an appealing contrast, bathing in the rays cast out by his clothes to give a golden undertone to his skin. His eyes shifted over to his younger companion as they walked. Symbolically, there was something jarring about seeing him in white, the color of purity and innocence, all of which was lost nearly a week ago and bred a type of silence between them since.

“So, are we only here to act like tourists or…?” Constantine asked, meeting the gaze with a raised eyebrow, which only made the other move his vision straight in front of him.

“You want to know about Darla,” he answered, before amending his words. “Your mother.”

It wasn’t as much of a question as it was a general statement that he addressed, reflecting his true intentions for taking this trip of theirs. Regardless, Constantine still gave a nod, urging him to continue with whatever was on his mind to share.

“She was a brilliant woman. A shining star,” he began before sighing. “Then she met him, the blue-eyed boy of the Crowne, and it was watching a rose wither.–You were the only one on her mind that kept her breathing, you know that?”

The blue eyes looked away for a moment, settling vaguely on a couple taking a photo of themselves, before he spoke. “I know she didn’t kill herself, then.”

Rupin’s mind flipped through his memories, being pulled up like stacks of polaroids, just frames of her final moments. Darla laying in bed. His pleading. Her hand giving him a letter for her son. Her eyes closing, dying at the hands of a final sleep. His tears and anger and numb acceptance, bathing her lifeless body as custom of his religion.

“There’s no forgiveness for a bastard like him,” Rupin responded, not contradicting what the other had said. In his heart, there was nothing to contradict, anyways. Darla was a dead woman, no matter what she would’ve done, and she took the option that would save the sixteen-year-old now standing next to him. “You come from a brave woman, not kutte ka beej.”

Constantine slowed his strides down to a stop and the other followed the lead, facing each other. “In the next few years, I’m going to need your help,” he spoke, half-equal to a confession and another as a declaration of war for a common enemy. “Can I count on you?”

Unexpectedly, his lips parted just enough to breathe out a laugh, empty in nature before he pointedly took in their surroundings. “Do you know where you are, Constantine?”

His eyes narrowed, confused and annoyed at the response before answering in the same tone. “The Taj Mahal, so?”

The same lips curled softly at the ends with a nod. “Ah, you don’t see what I do,” he said, pushed into elaborating. “Only here I could think of speaking of Darla to you for the same reason why it is standing here.” The tale of the heartbroken emperor sunk into the student’s mind before Rupin took a step closer to offer a more private talk. “You question others’ loyalty, but not mine.”

Constantine’s hands found their way on either side of his mentor’s arms, grasping onto the defined form beneath the thin cloth. “Shukriyaa.” With eyes searching one another, it was the extent of intimacy that could be delivered in public, before a smile was given with the hands slipping from him. “She would thank you, too.”

[rupindalvi]

During Rupin’s earlier days, covertly working for the Crowne in the underground crime that riddled Indian slums, he used the bagh naka as a means to protect himself and to show his strength. Occasionally, there would be fight that was caused only as a means to entertain and gamble on. As part of Rupin’s initiation into the leading crime family, he was entered into one of these fights. The weapon proved its use, leaving his opponent a bloody mess and him victorious.

Many years later, when he was mentoring Constantine Payne, he gave his pupil his own bagh naka, teaching him how to use it and incorporating it into some of their lessons.

Constantine still retains possession of this gift, but has only brought it to one mission: the one that almost cost him his life and extinguished his potential dominant’s. He hasn’t worn it since.

@constantinepayne

[rupindalvi]

Headcanon: Meera

Meera's desire to have a family is not shared by Rupin nor her claim-mate Eta. In her frustration with them and with herself, she has reflected on her early years with an onslaught of various feelings; regret often trumps all the others combined. She was barely in her teenage years when she first met Rupin. He was from the slums of India, an easy acquisition to her feared father who was the head of the largest crime syndicate in the nation.

Rupin wasn't honest with her or her family in these days when it appeared he was just working his way through the underground ranks, keeping it to himself that he belonged to the Crowne, destroying the black market from the inside out. And while he wasn't honest with her, Meera would later be dishonest with him, as well.

She was fourteen years old, and with her position rooted in the seedy environment she was raised into, she was introduced to drugs and with them came sex from her father's underlings--the ones that dealt them on the streets. At the time, she enjoyed the high, the excitement of the flesh, and would delve further into her pleasures when she offered herself to the young man that would soon end her family's power.

It took weeks later for Meera to realize something was different about herself. Something was amiss with her body, and she could no longer pass it off on being the added substances inside of her to make her feel this way. Trying to be discreet, she visited a local doctor, confirming that she was pregnant. Who the father was was hard to say, but she felt it in her heart that it had to be Rupin. Whether it was true or if she was biased to think that it had to be someone that she had feelings for instead of mere urges, the issue would become moot shortly.

Meera had been spotted visiting the doctor outside of their circle, and with a forceful hand, her father found out about her condition and ordered there to be an abortion. She was still a girl, torn between wondering what was right for her. She didn't give her consent, wanting time, but all of it was denied. While heavily sedated, the procedure itself wasn't long, and she was left feeling empty.

She drew off of drugs afterwards, and when the entire coalition fell to its knees, she offered herself to Rupin once again--not as a temporary service but as a permanent claim--knowing nowhere else to turn towards. When he accepted, she began to think of regaining a family, but it wasn't meant to be. In the years to come, Meera has fallen out of love for Rupin, and the feeling would be mutual had Rupin loved her at all in the first place.

To this day, he is unaware of Meera's abortion, but does know that he wasn't the only one to sleep with her before their claim.

[rupindalvi]

Conory

Tell my muse who you’d like to see them in a threeway with and they’ll rate it from 0-10 how interested they are

If the blond chipku was made to watch, there would be no problem.

I’m not interested. 

[rupindalvi]

A dream where Rupin and Con are married

A bead of sweat slipped from copper skin to drop and run along the paler flesh. It snaked down Constantine's arched back, mixing with his own dampened pores. Rupin's scent permeated through the younger man's body from both the outside and inside, as his strong grip was wrapped around the other's wrists from behind. He was held in place against the mattress, steadying him in the night of their elopement as he rocked into him without respite. Black strands of dampened hair dragged down his husband's shoulder, an action that was enough to shiver through Con's nervous system and vocal cords alike.

"You'll move only to me now," his voice slicked inside of the youngest's ear, the tone low enough to echo distant thunder.

With his words, Rupin's fingers slipped down to rub over the ring on Constantine's finger until his own was pressed against it, hard enough to pretend they were forged together. The rest of his body mimicked the thought by binding the two physiques firmly as one, banishing any space between them he could reach before searching for more. The bed jostled in the effort, burrowing further in to have Rupin's chest pressed to the other's back and face buried in the crook of his neck to leave his teeth marks behind, branding him as his until he and the sheets beneath them were imbued with another reminder.

"RUPIN!"

The door was thrown open, slamming into the wall with Meera's screech still resonating in the room. Rupin withdrew as quick as he could, catching sight of the woman's speechless face until she rushed out.

"Meera!" he called after in vain as he managed to sit at the foot of the bed.

He felt the weight of the mattress shift behind him, Constantine rolling over to slip his arms around his waist to tug him back just enough to bring him closer. Lips fell to his ear, the lower half catching to his lobe in the pair's ascent.

"You couldn't keep me a secret forever," he reminded calmly, nearly tantalizing.

Rupin's breathing was just beginning to stabilize as his hands smoothed over the ones that were on him before tilting his head back to see the reappearance of a familiar and angered face.

"MEERA!"

The shout fell on deaf ears, immediately overshadowed by her actions. With one hand, the brunet's hair was grabbed onto, yanked away. In the other hand, a kitchen knife shined, slicing across the exposed neck and cutting directly into the bite Rupin left behind.

"Rupin."

Just the sound alone was enough to make dark brown eyes flash open, seeing the same woman standing over him, having impulse take over. His hand wrapped through her long hair, crashing her down into his bed.

"What did you do with him?!"

"With who?!"

Her wide eyes looked up into his, staring at each other for a moment--one with fear and the other with clearly noticing his reality. Rupin was starting to release when she slapped his hand away from her, quickening the process with pursed lips from the man but nothing more.

"Crazy... You're mad!" she went back to shouting as she got back to her feet. "I haven't done anything with him! Whoever he is! But I will tell you, I will do something with him now!"

The door slammed shut forcefully, leaving the man with an oncoming headache for the day awaiting him.

[rupindalvi]

¤

My character left their laptop open. Send me a ¤ for one website from their browser history

Conory Engaged? - Yahoo News

[rupindalvi]

Rumor has it you were Constantine's first man

Not true. I'm his first everything.

First man he met, I won't fight. The parichod was no man and no father.

[rupindalvi]

Who are the faceclaims if you don't mind me asking?

OOC:  I apologize that I'm a little confused! But I'll just give you a list of all the FCs I use on this blog, if that helps. Rupin's FC is Arjun Rampal (who is insanely good-looking and somehow gets better with age.) His first claim is Meera, and her FC is Chitrangada Singh (again... gorgeous). For his second claim, Eta, I'm looking around for someone to play her if the right person comes along. Originally, her FC was Kareena Kapoor, but I'm not really married to her face.

Thanks for the message!

[rupindalvi]

[rupindalvi]

✻

Send my muse a symbol & they’ll be under its influence✻ : Cocaine

Irony catches the best of us, and usually for the worst. Rupin’s career had been started by dissolving Kapoor’s reign in Mumbai, a man whose illegal empire was fueled on drugs. Now, he faced the product that he had only watched be taken before, one of the most prolific drugs of all: cocaine. Fine, white powder was on top of his desk. Already broken down, it had the consistency of flour almost as he felt the residue against the prints of his thumb and index finger. A grating scratch came from the edge of the razor blade he used as it drew over the mahogany surface, forming together two lines of the same length. Within seconds, only their dust was left behind.

Rupin’s back hit against his chair as he leaned into it, head tilted up and arms resting over the furniture. It strung its way through his system after awhile, feeling it in the pace of his heart first before his eyes. The muscular physique felt wound, readying itself to be unleashed for whatever may come its way. Unfortunately, what did was not planned for.

“Rupin!”

Meera barged her way into her Dominant’s home office, voice at the volume that was becoming increasingly normal for her. She took one look at the shape of things–the dilated pupils, the contaminated desk–before her body stiffened.

“What’s this?” her tone tried to be controlled but it was teetering on outrage. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in her breath, grappling with her temper while her eyes lit with its inner fire. “You bring this into our home?…Around me? You bring what I’ve escaped from back to me?” she questioned, releasing through her teeth. Her diaphragm trembled as she took another breath before throwing it away. “You are DAMAGING yourself! INTENTIONALLY. You damage your body because of what I’D LOVE!”

Her posture jerked back, then forward, spitting at his face. “TOOTA HUA LUND.”

CRASH

Rupin’s chair was on its back as he came to his feet, towering over the woman with his hand wrapped around her neck.

“You’d claim that?” he challenged, squeezing her as their faces neared. “एक सौ डिक्स अपनी योनी को भरने नहीं कर कास”

From her throat, his hand flew to yank at her bangs from their short ends. Her head snapped up to see him, caught off guard, and further widening her eyes at the sight of scissors in his free hand. There was a cry trapped in her throat as she shut her eyes, hearing the snip and feeling the blade just miss the cusp of her forehead. A gasp of relief was taken, daring to look at him again just as he picked her up to fling her back onto the desk.

“You’ll be fucked when I want, how I want.”

Dark eyes fluttered, considering quickly before grabbing his wrist. His fingers were guided to her mouth slowly before her tongue flicked over the digits imprinted with the drug taking over him. If he was offered an escape, she wanted the same luxury to get what she desired most.

Willingly, her garments were pushed down by her own hand before wrapping her legs around his hips strongly. She heard the way his zipper was undone, and felt how his rough fingers slid between her thighs in the process. Together, with the taste of his drug fresh in her mouth, her pulse spiked in anticipation before he continued with his demands.

“Your name. When it’s called, it’ll be Darla.��Say it.”

Deep wrinkles formed at her forehead, and then she understood why her hair didn’t meet his standards. The cursed woman that she had met years ago, the one that caused jealousy in her from the first time, was now causing hatred. Her lips then pursed, spitefully. She simmered in silence, refusing the command as she tightened her hold around him. However, his fingers pierced through the most sensitive divide in her body that was rarely explored, causing her spine to arch.

She hesitated as she caught her breath, and gently reached down to steady his hand. Was it worth the humiliation, the insult? To be rewarded with his attention and the chance to be fulfilled with more from him? How many shots at all did she have left to conceive before her entire body was squandered? Meera’s jawline became rigid in its tightness before reluctantly conceding, despising every moment of wringing out the name from her tongue. 

[rupindalvi]

[rupindalvi]

Meera Kapoor (left) and Eta Patel (right) have been under the same roof for years, and it seems each year grows worse for their chances of being civil towards each other. Meera is Rupin's first claim, offering herself to him when he was the one to bring her father's crime empire to ruins. At the time, she was seventeen years-old and already planning her life with him and their future children. Twenty-five years later, she still has yet to be a mother, and as time has dragged on, she has grown an explosive temper because of it. Adding Eta to the mix hasn't helped.

Eta Patel is more than a decade younger than her predecessor, and much less centered on the role of motherhood. She'll paint herself as the more obedient submissive, following desires and commands loyally, but that isn't Eta's true nature. By not being the one to raise her voice, unlike Meera, she can easily plant the idea that she's the favored claim. To the older woman's annoyance, she can't help but believe it, in spite of Rupin's aggravations and/or disinterest in both of them the majority of the time.

[rupindalvi]

I don't feel so good, I think I need a shot of penis-illin

Ah, with luck, you don’t fear long needles. They have a way of burrowing deep into the muscles.

[rupindalvi]

What's something you wished your mun had done differently about your storyline?

Oh, many things. Lovely girl, but she's to blame for moulding the parichod. Darla was a woman of many gifts, but vulnerable to him. She deserved more from life. I deserved more. I earned my place with her. Funny when you think how different life would be when some people weren't ever there, but karma names its price in the end.

[rupindalvi]

Constantine

Rupin’s relationship with Constantine is a complicated affair in every essence of the term. In his mind alone, he sees himself as a mentor, a father figure, and lover of the man half his age. With the exception of the latter, the Senior Director of the Crowne can openly admit to this in public without any concern, but when it comes to that forbidden tie he yearns to rekindle, it remains a tightly guarded secret. Only with Constantine, and only relatively recently, can he be more expressive about his urges.

Why can’t he be more open?

From Rupin’s interpretation of his religion, based on what was taught to him as a child, homosexuality is forbidden. In his home country of India, it’s even illegal, which makes his first act with the under-aged boy at the time that much more tucked away into the corner of his mind. There’s a large part of him that acknowledges that time as a drunken mistake, but a smaller yet adamant portion that repeats the blurred memory from fondness. With his religion, his culture, and laws set aside, there is also one more issue: he’s heterosexual.

As strange and confusing as his sexual orientation may seem within this context, Constantine Payne is the one and only male he has ever had desire much less experience with. This attraction is not predicated on his former student by himself, but an ongoing obsession that spans beyond death.

Darla Lovette, Constantine’s deceased mother, was the one person in the world that Rupin loved. The feeling was never brought to her attention, but wasn’t mutual to begin with. In her final minutes of life, he promised her that her son would be taken care of, and to this day he feels as though he’s failed her. When she died, it later felt that all of his reverence for the woman was only transferred to the person closest and most adored by her: Constantine.

Prideful, he can’t accept a second defeat in what he wants.