#Bloody Ishq | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

I saw you opened your requests again, so to finish off my series of requests inspired by Bollywood songs, can I please get Daemon x poc fem reader inspired by "Laal ishq" with lots of angst and nsfw please? (feel free to ignore)

you asked and I shall deliver!! I love the song, even though it’s melancholic. So to go with the theme of estranged lovers. Reader and Daemon have been friends for years, that eventually blossomed to love. Daemon is being forced to marry Rhea. There is no age gap since both have grown up together (also a really disgusting twist, fuck Jaeheryes!) THERE IS A PART TWO WITH SMUT I PROMISE!

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | WC: 5003

Masterlist

tw: mentions of incest, pregnant people and crass language

Daemon’s blood boiled anew since he was knighted the year before and was handed his ancestral sword. Dark Sister. He flew Caraxes faster, he trained harder. While one-half of his time was spent being a more valiant warrior than he already was, the other half was spent with you. Head in your lap, as he fawned on your beauty over and over again. It wasn’t right, you were a noble lady - a princess at that; you were to be chaste and untouched. Yet the walls of the Red Keep often turned a blind eye to your and Daemon’s ongoings. Everyone expected it so, seeming how Daemon always got what he wanted. The court expected that you would be wed to the young prince before Baelon would sit on the throne.

The door to the Godswood slammed open with a thud, and gruff sounds of huffing followed by clanks of armour filled your ears as you smiled to yourself. Almost enjoying every time your lover, pouting and broody demanded your affection after a long day of being consumed with his knighthood. You looked up to find Daemon placing his helm on the wooden table of refreshments before yanking out a leather flask of Flea Bottom’s finest moonshine, growling from the back of his mouth as the burn coated his sore throat. He huffed before plopping down next to you. The stench of mud and sweat filled your nostrils, much used to the muck as you kept working on your embroidery. Lip tucked between your lips as you passed a red string through the fresh patch of linen.

Daemon’s demeanour shifted, without having said a word as his attention was drawn to your nibbled fingers working over the delicate patches of thread. The designs of a story rather than the simple florals most ladies wore at court.

“Who bested you this time?” your voice caught his attention, your eyes still fixated on your work and yet the frustrations bubbling within him were apparent. Daemon narrowed his eyes at you before taking three large swigs from his flask.

“No one, every one of them has tasted dirt by my hands today,” he quickly replied, his mind toiling with a different malady altogether, like a plague. Clinging to the crevices of his head. How does one ask a lady such a thing?

“Then what’s got you pouting today?” you mused at him, this time placing the cloak down and turning to look at his defensive expression. His faded brows pulled to a tight-knit and his mouth parted with no words dancing over his lip. You raised your brow at him, knowing him far better than he realised.

Back in the yards, young lords with Daemon sparred away their mornings. Determined and raging as they charged at one another or dummies. Sparking conversations of bloody war fantasies and of comely girls at court. Out of the few closest to Daemon, five were already married - even his brother. Not that the notion of marriage had him praying like the fanatics at the Sept but even as stories of Old Valyria painted his dreams. He pictured his sweet lover, you in the grab of his house. Muttering words of Valyrian as his love for you would be legitimised by the eyes of dragons and the Fourteen Flames. Perhaps as his own sister-by-law, Aemma swelled full of her first child. He pictured little white-haired children of his own, perhaps enough to put his grandsire’s abilities to shame.

Daemon was sure if he would bring the matter up with his father. That perhaps his Jahereys would offer his hand to your father. There was much to be gained politically, and he would soil the sheets with his blood to cover for the lack of your maidenhead. The plans in his mind were crystal, already insistent of you becoming his lady wife. Though it was a matter of if you’d wish it so, or if your family would approve it.

“I- I asked father to have your hand in marriage,” he replied in one quick breath, his ears ringing from the silence that followed. A blank expression that spread through your features didn’t help his turmoil either as he waited for you to say something or refused him outright. “Fuck’s sake, say something?” he frowned, taking hold of your shoulders and shaking you.

The words wouldn’t reach your lips as you blankly stared him down, blinking profusely back to reality as his worry turned into disappointment. You straightened yourself, folding away the cloak on your lap before gently laying in on the grass, your chest pushing against your corset from how hard you were breathing. Abruptly, you launched yourself at him, knees catching at your gown uncomfortably that you didn’t care for as you straddled his lap to kiss him. There was a fire in how your lips connected, Daemon was truly taken aback for a moment before chuckling and giving into the onslaught, hands caressing each other’s cheeks. You rested your forehead against Daemon’s, “You want this? Marriage?” you had to ask to be sure, that perhaps this wasn’t another one of his spurts of passion.

He nodded “Would you? Be my lady wife?” his eyes, wider than the Septa’s when she heard crass remarks. Bursts of anticipation flooded Daemon’s heart. You would be his, to have and to hold. The colours of his house staining the mustard silks adorning your skin, there would be no reason to conceal such ardour for one another, a flame concealed by forbidding it air. Young souls afraid of its fire would see all but the world, perhaps diminished before it could swallow you whole. The embers would finally take flight, burn anyone who would question Daemon’s affections for you. It was way past time that the two of you should have been wed, every lord was afraid of approaching you from the fear of being eaten by Caraxes, and the ladies stood ten breaths away from the fear of being poisoned by you.

You, a Princess of House Martell, Darmon a Prince of House Targaryen and yet your names for one another held not houses or titles but otherworldly, cosmic - cathartic titles ones of adoration and the rest, not High Valyrian, Ryonish or the Common Tongue could describe. Oftentimes than not it felt unreal, fabricated that perhaps it was the joy of having another, the thrill of breaking statues or perhaps it was finally a sense of home. You saw him for who he was and he, you, not within the wild inclinations but perhaps the calm hidden behind the mirror.

The elation of your supposed oncoming betrothal spread cheek to cheek, the corners of your eyes crinkling (even be fair to say teary-eyed) yet you purse your lips. Still lingering on the question on Daemon’s lips, it was yes - such agreement you could scream your throat sore from Rhaenys Hill - mischief however clouded your mind as you pulled back from him, scrunching your brows in deep thought. A look of offence adorned Daemon’s sharp features; a minx through and through. “Fly a piece of the moon back to me and I shall think about it,” a mere jest, followed by a giggle to seal the line. Daemon’s eyes flickered with another opportunity but for now his work was done.

The tunnels in the Red Keep had stood witness to the damning celebrations that followed after, sneaking baskets of blankets, spiced wines, lemons, and plum cakes being carried from the kitchens to your solar. Even if you were caught, there wasn’t a fret or consequence. You were to be married. Far too intoxicated to do anything by the end of the night, as the vulgarities whispered by Daemon against your ear as his fingers rested against your blushed lips, feeding you pieces of purple grapes to muffle the deep bellied giggles pouring out of your mouth.

The morrow bloomed in with you sprawled atop furs by the dying embers of the hearth, skin sticky from no doubt the sweets consumed last night as your chambermaids poured in to tidy your chamber and you make princess-like once more for the respectable court. Though comely and courteous charm oozed out of your every pour, you let out dishevelled groans and grumbles as you pulled yourself awake. Finding an indent in the furs where your lover had nestled with you the night before and now he fluttered away like every morning. Pristinely dressed in your riding clothes, your schedule today consisted of visiting Lady Aemma, avoiding the snarky air headed ladies and court and paying your precious steed and visiting the Kingswood.

Aemma Arryn, already swelling from her first babe, wore her discomfort with much grace. Hoping to birth a boy for Viserys but in her heart she knew the babe to be a bumbling girl. “I’ve heard something about you… and Daemon,” her lips curled in a sly smile. Yet you being devoid of romantical theatrics, heat still evaded your composure and flared across your cheeks. You shuffled onto the chaise next to her, giggling as you hesitantly held your arm out. She meekly nodded at your gesture, grabbing your palm to place over the bump, the skin firm yet softer under your touch. Living with dragons mere breaths away from you and yet an entire person being inside your friend fascinated you, perhaps such would be your fate without the lemon heads in your environs while engaging in the salacious acts with Daemon.

Your eyes crinkled at the corners, much aware of what Aemma had heard - from Viserys no doubt - the older Targaryen brother hid not one thing from his sweet wife. Both brothers were highly hen pecked by the women they took as lovers. “What could you have possibly heard, I swear I poisoned no one,” your lips curled to a wry grin making her tap your thigh mischievously with her foot. You pulled them onto your lap, kneading your fingers into the mass of her foot, alleviating pressure from her overbearing weight.

“Viserys overheard Prince Baelon talking with the King… Can you imagine us, sisters!” her smile widened cheek to cheek, already pictured dressing you in ivory herself like you did her.

“Whatever you have done to my brother, I applaud you,” Viserys’s voice chimed from behind you, leaning against the door frame, admiring his glowing wife with a graceful smirk on his face “The Street of Silk shall mourn his absence,” he teased making Aemma glare at his antics

“Do not listen to him,” she scoffed, “Have you told anyone yet?” You shook your head, wanting to keep this joy just between the people you trusted the most before the vultures found a way to make profit of such an event yet again.

“Do you know where he is?” you turned to Viserys who pointed out the window to the skies.

The air crashing against your skin as your hair followed free of its braided constraints, purple leather hugged your skin, shielding you from the chill of this day’s climate. The trees mere green shadows in your periphery blend all as one, just your own breathing echoing in your ears and the quicked hoof beats of your night black mare Nysa. While she couldn’t fly, her legs were no less than being afloat in the clouds, brushing past the dirt road at speeds incomparable to the naked eye. She neighed at a halt, right at the end of the meadow. The greenery reached as far as your eyes could see, you lingered in the quiet for a moment, the bird, the grasshoppers and even the leaves melodically sang a song for your ears.

The winds tore past the stink of the bustling livelihood of King’s Landing, amidst the rain that was sure to follow within the end of the week, the forest smelled of leaves, of warmth and damp. You shuffled off your horse, your own personal guard no doubt still catching up to the rampage that tore you through the thick tree lines. Deep breaths of fresh air flooded your lungs, you often dreamed of riding all the way home, to bask in the crisp sunshine at the Old Palace.

You walked holding onto Nysa’s reigns, finding a spot to sit with your legs over the rocks looking down into the ditch, while your marriage would bring forth much joy in your life. Perhaps a blissful life at Dragonstone, a cat, Caraxes and him. Mostly you’d enjoy being a royal lady-wife, perhaps it would make the ladies at court fear you more than a poisoning, Dornishmen - salacious varmints.

Higher above from where you were sitting, Daemon flew past the clouds, higher every moment. A feat encouraged by your jest but in reality a grace question, why hadn’t the Targaryens ever touched the moon? The dim witted Septons nor the droll Maesters had an answer for it. He took matters in his own hands, clipped to Caraxes as he rode the Red Wyrm to newer heights. The air around him was much colder and yet he kept climbing. Taking in large gasps of breaths, however lungs simply couldn’t get enough. A piece of the moon - he could do that much for his sweetest wife to be, a wedding gift better than any silk gown or golden necklace. What completely overshadowed the struggling mount underneath him was you. Caraxes fought to climb, the sky growing a deeper shade of blue, as Daemon’s mind fantasised his way through the journey; the lack of air in his lungs slipped right past.

Knocking him unconscious first, Caraxes yet climbed heights above than before until he realised Daemon slumped backwards on his saddle; severing any control the prince had on his dragon moments before. Such exhaustion consumed the Red Wyrm too, while still within his prime his wings tucked tight as he fell from the skies like the stories of angels the High Septon preaches.

The striking red of the dragon’s body clashed against the bright and clear skies that graced King’s Landing today. Just as you lounged at the edge of the meadow, a falling red figure wasn’t hard to miss. You stood to your feet immediately, fascinated at what it might have been. The Blood Comet in the scrolls wasn’t due for another decade or two. Only instead of gliding across the horizon of the sky, it grew bigger by the moment; until you saw the flutter (no book said anything about fluttering rocks falling from skies above). The dark membranes outline the red made you gasp “Oh gods,” this had been either a sick thrill Daemon had decided to partake in or he was truly falling from the heavens.

You mounted Nysa, rushing towards the falling figure from the skies. While to others the moment seemed fleeting but it felt ages as you neared the falling dragon. Caraxes spread his wings, in desperate attempts to halt the descent as he gained consciousness. Daemon, still attached to his saddle but nowhere near coherency. A loud crash accompanied a mushroom cloud of dirt blasting through the woods, Nysa nearly throwing you off her back as she neighed, startled to shit. You jumped off her, your personal guard merely catching you in time as Ser Alysen gripped your arms. Warning you of the dragon that laid huffing and curled, he would eat you, he would eat you.

You screamed from the back of your throat, pushing Alysen off your back and rushing towards Caraxes. “Do not fucking eat me,” your mind toiled, yet you had to know if your lover was alive or if you were widowed before you even had the chance to step on the alter. The red dragon’s nostril flared, low bellied chirps echoing through the settling dust, please - let me see him. You weren’t sure how you would fight a creature four times your size but perhaps his bigger mind sensed your harmlessness, putting up no protest as you pulled yourself onto Daemon’s saddle, him still slouched, breathing.

“Daemon, Daemon wake up,” you cupped his cheeks. Shaking him profusely, the behemoth he was growing into. You couldn’t carry him off the dragon even if you wanted to. “Come on now, wake up!”

Most of King’s Landing already witnessed a mythical creature falling from the heavens. Half of them ran for the Grand Sept, howling of the end times and the people in the Keep knew it to be Daemon. Within minutes more riders arrived with aid, the others contemplating the possibility of an attack. They found you on top of the Red Wyrm. Distraught and holding the young prince’s body hugged onto you, getting him off the mount proved a far harder challenge than anything the Stranger would ever test them to. A crying princess and an unwilling dragon.

You had raced behind the wheelhouse carrying Daemon back to the Red Keep. Maesters were already alerted and awaiting the prince in his bed chambers. While you had no business being in his quarters, even you had found him. You paced like a mad woman outside his bed chambers, if he died you swore to torment him in the afterlife as you counted every brick placed in the wall you were staring at.

Prince Baelon soon after burst through his quarters, hearing about his son as his conversation with father seemed to have turned quarrelsome. Both him and Viserys had raced down the corridors, the sight was none for relief but you sat on the floor. Knees bobbing in anxiety as you chewed through your nails. Having realised what Daemon might have been doing as dread and anger was replaced with guilt. You made him do this.

The questioning look on the princess’ faces was replied with one meek sentence “I asked him for the moon,” your eyes welling once more. Yet for the sake of your dignity and name you turned away.

After much waiting, yet not having left Daemon’s quarters. You waited patiently for him to awaken, for reasons other than to either press grateful kisses all over his face, or grovel at his feet for his blessed romanticism. Flattered (truly - completely) for broken bones set straight, and bruising along the side of his shoulders and two fat sheep, the cost of the moon on land. When Daemon grumbled awake, his family were the first to receive him until Baelon - being the true supporter of your union - ushered you in after demanding that the Maesters and attendants all leave. The father in him refrained from yelling at his son’s recklessness but you dutifully performed that right for him.

Daemon grinned, loopy from the milk of poppy no doubt. “Princess!” he dragged, very likely expecting an embrace or a pat on his shoulders for his efforts as he sat perched by pillows against the stone headboard. He instead was met with a swift and ringing slap across his cheeks, your eyes and nostrils flared.

“Have you lost your fucking mind!” the rage of a true Dornish woman radiating through your words, unbothered that the Heir to the Iron Throne stood witness to the crisp smack you had landed on his son’s face. You tilted your head, demanding an answer - palm stinging and yet itching to land another sharp smack on his other cheek as he grinned once more. While his cock nearly twitched seeing his sweet princess so ferocious about his life, your eye would soon begin to twitch as he kept up his antics.

“You asked for the moon,” he trailed away, clearly aware of the blunder he had created.

“A joke Daemon! A joke!” you dug your fingers into his cream tunic as you climbed on his bed “If I asked you to jump off Maegor's Holdfast, would you?” you scolded, Daemon’s mischievous glint now turned soft as your anger gave way to your concern. He nodded in agreement, nodding away like a spring headed doll. You smacked him on the shoulder once more, your bottom lip trembling as you remembered the terror you had felt as he laid unconscious in your arms “I thought - you moron,” your voice broke. “I thought you were dead,” you whimpered, making Daemon shuffle up higher.

He pushed stray hairs away from your face, his eyes soft as he glanced over your scrunched face. His thumbs caressing your cheeks before pulling you into him. You sobbed, near incoherent as relief washed over your fright. Daemon shushed you, apologising for scaring you, he looked up to where his father stood in his receiving chambers with a sheepish yet apologetic smile on his face. Baelon’s eyes glinted with knowing sadness, smithing Daemon wrote as disappointment for the stunt he had pulled. Baelon nodded knowingly at Daemon, reassuring him that you and him not to be disturbed before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Daemon milked his injuries for all they were worth, the warrior in him laid to rest as he demanded care from you at all times. From having you snuck through the tunnels to lay with him curled under the furs to insisting that you change his bandaging for him, read for him and braid his hair. The reality that Daemon was the younger sibling had never been more apparent than these past two moons as his bones realigned themselves, even Caraxes shared Daemon’s temperament during this time. Refusing to hunt and gobbling through the horde of sheep the dragon keepers would bring for him.

Whatever announcements of nuptials were to be made were postponed until he healed whole. So here you lay in the Godswood with Daemon oddly chirped than before as Prince Baelon’s feast begins tonight, having him affirmed as heir yet again as Jahereys health began to decline. Barely being able to speak more than a cough or two. The Old King’s time neared to an end, something that had deeply bothered all the Targaryens in the family. Bringing nearly the end of the century of dragons, even Aemma near the end of term. Much was to grace House Targaryen in the coming moons, so sitting here under the red leaves in the glaring warmth of the afternoon - there was silence, there was tranquillity.

You mindlessly sectioned Daemon's hair, braiding it far better than the handmaiden did for him. “You are going to be the prettiest Prince tonight, have women drooling and what not,” you giggled, knowing very well he found your teasing amusing but it often came at the price of having your rear smacked out of the blue.

“I shall escort you tonight,” Daemon whispered, lost in the sensations of your finger tips fiddling against his scalp, consequences and rules meant little to him now, let the world know and have the bother be done with, you were his. What else was there to say about it

“No, you may not,” you shook your head, tongue poked out as you dismissed him. He moved his head to look up at you, you shook your head once more “We cannot, not just yet,”

This one dismissal would result in a knight of pawing and pouting, you were sure of it. A prince of six and ten and yet he couldn’t behave like one. Your gown for tonight already laid awaits in your bed chambers, a gorgeous mustard and gold gown to compliment the symbols of your house. While Daemon often insisted you wear black or perhaps even red, in his head the two of you were already wed; it was only a matter of formality. What courting a woman that has been with him since his toddlerhood.

The Throne room once more had been decorated to charm the guests travelling from all over the Known World, to pay respects to the Old King and to find allegiances with their soon to be King, Prince Baelon. Many noble ladies of courts far and wide, dressed in their finest gowns, hoping to catch the eye of a Targaryen prince, perhaps the heir or perhaps his son. Prince Baelon appeared mellow, almost irked as he made his rounds. You greeted him upon arrival but his usually courteous smile to you seemingly turned to a grunt of an acknowledgment. You found solace within your known friends as they gushed over each other’s gowns while feasting over candied apples and cake. Daemon arrived later, a quirk of his as he walked in head held high and nonchalant, lips curled in a smirk as ladies began to hound him with questions of his well being.

The Kingsgaurd made their presence known as the crowd simmered to whispered conversations, everyone resumed their seats on either side of the Throne room. You sat with a few Dornish delegates and your brother Quentel Martell, he was rather chirpy about being housed by Targaryens, and odd joy or perhaps understanding bubbling in his chest as he socialised with the other heads of houses. The grand titles of the king were read out as his silhouette crowded your vision, the Old King stood in his regalia. A dying dragon yet stood commanding an entire room, people erupted in cheers as he walked to his Throne, his heir and son stood by the spiking swords by the ground.

The grandeur of the feast continued through the elaborate evening, tables coated in food and spilt wine drying sticky. Daemon and you made your rounds, inquiring of the latest salacious gossip and giggling over the older maidens that swooned over his father,when in was unsaid yet apparent that no woman in all of this court would ever be what Alyssa Targaryen was, her fire: her passion were truly unmatched. Another round of announcements were to be made, a grand toast to proclaim Baelon Targaryen as heir once more.

“It is with great pride, I once again affirm,” Jaeherys looked to his son admiringly, Baelon shuffled uncomfortably where he stood and yet you held a sorrowful smile, he truly deserved to have Alyssa beside him, she would have been a far valiant Queen than Westeros had ever seen. “My son, Baelon Targaryen is Heir to the Iron Throne and to be the future King of The Seven King,” the crowd applauded in unison as you joined them, Daemon nudged Viserys as he would be King after his father. As the applause died down, Jaehereys continued “I also with great pleasure, announce the betrothal of my grandson Daemon Targaryen,”

Heat creeped onto your cheeks as you caught Daemon’s lilac eyes across the room, crinkled at the corner as he smirked at you; both of you already aware of the verdict. Daemon contained all his animalistic happiness within him as he mouthed “my wife” to you. For moments, the hundreds of nobles and servants around you disappeared, all the remained were your eyes and his, separated by the wall from the watching gallery where you stood, here where you would be married, anointed by the King himself or the High Septon.

“With the noble lady Rhea of House Royce!” King Jaehereys’s voice boomed through the hall following thunderous applause. The crowds either turned to direct their applause at Daemon or turned to find the bronze dressed house and clapped.

Daemon's betrayed frown turned to his grandsire and his father, this couldn’t be - he was told otherwise, he wished otherwise. Lady Rhea, the great brown haired beauty she was - had already approached the makeshift altar, shuffling her way past the chairs to the Iron Throne; she stopped by Daemon, waiting from him to approach her. Daemon stood his ground, a deceived scowl began to tear through his princely composure and yet he had no choice over the demanding glare Jaehereys had fixed upon his grandson. Daemon felt the urge to empty his contents right onto the stone floor as Lady Rhea and him bowed in honour. Rhea, unaware of Daemon’s inner discomfort began to soak in the outpour of love for the new Targaryen wife to be.

While Daemon began to contemplate ways to weasel his way out of this, he found you standing at the gallery. The wine cup in your hand king dropped as you stool colourless and frozen. Not a blink nor a twitch as you stared at the window behind the throne, bile covered tongue as the sweet wine in your mouth turned bitter. The night was far from ended.

“With such auspicious news, my son, Baelon Targaryen presents you with your future Queen. To secure another reign of dragons, the Prince is betrothed to the Princess of Dorne!”

Another round of shivers jolted you from your trance, this time your reddening eyes shifted to look at the King - he who searched for your mustard clothed figure in the sea of people. Baelon had sooner caught your eye than him as he approached the stairs leading up to the gallery. People all around you are cheering and you hear muffled chatter. His hands tucked behind his back as he waited for you to come to him, how do you marry a man who held nothing but fatherly admiration for you wit, how do you marry the father of your lover. You eyes hadn’t dared meet Daemon’s just yet, refusing to look at the woman that stood next to him as you pulled away from the steel railing of the gallery. Your feet mindlessly carrying you to the unchosen prince, your palms shaking as you took his hand. Any lady in your position would quake with blushed prospects, “she’s just shy” you were terrified, betrayed and above all bleeding.

There will be a part 2 :)

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orgasming-caterpillar · 9 months

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Ranveer shut off the stove and poured the coffee into the two mugs, sighing at the aroma of cinnamon that wafted up along with the steam.

From the open kitchen window came the faint sounds of Mumbai traffic seventeen floors down— revving engines, blaring horns and the whistle of a traffic officer. He ignored those noises and focused on the muffled melody playing somewhere in the house; Raghav was at it with the guitar again, and Ranveer felt his lips twitch in a smile when he recognised the tune as Laal Ishq from Ram Leela. A perfect song for a perfect New Year's Eve.

He walked towards the balcony doors— transparent glass and showing off the glowing Mumbai skyline. A young man sat on the swing, dressed in black boxers and an oversized cream coloured tunic that most definitely did not belong to him, guitar mounted on his lap and slender fingers lazily plucking at the strings. His nails were painted a deep black, and Ranveer grinned wider at the predictability of his partner.

He settled down next to Raghav on the swing and silently held out one of the coffee mugs.

Raghav leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and set aside his guitar. Ranveer mourned the loss of the song, but then Raghav was snuggling into his side and he decided this was better.

"it's nearly midnight," Raghav murmured, and Ranveer hummed, running his fingers through Raghav's hair as he took a sip of the too-hot coffee.

"So it is."

"Are you gonna call Ananya?"

Ranveer exhaled. He set his mug down on the little teapoy and wrapped both around around Raghav, leaning back against the swing support gently so he wouldn't spill Raghav's coffee.

"I am," he replied, "but not now. She has an exam tomorrow, I'll call her after she's not amped up on coffee and manic studying."

Raghav laughed through his nose, shoulders shaking and coffee nearly spilling before Ranveer wrapped his fingers around his wrist to hold the mug steady.

"You and Ananya are so similar," Raghav teased. "The same vibes— you for dance and her for literature. Bloody crazed geniuses."

Ranveer grinned and shook his head. "Be quiet, you don't get to say anything after the four consecutive all-nighters you pulled before literally collapsing out of exhaustion."

"You make a mistake one time—"

Ranveer shut him up with a short kiss, shoulders shaking with silent mirth. "It's okay, jaan-e-man, I still love you."

Raghav tried to glare, but his eyes were soft. "You'd better love me, Kashyap."

Ranveer leaned forward and rested his forehead against Raghav's, both of them shutting their eyes and breathing together. It was quiet, the wind was cool, and both of them were together.

"Happy New Year, noor-e-jahan."

"Happy New Year, chandrakiran."

i love you and I love this

#raghveer #ranveer x raghav #dancing on your heartstrings #fan creations #Raghveer fanfic

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123movieshdwatch · 2 months

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Bloody Ishq (2024)

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bolllywoodhungama · 9 months

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Shahid Kapoor, Pooja Hegde starrer Deva wraps up first schedule

Last appeared in Bloody Daddy, fans of Shahid Kapoor cannot wait to see him in the next lineup of interesting films. After he will be seen in the role of a scientist in the untitled romantic drama with Kriti Sanon, the Ishq Vishk star will also be seen exploring the action genre, quite extensively, in Deva. Featuring Pooja Hegde as the leading lady, the movie which was announced a few months ago has already wrapped up its first schedule.

Shahid Kapoor, Pooja Hegde starrer Deva wraps up first schedule Producers Roy Kapur Films expressed their happiness of completely one schedule before kicking off the holiday season and New Years on social media. The post featured a photo of a gun with bullets emptied around it and it read, ‘Deva First Schedule Done and Dusted’. “And it’s a wrap for #DEVA schedule one. See you in 2024!” they captioned and also tagged the entire team of the film including Shahid Kapoor and Pooja Hegde.

For the unversed, the film is directed by Rosshan Andrews, who is known for cinematography work in Malayalam films like Kayamkulam Kochunni, Salute, among others. The film was announced on the occasion of Pooja’s birthday and later during the festivities of Dussehra, the makers also unveiled the first look wherein Shahid Kapoor will be seen in the role of a cop. Speaking further about this action-thriller, it follows a brilliant yet rebellious police officer investigating a high-profile case. As he delves deeper into the case, he uncovers a web of deceit and betrayal, leading him down a thrilling and dangerous path.

Written by Sanjay Cherian, Hussain Dalal, Abbas Dalal, Arshad Syed, and Sumit Arora, Deva is expected to feature some high-octane stunts and will also star Pavail Gulati in a pivotal role. It is slated to release during Dussehra, on October 11, 2024.

#Bollywood #Deva #News #Pooja Hegde #Rosshan Andrews #Roy Kapur Films #Shahid Kapoor #Shoot Schedule #Social Media #Wrap Up #Zee Studios #bollywood hungama

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badedramay · 3 years

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AryLie ki Pasoori - 14/02/22

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Romantic scenes nahin mile per pyaar BHAR BHAR MILA!!! I watched the entire episode simply FREAKING OUT BECAUSE OH MY GOD????????

but firstakjdhaea HOLD UP! Tere Naam???? You know...I ain’t even mad. I needed this reality check. FREAKIN’ needed it! Matlab here I was udofying in the aasman and Atif said hogaya behen ab neeche aaja and BAM I am back on the ground. TERE NAAM KON BAJATA HAI YAAR?!?!?!

MUST all songs be about death and gloom!??!?!

The entire sequence was just so...dslkahewa! I was half laughing half awwwing because bruh the shots were just so gorgeous?! Aryan running to Imlie as a tear fell from her eye. THAT BLOODY EK ANSU! the way we have been conditioned to feel about it. the ansu that Aru will ALWAYS catch! IT WAS CRUEL TO SHOW US AN ANSU FALLING BUT ARU NOT BEING THERE! Ohhhhh they knewww what they were doing! THEY KNEWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

HOw pretty are these shots?!

BUT THEN!!! MATLAB PROPER LITERAL ACTUAL KHIDKI TOD ENTRY OF OUR HEROOOOOOOOOOOO!!

I AM HOWLING IT HAPPENED ALL OF A SUDDEN I ACTUALLY CRIED OUT IN SURPRISE ADN THEN HAD TO PAUSE TO FOR A GOOOOOOOOOOD LONG LAUGH BECAUSE YEH KYA THAAAAAAAAAA????? HE JUMPED IN FROM THE WINDO!? TOD KE AGAYA?!?!? HOW DID HE KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON INSIDE? HOW DID HE KNOW IN WHICH ROOM SHE WAS IN???

AINVAYI Ghalib said Ishq Ne Nikamma Kardiya...Aryan toh Ishq mein actuall superhero bann gaya!!!!

Of course he saved her and the whole family going aye hayye kya hua happens. URGGGHHH I WAS DYINGGGG AT HOW aRYAN was half fussing over Imlie and half answering all of the family’s questions! i CRIED at how he told the T. fam to make space as Imlie was having trouble breathing. AND OYEEEE MALINI KI SHAMAT!!!!! Despite the glasses you could SEEE Aryan’s eyes turn red with rage when Sundar mentioned Malini taking the pest spray. and then Malini HAD to go and fuck things up more for her by making that ridiculous excuse and Aryan straight up told her she’s DUMB ADLHAWEA!! THIS BANDA YAAAAAAAAAAAR!!! aisi CLASSIC beissti kardeta hai!!

AND THEN AND THEN!!

IMLIE HELD HIS FINGER TO GET HIS ATTENTION!!!

MAIN TOH WAHEEEEEENNNNN MARR GAYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!

It was all just so freakin’ domestic! and THANK GOD madam didn’t get up and started her lectures again. IT WAS ARYAN IN CONTROL AND HE REMAINED SO TILL THEN END!!!!

Real talk..the way he always addresses the Tripathis with so much respect???? MY MAN IS A GENTLEMAN. I say this always I say this again...HE’S A MAN RAISED BY WOMEN AND IT SHOWS!!!

Agaye Arpita and Narmada suitcase leke! LIKE THIS WAS SO SMART THOUGH??? OF COURSE IT WOULD’VE BEEN WEIRD JUST ARYAN STAYING IN THE HOUSE SO BEFORE ANY SUCH OBJECTION TOOK PLACE HE HANDLED THE SITUATION??? he really would do anything to make sure Imlie is not troubled no? T___T

SPEAKING OF DOMESTICITY. thank you I am dead but HELLOOOOOOO ARYLIE????? THEIR CONVERSATIONS????? THE FUCKIN’ CASUALNESS WITH WHICH THEY CAN SPEAK TO EACH OTHER NOW???? THE BANTER????????? I AM DEAD???????

Ek toh yeh P se Pyaaar word legit HAUNTED Aryan the entire day xD First Arpita almost slipping that word and Aryan’s entire face becoming a ! sign. then Imlie saying he’s in love with ADITYAAAA cuz Aryan is obsessed with him (oh Imaliyaaaaaaa...you are hovering JUST around the point and yet missing it entirely!!) Ladai jhagda pyaar ki pehli seedhi then next seedhi then next seedhi OH MY GOD IMLIE THAT’S YOU! THAT’S YOU WITH ARUUU NOT ARU WITH ADI!! ASKJDHAWWA

Aryan’s subconscious is TUNED to being protective of Imlie. even in hypothetical bantery conversations he wouldn’t let anything hurt Imlie.

“Zyada uper jaogi main neeche se seedhi hata dunga.”

“Phir toh hum girr jaenge..”

“Main tumhein girne nahin dunga.”

ASHIQ SINGH RATHORE YOU ARE MAKING IT WAY TOOOO OBVIOUS!! WAYYYY TOOOOO OBVIOUSSSSS!!!

noooo I AM WATCHING THE SCENE AGAIN AS I AM TYPING THIS AND DYING ALL OVER BECAUSE ARYANNNN BEING SO GRUMPY THAT IMLIE WAS BEING ANNOYED AT HIM FOR SAVING HER AND HIM SARCASTICALLY SAYING SHE SHOULD SEND HIM A MESSAGE TO TELL HIM WHEN SHE’S GONNA GET IN TROUBLE NEXT SO HE WOULD COME THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR GHANTI BAJA KE TO SAVE HER AKJDHWEAEAW

AND THEN POOR ARPITA GETTING STUCK IN THESE TWO IDIOTS ROZ KA LAFDAA! real real REAL talk but Aryan and Arpita are a BLESSING for me..me who is a sucker for bhai-behen relationship done right. There’s something so endearing about this visual of a tall Aryan..a bharpoor mard...acting like a child wanting to hide behind his Di’s pallu because he doesn’t want to get into trouble. and Arpita..SWEET PYAARI DARLING Arpita saving her little brother but also teasing him? MAIN MARR GAYIIII

ARYAN AGAIN BEING GRUMPY THAT IMLIE WOULD RATHER STAY WITH MAA AND DI BUT NOT HIM LIKE SONNNNNNN!! TERA PURA SWAG SOLAR SYSTEM KE HI BAHAR CHALA JAATA HAI WHEN YOU ARE AROUND HIS GIRL! THE HOLD SHE HAS ON HIM I AM NOTHING BUT A GIANT BALL OF SQUEALS!!! IMLIE BEING SWEET TO DI BUT THEN FROWNING TO ARYAN LIKE EXCUSSEEEE MEEEE YEH KYAAA HORAHA HAI????

and i am SORRY but ASHIQ ARU SINGH RATHORE AAP JEALOUS HORAHE HO!! Jealous cuz Imlie said HE is the one to always instigate Aditya! yaaaaarr!!! ITNA BHI KYAAA OBVIOUS HONA?!??!

“Kisi ki kab aadat lag jaati hai pata hi nahin chalta...”

Aryan toh aadat ke stage se kaafiii aage nikal chuka hai but I am waiting for Imlie to realize her aadat! WHAT WOULDN’T I GIVE TO SEE HER MISS HIS ABSENCE JUST ONCE????

lastly. YES THANK YOU ARYAN FOR BAJAOING IMLIE FOR RUNNING AWAY FROM THE OFFICE! I WAS SO FUCKING MAD AT IMLIE FOR DOING THAT BUT HAH!! it always takes the writers snooping around in the tag to realize what kaand they did. but hey..at least they address it! ACHA HUA. THODA AUR SUNAYE IMLIE KO. USKI MOTI AQAL MEIN BAAT KAHAN BETHTHI HAI?!

now i’ll go back to screaming.

#imlie #arylie #tellywood #arylie ki pasoori #AAAAHHH THIS WEEK IS GONNA BE GOOD I CAN FEEL IT?!?!#DID YOU SEE HOW SUMBUL WAS ALL DECKED UP IN THAT PRETTY PINK?#AND WE GETTING A MAHA EPISODE TOO????#VALENTIES WEEK PE MAHA EPISODE?#ATIFFFFF YAAAR KHUDA KA WAASTA HAI KUCH ACHA SA DENA #A DANCE #THODA ROMANCE #BLOODY HELL I NEED SOME ROMANCEEEEE TARAS GAYI HOOOON

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tellywoodtrash · 4 years

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immj2 04.01.21 lb

“iss chaaku se tumhari gardan ki nass kaat doon, riddhima?”

omg what a dreamboat. he’s asking for consent before murdering her! #husbandGoals 🥰🥰🥰

ouff so much drama and blah blah about dhoka. i’m so bored. i really don’t give a fuck about his “issues” anymore. go take it up with a therapist who’s paid to deal with this nonsense, bro.

if i was her, i’d just be like just murder me and get it over with, dude. 🙄🙄🙄 he clearly wants to. stop being a pussy and just do it, fucker. no point hiding it, we all know you’re a murderous psychopath and there’s no redeeming you. so just bloody do it and embrace your true identity.

ohhohohoho manpain about being “totally broken”. is that supposed to make me sympathetic to him? coz it’s not working. go cry into your 5000 crore, asshole.

jesus christ, why is this girl like this???????????? self respect naam ki cheez aaas paaas se bhi nahi bhatkiiiii hai iske. imagine being this fucking desperate for a man’s love, lmao. couldn’t be me.

you love me? prove it. murder someone for me.

bhai tumhare liye main APNE nakhoon na kaatooon, let alone someone else’s galaa.

“uss insaan ka naam hai, kabir.”

her jhijak is unrealistic. i’d murder that haraami for free, just like, ainvayi mein; no need for proof of pyaar competition or anything. it’d already be on my 2021 to do list, and the sooner i crossed it off, the better. i can enjoy the rest of my year without him fucking it up on a daily basis.

anyway blah blah this is the only way to prove your love and oh my god this show is just so stupidddddddddddddddd. and she’s even more stupid for standing here listening to this bs instead of just laughing in his face and going and packing her bags to gtfo this madhouse.

“jaanta hoon imtihaan asaan nahi hai, lekin mera pyaar paana bhi itna aasaan nahi hai. haina?” ABBE OHHHHHHHHHH, PYAAR HAI KI UPSC KA EXAM???????? AT LEAST THAT GIVES SARKAARI NAUKRI AND PF AND TONS OF OTHER PERKS; TERE SADDE HUE PYAAR KE KYA HI BENEFITS HAIN CHUTIYE?????????

omfg now he’s all kal kuldevi ki pooja hai and pooja balidaan maangti hai, you have to mitaofy the rakshas and MY GOD LITERALLY GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE YOU STUPID FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK I CANNOT TAKE THIS SHOW AND CHARACTER SERIOUSLY ANYMORE IT’S ALL JUST SO FUCKING RIDICULOUSSSSSSSSSSS

btw ofc ahaana is watching all this from the shadows.

on one hand ahaana is like bitch are you fucking crazy? you just caaaaaaasually asked her to murder someone??? on the other she’s like why you giving her this opportunity to dho-ofy her paap. sis what side are you on? pro-murder or against? it’s kinda not clear rn.

she keeps talking about some promise and plan and all.............. like just tell us already. i need to know what’s in this whole mess for herrrrrr.

anyway she’s showing much more spunk than riddhima has in 6+ months, snatching away his documents, not returning them to him when he tries taking them, and demanding answers of him as he tries to weasel outta it. i like. you go girl, be a menace to him!

anyway i don’t care about their ainvayi ki tashanbaazi and paheli waale monologues. here, have a Chehra Appreciation Break. let’s hope his beard doesn’t get wilder than this.

she’s needling him ki oh god, do you actually still love that dumbass bitch and he’s all “pyaar bohut ajeeb sa ghaav hota hai, jiske dard pe bhi dil apna haq rakhta hai.” ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, CHULHE MEIN JAAYE TUM LOGON KA MANHOOS PYAAR. ARIJIT SINGH WAS WRONG. SOME ISHQ TRULY IS A KALANK, NOT A KAAJAL PIYAAAA.

anyway ahaana’s reaction matches mine:

he stormed out and ahaana is maarofying some boss bitch dialogues, ki she’ll make him keep his promise to her and what not. i hope she’s asked for a 1000 crore worth of stock options, not something fucking dumb like............ his pyaar or some shit. ugh pls sis. be better.

i don’t care.

how am i supposed to feel bad for this supremely stupid bitch? i can’t. i just can’t.

lahu moonh lag gaya. bitch decided to go for it.

ahaana trying to warn kabir that his ass about to get murdered......

isko hassi aa rahi hai. coz he knows how cute he is and no one could kill a baby marshmallow face like him.

“woh mujhe AB kyun maaregi? usse mujhe maarna hota toh bohut pehle maar chuki hoti.” lmaooooooooooooooo i mean..... it’s true. you’ve been asking for it for monthssss now.

lmaoooooooo the way ahaana agrees too.

well. she tried. baaki rabb ke hawaale.

the way she doesn’t want riddhima to be successful in killing kabir and thus back together with vansh makes me think..................... this bitch thinking with her pussy too. she too just want some vansh D. ugh. heere jade hue hain kya uspein?????

ugh shirali strikes again with the horrible military style kurtas. IT’S 2021, MADAM. PLEASE STOP SUBJECTING US TO THE SAME CRAP WE’VE BEEN LOOKING AT SINCE 2016 IN ISHQBAAAZ.

pooja mein baithe baithe murder ki baat kar raha hai. hadh hai, bhai. hadhhhhhhh hi hai. mata rani photu se nikal ke aake tera vinaash na karein????????

yeah, i’m thinking ahaana def. has the hots for V, the way she doesn’t want him to get back together with riddhima. godddddd, i hope it’s not love, and that she just wants to marry him and get her hands on all this $$$$$$. pls ahaana, i’m begging of you, don’t be a mediocre b like riddhima.

yeh kaisi pooja hai jahaan prashad mein bandook bat-the hain? bitch i want ladoo or nothing.

ok i need to go put my face in my cat’s belly fluff now, as a reward for watching this supremely crap episode. here, you also have a pic of him, for sitting through reading this shit.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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anonymousqueen09 · 3 years

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Bro!

I've ..

Mujhe pure gaane k liye rukna chahiye tha but solutions aane lag gye dimag me so I thought to pause it in mid and come to you babe...

I've figured out my ultimate problem. Although it is something usually people don't consider a problem..... ruk yaar.

It's my satisfaction. Bloody happiness being satisfied. Exactly. M khush hu. Isliye m kuch karne ki koshish nahi karti. And obviously ab main kisiko blame nahi kar sakti. Kyuki meri life hai. Mere decisions hain. Main jab apni life me koi improvement hi nahi chahti to kiske liye kaam karu?

Chalne do jaisa chal rha hai. Pehle to dimag kehta tha, padhle warna shadi ho jaegi. Ab to usse bhi darr nahi lagta. In fact naya adventure dikhta hai after destruction life me.

Meri practical side to ab bhi yhi keh rhi hai shadi k baad life destroyed hai. But being my emotional bitch, saari planning ki amma sister ek kardi. Can't even say I hate my father for being to persuasive, coz I love him, period.

Yaar isse badi dikkat ye hai ki main koi solution dhundh hi nahi rhi. To milega kaise? I mean like duh. Bina dhundhe to mujhe medical nahi mili. Solution to dur ki baat. As a matter of fact, ye maritime university ki entry ne or zyada confuse kar diya. Yaar do saal se maths touch nahi ki maine. Ab iska paper dena hai. Ek saal mental ability k naam pe sudoku barthe ja rhi hu. But come on yaar. Paper me koi waisa question thodi puchega.

Moreover, physics achi lagne lag gyi. Chemistry se ghin aani shuru ho gyi. Biology.... well I've never been more confused about bio. Or kasam khayi hai, ki agar 30. 08. 2020 tak maths se pyaar ho gaya, to biology chhod dungi. Matlab konsa sasta nasha kiya tha behn tune nind me.!? Hain!?

Din me do coffee, ek dedh ghante dance, pura din youtube. Or majjali life.

Reason being for this whole figuring out session was a quote.

Yaad nahi hai kiska hai but hai. Ki apni life me kuch unusual chahiye to kuch unusual karo.

Tab realise hua ki behnchod main to apni life se more than enough satisfied hu. Itna satisfied ki aaj mardo to khush hu. To fir padhu kyu?

Exactly babe. Padhna kyu hai. Tauji ko prove thodi karna hai ki unse better parents mere mummy papa hain. Saare cousins ko dikhana thodi hai ki I'm the best sista in the family.

Knock knock. Realization just kicked in my butt.

Mujhe bura nahi lag raha kisi bhi baat ka. Main khush hu.

Itni hadd ho gayi ki mujhe is lockdown wali life se ishq ho gaya hai. To kyu karu main bahr nikalne ki koshish!?

Kisi bhi bande ko 90 secs se zyada taadti hu to yaad aaya hai ki saala wo to apni aukat se bahr hai. Or fir main sakht hu. Sakhti my foot. Har deep eyes wale bande ki eye-fucking ho jati hai meri aankho se. Apni shakal se pyaar ho nahi paya hai mujhe. Karna kya hai beta.

Life is not all about crushes, sex, ex, padhai, career, love, marriage, fight, struggle, and all that fucked up shit. It has a deeper meaning to it. Kuch aisa, jiska existence mujhe pata hai, but wo hai kya, ye nahi pata.

Boht chhoti thi jab mummy se pucha tha ki exactly bhagwan hain kon? Exactly ye dharti bani kaise? Sabse pehle kon tha? Wo sab dekha kisne? Main kon hu? Ye shareer mera hai, ye aatma meri hai, ye dil mera hai, ye dimag mera hai, to main kon hu!?

Tabse kuch koshish ki hoti to shayad aaj tak saare answers mil chuke hote.

But ab kuch samajh nahi aa rha yaar. What is the meaning of my life? Kyu?

Itni cheeze seekhne ki koshish ki but adhura hi chhod diya. Jo bhi kuch try karti hu bich me hi reh jata hai. Isliye second drop pe bhi chup thi. Is baar koi faisla nikalta to harami lockdown, corona, crap. To 12th pass shadi hogi kya!? Ha ab darr lag rha hai. Achanak se shadi k naam pe. Kyuki AT LEAST graduate to hona hi hai na. Neelakuranji, bamboo, rafting, trips, adventures, kisi bhi cheez me interest nahi aa raha yaar. I feel like dead inside. Kyuki kuch hai hi nahi. I mean I do love my parents. Much more than you can ever realise. Or even i can ever realise. Saari life inki hi hai meri. Isliye. Ye bolenge to main shadi bhi karungi.

BUT I NEED TO KNOW MY PURPOSE. Hu kon main? Karna kya hai mujhe? Kyu hu?

Jab attempt kiya tha tab bhi nahi Mari!

I'm not depressed yaar. But I have no purpose. Like literally no purpose.

Kya karu kuch samajh nahi aa raha!!!!!!

Idk.

#amwriting #good thoughts #my soul #why am i like this #misunderstood

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shankarjaikishanfansassnintl · 4 years

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Three Cheers for the Timeless Thrill of ‘Teesri Manzil’! Remembering RDB

Subramanium Viswanathan

Remembering RDB on his birthday ... and reposting my ‘matinee experience’, which made me sit up, and take notice of him!

Three Cheers for the Timeless Thrill of ‘Teesri Manzil’!

1971. SIES College of Arts & Science, Sion, Mumbai.

I had just stepped out of S.I.E.S High School and entered the S.I.E.S College as a First Year Science student. I was pleasantly surprised at the new-found privileges of being a college student, which included the freedom of ‘cutting classes’ (something unthinkable at school), whenever one just was not in a mood to attend the lectures, or whenever there was some ‘unavoidable circumstance’, such as having to attend the matinee show at the near-by theatre.

Rupam at Sion Circle (now PVR Multiplex or something) was strategically located near the college. The theatre was just a stone’s throw away from the college, but the students preferred to throw themselves at the spot, more often than into class-rooms.

Now before you all get my credentials wrong, let me declare that I was not the irresponsible undisciplined ‘tapori’ type of teen-ager that you would imagine. I was a shy, sincere, serious, studious and spectacled student that time. Bunking classes for a matinee show was not in my nature at all. But there are moments in a teenager’s life, when one succumbs to peer pressure. I had a few close friends who apparently had seen ‘Teesri Manzil’ before, and they all strongly felt that ‘TM’ was a better way of spending the afternoon, than attending the Physics and Zoology lectures. After all, Newton’s Laws are not going anywhere, they will remain to trouble you throughout the year till the exams. But ‘Teesri Manzil’ may disappear from Rupam by next week. Also the Zoology lecture was all about the slimy Amoeba, which luckily one can draw in any shape and get away with passing marks. So my friends rationalize with me. Also, since I had not seen the film before, they take upon themselves the responsibility of dragging me along. I start to roll my tongue to say, ‘No, but …’, but it’s too late.

So at 11.15 am we are already inside the AC comfort of Rupam, after a great deal of pushing and pulling at the ticket counter. There is chaos all around. It appears as if the entire college is inside the auditorium. Noisy banter, loud laughter, whistling etc. The commercials are on. Nobody is paying a damn heed to the ads. I think, why can’t these guys maintain some discipline and sit down quietly. Soon a documentary of Film Divisions on Rural Development starts. One student gets impatient and shouts towards the man at the projector, ‘Arre! Main Picture chalu karo re!’. Another gentleman from the matured uncles’ minority in the audience sounds an admonishing ‘Shhh!’ to the errant student, but poor uncle is instantly greeted back with hoots and ridicule. As Rural Development makes its painful way towards the conclusion, the catcalls grow louder. At last Film Divisions prove their point that Sanitation and Sewage System have indeed improved in some remote village of U.P.

Suddenly there is a hush as the Censors’ certificate of the main film is displayed. Somebody reads aloud the number of reels for the benefit of the short-sighted among us. Then the real show starts with a bang, a big banner of NH (Nasir Hussain) films and a thundering Urdu couplet. The audience screams for no apparent reason. I wonder, what is there to scream about an Urdu couplet that they don’t understand.

As the banner fades out, ‘Teesri Manzil’ explodes right on the face! Right from the first frame, this guy called Rahul Dev Burman who seemed to be hiding behind the screen for the attack, suddenly unleashes his deadly instruments on you! On the screen, a car is chasing another along the hill-ways on a rainy night. Two short violin pieces play continuously in quick succession exactly simulating the pace and tension of the situation. The credits roll on. The lady driving the first car gets down and runs towards a building. You can see from the glass pane outside, her silhouette rushing up the stairs followed by another shadow of a man close on heels. 1st floor, 2nd floor and further up—and then she desperately knocks at a door, ‘Rocky, Darwaza kholo!, Rocky, Darwaza kholo!’, as the shadow of the man is fast closing in on her. The back-ground music turns ominous and suddenly stops for a second, as the shrieking woman is bodily lifted and thrown by her predator from the ‘Teesri Manzil’!

RDB announces the bloody event with a loud trumpet, pauses a bit, then crashes his cymbals and goes at his drums with a beat that is sort of a cross between ‘Pink Panther’ theme and the 007 title track, but with lots of more punch. The camera swirls around the shocked faces including Shammi Kapoor’s, collected around the gravitated lady’s corpse. RDB’s beats raise the tempo culminating with the last credit-slide –‘Directed by Vijay Anand’. By now the audience is univocally vociferous giving out, not those hoots reserved for ‘Films Division’, but shrill shrieks of excitement and anticipation of more thrills!

‘Teesri Manzil’ was all thrills, not just because it was a murder mystery, but also because it was a musical wonder. Apparently unlike me, most of the audience were seeing the film for umpteenth time, as they knew exactly when to scream at RDB’s notes! I think, RDB would have jumped like a hungry tiger at the offer made by Nasir Hussain, who also knew his music fundas well, right from the time of ‘Tumsa nahin dekha’(OPN) and ‘Jab pyar kisise hota hai’(S-J) days! So for the cynics like me who had always wanted Shankar-Jaikishen for a Shammi Kappor movie (that included Shammi Kapoor himself), RDB silenced everybody’s ‘bolti’ with the opening orchestral blast!

It was not that ‘TM’ was an out-and-out RDB show. Apart from music, it had great style! Vijay Anand’s narration of a crime caper was slick and imaginative with loads of thrills and fun too! After the credits, you find Shammi Kapoor on the top berth of a compartment with Asha Parekh sitting below and one pot-bellied man (Ram Avtar?) sitting opposite to her. Shammi makes monkey-faces at the fatso and forces him to break into uncontrollable peals of laughter which invites Asha Parkh’s wrath and she starts bashing the poor ‘mota’!

Asha is on the track of one ‘Rocky’, a band-player to avenge the death of her sister. She traces him to the hotel where Rocky plays his band daily. Shammi Kapoor (Rocky) who is also trying to get to the bottom of ‘Third Floor Throw-out’ puzzle hood-winks Asha about his real identity. He says he is substituting on the drums for ‘Rocky’ who is on leave. Asha pouts contemptuously that she had come to hear Rocky’s drums and she had to listen to this non-entity. Shammi takes on the challenge. So does RDB, and throws at you ‘O haseena zulfonwali …’.

Now the shrieking session has revived! Shammi thrashes the drums, Helen swoops down a curved ramp and the collegians cry hoarse almost deafening the voices of Rafi and Asha Bhosle! Then Shammi and Helen sizzle on the floor to Majrooh Sultanpuri’s rapid repartee:

‘Garm hai, tez hai, yeh nigaahen meri

Kaam aa jaayengi sard aahen meri

Hey, Tum kisi raah-mein phir miloge kahin,

Arre, Ishq hoon, Main kahin teherta hi nahin!

Main bhi hoon galiyon-ki parchhai, Kabhi yahan Kabhi wahaan …’

Then RDB’s violins take you to high pitch and tug at you three times before dropping!

The steps and movements are wild, yet so gracefully executed, a far cry from some of today’s crude ‘item numbers’! Shammi tinkers with a glass and then blows a saxophone. Guitars and violins pump adrenalin into the auditorium. Now I am beginning to enjoy all this ‘shor’ around me! I don’t know what one calls it –Rock, Pop or Jazz, but ‘Jo bhi hai, khuda-ki kasam lajawaab hai’! I find myself rocking involuntarily on my seat to the RDB beats. Then I tell myself ‘Sit straight properly, like you were told at school’.

As the song ends, I compose myself and sit straight. But there is no respite. The second song starts soon. For prelude, RDB plays a crazy guitar piece that does somersaults repeatedly three or four times and hands over the mike to Rafi and Asha Bhosle. This time it is Shammi wooing Asha Parekh with ‘Aa jaa aa jaa, main hoon pyar tera …’, feverishly shaking his head and repeating ‘Ah-ha aa jaa’ eight times for emphasis. Parekh in pink swirls around Shammi giving him the slip and ‘pehnao’-ing him the ‘topi’. Shammi dances with ruffled hair and goes berserk gesticulating in eight different ways for each ‘aa jaa’ while Asha swings fluttering her eyelashes. All that frenetic head-shaking and hip-swinging on screen with trumpets blowing and drums beating, drive the public to delirious frenzy. I suppress my own urge to scream. Aakhir, discipline bhi koi cheez hai!

Agatha Christie’s whodunits could grip you, but you don’t read the same novel repeatedly. Alfred Hitchcock was a master of suspense who packed in some of the most bizarre situations in his script, some of them exciting and funny at the same time (Remember ‘North by North-West’ in which Cary Grant is left alone to drive on a treacherous hilly road after being forced to gulp a full bottle of Bourbon by a bunch of goons!). Nobody can beat Hitchcock when it comes to an intriguing plot, but Hitchcock Saab-ke filmon-mein aisa music kahan hota hai (if you don’t count ‘Que Sera Sera’ in ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much’)? Here our own Vijay Anand mixes all the ingredients like suspense, music, romance and comedy in the right proportions like an expert ‘bhel-puri-wala’ from Juhu and gives on the platter ekdum ‘paisa-wasool’ entertainment, worth every penny of your hard-extracted pocket-money from Daddy’s hard-earned money.

The first-half is great fun and romance giving RDB the avenue to come up with another two very pleasant numbers, ‘Diwana mujhsa nahin‘, a Rafi solo and ‘O mere sona-re sona-re’, a Rafi-Asha duet in which Asha Parekh concedes to Shammi Kapoor’s ‘patao-ing’. Before you know, it is already ‘Interval’. Now there is commotion at the Samosa stall outside! No Sir, I don’t join the mad scramble for a few samosas! I told you already that I was not the irresponsible undisciplined ‘tapori’ type of teen-ager that you would imagine! I was still a shy, sincere, spectacled student.

I try to take my mind off from the missed Samosas and focus on the second half. The plot thickens now … quite like the thick Tomato Ketchup that goes so well with Samosas! Now a whole lot of suspicious characters are hovering around the screen like Prem Chopra who points a rifle to shoot a distant bird, Iftekhar who leaves a misty cigarette smoke from wherever he spies on other suspects, Premnath (who generally opens his dialogue in most of his films with ‘Bloody Bushhtaard’) urf Rai Bahadur Singh who lives lavishly alone in a Dak Banglow, and K.N.Singh , Rai Saab’s drunken house-keeper. The needle of suspicion keeps swinging.

Who killed the lady? Well, that can wait. Meanwhile let’s have more of RDB. So we have a delightfully crazy ‘Dekhiye Sahibon’ in which Asha lets loose the ‘public’ on Shammi who clings to a ‘Merry-go- Round’ to avoid getting bashed up by a group of Sardars. The song is good fun with great camerawork matching the mood of the music.

It is time to get a bit serious. Helen has a ‘Raaz’ tucked up in her sleeveless. So she gets shot the same way as the ‘broads get the bullets’ in James Hadley Chase novels, before she could divulge the ‘secret’ to Shammi Kapoor. Shammi himself gets exposed as the real ‘Rocky’ making him eligible for titles like’Jhoothe’,’Makhhar’,‘Dhokebaaz’ etc. from Asha Parekh, but not before delivering a superb last song, a solo by Rafi, my most favourite in the film - ‘Tumne mujhe dekha hokar mehrban---Rukh gayi yeh zameen, tham gayaa aasmaan, Jaane man, Jaan-e-Jaan …’. What a song!

'Lekar yeh haseen jalwe, Tum bhi na kahan pahunche

Aakhir to mere dil tak kadmon-ke nishaan pahunche …’

One can as well sing these lines to that fantastic trio of Majrooh-RDB-Rafi for such an exquisite composition!

The stock of songs is sadly over, but RDB still has a fantastic piece in store, when Shammi discovers the identity of the murderer by his host’s coat in which one diamond stud is conspicuously missing. The missing button had been tightly clutched in the fist of the dead woman. Terrific close-ups of a sweaty shocked Shammi’s face when he realizes the truth, are accentuated with a more terrific back-ground score by RDB! Finally after a scuffle, the killer himself drops himself to death from an altitude equivalent to that from which he had thrown the lady in the title-scene. The police arrive dutifully after all action is over. The film ends with a funny note with Shammi and Asha again in a train compartment, this time on honey-moon, encountering the same pot-bellied man who tries to escape from them to avoid trouble!

Vijay Anand’s crisp and creative direction makes the film a gripping entertainer and places it a cut above the rest of typical crime thrillers. But ‘Teesri Manzil’ is more remembered as a musical classic that changed the trend of Hindi film music irreversibly! The film was released way back in 1966. But Rahul Dev Burman was a maverick clearly much ahead of his time. He broke all the rules and raised the tempo of Hindi film music to a feverish pitch several ‘manzil’s higher! Western music never sounded more jazzy and classy in any other Indian film, before or after ‘TM’. So it is no wonder that after five decades, the film and its music still rocks in memories, if not in matinees.

Well, to cut the long story short, we were back in college corridor next day and discussing the ‘TM’ experience. One of them starts, ‘Listen.Today is Thursday’. ‘So?’. ‘So, Today is the last day matinee show of ‘Teesri Manzil’ at Rupam. So why not we …’. I nod my head vehemently, ‘No, No … that’s too much… well … OK, Why not? OK, Sure’. The would-be IIM aspirant amongst us steps forward to manage the immediate crisis, ‘Let’s see what have we today? Oh! Physics Lab? The same silly experiment of moving the convex lens to and fro till you remove parallax. We can skip it. Journal? Not to worry, we can copy from that front-benchwala Bakul Mehta’.

So we are back again at Rupam, throwing all shame to the rains outside! There is chaos all around inside. The same FD documentary is on. One voice shouts ‘Arre! Main Picture chalu karo re!’. I turn towards the voice and am shocked to find that the shouter is none other than Bakul Mehta, the front-benchwala of college! I start fretting and mutter to my friend ‘Just look at that Bakul! What’s he doing here? How irresponsible! He is supposed to be at the Lab this time! Now how the hell are we going to finish our journals?’. My cool friend admonishes me, ‘Let’s worry about all that after the film. Relax. Try to concentrate on the movie. Don’t disturb, Pay attention … This is not Calculus class’.

So I pay attention all over again. The show starts with a bang … the big banner of NH (Nasir Hussain) films and the thundering Urdu couplet. People shriek cheeringly. And to my horror, I find myself whistling and screaming hoarse along with them for no apparent reason!

Now please don’t get my credentials wrong. I was not the irresponsible undisciplined student …. well, may be till I was coerced to see 'Teesri Manzil’ twice in quick succession, during peak college hours!

https://youtu.be/dDtKEtDA8sM

#shankar #shankarjaikishan #rdb #rdburman #pancham

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withfeelingthistime2232 · 7 years

Text

What Are You?

You’ll Like It...

He didn't know how much more he can take looking at that sodden blue God. He understood it was to early to mess around his head much less the sheets. Especially under the current circumstances where grief still rumbled in their chests. Some more silently than others, But the close quarters doesn't help his dick...

It's even harder when his scent overpowered the rum, the passing hours daydreaming when he should be sleeping, listening intently to the sleepy breaths shooting small shives down his spine. Even the look in his eyes held a beautiful amount of amazement when he peered at the waterlife, full of awe and fear. He was a goner, he realized it the moment his thoughts wandered to his missing front teeth.

he slumped back in his chair chewing on his pipe, seeming uninterested in the tall bluenette he stared down like a hungry fox and tried to seem uninterested in anything related to the man in front of him. Especially the bonding he's trying with the cyborg.

“ Well, no not quiet. It getting close though! Here” He grabs her hands to show her the handshake for the twelfth time always getting stumped on the same damn step, He needs to stop messing with that damn robot. “Now, copy my face” he says as he scrunches up his nose poking the tip with his tongue.

Cyborg follows suit exactly,perfectly even, leaving behind no feeling and a loose dead stare. Dee’s tongue hangs limp in a moment of realization. What am I trying to do? All was quiet till a scan was put in place by the other causing an alarm to go off in the Cyborg, a small series of little bloops making 2D spark back.

“Im detecting emotional distress” Noodle states blantly looking back to Murdoc, and with those two little words that makes him turn back fast. “Ok time for a charge” He replied quickly to cover up the machines words “Tusspot why dontcha come look here for a bit?” Cyborg then stands, marching straight to the back to plug herself in as 2D ceases to move from his hard stare at the spot “Noodle” once sat. “Oi, faceache” “...” he could still see a fuzzy outline of her if he concentrated hard enough. “2D!” he speaks up a bit louder. “God Are you bloody deft? “Hu?” he blinks the dryness out of his eyes before answering Murdoc.

Murdoc pats the arm of his chair to emphasize.

“Im...I'm good Mudz” “Get over here”

Stuart gives a sigh before stumbling over to the faux Captain. Standing, Silent as they listen to the passing waves, As he takes in every little intake of the others breath. Its peacefully. Murdoc watched absentmindedly along to the breathing as seeing the other focused on a school of fish warping through the waves. He had a hint of a smile on his lips yet, there it was again, that look in his eye. What's he scared of?

“So what's the problem?” Murdoc asks to break the silence. “Mean besides the kidnapping?, everything” Stuart says all to quick wittedly smile wiping from his face. Well damn, got me there. “I ment with the ocean” “What with the ocean? Nofinks wrong wit the ocean, I love it you know that” He says a little too quickly making the words unbelievable with his stumbling accent. “Dents”

Stuart clicks his nails together behind his back hoping to keep his nervous habits hidden as deciding whether or not to tell the man his problems.

“Its……, well its.” “Your mumbling” Murdoc says agitatedly. ‘Whales” Stuart says speaking up.

Murdoc laughs as Stuart watches the cork pipe bob mockingly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What!?” Stuart says with a bite in his words. “Ain't ya dad like a fish guy though?” he asks though his laugh “Marine biologist and yea, so?” “So what ya scared of those fat things anyway?” “It could eat me!” “Eat you! Eat You!? Whales eat krill dumbass” Murdoc explains, with breathing difficult to handle ‘Krill swim in groups don’ they?” Stuart says in a quick retort “Yeah?, your point?” He says calming down from his manic high. ‘Well...when dey swim in the groups it's big!...so dey can mistake me for krill hu?, like when sharks bite surfers by accident?”

As he thought over his words he was taken aback at the question, could they mistake things for a group of food? It was a stupid yet, somewhat intelligent thought that he couldn't really answer, well really how could he? but he wasn't wrong. “.....far fetched,but this- this isn't some pinocchio scenario Dee, and you're not scared of sharks so why whales? “Well, a shark is smaller... I cou’ somewhat fight back, maybe even win?” “Fat Chance” Murdoc says with a grin staring at the others annoyed expression. “Wot Im tryin ta say is that it’ll be scary jus livin in a whale. You’d just be sitting in a pitch black room made of flesh.. till ya jus die, if it dont ripe ya leg apart first.” he says ending the conversation to look out the window again.

…..

A loud sneeze after the following silence makes Stuart jump away from the Bassist glaring at the other through his sniffle. Murdoc rests his hand on the Singer's lower back in a non-verbal apology only to slip lower as the other allows the rare comfort.The pair stops there,right at the hip precisely as they both gaze out the window, working out each other's uncertainty with daring movements, lower down the hip, through a belt loop, thumb slowly rubbing bare skin. It's only till the Bassists dares to move under the shirt does Stuart speak up.

‘Mudz..” He says with warning Does it really look like I know what I'm doing either? He said to know one but himself. He lingers his hold a few moments longer before dropping his arm to the side, making a chirped noise of disappointment for the both of them.

“What's it like?” Stuart asks after a pregnant pause

The question took him back few stages as he tried to pinpoint exactly what he was asking. Sensing the other's confusion he spoke before the Faux Captain had a chance of retaliation.

“You painted it pink, but like ugly pink?” He asks making idle conversation

Murdoc closes his mouth with a solid hum and hands the pipe over to 2D, Lighting a match for the mans whose hands shook to much to do so himself. Watching him inhale the fumes of the remaining salvageable tobacco before speaking.

“Its wonderful, I think. Not the type of amazement wonderful it's more like ‘why is this heap of shit here?’ sort of wonderful.” He spoke while he fanned the match out.

“Like when ya find an arm on a corn dog?”

“Yeah?” he says with a questioningly, mumbling to himself as he repositioned himself in the chair.

“Far away it looked amazing…. Then when ya get up reeeal close n’ see all the melted plastic you’ll do a double take I swear”

“So its literal garbage?”

“Yeah... not gonna sugar coat it, it's a landmass forged from a shit load of garbage. Don- don worry your pretty head though Dents. I cleaned most of it up and made a palace modified from that playboy-ishq mansion we got kicked out of in Monaco” Murdoc spoke while watching the smoke tendrils pour from his thin lips.

Though trying to seem uninterested in the charismatic levels pooling from the Bassist he couldn't hide the smile threatening to form at the corner of his mouth.

“You'll like it we got a studio, a lovely rotting lighthouse where I hold my radio channel, and a very Hot sun~”

“It sounds like crap Mudz” Stuart said laughing as he handed the pipe back to him.

#beelzebub-36 asked for more so Ill give you guys a chapter #2Doc #Murdoc #Stuart #I know his dad runs a carnival but I had other plans in this story #Au where Murdocs trying #Plastic Beach Redo #How good are people with changed Canon?#WhatAreYou?#My Writting

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