anah

she/her | bi-ace | desi | intp 

[icarus-f4lls]

surprise! i posted the beginning of RRR - The Retelling  on ao3 just now

happy reading everyone !! lmk how u find it :)

[icarus-f4lls]

This is a tumblr hug, pass it on to your ten favorite followers and mutuals💖 <3

aww rlly :( tysm !!

[rorapostsbl]

man i am so goddamn confused. do i write the song fics, or the hand kissing prompt by @eremin0109 or start drafting the smut scene @ ram's table™ ?????

u guys tell 😭 i give up i just want them to kiss properly and worship eachother sensually

another idea just popped up—

imagine bheem kissing ram here softly ^^ in the balcony infront of everyone and then they stumble towards the bedroom. (make it 'post the fight ™' and rambheem moved in together & ram was the one to propose 😭)

my mind is broken don't mind.

[icarus-f4lls]

as soon as i saw this i just had to make another version of  rambheem holding a pride flag edit !!

[bekku]

Seems like there are a lot more people in rrr fandom now

[icarus-f4lls]

our sita and ramaraju said YES gay rights  ❗ ❗

[rambheem-is-real]

Since you are one of the top rrr blogs I was wondering if you saw/read this

https://zeenews.india.com/entertainment/buzz/ss-rajamoulis-rrr-a-gay-film-western-audience-finds-ram-charan-jr-ntrs-bromance-queer-ram-gopal-varma-reacts-2469950.html

Ooh I saw the “western people are calling rrr gay” articles and I saw RGV’s comments before the movie but this I have not

RGV knows the truth lmao like always

[sinistergooseberries]

i love your header so much

aw thanks!! all thanks to @icarus-f4lls

[bekku]

RRR returning to US theatres at the beginning of pride month 👀

[fadedscarlets]

Ummm... I'll just leave this here...

[rambheemisgoated]

Hi guys, @ronnoxandlumoss here, I'm just making a separate blog to keep my RRR and HP fanfics segregated!

I'm making a tag list for my rambheem fanfics, lemme know if you would want to be tagged!

Find already written fics here

@icarus-f4lls @thewinchestergirl1208 @sivuda @voidsteffy

[icarus-f4lls]

imagine bheem helping ram apply kajal on his eyes …

[weaselingron]

After Bheem took Ram to his tribe.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s an utsav (party) planned for Malli’s return, and to thank you for your assistance. For my duty, when I had to go to Jenny, you helped me get ready. Now, for a party of my people, it’s my turn. Come na?”

Ram only smiled at the sweet unsaid request, “Let’s go.”

Bheem grabbed some coverings and jewellery, then took Ram to the forest.

“Bheem? Why are we going out in the open to change clothes?”

“Not in the open Anna, we will be well covered with sense forest, theres a lot to do before we change clothes.”

“Okay.” He walks, not realising his foot was stuck in a creeper branch, “Ara!”

Bheem turned and caught him before he fell flat on his face, “What Anna, see and walk na.” His eyebrows furrowed and he sat on the forest floor, easily pulling his Anna in his lap, “Its twisted Anna, I’ll have to set it right okay?”

“Huh? Nonono- AAAAAAAA.”

“Okay, okay,” held him closer, sounded like he was in more pain than his Anna, “I’m sorry, you’re okay now.” He got up, holding his Anna bridal style.

Ram held on, eyes squeezed shut from pain in his throbbing ankle.

They reached a riverside, covered in lush woods, and a few pestles, mortars and grinding stones lay there. Bheem went and brought some leaves and ground them up, before heating them over a fire he made, bandaging the ankle easily and soon Ram felt the deep heat working.

In the mean time Bheem had grabbed some mehendi leaves of the brown and red variety and was grinding them, mixing them with clay and cloves to make richer pigment. In a separate mortar he put kohl stone under a heavy rock witha little water.

“What are you doing Bheema?”

“Getting you ready Anna.”

“Anna bulana zaruri hai kya?” (Is it necessary to call me Anna?) Ram asked.

Bheem looked up with a look Ram couldn’t explain, “Nahi hai kya?” (Is it not?)

Ram just smiled and lay his head back on the soft mud, watched the turn and ripple of Bheem’s muscles as he worked hard for their shringaar. (decoration)

Bheem came with a small dried stick, about the size of a match stick, and took Ram’s hands and started applying the henna, making the design of out brown and red. Ram lay there, looking at the sky, wondering how on earth he got so lucky, his eyes were so soothed, he couldn’t fight sleep if he tried.

…

Ram hadn’t expected to wake up with his head being held delicately over the river as Bheem washed his hair, but he wasn’t complaining.

They had only communicated their tentative nature with their eyes, and Bheem wordlessly turned around as Ram bathed after scrubbing the dried henna off. Bheem’s own hands were similarly adorned by then. They had both gotten face packs made of various plants Ram knew little about.

After putting on clothes of Bheem’s tribe, with their backs turned to one another, Ram was nervous yet he couldn’t explain it to himself, what if they didn'tlike it? What if they realised he was an intruder who didn’t deserve their love or gratitude, who didn’t fit their pious selves? ‘Why am I so worried how I’ll look in these? They’re the most comfortable fabrics I’ve ever worn, Sita isn’t here. The comfort should be more than enough.’

It wasn’t until Bheem’s approving gaze settled on him that he realised, it wasn’t the tribe’s opinion that he was worried about.

This time Ram sits as Bheem does his hair, emphasising their natural gloss with the sweetest smelling oils.

He then washed his hands and brings over the prepared Kajal, made with a cotton wick soaked in local oils and camphor and almonds burned up and mixed with kohl stone dust, Bheem dipped in his ring finger.

“Look up at me, Anna.” Bheem had mirth shining in his eyes.

Ram tickled him and mocked him, “You’re not *that* tall, okay?”

Bheem giggled and pushed him off, “Stop or I’ll have to wash my hands again!”

Ram stopped, only because he didnt want Bheem to get a stomach ache.

“Okay but really, look up.”

Ram tried not to show his startlement as he felt Bheem’s thickly callused fingers rest on his face and his breath tickling him.

“Stay still Anna.” He pulled Ram’s cheek down and Ram tried not to shiver as his waterline was coated.

Both said nothing as the sound of breathing filled the air.

After, Bheem had him stand, the pain in his ankle was gone, as expected.

“Bohot zyada sundar lag rahe ho Anna.” (You look really beautiful Anna.)

With a deep breath and bravery he didn’t have, Ram said, “Ek baar aur bolo na, Anna bole bina.” (Say it again please, without calling me Anna)

Ram hadn’t thought he would ever see Bheem blush as prettily as he did. And he really didn’t expect him to run off. So he just smiled and followed him to the utsav.

…

At the end, when Ram’s hair was messed up and sweaty from dancing, strands on his forehead, cheeks flushed from exhaustion and a big smile on his content face, Bheem pulled him aside.

“Bohot zyada sundar lag rahe ho, Ram.”

[icarus-f4lls]

omg this is so cute 😭

[icarus-f4lls]

Hi! I cant send you a message because of your allowances, but I wrote an ao3 fanfic about your prompt and I'd love to send it to you

OMG please do i’d love to read it !! <33

[icarus-f4lls]

imagine bheem helping ram apply kajal on his eyes ...

[juice450]

[thirdslowdancer-deactivated2023]

...OTHER PEOPLE. [i : ii : iii]

WATER: VIRTUE BRINGS TEARS.

Pairing: Ram x Bheem

Summary: Bheem discovers that Ram can't be his other half.

Warnings: An appropriate amount of angst, might have aggressive (?) wording

a/n: i rewatched rrr yesterday, had a bad morning today and listened to my achilles playlist so this is now ur problem <3 also im shit at titles sry

Bheem can’t help but think that virtues can be unbearable. He is a patient man; he has spent hours parading in the jungle as prey, blood as beautiful as it is vulgar dripping like nectar from his brows. And so when there’s no news from Lacchu, when Jenny doesn’t come for strolls and no one brings motorcycles to repair, Bheem is left with his patience weighing down on his tongue, urging him towards honesty. Honesty might be the one thing he finds truly human, therefore ruthless. 

The balcony is where he goes for company. People-watching is something he never even knew had a name; something he used to think was only his, close to his heart. 

Instead of bickering vendors or kids chasing pigeons, he finds Ram. 

Ram sits on the ledge where the railings meet. Lush creepers frame his form, a lost statue in the Deccan flora rising from the soil. A breath of home again. The leaves tousle his hair with every shift of the wind and Bheem, in spite of himself, imagines they are his fingertips.

“Bhaiya!”  

Ram jolts and Bheem might as well have been shot because what is that burning spreading in his ribcage? 

Ram’s eyes flash with flames that he only lets flicker when on the search for his mysterious culprit. Then like dying embers, they reign themselves in as they land on Bheem. 

There is something in Ram's hand. It sways in the wind, glinting in the white sunlight. It is black, silver, and royal, and it makes itself a part of Ram like everything regal and precious does. Nothing will surpass him, Bheem thinks. It is a mantra by now. 

Bheem approaches him. In his home, nothing was especially intriguing—traditions as old as time, and paths forged by footsteps of his ancestors. The British were the first thing to have been intriguing, and now he was in a boiling pot of uncertain victory and certain danger. So, Bheem knows, the way every creature of the earth does, that curiosity kills. 

It is what blooms in him on this empty day.

The air is  not soft anymore. Saffron, candle wax, and something Ram calls cologne braid into each other and thoughts turn into oxygen. 

“What’s that?” he asks. His words are instinctual. He wants to say, Throw it away. I could make you a bangle. I could brand you with home.

“A piece of home,” Ram replies. His eyes are tender, more than Bheem wants to see. He is not one to envy easily. But this person that has a shrine in Ram’s heart (that is what I would want, he thinks) must be favoured by the gods.

“Bhabhi icchindha?”*

Bheem does not want to know, truth be told. He wants to live in his young world where Ram names the stars for him out of love. He searches Ram’s face for the tiniest show of refusal, disbelief or even confusion. 

Instead, he finds Ram’s secret smile. He thought it was something that was only his, close to his heart. It is acquainted with many others, too.

“Yes,” Ram says, averting his gaze, chuckling lightly. 

“I thought so! How come I didn’t know? What’s Bhabhi's name?”

“Seetha.”

Rama, Seetha. Of course the deck is stacked against Bheem; people like him should not win battles, only wars. Bheem has learned to burrow himself so deep into the war that any tenderness, any necklace in his Ram’s hand is a sight worth drowning for. The fault does not lie with Ram (like he could ever attribute a fault to him? Would that not be blasphemy?) but instead with himself. He should not have expected anything but an unrequited heart. This isn’t even his priority — his priority, mission above all else, even Ram, is to save Malli, his sister in all but blood. There has been enough blood in this chapter of their lives; he is grateful that whenever he bleeds, she does not. 

Bheem is not afraid to admit to himself this fact that is colder than his veins. He does not resent it, even. But there's the sting like a scrape on rose shrubs, the drop of his stomach, the fleeting selfish urge to abandon Ram, to forget the plan and burn the mansion and risk the delicacy of having his sister in their village, safe and skipping like little girls deserve to be and god why is it so difficult to to put a name to this yearning and shove it aside? Nameless things are haunting things and Bheem does not know if what he feels for Ram is romantic love, platonic love, religion or something he’s invented. Something nameless. 

“Seetha is — or was, my sweetheart. I would write to her but I don't think I deserve her innocent love.  I,” Ram says, his playful tone plummeting down into self-hatred, “I'm …”

Ram’s voice alone strips away all those heedless thoughts and Bheem remembers for the hundredth time how magical he is. He watches Ram like he watched the tiger stir feebly on the blood-soaked Delhi soil. Fierce, fiery eyes put out. Dying embers are comforting, but their death is not. 

“Well, I don’t…It doesn't matter.” Ram shakes his head as if to physically shake off a phantom. “Want to go for a walk in the market? We could get you some mangoes.”

“Oh. Oh, sure.”

Bheem smiles despite his facial muscles stiffening as if he’s never smiled in his life. It certainly feels like it. Ram scans his expression longer than he usually does. He knows Bheem all too well and that’s another thorn in his heart, another rose petal in his lungs. He will not let his selfishness hurt Malli, Ram, or Seetha.

I’ll hold onto my love, he thinks as Ram descends the stairs. You deserve a god’s nectar, not a human’s honesty.

glossary:

bhabhi icchindha? — did sister-in-law give it [to you]?

[icarus-f4lls]

once these stupid exams are over i’ll finally be able to start making  rambheem fanart 

[sonaswrld]

LOOK WHAT I SAW ON TWITTER AHHHHHH