rambheemficrecs

[rambheemficrecs]

WIP Wednesday: 26/08/24

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Original Post

@wizisbored @asha10100101010 @post-and-out @stonemaskedtaliesin

I didn't realise Inspired was almost finished before I included it among that week's WIPs. So I am not putting out any lines here, just the news that I will be posting it shortly after I am done editing it. Thank you to everyone who asked for it :D

[blue indicates previously written lines]

@valleyfthdolls @lizhly @adhdavinci

"Were you ever real?" Ram whispered to the apparition.

The man smiled. It was less of a smile and more the baring of bloodstained teeth, like a predator flashing its fangs before pouncing on its prey. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," he replied, his voice echoing like a hollow vessel to his ears.

The man hummed, tilting his head. "Akhtar was as real as Raju was," he finally said. "The sweet Muslim mechanic existed as much as the shy journalist from Hyderabad did."

"So just a figment of imagination?" Ram choked out, past the noose tightening around his neck. "Is that all we ever were?"

His eyes flashed. "And whose fault is that?"

[blue indicates previously written lines]

@violet-prism-creatively @whimsicalmeerkat @auburnlaughter @kalira @somefishycat

"So? Was it worth it, Special Officer?" he sneered, the words as pointed as the tip of a spear. "Was it worth all the blood you spilled? All the good men you betrayed? All the children you let them keep enslaved?"

I don't know, he wanted to say.

("When will this bullet earn its value?"

"I don't know, Baba. I don't know if it ever will.")

"I am sorry," was all he could choke out.

Now he turned. The sea churned in his eyes, dark and deadly. Enticing him with the siren song of the waves crashing against the shore. Come here. A little closer. Let the treachery of my beauty smother you until you are drowning in my fury. 

@zyrafowe-sny @eriquin

Bheem did not know what churned his stomach the most- the vicious fate awaiting him, or the fact that it was being spelled out by the man who once held his heart in his treacherous hands. Were the lips thinning into a cruel smirk the same which used to curl into the warmest smile as the wind swept across their faces? Were the empty eyes glancing at him the same which lit up in playful challenge as the dust flew off their feet? Were the cold words spoken to win favour from the British, at the cost of his very life, coming from the same mouth that had been quick to sing cutting words to defend his dignity from these same white men?

Had a pair of deceptive eyes truly blinded him so much?

Somewhere, the cracking mirror finally shattered.

[rambheemficrecs]

Mantra Ch 13: As the Dust Settles

Mantra - Chapter 13 - echo_grace - RRR (2022) [Archive of Our Own]

Every End brings a Beginning. And there are choices to be made. IT IS FINISHED! and the sequel is already in the works. :)

[rambheemficrecs]

irresistible. -rambheem-

[ again, pretty short fic ]

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

ram had been sitting infront of his full sized mirror, placed just so that it could be visible from his bed, as he fixed up his hair and started on getting ready for the day.

bheem was still lazily lounging on the bed, immersed in some sort of flower crown he'd been working on ever since he woke up.

it was getting time for breakfast, ram noted as his eyes quickly shifted to the clock, before moving back on their own accord to stare at the reflection of bheem, just to find him already staring at ram.

the elder smirked, eyelids lowering themselves as he called out to bheem, "haven't you been too shameless these days?" he questioned in an accusing tone, lacking of any real malice behind it.

in an instant, bheem perked up, confusion painting itself on his face as he made an indignant noise of protest.

"how so?" bheem replied back.

"well," ram began, a small smile playing at his lips— "the other day, you couldn't keep your hands off me, infront of babai!" ram stated, voice rising abit higher than he wanted to at the end.

it revealed ram's true troubles— he'd never admit it but having the younger touch him always made him lose his mind abit— in a good way. he'd felt so hot and bothered, but refrained from playing at something they won't be able to finish, infront of babai and sita.

sita had caught on already, giggling and calling bheem lovestruck.

the younger made a noise of understanding, before he grabbed his flower crown, adorned with roses and lilies— dandelions and periwinkle and walked towards ram, perched ontop of the small vanity chair.

he gently placed the crown on the elder's head, smoothing out his hair just the way ram had been doing, and caught his stare again, through the mirror.

ram felt his throat go dry as he felt the warmth the younger emitted engulf him, bheem crouching down and hugging ram close from his back— nuzzling into his neck as he breathed the muted scent of sandalwood and leather.

sighing, ram relaxed back onto his beloved's arms— the flower crown sitting pretty ontop of his head.

bheem lifted his head after awhile, dropping a kiss on ram's cheek before he twisted the vanity chair such that ram was now facing the younger, who had his knees on the ground, hands already tugging ram's into them.

with the help of those hands— bheem tugged ram even lower, until they were both face to face, bheem's breath fanning ram.

"is it really my fault," bheem questioned, eyes burning into ram's as he took in the beauty of the elder. the flower crown fit perfectly— it made bheem's heart swell with happiness.

"when my beloved is so irresistible?" he finished, and ram made a surprised noise, caught off guard and watched the younger grin lovingly before he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, swallowing off all that ram wanted to say.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

( a/n; believe me guys......the smut is coming 😩😩)

tags; @rambheemisgoated @rambheem-is-real @alikokinav @yehsahihai @bromance-minus-the-b

@sinistergooseberries @thewinchestergirl1208 @jeonmahi1864 @azraelcuror @sivuda @lovingperfectionwonderland @mikabilis @eremin0109 @floating-mushroom @obsessedtoafault @icarus-f4lls @prdnya-blog @kashti15 @jjwolfesworld @iamhereforthefanfics @fadedscarlets @kookiries @fangirlshrewt97

[ if i forgot someone i am sorry 🤧 and lmk if u wanna be tagged in my upcoming rambheem fics! ]

[rambheemficrecs]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: రంగస్థలం | Rangasthalam (2018), జై లవకుశ | Jai Lava Kusa (2017), RRR (2022), Baahubali (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chelluboina Chitti Babu/Jai Kumar | Raavana, Chelluboina Chitti Babu/Kusa Kumar, Chelluboina Kumar Babu/Kasi, Chelluboina Chitti Babu/Lava Kumar Characters: Chelluboina Chitti Babu, Jai Kumar | Raavana, Kusa Kumar, Chelluboina Kumar Babu, Kasi (Rangashtalam), Lava Kumar, Mahendra Baahubali | Shivudu, Kattappa (Baahubali) Additional Tags: Dragons, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon shifters, Soulmates, Soulmarks, Chitti Babu is a Water Dragon, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Character Series: Part 13 of DRRRagon!Verse Summary:

After the events of Jai, Lava, Kusa, Jai survived but he and his brothers need a peaceful place to rebuild their relationship and get away from the darkness. Kasi, one of Jai’s underlings, suggests the town of Rangasthalam, where he grew up. What the triplets didn’t expect was to call the attention of the Water Dragon who watched over Rangasthalam.

[rambheemficrecs]

Title: Bheema Bountiful URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51613429 Author: AtlinMerrick Rating: M Warnings: epilogue is set in the present day, meaning it’s been well over a hundred years since our boys were born, so this contains major character death on a technicality Summary:

In which Rama Raju begins by writing odes to his Bheema’s bold and beautiful heart…

…then earthier odes to his bujji’s bountiful bottom.

My comments: ahahahahaaaaa i love this story so much. a wonderful delightful satisfying squee-worthy look into ram and bheem’s marriage and life after the movie. it’s glorious. both of them are so typically themselves: ram overthinking everything and getting too up in his own head and certain that all good things are three seconds from ending, and bheem just so cheerful and so over-the-top happy to be with ram and so determined to make sure ram is happy too and  that ram like… enjoys being alive. that’s what this fic is about, really: enjoyment. ram and bheem’s enjoyment of each other’s company, and bodies, and souls, and their life together, and just indulging in their enjoyment of those things. a very very enjoyable read. [If you read the fic, please comment! Comments don’t have to be essays; a keysmash or string of emojis is better than silence!] [Please remember to REBLOG this post!]

[rambheemficrecs]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: RRR (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem Characters: Alluri Sitarama Raju, Komaram Bheem Additional Tags: Amnesia, missunderstandings, Raju being happy for once Summary:

After a terrible accident, Rama Raju loses his memory. But when no one knows who he really is, how can anyone remind him of his past?

[rambheemficrecs]

AITA for trying to accomplish my father's dreams and hurting my best friend in the process?

Alright, here we go. So, I (30M) have been working on a pretty intense task for the last few years. I made a promise to someone very dear to me—my father, to be exact—that I would do whatever it takes to accomplish it. To do this, I had to take some drastic steps. We’re talking undercover stuff, working within a system that’s more rotten than an overripe jackfruit, all to get closer to taking down the enemy from the inside.

To accomplish this mission, I needed a special promotion. I have been putting myself through hell and back, but those racist assholes at higher up kept passing over me to promote Mediocre White Dude #57. Then a few months ago, I finally, FINALLY made some solid progress when my boss's wife guaranteed me the promotion if I could track down and arrest some anonymous dude who was proving to be a security issue for my boss. Pretty straightforward, right?

Now here’s the issue. At about the same time a few months ago, I met this guy; let’s call him A (26M) for now. My work-life balance had honestly been, well, shitty to say the least, thanks to my father's mission, and I barely had the time to socialize and make any meaningful connections in the city I moved in. Meeting with A had been a chance encounter too. Long story short, we clicked instantly and became fast friends. He is a great guy all around— smart, funny, passionate, good natured, kind, helpful— just about everything you can possibly wish for in a friend (although he could be a little naive sometimes).

But here’s the kicker: a few days earlier, I found out that A has been lying to me about... basically EVERYTHING! ALL this time. He is not from the city; the people he claimed to be his family are not even related to him. Even his name isn't A, it's B! But what's worse is that he is exactly the guy I was supposed to arrest. And he was on a mission too. Except his mission was not targeting my boss, it was to rescue someone— his sister M (9F) to be exact— my boss and his wife had kidnapped and enslaved (long story). Yup, that’s right, we were on opposite sides without even realizing it.

Things escalated quickly. I... well… I had to make a choice. I chose to betray him to keep up my own cover and stick with my father's mission. And yeah, it was brutal— there was a literal fight to the death involved. I tried to convince him at first to surrender without fighting, but of course B didn't listen and refused to back down. I can’t even begin to explain how much it hurt to turn on someone I came to respect, even love…. uhh…. like a brother, of course.

And then, to rub salt to the wound, once I arrested him, my boss (FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK DIE BITCH) ordered me to flog B publicly till he fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Yeah, those were his exact words, that bastard! I felt like I had no choice, so I did what I was told. And it was one of the worst days of my life. I kept asking B to kneel so I could end the torture, but he is one stubborn and tough motherfucker and decided he would rather suffer through a public torture session than kneel. My dickface boss and his bitch wife weren't satisfied with how little blood I was drawing out of B, so they kept escalating the torture until B couldn't take it anymore and fell unconscious.

I ended up hurting him so badly, both physically and emotionally. It is fucking me up, honestly. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even get out of my bed right now. I honestly feel like dying.

So, AITA for betraying and hurting my best friend to accomplish my father's mission? I did what I thought was necessary to save countless lives, but I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I went too far.

Edit: No, B did not know that I worked for the people who kidnapped his sister. He did not befriend me to take advantage of my position, as some of you have been implying. He did not, I repeat, he did NOT betray me. If anyone has betrayed and wronged him, it's me!

Edit 2: No, I didn't tell B my real intentions and my father's mission. Didn't you read the post? I am working UNDERCOVER!

[rambheemficrecs]

Pehli si Mohabbat

//

In lieu of all my works lost, I am reposting all my RRR fics here. Again. This series is a 10 part story centred around our protagonists and classical music and ghazals (my inspiration to write), a fanfic of a fanfic really.

This was the first thing I ever wrote for the fandom and even though I am a dormant admirer, loving the characters from the sidewalk, here you go.

P.s. The characters are not mine, they are entirely credited to Mr. Rajamouli and I am just borrowing them, one fanfic writer to another really. And yeah, the usual disclaimer... bla bla bla... you all know by now how it goes.

The fic is unbeta'd and I own my mistakes like Ram.

Hope you enjoy.

//

Chapter 1: Yaad Piya ki Aaye

“Yaad piya ki aaye…”

The sweet melody of the traditional thumri was wafting in the air, mingling with the buzz in the street of purani Dilli even close to eleven at night. The shops had closed and the porches were now filled by the food stalls and hawkers selling various delicacies that were the highlight of the city’s flavours. The aroma of chole, kulche, kebabs, nihari, biryanis, paratha and what not was ready to attack and entice one’s appetite on just entering the gali. The street was lit with lanterns that lent a rustic glow to the entire surrounding and one could see why Ghalib had fallen in love with the city, especially the nightlife of it.

A man clad in white pyjamas and light blue solid patterned kurta walked through the humdrum of the streets. He seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere, not at all pausing or even glancing at the vendors or people on the way, his legs falling in determined steps as he almost was going to burst into a sprint anytime soon. A small albeit sad smile involuntarily graced his lips as soon as he heard the thumri before he saw the house from whose window the melodious tune was emanating. The structure was modest, with old but sturdy construction and the said man did not knock before he opened the wooden door noiselessly to enter.

The scene that greeted Akhtar was this as soon as he crossed the dehliz of the house and closed the door even more slightly than before. Unsurprisingly there were books strewn everywhere, meaning literally everywhere with barely any space to walk on the floor. The furniture comprised of an ordinary table, a chair and a bed that could be called a four poster if we were being too generous, wide enough of a full grown man if not more. But amongst all the clutter there were two things that were absolutely Akhtar’s favourites. One, the gramophone that oozed the beautiful and heartfelt tunes and the other was a recliner wooden chair on which lay Ram, the third and the most favourite entity of Akhtar’s life.

The said man was relaxing on the chair (or the version of relaxation that Ram did) and was almost asleep as he had not noticed Akhtar enter. His eyes were closed, one hand resting on his stomach which was moving lazily as he breathed. His other hand was laying casually on the handle of the chair, lithe fingers moving gently with the tune playing. He would look younger than he was only if his brows would not have been furrowed, forehead creased and slightly tensed shoulders that carried the weight of the world on them even when he was not working. Akhtar winced internally at this observation on top of feeling guilty at being late for the dinner.

He wanted to give as much less worry that he could manage to his… no, not his. To Ram. For a few days now, he had started calling him Ram in his head instead of anna or bhai or bhaiya due to a reason that he’d locked so far down in his heart that he wouldn’t touch it with a 100 foot pole. As he stood there openly gawking at the man in question, because such instances where he could just observe the other were too rare and too precious for him to let go of. How he wanted to shake Ram and get him to confess what was always troubling him? What guilt did he carry in his heart that had travelled to his beautiful face and had permanently etched a frown on those lush lips. He wanted to shout at him until he cracked and shared all his worries with Bheem. Bheem. How he himself wished he could tell Ram his real name so that Ram would not call him by the false identity that he’d donned. Bheem spent too much time thinking about how it would sound from Ram’s mouth.

Yet he never asked for Ram to spill his heart out and share his burdens because he could never share his own secret with Ram. That would be sheer hypocrisy. But Bheem already was a hypocrite wasn’t he? The whole coming to Delhi to rescue Malli was like walking on a double edged sword that was kept on the fire that was sure to burn Bheem alive. A creaking noise of the wood and a soft, sleep ridden voice brought Bheem back to the present from his reverie.

“Akhtar! Akhtar!?” a snap of fingers in front of his face had Bheem startled. Oh, right. Ram had woken up. How long had he been standing there? Anyway, he shook his head internally, putting on a blinding smile that was partly genuine- because how can it not be when Ram was there? And that too looking at him amusingly with that glint in his eye?

“Han!” (Yes.) Well, time to be Akhtar again.

“Kin khayalon mein khoye huye the?” (What were you thinking?) Ram asked, eyes still twinkling as he added. “Ya phir kis ke khayalon mein khoye huye the ye poochhna chahiye?” (Or should I ask whose thoughts were you lost in?)

A sudden and unwanted blush crept up Akhtar’s face at the question. He jerked away from Ram’s intense gaze as he replied unconvincingly, “Kuchh bhi toh nahi, anna.” (Nothing, Anna) oh, how he hated that word now.

“Kyon bachchu? Mujhse se jhoot bologe? Tumhari aankhein bata rahi hai k koi hai.” (Will you lie to me? Your eyes reveal more than you know.) If Akhtar had not been persistently boring a hole in his chappals, he would have noticed that even though Ram was teasing, the smirk did not reach his eyes.

“Meri chhodo. Apni baat karo na. Wo main nahi jo bhaabhi ki yaad mein saare din virah ke geet sunta rehta hoon.” (Leave me be. Let's talk about you. I'm not the one who's listening to sad songs remembering Sita) Akhtar retorted with his own jibe. Now it was Ram’s turn to flush; that’ll show him, thought the younger man triumphantly.

“Ye behad khoobsurat thumri hai. Aur main dusre ras ke gaane bhi sunta hoon.” (This song is a classic. And I listen to other types of songs.) Ram defended himself as he shifted on his feet; how could he ever tell his friend that the song did not remind him of Sita. It had never reminded him of anyone until he met the gorgeous, wide eyed man standing in front of him that commanded all his thought recently. He turned toward the kitchen to get their food ready. Because, let’s face it, if they would spiral into one of their classic playful bickerings, they’d be standing in the middle of the room like a couple of morons for the whole night. And also, he knew Akhtar would be starving.

“Tum baitho main khana lagaata hoon.” (You wait I'll bring the food.) Just as Ram took one step forward, the record whizzed and stopped. Before he could go and flip it over, Akhtar beat him to it, starting a new song. Unfortunately, the record player was not on Ram’s side as the second song that started playing turned out to be another thumri in the same ras.

Akhtar looked at him knowingly as the words formed in vilambit laya (slow tune) setting the base of the song that went “Kaa karun sajni… aaye na balam”

“Dekha? Main na kehta tha?” (See? I know you too well.) Akhtar chuckled at a slightly peeved Ram, who had been betrayed by his own gramophone’s timings. And just to rile him up further, Akhtar added, “Agar aapke paas koi khushnuma kism ke gaane ho, to woh lagaate hain.”, (If you have some happy and fun songs, let's play those.) and started to remove the pin from the record to stop the song.

Ram lunged at him with catlike reflexes, catching Akhtar’s extended arm in his own hand. “Nahi. Rehne do na ise. Ise beech mein badlna matlab sangeet ki tauheen karna.” (No. Let this one play. To stop this song in the middle will be an insult to music.)

“Achcha, to iske baad lagaate hain.” (Fine. Then after this one.)

“Thik hai.” (Ok.) Ram acquiciesed, not letting go of Akhtar’s arm.

They both looked at each other, Ram feeling butterflies in his stomach as Akhtar beamed at him on getting his way. A moment and more passed as they stood in that position, Ram not letting go of Akhtar’s arm, growing more aware of it by the second. Akhtar’s arm feels warm on his skin, touch tingling to his very core. Ram was not aware how touch starved he was until this hurricane of a man entered his life and uprooted everything. He left Ram with a clean slate on which he could rewrite his emotions and beliefs. He loosened Ram in a way that no one else could. After the death of his family, Ram was alive but had not been living. He was but only a weapon seeking revenge and destruction of the Empire.

And Akhtar- that curly haired menace had thoroughly made a permanent residence in Ram’s heart in no time. He was like a hot cup of sweet chai on a rainy day that lifted up Ram’s spirits at any point of time with his mere presence in Ram’s vicinity. All the little touches that he bestowed freely on Ram were akin to a salve soothing his wounds from the inside, healing little by little with each pat on the back, held hands, tight hugs, casual arm around shoulder. Ram always gravitated toward it, seldom initiating the contact himself. But Akhtar never seemed to notice or if he did, he didn’t mind. Ram was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the loud growl the younger man’s stomach let out.

“Anna…” a voice seemed to call him. “Ram!” the voice called out loud. Ram jolted back to find himself in front of his friend who was calling him. “Um…” Akhtar seemed…flustered? Clearing his throat, the other man spoke sheepishly. “My hand…”. Ram dropped it and ran as fast as he could in the kitchen leaving an equally crimson Akhtar behind.

Akhtar went into the kitchen after gathering his wits about himself. Ram was preparing two plates, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Akhtar stopped short of entering, entranced by the beauty that Ram oozed doing such a simple chore. He admonished himself, chastising internally- he needed to work harder controlling his emotions in front of Ram. It would not be appropriate if Ram found out about it. Taking a deep breath, Akhtar masked his emotions lest they spill out at some very inopportune moment.

“Kya bana hai khane mein aaj? Pet mein chuhe nahi ab to haathi daud rahe hain.” (What’s for dinner? I am starving like anything.) He asked even though he saw the plate was filled with his favourite biryani. Ram was now filling the bowls with raita as he answered. “Tumhari manpasand cheez.” (It’s your favourite) Ram handed over Akhtar’s plate to the younger man, following him out in the room with his own.

They both settled on the chairs by the table plate in hand as the table too was fully cluttered with papers, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia. Akhtar had once made the mistake of setting things straight on the table so it would look a bit organized and Ram had thrown a fit like a child. No Akhtar! What are you doing? Everything is just as I want it to be. Don’t disarragne it! That was the first and last time Akhtar dared touch to oragnize things for Ram.

Ram let out a soft chuckle as Akhtar dug into his biryani like a man starved and let out an indecent moan. Ram gulped down air as his throat went dry suddenly. Frankly, Akhtar should be arrested for public indecency and more so for making Ram melt into a puddle of mush. The older man resorted to small talk to divert his focus onto something else. “Aaj aane mein der kaise hui? Kab se intezaar tha tumhara…”, (Why so late today? You were being waited for a long time by…) he paused, only for the curly haired man to look at him with such fondness and a little sorrow. Mujhe. (Me.) Ram wanted to say, instead he blurted out a little too loud, “Biryani ko.” (Biryani) He really was such an emotion stunted person! It was perfectly fine telling a friend that I’d been waiting for you, right? Right? Ram face-palmed himself internally.

Akhtar, on the other hand, went completely still, the biryani forgotten for a moment at the pregnant pause Ram took. His heart was racing million miles a minute as if it would just jump out and land at Ram’s feet in benediction. The way Ram was looking at him, Akhtar, just for a second dared to imagine he saw the same emotion in Ram’s eyes as his own. But how could it be? Ram thought of him as a little brother, a friend. He was only reflecting his own sentiments, an illusion that his vulnerable heart created for his mind. He shook it off, a bit disappointed and also relieved when Ram ended the sentence with a joke. Of course it was a jest. A slight admonishment at Akhtar being late, because Ram was too gentle and sweet to actually get angry at him even if he was upset.

“Maaf karna, anna. Aaj bahot zyada kaam aa gaya tha achanak se. Uss silsile mein waqt ka taqaazaa hi nahi raha. Par aap to kha lete na! Kyon mere liye…” (Sorry, anna. There was a sudden repair to be done and I lost the sense of time. But you could have eaten. Why wait for me?) his eyes were too sincere as his voice was laced with guilt.

Ram couldn’t take that. Someone like Akhtar should not be upset for such a trivial thing. He shouldn’t be upset ever. “Akhtar,” he cut in, “Koi baat nahi. Aur daawat maine di hai. Tumhare bina kaise shuru kar sakta hoon?” (It’s no big deal. And it was my invitation. How could I start without you?) Ram smiled in reassurance, hoping to get his message to the other.

“Kya aap bhi! Apne hi ghar mein koi nyota hota hai bhala?” (What are you saying? Does one need an invitation in his own home?) Ram smiled wider at this, making Akhtar’s heart do somersaults in his chest. “Achchha chalo ab khao, warna fir se thandi ho jayegi.” (Fine. Now eat before it gets cold again and I have to reheat it.) Ram started working on his plate, urging the younger man to do the same. Both shifted to lighter banter after that, enjoying the food, the music and most importantly, the company.

The song slowly faded into silence as they finished up with dinner. Akhtar finally dragged Ram to his record collection in search of a song with faster beats and happy tone. “Chalo na! Pehle gaana dhoondho. Fir baki sab thik karenge. Aur mujhe shart bhi to jeetni hai!” (Come no! First let’s pick the song. Then we’ll clean up. And I have to win the bet too.)

“Maine koi shart toh nahi lagayi thi.” (I did not wager anything.) Ram said as he started shuffling the record collection, narrating the names of the songs to Akhtar for him to choose.

“Han toh ab lagaate hain. Agar main jeet gaya toh kya milega?” (Then let’s do it now. What will I get if I win?) Akhtar raised an eyebrow.

They had already gone though a few records without any luck: they’d all turned out to be gambhir ras raag or ghazals. Akhtar was preening in confidence and Ram really didn’t want to lose now.

“Nahi. Main bachchon jaise shart nahi lagaata.” (Look, I’m not wagering some stupid bet, ok?)

“Kyon darr gaye?” (Why? Afraid you’ll lose?)

“Ismein darne wali koi baat hi nahi.” (There’s nothing to be afraid of.)

“Toh phir lagao shart.” (Then let’s bet!) Akhtar extended his hand, baiting Ram. Ram shook it, “Lagi shart.” (Done.) And started digging through more of the vinyls. While searching, Ram found a disc with the song that he hadn’t heard in a while. It was one of his favourite ghazals. A beautiful poem and even better composition.

“Aha! Mil gayi. Akhtar ye ghazal toh sunni hi hogi!” (Yes! Here it is. Akhtar, you have to listen to this ghazal.) He held out the disc for Akhtar to drop in the gramophone.

“Kaunsi hai yeh?” (Which one is it?) Akhtar fixed it in the instrument, putting the pin in for it to play.

“Tum khud hi suno. Aur shart haar gaye ho tum.” (You’ll know when it plays. And yeah, you lost.) Ram declared with triumph.

Akhtar refused to back down as the tune started with a slow rhythm of the tanpura. He was confident that Ram’s definition of a fun song would be still a slow one. Then the words started flowing, making Akhtar more confident of the genre of the ghazal. It went- Mujhse pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang…

He had heard this one before, it was one of the favourites of his abbajaan, the benevolent man at whose place he was staying. “Nahi nahi! Ye nahi chalega. Ye bhi dukh bhari ghazal hi hai. Main waqif hoon iss se.” (No! No! This is not done. This is also laden with sorrow. I know this one.)

“Par tumne kaha tha k mere paas virah ras k siva aur koi sangeet hi nahi hai! Ismein to desh bhakti ka tawajjuh hai. Shayar apne mulk se mohabbat ki baat kar raha hai!” (But you said I would not have songs apart from virah (separation from the beloved) ras. But this is about patriotism. The poet is talking about the love for his country.)

“Ho sakta hai, par wo keh to apne firdaus se hi raha hai na? Aur phir baat ismein bhi mulk se judaa hone ki hi hai!” (Maybe. But he’s conveying this to one of his lovers only. And also, there is the point where the poet yearns for his country.) Akhtar argued his point.

“Ye bhi ek soch hai par mulk se ishq aur insaan se ishq alag hai.” (This is one perspective toward it. But loving one’s motherland and loving a person is different.)

“Pata nahi. Shayad. Mere liye to ishq ishq hai. Chahe kisi se bhi ho. Pyaar mein koi alag mayne thoda hi hote hain? Dard bhi wahi hai, ranj bhi wahi, hijr bhi wahi aur vasl bhi wahi hai na? Par main toh itna padha likha nahi hun, main kya jaanu?” (I don’t know. Maybe. But for me love is love. Whoever there may be on the other end. How can you set boundaries for love? Pain is the same, distress is the same, woe of separation hits the same and the joy of reunion is the same. But I’m not a scholar, so what do I know?) His voice trailed into a soft whisper as he said the last sentence. Akhtar was afraid to look at Ram now, thinking he had crossed a line.

Ram took a step closer. They already were in close quarters riffing through the music, and that step landed Ram closer still. Akhtar could feel the heat of the other’s body, his breath on his cheeks as he spoke tenderly. “Akhtar, meri taraf dekho.” (Akhtar, look at me.) Akhtar shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes with embarrassment.

“Akhtar,” Ram repeated a bit more commandingly this time. Akhtar lifted his head, still not looking at Ram, his gaze fixed somewhere over the older man’s shoulder. Ram held his jaw with a featherlike touch to tilt his face to himself. His hand did not leave as he uttered the next words. “Kabhi apne aap ko anpadh bol kar khud ko neecha mat dikhana. Ek taraf tum itni gehri baat karte ho aur dusri taraf tum ye soch bhi kaise sakte ho? Tumse zyada samajhdaar, hoshiyaar aur kaabil insaan maine nahi dekha. Aur main ye tumhari khushaamad nahi kar raha, na to tumhe achchha lage isliye keh raha hoon. Main ye isiliye keh raha hoon kyon ki ye sach hai.” (Never think of yourself as lesser. On one hand you say something so profound and on the other hand you belittle yourself? I have not met anyone who is more smart, understanding and caring than you. And I’m not saying this to lift your spirits or to flatter you. I’m saying this because it is the truth.)

Bheem felt his vision go blurry and wetness on his cheeks as Ram proceeded with his speech. And as Ram cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, did Bheem realise he was actually crying. He held Ram’s wrists with both his hands as he shut his eyes to stop tears from flowing. What had happened to him? Sure, he was an emotional person, a bit too emotional as the elders in his tribe commented, feeling everything all at once. But he had learnt how to mask his feelings after coming to Delhi. He was here on a mission and the only time he had allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable was when he went to the forest, be it for a walk or a hunt. When he would be alone.

Tears in Akhtar’s eyes were a new sight for Ram altogether and it split his heart into a million pieces to see the man cry at genuine compliments. Had no one ever told him how precious he was? How beautiful? How smart, intelligent, selfless and pure he was? Did the ever smiling, ever happy and optimist Akhtar think this about himself? This would not do. Ram would spend every moment that he got in the other’s company to make him believe otherwise. What Ram did next surprised him as well.

He lifted Akhtar’s head a little, thumbs rubbing under his eyes until he opened them, the honey dipped orbs that somehow held Ram’s universe in them. Ram wanted to drown in them. Forever. And forget the rest of the world, all the responsibilities and burdens and challenges. Ram was aware how close they were and how intimate the position was, their breaths mingling as time stretched in an eternity in that moment. But it was as if he was floating somewhere above his body, looking at the two of them suspended in their own personal bubble. He closed his eyes, raising his head and pressed his lips to Akhtar’s forehead, conveying everything he felt in that fleeting kiss.

“Anna…” Akhtar whimpered with so much love and reverence but the word still sounded hollow to him as he sunk himself in the older man’s embrace, burrowing his face in the other’s shoulders. Maybe, Ram heard the hollowness too as he engulfed Akhtar in his arms. “Mujhe mere naam se pukaaro na Akhtar.” (Call me by my name, Akhtar.) he pleaded.

“Ram..”, the muffled voice in Ram’s shirt was the sweetest sound in the room as the gramophone whirred in the back, effectively ending the song.

//

Chapter 2.

A/N: Please please let me know how you liked it or didn't like it...

Also, I do apologise for the Hindi/Urdu dialogues but that's the language i thought in for the songs and the Delhi backdrop. And I'm sorry that the translation of the ghazal is not mentioned in the fic but I'll attach a link with the video.

P.s. for the ghazal nerds, the ghazal was written by the great Faiz Ahmad Faiz sahab (1911-1984) and it might not have been exactly written in 1920s. It was around the time of partition and was written in the form of a revolt poem against the government and his love for the country (India and Pakistan). But I've taken artistic liberty here so I hope that's okay. The ghazal has a very rich history in Urdu literature and it is absolutely my favourite.

P.P.s: I also have lost my taglist- and somehow am not exactly keen to make one without request. So lmk if you want the notifications. Or just keep tuned to this blog.

[rambheemficrecs]

WIP Wednesday 23/10/24: All progress

Original Post

Join the Community

(blue indicates previously written lines)

@loyal-house-of-lupin @zyrafowe-sny @twyrewolf @kallisto-k @aparticularbandit

He opened his eyes and-

-there he was.

Crimson coat. Pretty ribbons. Gold medals.

Clenched jaw. Thinned lips. Red eyes that were certainly a trick of the sunlight. Ruffled, windswept hair that reminded him of their treks across the countryside. That damned English styled mustache and the smatterings of a stubble. Beads of sweat running down his forehead. Hard work it must be, whipping a man within an inch of death. What did Bheem know? He was not in the business of betraying his dearest friends and torturing people to please his British overlords.

But most importantly he was…

…looking at him. In the eyes.

How desperately had he wished for this? That he would look him in the eyes… just once?

Why did it feel so worthless now?

Maybe because there was nothing he could offer him now, nothing except shattered memories and a pained yearning of what could have been.

@1attheedge @wizisbored

"Kneel down, Bheem," he repeated, firmer, louder, foolishly hoping to get the message across this time. Don't… don't make me do this. Please.

Bheem simply lifted his gaze, no longer staring at the crowd below but somewhere farther ahead, eyes still churning with thunder.

No, no, no! Wrong!

@tamsinswriting @asha10100101010 @hurricanebreeze

Fire and smoke. Water and blood. Cold steel. Unforgiving hands. Tiger claws. An ocean raging with sorrow and fury. Pain. So much pain. Like a black hole swallowing everything around it.

@kalira @somefishycat @whimsicalmeerkat @quietly-sleeping

He glanced at the window and found the dying rays of sunlight reflected on the glass. Hours since he returned to his apartment then. Hours since…

This time, he stubbornly clamped down on his stomach's desperate urge to clench and roll again.

A breath. A second. Another.

Once he felt confident that his stomach would no longer rebel, Ram sat up. Slowly, very slowly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress. Somehow, he succeeded in not keeling forward and crashing face first into the floor. He had collected enough concussions to last him this lifetime and several of the next.

(blue indicates previously written lines)

@stonemaskedtaliesin @auburnlaughter @eriquin

"Bhaiyya!"

"Yes?"

"I spoke to her."

"Yeah? How's your girlfriend?"

"What?"

Right. Akhtar did not speak English. How careless of him to forget. "I mean, your lover, girlfriend, your sweetheart, your darling."

Akhtar shook his head.

[rambheemficrecs]

Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: RRR (2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem Characters: Alluri Sitarama Raju, Komaram Bheem Additional Tags: Werewolves, Vampires, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ram is a werewolf, Bheem is a vampire, Shy Vampire!Bheem Summary:

Bheem has been a vampire for a little less than a hundred years, and in that time, he has never drank from a human being. But there’s something in the scent of Raju, a man he just met, that calls him and tempts him deeply. Raju is a born werewolf, hiding his true self from the British Raj. But when he meets Bheem, he starts thinking that maybe hiding is not the best solution to their problems.

[rambheemficrecs]

Mantra - Chapter 6 - echo_grace - RRR (2022) [Archive of Our Own]

[rambheemficrecs]

Hello rambheem fandom. I wrote something.

Ram is afflicted with guilt for flogging Bheem. Bheem takes extreme measures to stop Ram from hurting himself.

[rambheemficrecs]

What Price Freedom?

Fandom: RRR (2022)

Summary: I love you.

You love a monster, was all he could think.

Written for the Smubbles "Monster Smash" Challenge

Read on AO3 here

[rambheemficrecs]

fall in love with you.

-rambheem-

( idk what i did hopefully y'all like it )

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

bheem had always been the more open, funny and risk-taker one in their friendship. he absolutely didn't know how to mask his emotions— always connected with his truest self— neither did he completely understand the complexity of intense emotions such as love.

so, naturally when bheem first felt the tingle in his body, the electricity zipping up his arms when he touched ram— the butterflies going beserk and his throat going dry when his eyes met ram's intense, scorching ones, he was confused.

being secretive, more quieter and often waiting for the night to set in to truthfully talk to bheem— was ram's characteristics. he didn't open up quickly, worked himself to be a ruthless being— to be able to shutter down his emotions in the blink of an eye, to mask all his emotions.

ram once had an experience of falling in love. it was nothing compared to what he felt with bheem. falling in love with bheem was falling deeper and deeper into an endless abyss, all consuming and demanding.

it made ram hyperfocused on every little detail, the innocence in bheem's kajal adorned eyes, the frays of his hair framing his face— the startled gasps he'd make when he'd seen rare species of birds on their way up to a hilly terrain.

it all flashed through his mind's eye before he fell asleep — his last thought being one and only one person— bheem.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

bheem had known, that he'd fucked up, truly in every sense— when he'd walked in on ram asleep in the middle of his papers scattered everywhere on his desk, eyes closed and his eyelashes framing his face in such an innocent light, bheem couldn't stop himself from coo-ing.

he'd then had the thought of ram feeling warm, he'd not particularly worn his sleepwear either and so— he searched around for a fan, plugged it in like they'd done when they were having dinner together last night.

something in him didn't feel calm until it saw ram, peacefully sleeping with wind blowing enough to keep him cool and to not disturb his sleep.

that's when bheem realised— something wasn't right with his feelings for ram.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

for ram, it was smaller instances, when he'd feel strange possessiveness towards the younger. ram deceived himself into thinking, well— maybe it was just bheem's innocence paired with how ram had dealt with such crushing things in life, he'd naturally adopted a more caring and guarding attitude towards the younger.

but as time passed and his feelings inevitably grew, they began to show.

in lingering touches, in those smiles where their eyes would catch eachothers and stay for a longer while until one of them— bheem— looked away with warm cheeks.

it showed up in his slow disinterest towards sita completely dissolving into nothingness. it showed up, growling and roaring when it saw bheem, taking interest in jennifer.

it showed up in the slightest of cracks his heart would have endured, when it watched bheem go away, sitting beside jennifer. he kept his eyes trained on the vehicle, waiting for the moment bheem would turn back. the moment never came.

ram had always considered himself a master at masking everything he felt. yet, he couldn't stop these mammoth of emotions— the intensity of love.

. . . .

it couldn't be love, bheem had definitively decided— true to his words and not being the one to budge.

he couldn't fall in love with someone who'd betrayed him, his country, his own people.

all of bheem's life was focused on being the protecter of his people, being the first one to serve them and stand with them. so, how could he ever fall in love with someone who was the exact opposite?

where was the ram he'd known, the kind-hearted, quiet ram who'd listen to his rants about his tribe late till night, and fall asleep halfway, before bheem poked at him and he'd startle himself awake.

where was the ram that would jump onto the motorcycle as bheem zoomed through the city, often aimless yet accompanied by the warmth ram would emit and the arms that held himself tad bit closer to bheem than what was necessary.

bheem's heart cried, echoing in his empty mind, full of agony and despair. the only one it had learnt to love, had been the one to stab through it.

the last thought bheem had before blacking out in the cold jail, tied up with metal chains that seemed to mock him and silence that haunted him— were the eyes of ram.

those intense, scorching eyes full of life and mirth were blackened, only replaced with one sole purpose— making bheem kneel.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

after everything was over— ram and bheem sat in the same study of ram's— still intact with all the papers strewn across which made bheem crinkle his nose in displeasure.

ram, as already established before, ever so attentive to bheem, noticed it and quickly attempted to somewhat make the place more clean.

however, everything felt pale in comparison to what they had to talk about. ram couldn't bring himself to say anything. not after every torture he'd put the younger through. he would be rejected— ram knew— his feelings wouldn't and shouldn't matter when the bigger picture was revealed,of how ruthless ram was. the scars littered across the younger were proof of it that'd show themselves all their lives.

and yet, ram's steely resolve of saying nothing broke into pieces when the younger, ever so worried about ram's wellbeing, noticed an open cut in his neck somehow.

it had dried blood, and bheem got up from where he was sitting and immediately made his way over— fretting over how careless he'd been in treating ram.

everything drowned out, and ram's only sole focus settled on bheem, as it had always been.

tired, beautiful, warrior that bheem was.

bheem pressed the wound slightly more and ram hissed, a muted pain running along his shoulders.

before ram could say anything— everything that wanted to slip past his lips— bheem had already hatched a plan in his mind.

"we should treat it, it could get worse."

ram shrugs, not really worried about his well-being. all the injuries he'd sustained from the fight were already good and healed, the deeper ones well on their way on healing.

around the younger, it's impossible for ram to actually be unwell and ignore it, somehow— bheem would know before even ram admitted to it.

what would the follow— even now— ram notes, after all they've gone through, bheem still gets on a flurry of lectures on how the elder should take care of himself more.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

"no seriously, what would you do without me?" bheem frustratedly asked.

something about that wound bleeding out made him feel triggered, ram notes yet again. it was after that— the younger started showing all the antics he'd pull when he was worried.

bheem's lips were bitten, eyes drawn up in worry as they track ram around for any more concealed cuts. ram, laying on his bed, watching the younger fret over him, felt everything was unjustified.

how, even after ram had been a monster of a man, could bheem still make him feel humane again?

. . . .

that night, they slept — curled in on eachother.

ram smiles as he remembers what bheem had claimed when he first got onto the bed that night—

"no no, i won't sleep now. you do, you need it." he'd tried to sound strict as ram had tried to get up and atleast get some papers on his hands if his fate was to be in bed that night.

it was too early to sleep— bheem raised his brow when ram told him that and sheepishly, the elder admitted that maybe midnight wasn't that early.

ram then failed to coax the younger into sleeping beside him— but one look at bheem let him know that maybe, if the elder listened to him, he'd eventually let his strict persona down.

it did work.

ram adored at his smushed face against the pillows, hand intertwined with ram's and body pressed against ram's front. slowly, ram leaned down, breath coming out shaky and warm as his lips stopped right infront of bheem's forehead.

he felt tempted, but what would the younger think?

when ram thought of everything they'd went through together, he sighed and gave in, pressing the lightest of kisses on the younger's forehead.

that night, ram intentionally held bheem close. the dark lurking monsters in his mind scurrying off infront of bheem's radiating comfort.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

a/n; i am just scared to write smut atp bcz i haven't done it in a very long time.

tags; @rambheemisgoated @rambheem-is-real @sinistergooseberries @thewinchestergirl1208 @sivuda @mikabilis @obsessedtoafault @prdnya-blog @eremin0109 @azraelcuror @lovingperfectionwonderland @alikokinav @floating-mushroom @bromance-minus-the-b @kashti15 @icarus-f4lls @iamhereforthefanfics

{ if u wanna be tagged/do not want to be tagged in my upcoming rambheem fics, lmk }

[rambheemficrecs]

If you are hesitant to comment on AO3 because it's just fanfic and it probably doesn't matter to the writers, know that I got a one word comment ("Beautiful") on a fic nobody ever has bothered reading before and it made my night. Merry Christmas to me! Seriously, though, comments feel so good to writers! Please feed us! We're hungry!

[rambheemficrecs]

October Monthly Recap

BATMAN

A Midafternoon Beetdown by whaleofatime (gen), 4k, Humor It's a regular Wednesday like any other, and Jason's just trying to take out a corrupted police officer. Instead, he inexplicably finds himself cosplaying an organic farmer stuck in the middle of a hostage situation. Crime doesn't pay, but being the Red Hood is somehow worse, fuck.

What’s Wrong With the One We Live In? by incorrectbatfam (gen), 1k, Humor, Ghosts Duke is house-sitting, Jason is deliriously sick, and the ghost of their grand-butler inhabits a vintage panini press.

Satin in a Coffin by InsaneTrollLogic (gen), 8k, Ghosts, Bad Parent!Bruce At the behest of several dead Robins, Stephanie Brown kidnaps a Robin.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter (Tim Drake/Kon-El), 2k, Memory Loss, Fluff “You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?” A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again. Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?” Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

The Ouija Boy by SunnyBlue (gen), 26k, Case Fic, Ghosts Tim sees dead people. When a Batboys murder investigation is going nowhere, he realizes his only chance at solving the case is to speak to the ghost of one of the victims. He has to reveal his secret to his brothers -- or risk the killer getting away.

The Right Substitution is Key by AddictedApple (gen), 34k, Jason Todd is Batman, Protective!Jason Todd “The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—” “Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?” Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood. “You care about Gotham,” Robin summarised. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.” “You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified. “No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.” Jason bluescreened. (Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonising them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)

RRR

What Lies Between Free Will and Duty by ancient_thessaly (Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem), 21k, Post-Canon “How long are you staying?” Bheem asked, hopeful. Ram grimaced. “Not long. A week, at most.” “I understand. You are needed elsewhere,” Bheem breathed out sympathetically. He forced out smile. “The work has just begun.” “We will have plenty of time to plot and plan later. Not tonight. Tonight…” Ram heavily dropped his cup down, crossed his legs, and leaned forward. Tonight, he just wanted to be light. “I've been told you are catching horses now? Did that happen before or after you pierced your nose?” Bheem bit his lip before smiling a real smile, eyes sparkling with joy. Ram felt so light he could float away. . In the events following Governor Scott Buxton's death, there's a revolution to be built, wounds to heal, and feelings to explore.

Draupadi's Husbands by magaramach (Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem), (Komaram Bheem/Sita), 8k, Pining "You’ll marry Seetha, and you’ll care for her in the way that she deserves. I’ll spend my life loving you, you’ll spend yours loving me, and when you have children I’ll love them because they’re yours. And it will be enough.” “Will it?” Ram says, carefully. Bheem kisses his knuckles once more and sets his hand gently down. “It will have to be.”   Five conversations held late at night, and one held in the day.

[rambheemficrecs]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: RRR (2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem Characters: Alluri Sitarama Raju, Komaram Bheem, Lacchu (RRR 2022), Philip Green (RRR 2022) Additional Tags: Mermen, Little Mermaid Retelling, AU, Happy Ending Summary:

Komaram Bheem will tell you he is not lonely, despite being exiled from his tribe and living under a bridge in the river Yamuna. He has friends, both underwater and in the surface world. However, when fate puts a man named Raju in his path? He realizes that he had been longing for something more his whole life.