#jenny buxton

[enigma-the-mysterious]

The poster child of harmful ignorance

[riverroan]

Ram, pointing a weapon: Freeze! Your under arrest for robbery!

Bheem: Wait- No- What did I steal?!

Ram, lowering weapon and sniffling: My heart.

(Years Later)

Bheem: And that’s how we met!

Malli, Sita, and Jenny: Awwww!

[carminavulcana]

Hi.

If you're still accepting prompts for micro ficlets, I wish to request one.

Number 33. Saccharine (Curious to read you turn this into an angst fest.)

33. Saccharine, Bheem and Jenny

Romance, of the variety that she and her girlfriends had often discussed and read about in books, was a saccharine affair. The flowers, the sweets, the expensive custom-made jewels, the glamourous and gay parties, the dances— the quadrille and the swing and the tango and the waltz— all spoke of a womanhood that was expected to be coy and convivial. Anger did not become women. Arrogance was the antithesis of feminine charm. Ego and independence were an affront to desirable marriage prospects. Jenny had learnt through the years that she would be the saccharine in her husband's— whoever it would be— otherwise aggressive, bitter world. And she would be his comely, deferent bride, always ready to offer him a warm meal and a warm bed after the trials of his tiresome day.

Life's lessons had not prepared her for a life with Bheem. And yet, it came to her as naturally as breathing.

In Adilabad, in her few short weeks with him, she had understood that while Indian womanhood had its own challenges, the tribe of her beloved was a safe haven; a place of growth and self-discovery. In less than ten days, she had been taught the ways of the forest. She knew now to clean and bandage wounds in a pinch; mostly because Bheem could not bear to bare himself to his tribesmen. The pity in the eyes of Malli and peddayya, Lacchu and Jangu was already too much for him. So it had fallen upon Jenny to turn into his healer. She now also knew how to catch, clean, and cook fish under less than an hour. Her male cousins had never taken her fishing with them; because in England, girls didn't go fishing. However, here, she was expected to learn how to provide for herself and others around her in any situation. Fishing was a life skill in Adilabad, not a leisure activity.

On the question of survival, she was now being taught the use of weapons. Sweet, genial, proper— good British girls of the upper classes would never be taught to use a simple handgun, let alone a rifle used in the Great War. But Bheem was teaching her.

"Killing is not our way," he instructed her. "But if it is a choice between yourself and your adversary, you must do what is necessary."

Her hands trembled as she accepted the rifle. Its sleek surfaces were dented in places. In each dent, she imagined, were stories of unspoken horrors witnessed and suffered in the cold trenches of France and Germany and Austria. But now, this rifle was to be her insurance against a devil she had never heard of before; the Nizamate's brutal police. She steeled her nerves and learned to use it. For herself and for Him.

Jenny would always be a British girl. The quadrille would never be forgotten by her feet. However, her fingers were now those of a richer, more complex woman. She would build the sweetest home for Bheem in her heart. But she would not be his saccharine woman.

She was going to be the salt of his earth.

Taglist-

@ronaldofandom @vidhurvrika @yehsahihai @veteran-fanperson @stanleykubricks @fangirlshrewt97 @ladydarkey @boochhaan @jjwolfesworld @voidsteffy @meastradeur @teddybat24 @ronika-writes-stuff @ssabriel @milla984 @annieginny @detectivejigsawpines @nisreenart

[riverroan]

[riverroan]

[riverroan]

Ram: Hey, so about your girlfriend... Bheem: What about her? Ram: She's uh... punching my horse. Jenny, punching a horse: You have too many legs!

[carminavulcana]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

What became of Jenny and Bheem eventually? What became of their great love?

A story set in 1982

Excerpt:

Doris had never heard these names before. Who was Bheem? Who was Malli? And what forest was nana talking about?”

“Did you meet Bheem and Malli in India?” she began. “Are they… are they your friends.”

A ghostly shadow settled on Jennifer's face at those words.

“Bheem… he is the most wonderful man ever, brave and beautiful and just too good for the world! You know, Lydia, I wish I could tell him how sorry I am, but he never listens to me, he never agrees that it was my fault too that he got hurt… there was so much blood. And aunt Kate looked so smug… but I… I just…” She took her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I wish I had run downstairs and said something. I should have stopped it. But I was such a coward… Lydia, I was such a bloody coward! What must he think of me!”

End Notes:

The hymn featured in this story is Abide With Me, which is in my opinion, one of the most beautiful pieces of sacred music written. My grandma passed away last month. This fic is both, my tribute to her and my exploration of the RRR universe. Please let me know what you think. Your feedback means the world to me.

[carminavulcana]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary-

Written for the event Celebrrration '22

Prompt(s) for Day One- Angst, Recovery

Can Jenny learn to love again? Will the memory of Bheem chase her like a ghost for the rest of her life?

A companion piece to my story An Afternoon In London

Excerpt-

“What if… what if I don’t love you, then? Can you live with that?”

“As long as I can live with you, I can live with that.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Jenny tried to explain in earnest. “In India, I lived with another man.”

“A man who kidnapped you and forced himself on you,” Richard retorted. “It was hardly your fault.”

“That is what the papers said,” Jenny sniffed into her handkerchief. “But that is not what happened. I lived with him of my own free will. And I returned because he told me it was too dangerous for me out there and he didn’t want to see me get hurt or worse. But I mean every word when I say that I would have risked both injury and death if it meant I could be by his side and not hold him back.”