#bheem is in the crowd

[belligerentmistletoe]

Alternative flogging scene.. Don’t… ask… why …. (But blame the discord server and @luxshine… she made me)

[rrr-is-gay]

Attended my first real-life RRR screening in a sold out theater and MY GOD it was a blast. Super weird to watch it with that many str8 people tho; so many cheers for Bheem & Jenny. 🥴 But whatever, it was just an amazing feeling to be in the same room with a few hundred people who also scream and yell and shit themselves when Bheem & Ram first meet, when Naatu Naatu starts, when the animals are unleashed onto the governor’s palace, and when Bheem rescues Ram from jail. One of the best crowd pops was actually when Ram gets impaled by a tree, literally every single person in the theater groaned out loud. It was a religious experience. My heart is so full!!!!!

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

Jhumka gira re

//

The main street running through the bazaar was crowded with people, the enlightened lanterns in each shop giving a rustic, festive look to the arena. The aroma of hot jalebis, sweets, and other savoury dishes dispersed with the dhup (incense) scent of various flowers which the shopkeepers lit to keep the mosquitoes and other insects away. The cacophony of the mingled sounds did not appear as bothersome to the two people swimming through the ocean of men, women, and children alike. 

Bheem was walking at a leisurely pace, unlikely for him, mostly because he was almost stopping at each halwai’s shop to take in the delicious aroma of the frying oils and mouthwatering delicacies. His legs halted at one such foodstall where the man was frying fresh jalebies, catering to a small crowd which had accumulated at the shop. Bheem saw the halwai - he was wearing a typical white dhoti with a vest and a gamcha on his shoulders which he was using every 10 seconds to wipe off the sweat from being near the big-ass, hot kadhai as he was pouring the batter and frying the jalebis in perfect little concentric circles. The curly haired man could just stand there and watch the process for hours. 

He donned a thick moustache, with furry brows which were concentrated on the action as he was humming an old song while working. Much to Bheem’s delight, he was healthy, the belly trying to defy the confines of the vest. Not to be offensive, but Bheem thought that the best of the halwais have to be on the healthier side, because then it meant that they really loved to eat and feed people. They truly would be passionate about it. 

“Kya mol hai jalebi ka?” (What price is the jalebi?) He asked. 

“Teen aana ser!” (Three aanas for 1.250 kg.) The guy answered. 

“Hmm…Bhabhi tum-” (Sister-in-law would you…) The older man turned to find his companion missing. His initial reaction was to panic, of course. Before he could have a tiny heart attack, fortunately he spotted his companion at a shop two shops away, standing far behind, at a shop of jewellry. 

The man heaved a sigh of relief as he skipped back, telling the halwai that he will be back. 

Seetha was staring, stiff as a statue at a pair of jhumkas hanging by the side. They were beautiful, oxidised silver maybe, with typical dome-like shape with intricately woven metal design and small ghunghroos in the periphery of the hemispherical structure. They shone just the right amount when the light of the lanter fell on them, making them look sparkly. 

She did not realise she had screeched to a halt dreaming about how they would look on her, until a hand on her elbow shook her out of the reverie. “Ohh! Bheem! Maaf karna mujhe main-” (Oh, I apologise I-)

“Kya hua? Tum achanak aise ruk gayi.” (What happened? You just stopped here?) Bheem looked at her, his worry morphing into concern as he caught glimpse of tears at the corner of her eyes. “Bhabhi, sab theek?” (Bhabhi, sab thik?) he asked gently. 

Seetha shook her head, conjuring up an instant smile. “Han bilkul! Chalo! Tumhe mila kuchh khane ke liye? Mili koi jagah jahan ki khusboo mein woh kashish ho?” (Yes, of course! Come on! Did you find something suiting your tastes? Did you finally find the shop where the aroma was intoxicating as you desired?) She teased, but the grin did not reach her eyes. 

Bheem thought for a moment how to approach her, having seen her line of sight where she had been viewing, still as a statue, with desire in her dark brown orbs. Maybe she wanted to buy something for herself? But he had never seen her wearing something fancy, mostly bare minimum with the most bland shades and simple attire. 

He stepped forward and took the same pair which Seetha had been eyeing in his hands, not taking it off the stand. “Kitna khubsoorat hai na ye jhumka?” (How beautiful is this earring, isn’t it?)

“Han! J    enny par khoob jachega. Uske liye le rahe ho?” (Yes! It will look magnificient on Jenny. You are thinking of buying for her, right?)

Ughh! She was more stubborn than his anna. However, the gond man was not the one to back off, and neither he was the one to mince his words. They were close enough now, after months of friendship and working in close quarters. “Main tumhare liye keh raha hoon!” (I was asking for you!) his voice took a slightly stern note. 

To his irritation, Seetha only laughed. “Tumne kabhi pehle mujhe iss tarah ke gehne pehne hue dekha hai?” (You’re being silly. Have you ever seen me in such fancy stuff before? This is too much.)

“Iska matlab yeh thode hi hai ke tum kabhi pehno hi nahi?” (That doesn’t mean you cannot wear it ever.)

“Bheem! Rehne do. Tum agar lena chaho, toh Jenny ke liye le sakte ho, warna chalo aage. Waqt zaya nahi karte fizool baaton aur fizool kharchi mein.” (Bheem! Leave it. If you want to buy it for Jenny, then please do. Or else let us not spend time on unimportant things and waste money.)

“Seetha! Uff! Tum-” (Seetha! Uff! You-)

“Kya?” (What?) she raised her voice a bit as well. “Main kya? Kuchh ghalat kaha maine?” (Me what? Tell me how am I in the wrong here.) She regretted the anger instantly, which deflated like a pack of cards, “Main us tarah ki ladki nahi hoon…” (I am not a girl who…)

But bheem was really irked now. “KIS TARAH KI LADKI NAHI HO? Jo apne liye koi bhi wo cheez na kharide jo use pasand hai? Jo kabhi apne kiye ek pal bhi na soche? Jo-” The man clenched his jaw shut because the next sentence he was going to say would have been extremely inappropriate. 

(A GIRL WHO WHAT? The one who does not buy a pretty thing forherself once in a while? The one who does not think about her happiness? The one-)

“Jo kya? Batao Bheem! Jo kya?” (The one who what? Finish the sentence Bheem!)

“Nahi.” (No.)

“Thik hai, main kehti hoon jo tumhare mann mein tha.” her tone went eerily calm. “Jo kisi ki mangetar ko kar bhi vidhva ke jaise jee rahi ho. Yahi kehna chahte the na?” 

(Fine. Let me finish it for you. The one who has a living, breathing fiance but still chooses to dress like a widow. This is what you wanted to say, didn’t you?)

“NAHI!” (NO!) He denied outright. Seetha glared at him. “Umm- bilkul un shabdon mein nahi.” He added sheepishly. “Lekin main yeh zaroor kahunga, ke iss tarah apni har ek hasrat ka gala ghotne ki zaroorat nahi hai.”

(Umm- not in those exact words. But I will say this, that don’t squish your desires like a bug in the night. There is no need.)

Seetha smiled at her companion. It was a short-lived, tiny smile. “Bheem, sach kahun?” He nodded his head. “Ab aadat si ho gai hai. Meri sari sakartmakta, mera vishwas, mera dridh nishchay, mera vishwas ke hum jeetenge, mera junoon, sab Ram ko sambhalne mein vyay ho gaya hai. Uske jaane ke baad bhi usi ke liye jiya. Uske na hone ka ehsaas jo pal pal mujhe khaaye jaa raha tha- Bheem! Tumne uske Dilli se likhe gaye khat nahi padhe, jab wo wahan bilkul akela tha. Main…” She brushed away a tear. “Main tumhari bohot bohot shukraguzaar hoon ke tum uski zindagi mein aaye.” 

(Bheem, may I be honest? It has become a habit now. All my positivity, my optimism, my perseverance, and my belief that we will win- all has been spent up on Ram. Even after he left, it felt like I was only living for him. This absence chipped away at me minute by minute- Bheem! You have not read the letters he sent from Dilli which he sent when he was utterly and completely alone. I… I am so very grateful to you that you found him and came in his life when you did.)

This time, her smile was genuine, grateful. Although Bheem was glad, the gratefulness did not settle well with him. Seetha should not be thanking him! They were in the middle of the bazaar and even though Bheem wanted to know more, and knock sense into his friend- very literally, this was not the right time and place. All the curly haired man knew was he was buying Seetha the pair. And one for Jenny too, he already had his heart set on the one next to it. 

Just as he turned to ask the shopkeeper how much they cost, there was another young man, his hands clasped with a young woman, radiating joy who asked to see that particular pair. “Ji woh…” (Umm those-) Bheem started politely, with Seetha behind him, “Woh darasal main khareed raha hoon. Aap koi aur kyun nahi le lete?” (Actually I am buying those. Why don’t you look for another pair?) 

The guy seemed disappointed. “Lekin Shobha, meri mangetar ko ye sab se zyada pasand hain.” he tried to argue. (But Shobha, my fiancee, she has her heart set on them of all!)

“Bheem!” A hand landed on his arm. “Theek hai. Shayad mere nasib mein nahi hain ye jhumke. Bhaisahab aap hi le lijiye.” (It’s okay. They are not for me anyway. Please you buy them for your fiancee.) She glanced at the couple, giddy in each others presence, and she could sense the love radiating off them in waves. A cloud of sorrow shrouded her once more and her face fell in defeat. It all happened in an instance and Bheem, in this moment, only wanted to run back to the village and punch Ram in the face. A couple of times at least. 

 “Dekhiye main yeh apni bhabhi ke liye khareed raha hoon, meri iltija hai aapse ke aap koi aur dekh lein.” (Look! I am buying this for my sister-in-law. I really beg you to reconsider.) The man looked at his fiance once who gestured it was okay. He shrugged, “Thik hai!” (Fine.)

“Aapka bohot bohot shukriya!” (Thank you! Thank you so much!)

“Bheem! Kya kar rahe ho?” (What are you doing, Bheem?)

“Main khareed raha hoon yeh tumhare liye.” (I am buying them for you.)

“Iski koi zarurat nahi.” (No.)

“Hai! Tum meri bhabhi ho, kya ye rishta koi maayne nahi rakhta?” (YES! You are like a sister to me! Does that no mean anything to you?) The puppy eyes were at full attack. 

“Maine tumse kya kaha tha?” (What did I say to you about this?) Seetha stood there, crossing her hands. 

“Meri ye harketein sirf Ram aur Jenny par kaam karti hain!” (That the puppy eyes and emotional blackmail works only on Ram and Jenny.) He pouted. Seetha smiled at his adorable nature. “Lekin main sahi mein tumhe tohfa dena chahta hoon. Main ek Jenny ke liye bhi le raha hoon.” (But I really do want to gift you these. I am buying one for Jenny too!)

“Bohot khushnaseeb hai woh ladki!” (That girl is the luckiest!)

“Kya Ram kabhi tumhare liye-” (What? Ram never- for you?) Seetha shook her head. “Woh kehta hai tumhe jo chahiye tum khud laa sakti ho. Meri kya zaroorat hai?” (Well, he says I can buy whatever I need or want for myself. There is not need for him to be there.)

“Ughh!! Nihaayati bewakoof hain wo! Ghar pohonch kar unki khabar leta hoon main.” (He really is the dumbest person! I will knock some sense into him when we get home.)

Seetha chuckled out loud. It was the sweetest sound. “Main nahi rokungi tumhe!” (I would not stop you.) She jested. 

“Thik hai. Toh tay raha. Hum ghar jaa kar khabar le rahe hain unki.” (Good. Deal. We go home and kick his idiotic ass.)

He turned to the shopkeeper who was busy with other customers. “Bhaisahab, ye jhumke kitne ke diye?” (Mister, how much do these earrings cost?)

“Dedh rupiya pura.” (One and a half rupee.)

“KYA? Itna zyadam dam?” (WHAT? This is too pricey!) Seetha gawked from behind, nonplussed. “Bheem yeh toh bohot mehenge hain. Rehne do, chalo.” (Leave it, Bheem. They are too expensive.)

“Lekin behenji aap karigari to dekhiye. Itni baariq aur safaimand aapko kahin iss mol mein mile toh main dukaan band kar dunga.” (But madam, look at the ornate design. If you find such intricate and polished work elsewhere in these parts, in these prices, I will close my shop.)

Bheem too was stumped. Not only because of the price, but because he wasn’t sure he had that amount on him. They already had done the supply shopping, the heavy bags at the owner’s place which they were going to carry after taking a walk in the bazaar while returning. He quickly took out the remaining amount and counted. It was exactly one and a half rupees left. He would not be able to buy anything for Jenny, or get the jalebis if he got the earrings. 

Seetha peaked into his palm, taking out her own purse. There was only 5 annas left. “Bheem. Mere liye mat lo. Sirf Jenny ke liye hi lete hain.” (Bheem. Let’s just buy something for Jenny.) 

“Nahi! Main pichle mahine hi laya tha uske liye kuchh cheezein.” (No. I bought her some jewllery only last month.) He had made up his mind. The gond man offered the rupee and a half to the shopkeeper. “Ji de dijiye.” (Please, we’ll take it.) Seetha caught his hand. “Bheem!” 

He looked at her with determined gaze in the honey dipped eyes. “Agar tumhare liye zara se bhi pyaar hai mere liye toh aaj nahi rokogi tum mujhe.” (If you love me even a little bit, you will not stop me now.) It did not sound like blackmail. It rang like an ultimatum in the air, hanging between the two - the shopkeeper all the while watching this charade and getting frustrated. 

“Lena hai ya nahi?” (Are you buying them or not?) He finally asked. 

“Bilkul.” (Of course.) Bheem handed him the money. He took the paper wrapped packet and started walking with Seetha in tow. 

“Tumne mol bhaav bhi nahi kiya! Buddhu ho tum!” (You didn’t even bargain! You fool!)

“Tumhari khushi ka woh kya mol lega bhabhi. Dedh rupiya hi toh tha! Magar han, agar mol lagaata toh shayad yeh lazeez jalebiyan kha paata.” (Bhabhi, no one can put a price on your happiness. It was only a rupee and a half. But yes, if I had bargained, we could have left some money for the delicious jalebis.) They had reached the jalebi stall again, the halwai still making the delicacy. 

“Koi baat nahi mere pyare Bheemudu!” (No worries, my Bheemudu!) She linked his hand with her as she dragged him toward the food. “Mere paas abhi bhi 5 aane hain.” (I still have 5 annas left.) The smile Bheem gave her could have blinded a million suns. 

“Are waah!” (YAY!) He perked up immediately. “Itne mein to pet bhar kar dher saari jalebi kha sakte hain hum! Aur le bhi jaayenge sab ke liye…” (This is enough to buy so many jalebis for all of us!)

//

@ronaldofandom

[pinkpersonsblog]

Title : Stop It Right Now

Characters : Ram, Bheem

Summary : Bheem and Ram spend a day at the park and eventually Bheem discovers something charming about Ram -- he's very ticklish.

Word count : 1,909

Bheem sat opposite Ram on a blanket as they finished eating their tea sandwiches. They were at their favorite park, simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. It was crowded with people— strolling and talking to one another, jogging, or walking their dogs.

Bheem took the last bite out of his sandwich and had to resist asking for more, knowing that it was the last one. Ram had made the tea sandwiches and it was Bheem’s first time trying them. He didn’t often eat foreign food, but found he really liked it. He never would have thought that cucumbers and cream cheese could go so well together.

Seeing that Ram had just finished his sandwich as well, Bheem was about to ask if he wanted to go for a walk. But he suddenly noticed something funny. There was some cream cheese and a few crumbs stuck to Ram’s mustache. He could have laughed at his friend being the messy eater he was. It was strangely endearing.

“Ram?” Ram looked at him and Bheem pointed at his own mustache. “Right here. You have something.”

Ram’s eyes widened as he swiped at his mouth, but missed. Bheem tried correcting him, but this time Ram only dabbed at it, leaving a large portion of the mess still on his face.

Bheem rolled his eyes upward at his friend’s ineptitude as he shifted towards him, picking up a napkin. “Here. Let me.”

Ram looked guilty, even hanging his head for a second before allowing him to clean his mess.

Bheem wiped the cream cheese off Ram’s lip carefully, as well as plucking off each crumb one-by-one. Once he was done, he leaned back and grinned. “Even a bib wouldn’t be enough for you. What would you do without me?”

“Probably continue gorging myself” Ram joked, looking slightly embarrassed. “God, I’m such a messy eater sometimes. People never say anything because they’re too nice.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, then,” Bheem said, smirking. “You eat like a pig.”

Ram chuckled. “That I do. Let’s just hope I don’t start oinking at you.”

They were silent for a long moment, looking on as a few people flew kites. They silently watched them raise the kites higher and higher, the colors vibrant against the blue sky. To their right there were some children running around and playing tag. And every now and then a squirrel or two would drop by, running up a nearby tree.

“Such a beautiful day,” Bheem said, turning to smile at Ram. His friend smiled back at him.

“Gorgeous.”

“I know I am,” Bheem teased, making Ram shake with laughter. All the stress seemed to melt from Ram’s face as he laughed, but it wasn’t just that—for the first time, Bheem found he really liked the sound of it. Before he could stop himself, he spoke his mind. “Ram, has anyone ever told you have a nice laugh?”

Ram’s smile froze as he stared at him, running a hand self-consciously in his hair. “Not really. When I was younger, I was told I laugh like Dracula, though, if that counts. So that was a boost to the self-esteem. Hey—don’t laugh at that!” Ram pouted as Bheem failed to suppress his chuckles. “I haven’t thought about that in a while. I’m not really the biggest jokester anyway, so I tended not to laugh much before I—” He stopped, looking bashful as Bheem waited for him to complete his sentence. He looked as though he were about to reveal something private. Then seeming to make up his mind, he continued, “…before I met you.”

Bheem smiled warmly at him, tempted to gush to his friend about how sweet he was, but decided not to embarrass him further. “Aw shucks,” he said simply, a slight blush blooming on his cheeks.

Ram, posing with his chin resting on his hand, fluttering his eyelashes, continued. “Why do you ask, Bheem? Do I have a nice laugh? What about it do you like?”

Bheem’s eyes softened fondly as he relaxed, opening himself up to his friend. He always liked complimenting him since his friend seemed almost reserved and unused to such things. “Yeah, you do. And it’s unique. Kind of funny-sounding.” Seeing Ram’s expression contort into a frown as he leaned back, he couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Like as if you were about to grab hold of my neck and sink your fangs into it.”

“You rascal,” Ram admonished, slapping him playfully. He still laughed, though, Bheem was pleased to note.

“I vant to suck your blood,” Bheem joked slightly menacingly as he reached out and brushed a hand across Ram’s stomach, grazing it playfully. To his surprise, Ram flinched and giggled in such a high-pitched tone, it was a strange sound coming from him. He protectively covered his abdomen with his hands, shoving Bheem’s fingers away. Bheem had never touched him there before, at least not in such a way that could elicit a reaction like that from him. It somehow made Bheem’s stomach flip upside down.

Bheem suddenly had an idea—a mischievous one, at that. He felt a bit shy in asking for some reason, so instead he felt like it’d be better to take action. Besides, the element of surprise was almost always rewarding. So once the time was right, when Ram was distracted, he stretched his arms widely and used that moment to scoot closer. So he could go in for the kill-- which he did by reaching out and poking his sides.

Ram cried out and scrambled away from him, hands protectively shooting to his sides. The way that he’d cried out was quite shaky—as though the sensation was too much for him to handle. But Bheem felt that his reaction was just what he was looking for. And it had answered his silent question – Ram was ticklish. Maybe even quite sensitive, based on his reaction.

“Don’t do that,” Ram warned him, going so far as to point at him critically as he gathered his composure, shifting so he was facing Bheem.

As Bheem scooted himself slightly away from Ram, he couldn’t help but feel giddy anticipation rush through him. He hadn’t had a tickle fight with someone in many years—not since he was a child— and he wanted to have one with Ram. He wanted to make him forget all his worries, laugh with abandon, and just have fun. He liked seeing his friend’s youthful side emerge and watching him come out of his shell was always a treat. He loved Ram so much.

Ram seemed to read the look in his eyes as he tried covering himself protectively with his hands. “Don’t you dare, Bheem,” he threatened, but the way he sounded when he said it...well, it sure sounded like a dare.

So Bheem shifted closer to his friend, and in turn, Ram, giggling nervously, shifted further away and off the blanket onto the grass.

“Not another inch or I’ll kill you…” Ram threatened.

Of course, that only impassioned Bheem further...before Ram could stand up and make a getaway, Bheem pounced on his friend, his fingers viciously trailing all over his sides, poking at him mercilessly. He somehow managed to overpower Ram, who was instantly reduced to cackles, laughing like a maniac as he struggled to escape his clutches. Ram even tried tickling him in return, but the joke was on him – Bheem actually wasn’t ticklish at all.

Bheem felt devilish as he continued tickling Ram, grinning the entire time. He could feel eyes on them from his right – some parkgoers had probably stopped to stare at them. He should have been a bit embarrassed, being a grown man tickling another grown man publicly – so childishly—but he didn’t care. He loved extracting giggles from his friend— now a broken mess lying in a heap beneath him, pleading, begging for him to stop. Ram’s teary eyes were so desperate, but that desperation only fueled Bheem’s desire to see him at his most powerless. Every time Ram tried crawling out of his reach, Bheem would take hold of his wrist and pull him back, never letting him get too far.

Bheem discovered that Ram was especially ticklish on his sides, as he’d gasp when Bheem’s fingers grazed them. It amazed him that he’d never discovered such a thing before, simply because he’d never thought to tickle him in the past. It was like he’d uncovered a great secret about his friend, one that had always lain right before his eyes.

“Bheem! Bheem, please,” Ram wheezed as Bheem had him straddled beneath him, tickling him feverishly. “I’m going to pee...I’m going to—”

But Bheem was so carried away that he was hardly paying attention to what Ram was saying. He felt he was going insane himself—full of glee and ecstasy as it’d been so long since he’d felt like a kid. Even as Ram begged him “STOP RIGHT NOW PLEASE”, Bheem only stopped after being concerned that he might actually make Ram pee or injure himself from laughing too hard. He eventually shifted off his friend’s body and sat beside him, laughing himself. He felt lightheaded with joy.

Ram panted heavily beside him, clearly exhausted from the bout of laughter he’d succumbed to. Bheem smiled warmly over at him, feeling content to just sit there with his friend, though feeling a bit guilty for tiring him out like he had.

“You didn’t pee, did you? Sorry I got carried away. It was just too fun.” And I like hearing your laugh, Bheem didn’t say.

“I didn’t, but I almost did, thanks to you and your torturous fingers,” Ram said with a laugh.

“I wish I knew what it felt like,” Bheem admitted, “but I was feeling kind of bad for you towards the end. So I had mercy on you.”

“How gracious of you,” Ram joked. He seemed to think for a minute, as he sat up and looked at Bheem. His lip quirked up at the corner. “It was fun, though. I haven’t been tickled in a very long time. I think the last time was when I was a kid, honestly.” His face grew more serious as he pointed at Bheem playfully. “I just hope next time you’ll listen so I won’t actually accidentally wet myself.”

Bheem ducked his head sheepishly, scratched the side of his face. “Sorry, sorry...like I said, it was the heat of the moment.”

Bheem hadn’t had such fun in ages. And he felt like he had gotten to see a new side of his friend that he’d never seen before. Ram could really stand to laugh more, he thought. It made him so much more endearing than he already was. He loved seeing him happy.

They sat together enjoying their remaining time at the park as a few ducks waddled past. Ram pointing at them and calling them cute. And Bheem agreeing with him. The park was getting less crowded as the sky was darkening, but they would probably stay at least a little bit longer. Just to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere.

Bheem looked forward to the next time he’d get to tickle Ram. He knew his friend was too nice to truly get angry at him for assaulting him with tickles. But he also could tell that he really did like it despite having lost control of himself like he did.

It was sweet.

[veteran-fanperson]

Murphy's Date

Summary: Ram tries and fails to have the perfect date with Bheem on their Anniversary.

Title: Murphy's Date (RamBheem fic)

Creator: veteran_fanperson

Giftee: @jrntrtitties

Prompt: RamBheem

Relationships: Ram x Bheem

Rating: Teens

Warnings: None

Created for: @celebrrration Holiday Swap 2022

Read on AO3 here

“So,” Seetha says abruptly into Ram’s ear on a dreary Tuesday morning, making him jump, “what is Bheem planning for your anniversary?”

“Seetha!” Ram grumbles, turning away from his screen to glare at his cousin who also happened to be his best friend who also happened to be his colleague. “Is this really the best time?”

“Probably not, but I don’t have anything to do right now. So spill, what’s he planning?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. I can’t take the day off and Bheem’s due back at the hospital that night so we just agreed we’d celebrate on Sunday.”

“Why can’t you take the day off?”

“I have a meeting with Scott in the morning.”

“You should take the afternoon off. Come on, Ram. Don’t you want to do something and surprise Bheem for a change?”

Ram opens his mouth to dismiss the suggestion, then thinks the better of it. Bheem was the romantic in their relationship — he was the one who planned most of the dates, picked out fantastic presents for special occasions, left little notes in Ram’s lunch at least twice a week, and sent flowers to Ram’s workplace. Ram, by contrast, did not really shine in the spontaneous fun department.

“I suppose I can take the afternoon off, maybe take him out to lunch…” he murmurs, turning to his computer.

“Where?”

“Where what?” Ram says irritably, mulling over his calendar.

“Friday’s just three days away Ram, every decent place will be booked full. Unless you want to take him to McDonalds.”

“I… Maybe we could go on a picnic? I could arrange for a gourmet meal.”

Seetha stares at him. “That’s actually not a bad idea. You should cook. And make some sweets -”

“I’m not that confident -”

“It’s the thought that counts. And how lucky for you, the forecast says it’s not going to be too sunny,” Seetha shows him her phone. “Where do you want to go anyway?”

“I don’t know…” Ram muses. “We can’t drive anywhere too far because Bheem needs to be in the hospital by seven, and I don’t like the GK field trail. Too many necking couples, it’s just awkward.”

“You’re such a hypocrite, it’s not like you and Bheem are going to be filling out insurance forms.” Seetha snorts. 

Ram ignores her. “Maybe the Bandlapalli hill trail? Bheem loves the place. It has a lovely view of the city from the overlook, and I don’t think it’s too crowded in the afternoon.”

“There you go! Simple, easy to implement and romantic. You can watch the sunset and then maybe get down on one knee and finally give him the other half of your bracelet.”

Ram gawps at her.

“Seetha! That’s - How did you even - ”

“It was mine at first! You actually asked me first, my dear Bavaaaaaa!” She laughs at Ram’s discomfiture. “Maybe I should tell Bheem you’re planning on proposing to him with your ex-fiancée's reject -” 

“We were eight years old!” Ram hisses, “I just thought that marrying you meant that we’d be friends forever! And I can’t believe you were looking in my desk -”

“I didn’t,” she clarifies, looking bored. “The whole damn office knows, Ram. You keep fidgeting with it all the time and staring moonily at it - ”

“I do not!” 

“Oh?” She arches her brow. “Hey, Girish, come here a sec will you?”

“Seetha, what are you - ”

“Hey, Seetha, Ram,” Girish’s voice is soft and hesitant, and his arms are loaded with files. “I can’t stop, I need to get these photocopied and on Mr. Scott’s desk by two p.m and-”

“This won’t take too long, I just wanted to let you know Ram here is planning to propose this Friday.”

“Seetha!” Ram gasps, but no one pays any attention to him.

“Oh?” Girish’s smile is shy as he turns to Ram. “That’s such a romantic thing to do. Is that why you were practising your speech the other night?”

Seetha starts snorting inelegantly, breaking off with a squeak when Ram kicks her on the shin.

“Yes, Girish,” Ram says wearily. “Well I don’t want to keep you from your photocopying any longer.”

“I hope he says yes,” Girish says before scampering off.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” Ram snarls at Seetha after he’s gone.

Seetha gives him a look of faux innocence before dissolving into giggles.

Ram sighs.

The idea, however, sticks in his mind.

Handmade by his father as a pretty little trinket for his mother after they were married, Ram had always loved playing with the locket around his mother’s neck, snapping it in half and putting it back together constantly. On his seventh birthday, he was overjoyed when his mother had drawn the locket ring into a thick black thread and tied it around his wrist as a protection charm. He had asked Seetha to marry him a year later, only to have her say no and tease him about it mercilessly for years. The night he met Bheem he had made another bracelet and woven the second half into it.  And there it stayed, wrapped in red silk, nestling inside a small wooden box.

Bheem’s certainly dropped enough hints in the past few months that at least indicated he was interested in marriage, so Ram knows his proposal will probably be accepted. The only thing that had held him back all these months was the fear of not making the proposal special enough. He knows Bheem doesn’t particularly care, and would probably be overjoyed if Ram asked him over dosas at their regular place, but Bheem deserves more. 

Ram takes out the box again from inside his desk. Maybe it was time to give it to its true owner.

+        

Bheem is working a late shift when he gets home, so he makes himself a cup of tea and sits with his laptop and book, ready to research picnic ideas. Four hours and countless Pinterest pages later, he has a somewhat workable plan.

He dispenses with the rose petals, dainty hor d'oeuvres, pink lemonade and four thousand rupee vintage picnic baskets, choosing hearty and easy recipes that his boyfriend won’t be able to inhale in less than a minute.

Bheem’s not due back for at least another six hours, so he decides to go grocery shopping and start on prepping for some of the cooking. He’ll need to hide the results at Seetha’s apartment though, because Bheem is a bloodhound when it comes to food.

This would be the perfect opportunity to show Bheem how much he cares, how special Bheem is, and how eager Ram is to spend their lives together.

Ram smiles. It’s going to be just perfect.

+

It is not perfect.

He wakes up warm and comfortable, Bheem’s arm thrown around his waist. For a moment, he is content to admire his gorgeous boyfriend, at the wild curly hair, the perfect pink lips, the permanent circles around his eyes that demonstrate the strain of being an ER doctor. He leans in to kiss Bheem lightly before lifting his head to check the time — and sits up with a gasp. The meeting with Scott starts in less than half an hour.

Coffee forgotten, he leaps into the shower. There’s no time to shave, so Ram lets his scruff be as he attempts to tame his hair. Five minutes later he’s out of the door, tie put on backwards, his suit crumpled.

Scott stares openly at him as he bursts into the conference room ten minutes late.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he gasps.

“Clearly,” Scott sneers. “Take a seat, Ram. Now going to the second point on the agenda…”

The meeting is an utter disaster as Ram is woefully underprepared for it, and by the end of it Scott is positively tutting at him. He grudgingly approves Ram’s request for the afternoon off after Ram promises to spend the next two weekends preparing and writing the company’s quarterly report. He knows he’ll regret it on Sunday morning, but he’s hoping Bheem will be too busy planning the wedding by then. 

By the time he reaches home, after a quick stop at Seetha’s to pick up the food, he’s exhausted.  

“Ram?” Bheem is still sleepy and nursing his second mug of coffee by the time Ram comes home. “Bangaram, are you alright? You’re back early.”

Ram opens his mouth to reply, but Bheem’s already putting his cup down and approaching him, placing a hand on Ram’s forehead to check his temperature. Ram kisses the frown off his face.

“I’m fine, Bheem. Just had a rough day at work.”

Bheem relaxes and pulls him into a deeper kiss, and Ram bites back a moan when it starts getting filthy.

“Bheem,” he says, pulling away, “not that I don’t want to, but now is not the time.”

“Why not?” Bheem bites at Ram’s earlobe.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Mmmm, I’ll just bet you do…”

“Please, Bheem.”

That gets Bheem’s attention. He backs off with some reluctance, but there’s a small smile on his face.

“Do I need to wear a suit?”

“No,” Ram says, smiling back. He catches Bheem around the waist and kisses him chastely. “Happy Anniversary, my love.”

Bheem beams back, his dark eyes lighting up. “I thought we were celebrating on Sunday.”

Ram thinks of his report and winces. “I took the afternoon off. Let’s go out? I promise we’ll be back by six.” He kisses Bheem thoroughly for good measure before letting go.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” Bheem says dazedly, lifting a hand to his own lips.

“I can’t wait.”

+

Fifteen minutes into the hike, Ram begins to wish he had left his jacket back in the car. They hadn’t been here in a while, and he had forgotten how steep the climb was. It’s uncomfortably warm and humid for a December afternoon, and the straps of his backpack start digging in all too soon, making him wonder if he had packed too much. The trail is calm and deserted. Ram fidgets constantly with his pocket, fingering the little box inside, trying to draw strength from it. Bheem is unusually silent and thoughtful, and they’re almost at the top when Ram catches him wincing.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Bheem’s grimace belies the statement. “I just- I kind of bruised my ankle in the hospital yesterday.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so sorry!” Ram groans, wanting to kick himself. He claws at Bheem’s backpack. “Give this to me, you shouldn’t be carrying anything. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I planned this stupid surprise and didn’t even ask if you were up for it - ”

Bheem bats his hands away, hoisting his backpack tighter. “Hey, hey, Ram, come on- no, don’t do that. It’s fine. We’re almost there anyway, right? And I love this place, you know that. I’m fine, really. Maybe we could just walk a little slower?”

“Are you sure?” Ram frets. “We can go back if you want, right away, and - ”

“No,” Bheem says firmly, lacing their fingers together. “Really, it’s nothing, not even a sprain. I’m fine. Come on.”

They walk a little slower, Ram shooting anxious glances at his boyfriend throughout. The overlook is deserted when they get there, and all the agony is almost worth it for the look in Bheem’s eyes, for the way he whistles appreciatively when Ram spreads out the dhurrie and begins to unpack the food.

“Is that- Ram, are those Bajjis?”

“Mirchi and Aratikaya Bajjis” Ram says, just a little smug.

Bheem groans appreciatively.

“And,” Ram preens, “samosas, pulihora, good old fashioned bombay mixture, ginger chai, onion pakoras -”

“And?” Bheem says eagerly, gleefully opening the various containers.

“Mysorepak.”

Bheem groans again. “And you made all this? For me?”

“Yes,” Ram says, not able to keep the grin off his face, “I love you.”

“Oh, Ram,” Bheem leans in to kiss him, his lovely eyes dewy and soft, “I love you too.”

Bheem cheers up exponentially as they eat, becoming talkative and vibrant in the way only good food can make him. Ram tries to relax, taking small bites as they take in the spectacular view of the town, practising his speech in his head. The breeze picks up gradually, bringing with it the scent of the neem leaves from the trees below. He waits impatiently for Bheem to finish, for the sun to start setting, for the moment he has been dreaming of all these months. 

Only it doesn’t quite happen. 

“Ummm, Baby? I think we’ll need to head back,” Bheem says at the first, low rumble of thunder.  

“It wasn’t supposed to rain,” Ram says irritably, beginning to pack nonetheless. “The forecast said it was going to be clear all day — and I left the umbrellas in the car dammit-”

“It’s okay, Ram. We won’t melt.”

“But your ankle - ”

“Is fine.”

It begins to drizzle just as they’re done packing, Ram hurriedly zipping the backpack closed and grabbing Bheem’s hand.

“Walk carefully, we can’t have you slipping. Want me to carry you?”

“Normally I’ll never say no to you carrying me,” Bheem says with a smile. “But no. We have a lot of stuff to carry and it’s just a little rain.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it begins to pour. They slip and slide a little as they make their way back slowly over the rocks, Ram cursing the stupid weather app silently with every breath. They’re drenched and cold and muddy by the time they reach the car, and Ram is beyond upset.

“Hey,” Bheem says softly, “don’t look like that, sweetheart. I mean it, this was the best surprise I’ve ever had in my life.”

He draws Ram close and kisses him gently, and Ram can feel the disappointment start to intensify. It’s not fair. Bheem is just so perfect, so incredibly sweet and he deserves so much more than this. So very much more.

He drops to his knees and grabs Bheem’s hands, uncaring of the squelchy mud. He's done waiting for the perfect moment, because it clearly does not exist.

“Ram?” Bheem’s voice is breathy and full of wonder.

Ram reaches into his pocket and, to his horror, finds nothing but lint.

“Ram, are you really?”

“Ummm, no.” He risks a glance at Bheem, who looks like he’s been slapped. “I mean I was going to,” he corrects, squeezing Bheem’s fingers reassuringly, “but I appear to have misplaced the - the other half of my bracelet - maybe my box fell out of my pocket somewhere on our way back. I’m sorry, I screwed this up so badly, I’ll make it up to you -”

Bheem hauls him up and kisses him passionately, shoving Ram against the car with a loud thud. Ram catches on a little late, but they’re both breathless and smiling like loons when Bheem breaks the kiss.

“Yes, Ram.”

“Really?” Ram asks him.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

“Oh, thank god ,” Ram breathes, collapsing against Bheem’s chest.

“You’ll still need to go find that half though. My acceptance is only conditional.”

Ram laughs. “Of course, Bheem.”

[rorapostsbl]

kiss me better. -rambheem-

[ continuation of hollow cries of the heart. ]

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

it had been a day since the incident — 24 hours since last bheem met ram, could find him through the vast expanse of the city. he'd heard that the riots had calmed down after special forces were appointed to lathi - charge on spot, which led to the crowds dispersing quicker.

water hoses were showered on the fire raging in some parts of the city— and bheem had no clue where ram had been deployed, or even if the elder was still safe from the dangers or no.

he hadn't returned, and won't return, bheem had realised with a sinking heart, after 6 hours of waiting for him to show up.

the sadness slowly turned into anger, despair as he began to start looking around for ram in the city, visiting police stations to ask if ram had been somewhere around. there was no answer.

at last, he went to bed, mind full of worry— his stomach lurching as everything that could've gone wrong ran through him. he'd barely able to get past his dinner, but he did it, for the sake of himself, and ram.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

in the middle of empty, silent streets, lay a body clad in red uniform— eyes barely managing to open up as he fought to stay concious, each push of his knee made his knee throb— teeth clenching tight with the pain that shot through him.

a dreadful thought crossed his mind— 'what if he never reached home?'

blood— everywhere. his clothes are stained, eyes swollen and aching, ears ringing as he struggles to make noise, to ask for help— blood is smeared across his cheeks.

vaguely, he remembers. anger— blinding and burning his way through his rationality, as he charges straight into the mob of violent protestors.

he forgets, that he's one— and he's outnumbered. he fights, with all his might, his anger, his frustration— at himself, for hurting bheem, for being irrational — for taking away the one thing that bought him happiness, after years of finding solace in the dark.

belatedly, surrounded by the crowds that overpower him, screams and protests charging the atmosphere as they hit him and punch him, he realises — what a fool he had been.

to think he could win this war alone, to think he could survive without bheem, alone.

ram is dragged back to conciousness, when he hears footsteps approach him. for a moment, hope flickers in him— in the name of bheem. it dies down when he listens more closely, through the throbbing pain that threatens to overtake him, that the steps aren't as heavy, as calculated, as sure as bheem's are.

he rests his head against the cold concrete, a soothing balm against his burning body, as he lets out one last pained huff, a plea, a cry, a yearning all in one, the fight in him dying out— "bheema."

then, there's hurried footsteps running towards him, a figure, he manages to look through his blurry eyes filled with tears— clad in white kurta, and a face that's recognisable.

"ram?" the voice calls out, laced with panic, "it's me, babai." the voice confirms, arms coming around his torso to lift him up.

ram groans in pain, the relief so strong that it makes him weaker than he felt— he could rest now.

ram shuts his eyes close, ignoring the panicked shriek and the request to keep his eyes open— a quirk in his bloodied, busted lip— with a last thought, his mind finally relaxes.

he'd be able to go home— return to bheem, now.

all throughout the night, bheem shifts uncomfortably on the bed, clutching ram's pillow close to his heart as he tries to force himself to sleep— the howls of the dogs on the streets amplifying the ominous night.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

blinking his eyes open, ram registers the sharp pain shooting through his brain the moment he tries to lift it. sighing, he relaxes back into the makeshift back, moving his legs until he finds a comfortable position.

the situation he's stuck in, isn't new to him — it has been a common occurrence in his life as a cop serving for the british so far — and everytime he thought it was his last day on earth, babai would save him.

he owed the man his life, in the most truest sense.

ram doesn't understand why this time however, it got to his heart more than it should've. each breath he takes, his heart trembles with it, the grip on his throat becoming tighter and tighter.

bheem.

he realises — guilt washing over him as the tremble in his heart instantly turns into an aching longing for the younger to be here. slowly, he finds himself closing his eyes as he drowns in the memories they spent together — each one more painful than the last.

babai enters the room, trying his best to be silent as he takes note of the surrounding — it doesn't seem as if ram is awake. babai narrows his eyes when he sees ram's eyes shake under his closed eyelids— a tear drop escaping.

unaware of babai's presence, ram lifts his bandaged hand to wipe away the tear, the same time as babai coughing, to make his presence known in the ram.

faster than lightning, ram's hands find themselves in their original place, his eyes shooting open as he strains them to see the elder stand in the corner of his room— looking at him, with a tired expression in his eyes.

he knows the lecture that's about to come— and a second later, sita opens the halfway shut door, humming a melody with a glass of water filled in her hand.

she stops when she sees ram, awake — then looks at babai's tired expression, looking back at ram to see the dried tear track on his cheek.

with the look in their eyes, ram knows, he's doomed. he lets out a groan of defeat, as he knows — that they know, this time, he attempted this stupid stunt not because of his dedication towards his nation, but because of something related to bheem.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

"ouch!" ram lets out a pained hiss at sita's relentless smacking on his head — they're not strong enough to cause more bleeding but brutal— and sita doesn't seem on the mood to give up soon.

"you're an idiot!" she shouts, with one last smack, she gives up, rolling her eyes and taking a seat on the chair set beside his bed.

"babai," ram turns to the eldest with a pleading expression, just for his head to be smacked once again, as sita says, "what babai? he's not saying anything, you're an idiot and you'll apologise to bheem the first thing after you get well!"

she announces, ram turns to babai for help— just to see the man shrug, before letting out a sigh and getting up.

he looks at them both, assessing the situation, before pointing towards sita and commanding, "you— try not to kill him. for the sake of bheem."

and quickly steps out of the door to prepare food for them and ram lets out a frustrated groan— traitors, all of them are traitors.

sita, with the aide of an equally interested babai, had managed to get all of the details out of ram after she asked, "what did you do to him this time?"

ram was defensive at first, to buy himself more time, because knowing your mistakes and letting people you know that you've made a mistake is different.

but it's especially hard to hide infront of the two lone people who've known you for life— and so, ram began, with a defeated look on his face.

sita had met bheem twice. she'd also clearly seen how understanding and accomodating bheem was to ram's trauma. never did once, did she sense ram hide his true personality around the younger.

she'd taken a liking to bheem instantly, after he'd grinned at her, noticing how she'd also asked for a refill with bheem, both on their second plate of biryani.

he'd treated her with her favourite— ras malai afterwards, homemade, mind you, and that was how sita's heart was satisfied — ram was in the hands of a person who was sensitive enough to him and his past.

as for ram, the man couldn't possibly be more in love. their eyes were glued to eachother, sita had seen, with a fond look in her face— and how ram seemed to be attracted towards bheem without even being concious of it— it seemed hardwired in ram to care of the younger in every way—

to the point where he'd lightly slap away the younger's eager hand from the hot pot of biryani, preventing a burn. he'd later kiss the same place he'd hit— a timid "sorry" spoken and bheem, would collect ram in his hands and pepper him with affection.

sita placed a firm hand over ram's one, wrapped in cotton and netted cloth, and squeezed it, it was her way to show that she too, understood.

ram felt tears well up again, and almost felt angry at himself — sita was right. he was an idiot, only an idiot would make a mistake and later cry in regret.

"ram," sita called his name, ram looked up at her, through his blurry eyes, and saw her smile, "you need to understand — this is how love works. bheem isn't burdened by you, when he chose to be in love with you, when he chose to live with you— he knew and accepted every part of you, ram."

once more in life — ram felt that he'd almost breakdown with the sheer amount of gratefulness and relief that flooded his heart. with a rising realisation — he reflected on how frequent showing his emotions, and letting himself cry had become, after bheem showed up in his life.

he no longer possessed the strength to supress his emotional needs— the thought both terrified and relieved him.

"it's okay," sita soothed, patting his hand, "he'll understand." she finally said— and ram, he stuck to her words.

sniffing and wiping away his tears, he shook free his hand fron hers, faking disgust as he turned his head away— it was a pathetic act to cover up the emotions he'd let run free and sita saw right through it.

shaking her head at his childishness, sita felt the urge to land ram in some more trouble— she smirked, standing up and hands going to her hips as she looked at ram, "you want me to call bheem here, for him to lend you a shoulder, perhaps?"

she wondered innocently, a finger tapping her chin as she faked thinking deeply, bursting out laughing when she saw ram perk up, and then dull down— almost as if he was in a tug of war, the need to see the younger too strong, but the guilt and shame equally present.

well then, it was decided. sita would take it in her hands to reunite ram and bheem, again.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

bheem sat outside their home, in a small space— working on a bicycle a random kid had dropped by. it had some issues with the chain, bheem had noticed.

he took the opportunity to distract his mind— away from the constant worry of whether ram was alright or no. he felt betrayed— this wasn't what he deserved. he smacked himself on his forehead when he felt his thoughts diverge once again.

from far away, bheem could make out a fairly recognisable figure cycling towards their home in full speed— his heart lurched in his chest when he could see clearer— and saw that it was babai, heading towards him.

"is ram okay?" was the first thing bheem had asked, without even considering if babai had come to him to ask the same question — how they could both be clueless about ram's whereabouts.

seeing babai pant, bheem felt stupid at his ownself, and rushed inside to grab some water that had been turned cold in his matka— and handed it to babai, watching the older man chug it down.

after a few seconds, babai looked at him, and said "please come with me— ram misses you." he wasn't ths most great at delivering messages related to love, and bheem understood that.

frowning, the younger narrowed his eyes, deliberately pushing down the hope that rose inside of him— the waves of anxiety washing over his stomach. "is ram okay? if he is, then i won't go." bheem definitively said— bent on not changing his decision.

upon seeing babai lost on what to say next, bheem explained— "i deserve an apology from him, besides ram said it himself — he doesn't think we should be together anymore." a tiny bit of his heart cracked when he said it out loud — but he didn't budge, still.

after much convincing, and babai repeating the words sita had told him, "we both know how much of a emotionally constipated fool he is" bheem finally agreed to go meet ram.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

the moment bheem stepped foot into the vicinity of the home— ram could feel him. his heart rate picked up, palms sweating as he twisted uncomfortably, trying to sit up and achieving it with minimal success.

he felt as if he was a parched man, walking without water for hours and finally, he could sense water around him. it could be delusional because of the mind-numbing desperation, but ram waited, on the edge of losing sanity— for bheem to open the door and come.

he'd never say it, but he wouldn't know how would he ever have the courage to confront the younger without sita's help.

bheem waited, anxious, as sita talked with babai about something — before she looked at him, warm and welcoming, and ushered him towards a door. beyond it lay ram, he knew. with one last look at sita, he pushed the door open.

ram's breath caught in his throat as he looked at bheem— his bheem. ram couldn't look away, eyes tracing his face, the younger had turned paler, cheeks sunken in and eyes void and dull.

guilt washed over him again, as he looked away—nervous of what is to come. nothing would come out of his throat — it's as if they shut themselves and refused to work.

bheem's feet moved on their own accord when they saw ram, bandaged up and hurt. in an instant, he was looming over the elder, arms finding their way across his torso, careful of the injuries, as he bent down, meeting halfway into a hug.

it was awkward, tilted, uncomfortable — and yet, they both completely relaxed into eachother, a choked sob sounding out of ram as he whispered a broken, timid "sorry" and lifting his hands to wrap around bheen— tighter, holding him closer, letting himself get washed away in bheem's essence.

they both stayed that way, until bheem's feet started aching and ram's body hurt with how it had been — until ram's tears dried out, repeating the litany of apologies and bheem's voice had gone hoarse from whispering sweet nothings into his ears.

pulling away, bheem gently wiped away the tears of the elder, gazing into his eyes, where he saw a flicker of hope— emerging from pools of guilt and regret.

bheem knew they had a long way to go, too many nights spent talking, understanding, drawing boundaries and sharing comfort. he knew— they'd have to work, on himself, on ram, on their relationship together.

he also knew, it probably wasn't the smartest idea to stay beside ram, where his resolve to maintain a stoic face of indifference to ram's injuries would fail.

yet, bheem couldn't find it in him to care. cradling ram's face in his hands, his eyes watched carefully, every bruise, every swelling, the busted lips.

and ram, ever so delicate, fragile ram— his lips quivered, before he bit them to stop it— and unconscious habit he'd picked up at a young age— hissing when the busted lip split open, metallic taste coating his tongue.

eyes looking into bheem's, he felt the tears rise again as he asked, a request and an assurance— to test if everything was fine. if bheem would accept him in his heart, again.

"please," ram croaks, voice scratchy from overuse — fingers tightening around where it's wrapped in the younger's firm, sturdy hands. "kiss it better?" ram asks, jutting his lower lip out the tiniest bit.

his heart feels lighter when he sees bheem go soft, his expression pulling into one of those where it'd be so obvious he was in love with ram.

"oh rama," he breathed out— pulling ram closer as his lips meet with ram's midway, the blood smearing on their lips as bheem kisses ram— he pulls away momentarily, eyes flickering to ram's before they go downwards, a small curse falling from his lips as he sees the elder's lips glisten, plump and red.

if bheem had one weakness, it would be ram. he urgently closes the distance between them again, hand coming up to cradle ram's face, the elder's lips part, wet and hot, and bheem sucks on his lower lip abashedly.

it feels as if they are entangled for eternity, kissing and falling into the depths of the other — until ram pulls back, the need for oxygen overpowering him.

bheem, leans up and presses one last, quick kiss on his lips, before murmuring, "never, ever do that again."

sita sits outside on the verandah, a plate filled with various foods in her hands as she animatedly talks to babai — and when she sees none of them come out, she smiles, satisfied with her deeds.

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

a/n; man this turned out to be so fucking long, i gave up 3 times before deciding that it's either this gets posted today or, it goes untouched for the next three days. it's fucking 2:10 in the morning.

be honest, how do u guys read thru all my mess 😭⁉️

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

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

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

[filesbeorganized]

Alyssum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Author’s Note - Start: This fic falls under the series My Garden of Love, which is part of the submission for Celebrrration in Tumblr. The accompanying song for this fic collection is “Flowers” by Hadestown.

Celebrrration Day 2 Prompt: Be Nice To Ram

Warnings/Tags: Celebrrration submission, developing relationship, flower language, canon typical violence, can be read as stand alone but you might be a little confused if you don’t read the previous instalment, songfic, please don’t take the mental health related suggestion without any double checking since I just do light research for it, TW night terror

Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komuram Bheem

___

Dreams are sweet until they're not.

Men are kind until they aren't.

Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart.

___

They reached the encampment. Cheers broke out around them as both Bheem’s people and Ram’s Babai fussed over him and Bheem. Ram’s Babai looks at Bheem with a new level of respect, and Bheem’s people congratulate him for his victory in saving Ram.

Then they turned to congratulate Ram as well, telling him how courageous he was for enduring years of hard work for a bigger cause like that. Even the man that Ram recognize as the person he tortured for information all those months ago is politely ignoring Ram rather than ruining the moment. Ram tried to convey how sorry he was on eye contact alone, which failed immediately when the man looked away, clearly avoiding Ram’s gaze. Well, in terms of holding hostility under control, he’s definitely far better than the little girl that stands next to him. That girl is staring dagger at Ram.

Ram’s Babai shares a relieved look with him. The fight had yet to end, but at least they had not failed to fulfil his father’s last wish.

Then he meets Seetha’s gaze.

The air seemed to hang for a moment. They stared at each other, confused on what to do now that they’re reunited.

Seetha moved first. She smiled brightly before taking his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

The crowd’s noises died down and Ram is painfully aware of the fact that they’re definitely staring. He held his breath and waited until Seetha put some distance between them again.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Ram’s not sure what to say, and he did not have to either. Seetha already moved on to face Bheem, quick to thank him, except Bheem stopped her. They exchanged a knowing glance. And Ram did not know what to say.

Welcome home, Seetha had said. After all these years, Ram did not know how he felt about her anymore. But that word. Home. After all, Seetha and his Babai are all he has left as family in this world. And as much as that confuses him, seeing Seetha does feel like he’s coming home.

She’s all that’s familiar and safe in this world. She’s the warmth that he cannot provide, nor accept from his Babai, lest the both of them break down at the reminder that the only reason they persist and insist they keep living is for the sole reason of keeping their promise to Ram’s father.

By the time Seetha turns back to him, Ram is yet to collect his thoughts. She extends a hand towards him and he takes it unconsciously. Bheem stands there and stares for a second.

Ram can’t interpret the lost gaze in his eyes.

Bheem turns back and approaches Jenny instead. She welcomed him with open arms. She gives her love so unflinchingly that it makes Ram feel like he just swallowed a very large rock. He feels sorry for himself, but even that is unexplainable.

Seetha tugged at his hand and that snapped Ram back to reality. He forces a smile at her. It did not fool her at all, her gaze became more and more questioning. But she pushes no further, because it has become clear that she is much better at reading situations than Ram.

She herded their group into the encampment and the whole time Bheem did not look at him. It only hurts a little. At least that’s what Ram told himself.

___

They part ways the next morning. At dawn Ram meets Bheem, already in deep conversation with Ram’s Babai.

When they saw him approaching they let him join. Ram’s Babai explains that Bheem needs to get the little girl, Malli, back to his mother immediately. Bheem also had spares his time earlier that morning to arrange all the firearms. He took only a little part of it, intending to use it to keep his village safe, but the rest is packed in the truck and ready to be transported to Ram’s village.

While the rest of Bheem’s group is packing their things and closing their encampment, Bheem says his farewell to Ram’s Babai and Seetha. They both give him good wishes and bid him a safe trip.

When it’s Ram’s turn to say his goodbye, they stared at each other a beat too long. Ram knows this needs to be quick, so they both can go on their way. But he greedily hoards all the seconds he can get. The thought of not seeing Bheem for many times to come hits just a little harder now that the moment has arrived.

At the end Bheem just pats him on his side. They nod at each other wordlessly and walk away in the opposite direction.

Ram is mostly sure that he’s wearing the same lost expression Bheem had worn the day before.

___

After that Ram’s life mostly falls into schedule. He trains his village to use the firearm. Then he trained the best of them to become the raiding team, preparing them to ambush British’s firearm warehouses for a continuous supply of assault weapons. And when there’s nothing left to do and no one left to train, Ram keeps training himself.

It’s because there’s one thing that just does not want to go away in favour of his fixed schedule. Nightmares.

Like tonight. He had dreamt of the empty eyes of his mother after the monsters had shot her down. Then the dream backpedals, he saw his mother shouts in anguish as she saw Ram’s brother get shot. That in itself is horrifying enough, but then she snaps her neck at Ram. Her gaze drills into his very soul.

You would serve that little girl’s head on a platter for the British government? Her voice echoes unnaturally, sending shivers down Ram’s spine.

She points a finger at Ram, as if accusing him. She continues, Even though you know how much misery I’m in after losing my child in front of my eyes?

She crumbled forward as if she’s made of sand. Blood pools down her sides and her eyes go back to empty. Only her finger is still curling at Ram. Your fault, an echo said.

The word echoed over and over as if ricocheting in his skull. It builds up as it mixes with the sound of screams he heard throughout the years.

His mother’s figure had crumbled into dunes of sand. The wind carried it away, only to uncover what lies beneath. A mask laid on the ground. It’s Bheem’s face, his eyes an empty socket of darkness, his mouth eternally open.

I can’t bear seeing you like this, the mask said.

Ram jolted awake.

He was alone in his hut. He’s shivering despite the warm night. From the wetness of his cheek he deduces that he had been crying in his sleep.

This. This is what has been bothering him for weeks. Every so often he’ll have nightmares that awake him far before he’s supposed to rise. Then he’ll be in an awful mood for the rest of the day, because for some reason he just can’t go back to sleep.

Usually he’ll just lie back, staring at the ceiling until sunlight crept inside his hut. But tonight, after the worst dream of all, he does not want to be in that dark room, all alone.

He walks outside, unsure where to head but walking forward nevertheless. He approached the kitchen instead. Still half in a haze, he almost expects that Bheem will be there, since Bheem had used his kitchen so often back in Delhi.

But of course Bheem’s not here. The kitchen’s only lit by the fireplace blazing away. Ram stood in front of the flame, willing it to warm him. It did not do much since he already knew that he’s not shivering from the cold. For a moment he just stood there, eyeing the flame’s dances until his eyes hurt from the brightness.

“Ram?”.

He jumps in surprise.

He turns around and his gaze meets Seetha’s. She carries a basket full of ingredients. She must have noticed how his eyes are bloodshot and teary, or how his hand won’t stop trembling, because then she points at the low table near them and commands, “Sit there.”

Then she works away in the kitchen. Ram’s following her movements, since there’s not much to do anyway. A boiling pot of tea and a few freshly made batches of bread later, she sat in front of him with the food and drink. Another pot of boiling stew is bubbling atop the fire, sending a delicious smell to the air. Seetha fetch a bowl of that stew too. Then she sat in front of him.

“Eat,” she said, pushing the plates and cup closer to him.

Since he’s not sure what else to do, he did just that.

After he finishes up, Seetha gets up. She has taken the dirty dishes away and cleaned them up. She came back with two cups of water.

By then Ram’s breath had already become steady. He’s no longer shivering, and he did not feel as if he could throw up at any given moment.

Seetha drew a deep breath and asked, “Are you alright?”.

Ram nodded quickly, because what else is he supposed to do? He’s the mighty Ram that’s supposed to lead all these people. So how could he not be alright?

But Seetha just sighed and asked one more time, “Are you alright, Ram? At least be honest to me.”

She said it with such compassion in her voice that Ram’s breath trembled for a moment. He could feel his dam of emotions crack. So this time he shakes his head.

“What happened?” Seetha queried. She lets Ram take as long as he needs to muster the words.

Finally Ram answered, “Nightmares.” He exhales a ragged breath.

Seetha smiles sympathetically.

“Are you tired?” Seetha said. Her hand had come closer to his, she brushed his hand over and over absentmindedly.

Ram shakes his head again, “Not really, no.”

“Not physically, Ram,” she sighs, “What I mean is, aren’t you tired of always working on this cause? Never stopping even once to take care of yourself? Not having one second just for you to breathe?”.

Ram’s eyes became large and his words came harsher than intended, mostly from defensive instinct, “No! What are you saying? I’m dedicating my life for this cause, just like my father did before. I don’t regret any second of it!”.

Seetha did not look unfazed. She exhales and continues instead, “Dedicating your life for a cause should not make you abandon yourself. You still have the right to take care of yourself. It is not a crime. It does not make you less dedicated to the missions.”

He’s taken aback. He’s not sure what to do or say to this answer. He thinks he’s not sure of a lot of things. But this one is somehow harder to understand, to accept.

“Just,” Seetha began again, “Try to have some time to yourself. Have something to do outside the mission preparations. Anything. Any small thing in any small time that you set aside just for you. You can’t keep pressuring yourself and not expect yourself to get tired. You’re still human, Ram.”

He drew his hands to his face as he felt tears forming and rolling down his cheeks again. His breath is hiccuped and he’s fighting to not straight up wail. He hears movement beside him and when he looks again, Seetha is beside him. She opened her arms and said, “We appreciate your hard work for this cause, Ram. But you’re allowed to receive and have nice things. Like, time for yourself. Or this hug.”

Ram snorted a wet laugh at that but he nodded and moved forward. Seetha wrapped her arms around him. The hug is lacking something, but it does not make it less comforting. They stayed in that hug for some time before he untangled himself away.

“What am I supposed to do, though?” he asked Seetha, who is currently propping her hand on top of the table, her head resting against her hand.

“I have not thought of anything besides this cause for years. I don’t know what I enjoy. I don’t know what to dedicate my time to beside for…this.” he let his hands flail around their surroundings.

Seetha hums, “Perhaps what you need is a new hobby. Something to take off your mind from the mission every once in a while.”

They sat around in silence for a second before Seetha stood up and walked toward the back of the kitchen. When she emerged back she’s holding a piece of folded cloth. She put it on the table in front of Ram.

“These are flower seeds,” she said, “It should grow into white alyssum. They’re easy to take care of. Won’t take much of your time or attention. But just enough for you to take a break every so often.”

Ram unfolds the cloth and observes the light brown granules on the cloth.

He looked up at Seetha, a smile blooming on his face.

“Thank you,” he said.

She smiles, “Above all, you’re my friend. And I take care of my friends. Never forget that”.

And with that she sends him on his way.

He’s halfway through the door when he halts and turns back.

“Uhh, how do I plant this again?”.

Seetha snorts and yells, “Just dig some shallow pits in the dirt, sprinkle the seeds inside. Don’t cover them! They need direct sunlight. Water often. They’ll grow in no time.”

And with that he walks out of the kitchen. At least this time he’s a little bit more sure of where to go and what to do.

___

Ram has been exchanging letters with Bheem.

In the latest one that arrived, Bheem had invited both him and Seetha to visit. He wants to see if Ram’s presence as the legend will motivate his team of army to train even harder. He also misses Seetha and et cetera, et cetera.

Ram can’t care more about the real reason for this visit invitation or whatever. He’s just happy he’ll get to see Bheem. He misses him dearly and he’s quite excited to see the place where Bheem had grown up in.

He arranged for the trip immediately. Babai will be overseeing the training in his village while he is gone. Seetha had also appointed her assistant as current head healer while she’s away.

That morning as he went to pack his last luggage, he walked past his little garden beside his hut.  

A festive group of white petals have bloomed. The soft light of the morning gives the flowers a soft yellowish hue. Ram thought of that moment in the forest. The smushed hyacinth, and how Bheem had brought home some of the plant with him.

Ram kneels down and digs out some of the flowers. He followed Bheem’s technique in the wood, wrapping the plants inside a cloth with the soil included. He stares at this prized possession as warmth surges inside him.

___

He meets up with Bheem at the clearing near the forest leading up to Bheem’s village. Bheem exchanges greetings with Seetha. Jenny, the girl Bheem favoured, was there too. As she greets Seetha, Bheem turns to Ram.

They did that again. The lost staring that does not seem that it could ever end. At last Ram digs into his luggage and pulls out the cloth filled with soils.

“It’s for you,” Ram held out the flowers to Bheem.

Bheem raises an eyebrow, but then he smiles, “Thank you. I’ll give it a space in the garden.”

Ram hums in contentment, “Sorry it’s a little smushed.”  

“I’m sure I can nurse it back to health,” Bheem touches the petals of the plant. “No plant shall fall apart as long as I’m around”.

Ram smiled a little brighter at that remark.

He would have continued the staring again, but this time Bheem moved first and held him in an embrace. His move is still somewhat awkward, but he did not hesitate to swallow Ram in the hug.

“I missed you,” Bheem exhales.

Ram nodded, still wrapped in Bheem’s arms, “Me too.”

This must have been what was missing in Seetha’s hug back then. Because here, enveloped inside Bheem’s embrace, Ram could not be more at peace.

___

Author’s Note - End: White Alyssum symbolises “worth beyond beauty” and “sweetness of soul”. The word is derived from "lyssa" meaning madness. The reason is because it was believed to calm people's madness a.k.a. It was used to treat rabies.

Tagging the mods @stanleykubricks and @fangirlshrewt97 and the blog @celebrrration in case my Tumblr went nuts again.

Credit to @dumdaradumdaradum for giving me lots of fun facts throughout the making of this series.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Never Known Anyone Like You

Summary: My take on what happened between Bheem winning the dance off and the cut shot to Ram carrying him on his back.

Ram leaned against the far wall of the Gymkhana, half hidden by the shadows as he cooled down. He stayed where he was, nodding politely and accepting the congratulations from the passing guests, but stayed away from the main crowd. His heart felt lighter than it had in years, and he knew the exact reason why. A crowd who were all surrounding an increasingly frantic looking Akthar, clearly in over his head and absolutely clueless as all the Britishers spoke English at him. He kept nodding his head like a bobble-head doll, even as he kept scanning the courtyard for something. An escape probably. Ram snorted. He never could have accounted for the younger man in any of his plans. Even as he tried to focus on his mission, to get that promotion, to make his father proud, Akthar reminded him to live each day. Babai and Sita and the rest of the village believed in him so much, that he would keep his word to them. It was that belief that allowed him to continue on the darkest nights. But with Akthar there was none of that. He was just Ram Anna. The title was both a benediction and a knife each time, a reminder of what he had lost. Akthar looked at the world with so much joy, believed the best in everyone. Bore all the pain he could spare others without complaint. Made him smile more than he had in a long time. Really smile.

Their walks along the river, their bike/horse rides, their small escapades where Akthar always managed to get them in trouble (the incidence with the shepard kid who’s sheep they had almost stolen had chased them for nearly a kilometer being one). Ram downed the lemonade he'd been sipping at, figuring he should rescue Akthar before he really decided to make a run for it. It only took a moment, Ram stepping into the sunlight, for Akthar's eyes to meet his.It felt like there was some invisible string connecting them at times, the way they could almost sense each other whenever they were near. Ram ignored how his heart skipped a beat as Akthar's shoulders slumped in relief, a bright grin lighting his face. He casually made his way through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging a few back pats until he reached the center. Jenny was on one side, eyes shining with an adoration that made Ram's smile curl closer to a snarl on the inside. On the other were a few other white women, each all fawning over Akthar as if he were some exotic animal. Clenching his hand into a fist, he plastered on his politest smile, bowing slightly as he addressed them. "Excuse me madams, forgive me for intruding in this conversation. But unfortunately Akthar and I have some business to attend to that we cannot afford to be late to, if you could spare us?" The ladies groaned, even Jenny wilted slightly before nodding. "Of course, I understand. Thank you both so much for coming, this will not be a party any of us will be forgetting any time soon." Ram bowed again before meeting Akthar's eyes, gesturing towards the exit. The other man understood him, of course he did, he'd understood him when they had been separated by a whole bridge and a flaming lake, why did it keep surprising Ram? Saying their goodbyes, both of them managed to extract themselves within a few minutes and leave, making sure to return a smile to the churlish Jack who was still glaring at them. "Did you have fun Akthar?" Ram asked once they were out of earshot of the party. Akthar nodded his head furiously. "I've never been to anything like that before Anna! It was exhilarating!" "Being the center of attention?" Ram teased. Akthar laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You know as well as I do that I didn't understand a single thing any of them said." He glanced up at Ram, eyes still glimmering with joy. "I meant the part where we danced together." The sincerity in Akthar's voice caught Ram off guard, even it shouldn't. He should be accustomed to it by now. The other man was only ever straightforward. Ram had doubts whether he'd be able to lie at all. If his expressive face, his doe eyes, wouldn't give the whole story away. Such lovely eyes. Eyes Ram had lined with kajal, that had gazed at him with so much trust. The eyes he had forced himself not to stare into, lest he do something extremely foolish. Ram looked to the ground, hands going into his pockets. "Yeah, that was fun." Akthar beamed at him as he jumped to face him, wincing when he landed. Ram caught it immediately. Brows furrowing he placed his fingers on Akthar's forearm. "Hey what is it?" Akthar shook his head, smiling, "Nothing, Anna." Ram focused his best stern look. "Don't lie Akthar, did you get hurt?" "I-its," Akthar sighed, running fingers through his curly hair, which had finally defeated the mousse Ram had added to it. "I may have overdone it with the dancing." A picture of bashfulness, Ram had the strangest desire to squeeze him. Instead he just blinked and nodded. "Of course you did. Well only one thing we can do then." Akthar tilted his head. "What?" Ram turned around, bending slightly and extended his hands backwards. "Come on, climb up." Akthar flushed with embarrassment. "Anna no, I can walk-" "You are having pain. I am not. And I may not be built like an ox like you, but I promise not to drop you. Stop arguing." Ram said, looking him over his shoulder. Akthar but his lip, wringing his hands once before nodding. "Ok." Gently he placed both arms around Ram's neck, and spread his knees so Ram could hook his arms underneath them. With a grunt, Ram lifted him of the ground.

Akthar groaned softly, relief at being able to give his poor feet some rest.

Akthar was heavy, but feeling him against his back, his breath brushing his ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, Ram thought he wouldn’t mind carrying him forever if he was asked. His thighs were practically tree trunks, the stretch in his arms burning as Ram carried him forward. But then again, his friend always joked he stored all his strength in his legs. Ram wouldn’t disagree, just add that he had quite a lot of it in his shoulders too, which were unfairly wide.

A slight brush of fingers against his side startled him, arms loosening their hold for a second. In reaction, Akthar tightened his knees around Ram’s hips. “Anna!”

“That was your fault!” Ram scolded back as he adjusted his hold on Akthar once again. “What was that for?”

“I called your name three times, and you didn’t respond.” Akthar replied. “Where did you go?”

No way was Ram telling him he what he had been thinking. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t do that again, or I will drop you right here on the side of the road.”

Akthar’s smile was wide, eyes glinting with mischievousness. “Anna. Are you by chance ticklish?”

Ram scoffed, even as a flush took over his cheeks. “Absolutely not.”

Akthar’s booming laugh shook both of them, and Ram hid his own fond smile into his collar.

“Whatever you say Anna. And also you would never drop me here.” Akthar said confidently.

“Oh?” Ram asked, eyebrow raised. “Sure are you?”

Akthar hummed. “Yes. You are too good a person to abandon his best, closest friend, when he is hurt.”

Ram’s face shuttered and he was thankful Akthar couldn’t see it. He was not a good person. He had caused so many people harm, killed so many all in the name of a vow he had sworn his life to. He was necessary. But not good. Not like Akthar.

“More like I would not leave you here because then I’d have to listen to your complaining when you eventually found your way back home.” Ram jested, but both knew it was a lie.

Ram never once raised any objections to Akthar whenever the other man complained about anything. In fact, he always prodded him to not keep his problems buried.

What a hypocrite he was.

He felt Akthar slipping again, so he hitched him up again, grunting lightly as Akthar was jostled by the movement, arms tightening around his neck.

“Anyways, who said you were my closest friend?” Ram shot back.

Another laughable lie. Akthar may be the one person in this whole world who could claim that title. He was the only one who Ram would call a friend at all. Everyone else had only ever been allies, or family, or the enemy.

“Anna are you trying to hurt an injured man further?” Akthar claimed, the slightest inflection of a whine to it.

Ram chuckled. No one else made him chuckle. No one else ever bothered to. Not since Chotu.

Squeezing Akthar’s thighs best he could, he bowed his head. “Not at all, Akthar.”

Akthar hummed, leaning his head slightly against Ram’s, making his steps falter. Such a simple gesture, but it spoke to Akthar being comfortable with him. Able to relax against him. A show of vulnerability and trust Ram had never had.

But that was just it wasn’t it. These last few weeks with Akthar almost felt like someone else’s life. Someone who did not have a mission larger than himself to carry out. Someone who could take days off to spend with his friend, and go to sleep without a heavy burden on his shoulders he tried so hard not to buckle under. Akthar showed him what a happy life could be like. Ram yearned for it. Ram hated himself for his selfishness.

He didn’t know how much longer his goal would take, or where else it would take him, but he had this gut feeling his time with Akthar was limited. And he would make sure to not let a moment slip by wasted.

“Can I put you down now?”

Akthar groaned. “Oh God. I can’t Anna.”

Purposefully jostling Akthar this time, he fondly said, “Get down now, you are so heavy. How much farther should I carry you?”

This time, Akthar properly whined. “Don’t say that Anna, I beg you. If I take another step my legs will fall off. Please carry me a little longer.”

Ram laughed. “Why did you dance so much if you were in so much pain?”

Akthar gave that embarrassed laugh again. “I don’t know Anna. When you looked at me like that, I just…  felt like competing with you.”

Ram’s grinned.

Before either of them could say anything else, a familiar car pulled to a stop next to them. Akthar slid down from Ram’s back, and Ram had the strangest urge to tighten his hold to prevent this.

“Are you hurt? What’s happened? Is he alright?” Jenny asked, concerned.

Ram swallowed against a lump in his throat and glanced at Akthar before looking at Jenny. “He’s got a bad cramp. Can you drop him off at New Bazaar?”

“Oh of course!” she answered, leaning forward to open the passenger side door.

Helping Akthar inside, he closed the door securely.

“Would you like to come to my place? For a coffee? Before I drop you home?” Jenny asked Akthar, who looked back at Ram helplessly.

Feeling a strange band compressing his chest, Ram translated, trying not to feel a jolt of pain as Akthar nodded, expression thunderstruck. Ram did not understand why he was so surprised that Jenny wanted to spend more time with him. Who wouldn’t want to spend more time with Akthar?

“I’d offer to drop you too, but it’s only a two-seater.” Jenny said apologetically.

Ram couldn’t even hate her for it. “No problem, I am waiting for a friend.”

What friend? Ram didn’t have any such people.

“Alright, bye.” Jenny said as they began to drive away.

Akthar didn’t say a word, still looking at Jenny.

Ram forced himself to keep smiling, and waved the couple off.

They looked so cozy, sitting next to each other in her car. That dark green a nice difference to the more common jeeps Ram had been in.

Car…that pale green colour of the decoration. Where had he seen it before?

///

My muse has returned in full force and is not letting me concentrate on anything else. I have a couple more stories in the wings too. Let me know what you think of this one!

[pearwaldorf]

I finished watching RRR last night. It's really long, ridiculous in good and bad ways, and absolutely a piece of Hindutva propaganda (background). There are people who think nobody should watch the film because of how loathsome its tenets are, and I understand that. I also think it's useful to understand how this sort of thing works when it's done well, because honestly? Most Western propaganda fucking sucks. It has to work as entertainment first to make people receptive to its message, and it goes down so, so easy when you do it right.

The tonal whiplash of the movie is honestly incredible. I watched the first hour during a work night and felt like I staggered out of a pinball machine. It is so overwhelming all you can do is try your best to keep up. And that sort of exhuberance is attractive, in an age where it feels like every film is either calculated to show how fucking smart and clever the writer-director thinks he is or some sort of Disney mass-market grey nutritional paste.

It's so much it's almost camp, especially every interaction Ram and Bheem have. Like of course there are cultural differences in how men express affection towards one another, but it can only explain so much. There are literal! montages! Ram does a full Cyrano de Bergerac for Bheem to help him court Jenny! He takes an L in the dance contest so his bro can look good in front of his crush!

Please understand, I don't want to impose a Western gaze on something that should not be interpreted this way (and if I've missed the mark I'm happy to hear about it). But there are only so many fanfic tropes I can deal with dancing their way on screen, sometimes literally, before I can conclude it crosses the line from homosocial to homosexual. (Also given the Hindutva stance on homosexuality, it would not surprise me if somebody was just like "No they're just really good friends I swear.")

The dynamic between Ram and Bheem becomes so much more uncomfortable after Ram reveals his mission. Bheem is, and I say this with affection, strong of heart and dumb of ass. I know some of it is meant to reflect his naivete as a tribesman, but sweetheart, when your bestie shows up in the literal uniform of the colonizer I don't think the appropriate response is "Are you yanking my chain?"

Maybe I wouldn't make so much of it if I didn't know about the movie's nationalist stances. But in that context a man who hits so many of the uneducated but noble savage tropes explicitly submitting to somebody who we later see as the literal representation of Rama is, uh, really troubling.

Random observations I just wanted to throw out there:

That first bit where the crowd is storming the barracks? Every person Ram beats down has a turban or a skullcap. And that's kind of gross.

Every woman in a piece of media pushing nationalist messages is the same flat cutout, I swear. Seetha has no personality other than to exist as the exemplar of (Hindu) womanhood. Jenny is kind and compassionate but in an essentialist way that sets her off as uncorrupted by colonialism and empire, unlike her evil aunt.

The portrayal of the British as ridiculously, cartoonishly evil but somehow still grossly incompetent (ie the Star Wars stormtrooper problem) trivializes the real harm and devastation suffered by the entire country under their rule.

It's not a movie I would watch again, but I think it was useful to get a glimpse inside a propaganda machine. Knowing more about your enemy enables you to understand how they're going to try and get into your head. And given that Modi doesn't appear to be going anywhere and there's plenty of people sympathetic to Hindutva ideals here in the States, it's good to know about.

[ladydarkey]

This was a Challenge. I hope you like it.

Read it on AO3

Gift 2/2

Title: In love with a tribesman

Creator: me

Giftee: @carminavulcana

Prompt: Jenny's thoughts and actions in the immediate aftermath of Komuram Bheemudo

Relationships: Bheem/Jenny

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings/Tags:  Angst, whip scene, blood mentioned

@celebrrration Holiday Swap 2022

In love with a tribesman

Five minutes ago.

It was just five minutes ago as Jenny was standing on the balcony above a furious crowd.

The air was filled with noise. 

Shouting men, weeping women, cries of pain, thumping of lathi on bodies. 

It smelled like blood.

Sand thrown up by the movements of the crowd mingled with the tears that flowed down Jenny's face.

Her gaze was fixed on a body lying on a pedestal in the middle of the crowd. 

Suddenly her body was moved without her doing. She wasn't able to fight back as

an officer dragged her into her room. It was an order of her uncle Scott Buxton.

 

Now she was all by herself. 

In her room there was absolute silence. No sound came in from outside. 

Everything seemed surreal now. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, the floor seemed to move. 

She has lived in these premises for two years, so she knew her room inside out.

That's the only reason her legs found their way to her couch. Before her eyes, Jenny saw only the motionless and bloodstained body of Akthar.

No, not Akthar. Bheem. 

She let herself fall onto the sofa. Her right hand clenched the armrest . The fingernails of her left hand dug into the tender flesh of her breast, right where the heart sits.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she started to scream.

If it were possible to rip her own heart out of her body, then she would do it now. Hoping the pain of the broken heart would go away.

Was he dead? Could anyone survive such torture? There was no answer. 

She feels helpless and alone. 

She was alone in this cruel, cold world.

Fifteen minutes.

She still couldn't comprehend what had happened in the last fifteen minutes.

Only this morning at breakfast, did she hear that Bheem would be punished in public at noon. From then on she was unable to do anything until the time of punishment came.

As she entered the balcony, Bheem was already flogged.

A crowd was gathered around the dais. 

Jenny estimated the number of people who came to watch at around two hundred or even more.

Just below the balcony were sixty British soldiers,some of them on horses, stationed in front of the broken gate that Bheem and his entourage broke through in a truck just two days ago.

At each corner of the pedestal stood a soldier in khaki and one special officer, recognizable by his red uniform.

The special officer explained to the crowd that the suspected criminal would either fall to his knees, confess his crimes and beg for mercy or he would be punished severely.

In the moment, as the man in the red uniform looked up to Jenny’s uncle Scott, she was shocked that it was the face of Bheem’s best friend Ram. 

Back when she met him for the first time, she didn't think much about it, didn't even really notice it and now it hit her like a blow. Now she understood why she was able to converse with him in her native language. He was an Indian man in the British Army. A traitor to his own country and his best friend.

Uncle Scott nodded to him. 

There was a tense silence. Nobody dared to make a noise. Even the birds didn't sing. The boots made a dull sound on the dais boards as the punisher stepped behind the tied man.

Another seconds of silence passed.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud, lashing noise. The whip hitted the broad back of Bheem. A slight groan left his mouth and the crowd gasped. 

A second whiplash penetrated Bheem’s body. A third one followed immediately. 

Jenny had to close her eyes and turn her head away. She couldn’t bear to see her beloved get hurt. The fact that the whip was led by the hand of his best friend made it even worse. 

She hadn't told anyone how she felt about Bheem. It wasn't love at first sight, but when they were together at the market, she felt more secure in his presence than ever. When the guards came to take her home, her heart told her that she must see him again, no matter what. So she spontaneously invited him to the Valentine's party. From then on, her love for Bheem grew day by day.

And now she was on the balcony watching the public punishment of the man she fell in love with.

In fact, Jenny was sent to India by her parents, hoping the adventurous daughter would be tamed and find a man for life. A British man, of course, and not a native of a foreign country. And yet that is exactly what happened. Jenny fell in love with one of the strongest, most soulful and kindest Indian man, she has had the privilege of knowing.

Each crack of the whip penetrated her heart and made her wince as if it would hit her herself.

She realized that now she had to be strong for him. She wasn't allowed to look away now, that's the least she could do for him at that moment.

Under the continued blows of the whip, Bheem had collapsed and was kneeling.

For a brief moment, Jenny thought the horror had come to an end and she couldn't be more relieved.

He would probably spend the rest of his life in prison, but he would live.

She was startled to hear her Aunt Catherine's disappointment at what she perceived as little blood. Her aunt didn't seem happy with the outcome. 

Lady Buxton also was the one, who observed that the accused did not kneel.

The punishment wasn’t over.

Ram was about to strike again when Lady Buxton stopped him.

Suddenly she pulled out a whip fitted with nails. Why did a woman like her have one right at hand and where did the whip suddenly come from?

Jenny no longer recognized her own aunt. Catherine has always been a bit callous and strict. Still, the young lady never expected her aunt to enjoy seeing someone brutally mauled. Until they drown in their own blood. 

The weapon was first tried on a pillar. The wood flew in shreds as the whip was pulled back. The brutality made Jenny jump backwards.

Her mind and body screamed at her to run away. Her stomach writhed and she felt like she was going to throw up at any moment. Again she looked away.

The nail whip would kill him if he didn't get down on his knees. Lady Buxton seemed to like it though.

What should Jenny do? Surely she couldn't stand idly by. She had never felt so helpless as in this moment.

A calm voice full of strength and hope reached her ear. It seemed to be the song of a god. Jenny looked up to see Bheem straightening himself. It was he who sang. This time he didn't flinch when the nail whip hit him, he just kept singing. For a brief moment he looked at the balcony, sadly his eyes didn't find those of his admirer.

His blood squirted through the air and Jenny had to hold on to the railing so as not to faint.

She wondered how heartless a man must be to torture another human being.

The singing filled her not only with warmth and strength, but also with hatred towards the oppressors. At that moment, her hatred focused on whoever wielded the whip, Ram.

Was he ever Bheem's friend? Could a monster like him even feel anything like love? Or even have sympathy?

He always seemed very friendly, cheerful and above all familiar with Bheem. Was it all just acting? What good would that do him? Did he know who Akthar really was and was he just waiting for the moment to betray him?

A man who wanted to save a little girl who was wrongfully taken from her family. The girl, of all people, who had been living in the same house as Jenny for months.

Bheem's feet were bound and he was hung up while a hundredweight block pulled on his legs. Instead of singing, for a brief moment there was a scream. No human could have survived that. However, Bheem kept singing.

Even if she didn't understand a word of his song, she knew that he would never surrender to his oppressors. He would rather die than kneel.

It seemed like the only way out and as much as it hurt her, she accepted his decision. Even if she had a different opinion only seconds before.

His song came to an end. The soldiers untied him and dropped him.

Although his strength was visibly failing him, he still managed to tense his body so that he didn't fall to his knees.

With the last of his strength, just before he collapsed, he held out his hand toward the crowd. They seemed not only moved by the singing that had just ended, but also filled with anger.

Suddenly the crowd rushed forward and attacked the British.

Something in Jenny made her want to storm off the balcony.

With a sweeping movement, she turned around, forcing her eyes to look away from Bheem.

She ran, her legs controlled by her burning emotions. It was a mixture of hatred, anger and concern.

With an inexplicable force she pushed the soldiers aside who were just arriving as reinforcements.

After what seemed like forever, she arrived at the gate. Her eyes hastily sought her lover in the chaos.

When she finally found him, she turned to stone.

There he lay motionless and covered in blood in the arms of his punisher. The man in the red uniform clutched Bheem's body, his eyes filled with tears. Jenny could hardly believe what she saw. She just has to imagine the tears. Anything else wouldn't make sense. Why would he torture his friend and then cry for him? She startled herself as the thought crossed her mind that she would rather see Ram broken and covered in blood, preferably to the bitter end. Did she just turn into her heartless aunt?

Something was tugging at her and the scenery was getting farther and farther away.

Now she was back in her pink room. 

In the end she was just a small, delicate, naive girl in a foreign country who dared to interfere in matters that were none of her business.

Could she have prevented everything? 

Wouldn't this situation have happened if she hadn't met Akthar?

If only she had known earlier where Malli was really from, could she have helped Bheem?

She was told that Malli was an orphan. Lady and Lord Buxton would have found her alone in the woods and they were kind enough to take the little girl home. She was so gullible and believed in this fairy tale.

Her thoughts threatened to end in a spiral of self-pity. The tormented man's song sounded again in her head. New strength flowed through her body. From now on she wouldn't sit idly by. At that moment, she vowed to free Malli from her prison.

She still didn't know how exactly she should do that, she would still have to find a plan.

But first she had to make sure whether Bheem was still alive or not.

She wiped her tears from her face, gathered all her strength and walked out the door with resolute steps.

Her target was Edward. He would know if her lover is alive.

She also realized that she had to wrap him around her finger. Because Edward held all the plans in his hand, including the schedules of the guards. If she found out when the changing of the guard was, she'd have a good chance of smuggling Malli out of the building.

India has not tamed her, on the contrary. The country and the people made her even stronger and braver.

She would fight for this country, for her love.

[carminavulcana]

A Matter of Mercy

I am new to the RRR fandom, and I posted my fics to AO3, but I am realizing most people read fics here. So, I am reposting my works here as well. Hope you like them. This story is called A Matter of Mercy. It is a missing scene between guilty Ram and unconscious Bheem in the aftermath of the whipping scene. Canon-compliant. No slash.

Please leave me feedback. It means the world to me. I am also taking prompts. Mostly Ram & Bheem friendship, Gen, Angst, Historical Fiction, and Hurt/Comfort.

I think I am somewhat ace so no smut or romance, but everything else is welcome :)

XXXXX

Ram walked through the crowd in a daze. The sounds of the angry spectators and the pained cries of the British soldiers sounded garbled and muffled in his ears. He could hear nothing but the heavy pounding of his own heart. The only other thing he was also uncomfortably aware of was Bheem's weak and shallow breathing as his tortured body struggled to stay alive after everything it had been subjected to.

The entire right side of his own body was soaked through with Bheem's blood. And even though Bheem was as heavy as he looked, Ram felt compelled to carry him, lest he be jostled and hurt any more in the merciless arms of another policeman or soldier.

Finally, he deposited his precious cargo in the back of the police van. There was nothing more he could do.

He made his way back to the governor's house without stopping to engage the crowd or help his fellow policemen who were still being assaulted by the riotous mob. It was nothing less than a small miracle that he too wasn't pulled to the ground by the crowd, even though he, more than anyone else, deserved to be lynched for what he had done.

The hours trickled by slowly. He was congratulated by several officials for his skill with the whip, for his loyalty to the British crown, and for his ruthless adherence to imperial law. Each hand he shook tore a hole inside him. In the evening, he was honoured with a chance to take his tea with the Buxtons. After all, he had given the governor's precious wife exactly what she had wanted. Bheem's blood. And Bheem's screams.

The tea itself felt like acid going down his throat. And while he managed to gulp it down somehow, he found himself unable to take even a bite of the rich, sweet fruitcake and the scones that had been placed before him.

He recalled his last meal with Bheem. They had eaten a whole bucket of chaunsa mangoes sitting by the cool waters of the Yamuna. It had been an afternoon to remember. They had regaled each other with their lamest jokes, including a dirty one that Ram had heard in a local tavern. Unsurprisingly, it had gone over Bheem's head.

"You were supposed to laugh," Ram crossed his elbows and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Why?" Bheem asked, genuinely confused.

"Melons, Bheem, sure you know what those are?" Ram smirked.

"Yes, melons," Bheem agreed. "The fruit you get in the summer. As a child, I used to go and help with the melon harvest in the spring. Sometimes, I even brought a few home. They were nice enough. But nothing compares with mangoes. Truly, it is the king of fruits. The Maharajadhiraja of fruits."

Ram stared at him.

"Bheem, what do you think we are talking about?"

"Fruits," Bheem smiled. "We are talking about fruits, right. I guess the topic of jokes is over! You really tell very funny ones!"

Ram didn't know whether to laugh or to explain the joke to Bheem. How could a grown man not know what melons referred to?

Ram chuckled at the memory. Sweet, naïve, innocent Bheem.

But today, at least a part of that innocence had been stolen from him. Never again would he be so guilelessly trusting of a smooth-talking stranger. That is, if he survived.

Ram knew the governor was not yet done with Bheem. There was a final act of humiliation that was left to commit against him. A very public hanging.

Ram had seen people hanged before. It was never pretty. The victims sometimes wet themselves. Some lost control of their bowels. And the mechanics of hanging were such that the dying body's eyes bulged out of their sockets and blood vessels broke, leaving the face frozen in a mask of grotesque agony.

Was that to be Bheem's fate? The thought made Ram bolt to the bathroom and vomit out the meager amount of tea he had consumed along with a significant quantity of bile.

How could he have strayed so far off the correct path? This couldn't have been what his baba wanted? Was baba watching him from somewhere up there? Was he proud of him? Or was he ashamed that his beloved son, destined to be a revolutionary, had somehow turned into the very monster he had sworn to fight?

For hours together, he sat lost in thought. He tried to release his anger and frustration on walls and inanimate objects as he usually did, but nothing would drive the melancholic steel of Bheem's song from his mind. Bheem's resigned face, beautiful and poised even in such unrelenting torment, swam before his eyes.

He could not let Bheem die.

But injured as badly as he was, there was no way he would survive the night without medical attention.

Ram waited for the lights to go out before making his move.

It took him the better part of an hour to reach the station Bheem was being held at. Now that he was a senior special officer, clearly in the good graces of Her Ladyship Madam Catherine Buxton, he was easily granted access to the unconscious prisoner.

"Leave," he commanded the guards. They saluted him and complied without question or comment

Finally, alone and unwatched by prying eyes, he allowed the veil of indifference to slip from his face. Swallowing back the bile that rose again in his throat, he stepped closer to the prone form of the man who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time.

Legs shaking uncontrollably, he pushed himself the floor and gingerly drew Bheem's dark head into his lap.

His hair was stuck to his scalp, sticky and matted with drying blood. More blood stained his lips, his chin, and his throat. On closer inspection, Ram saw the wounds that had caused Bheem's dhoti to become so drenched with red.

His thighs. So, the whip really had done its damage. Bitterly, Ram congratulated himself for his skill as a torturer. And another pang of guilt hit him. Those wounds had definitely been pulled and ripped even wider when they hung that metal block from his feet.

Terrified and drowning in a sea of emotions he could barely scratch the surface of, he brought his face closer to Bheem's and allowed himself the undeserved comfort of feeling Bheem's cheek beneath his own. He closed his eyes and let the tears come. This would be his only opportunity to cry. And there was no one he could cry in front of; no one except for his dear, dear friend who he had betrayed in a heartbeat.

In those moments of silence and misery, he heard the rattling of death in Bheem's still-laboured breaths.

He was torn.

Should he let Bheem go? Let him go and allow him a relatively quick and private exit from a life that was now sure to be nothing but more pain and hell? Or fight for him this time? So that he, Ram, could have a chance to right this great wrong?

It would be a long shot. The odds of failure were much higher than the odds of success. The consequences of failure would be unbearable.

Ram could not bear the thought of Bheem being hanged publicly. He could not blink away the horrifying vision of Bheem losing his dignity in his final moments, broken down to nothing but a stupid, pitiable animal about to be put down.

But could he watch him die now? Or was he such a coward that he could not even bear to witness the results of his own barbarity?

"You cannot die," Ram whispered. With great gentleness, he placed Bheem's head back on the hard stone floor.

"Don't give up just yet," he pleaded with his unconscious friend. "You have to get Malli home. You promised you would."

*****

"Medical attention?" The station in-charge looked confused. "The likes of him don't deserve medical attention. Besides, it would be wasted on him. Our own personnel need the services and the supplies of the physician after the stupid mob beat some of them senseless."

"He will die without medical attention," Ram ground out. "The physician must see to him. Now."

"Then let him die," the other man retorted. "He is anyway a dead man. You heard the governor, didn't you? They will hang him in two days. What is the point in saving him when he is already practically dead?"

Ram closed his eyes and calmed his raging nerves. It was now or never. This was the time to bring out the best of his acting abilities.

"His Lord and Her Ladyship will not be pleased if he croaks without their permission," he said dangerously. "Lady Buxton would want to see him hang; conscious of each excruciating moment as the noose tightens around his worthless neck.... And if she cannot have his neck, I assure you it will be yours."

The station in-charge, suitably cowed by Ram's words, nodded wearily and summoned the physician. Inwardly, Ram sighed in relief.

"Since this is all about pleasing Her Ladyship, I assume you don't want him any more comfortable than is strictly necessary," the in-charge ventured cautiously. "Painkillers are a carefully rationed medicine. We can't afford to waste any on him."

Ram blinked in disbelief.

What? No. Of course, Bheem needed painkillers. He had to be swimming in a sea of pain. If anyone needed painkillers right that moment, it was him.

But Ram also recognised a lost battle when he saw one. Much as he wanted Bheem to have some relief from the pain, he couldn't risk blowing his cover yet.

"Indeed," he intoned. "Don't waste any extra medicine on him. Just keep him alive until the hanging."

A few minutes later, the physician arrived. Ram wanted to stay and ask questions about Bheem's condition. He wanted to make sure that his friend would live and recover from this.

But by the looks the station in-charge was giving him, he had already overstayed his welcome.

And time was of the essence. He had to move to the next stage of his plan.

"May the Gods have mercy on you, Bheem," he prayed silently as the physician retreated into the injured man's dank cell. "And may they have mercy on my black soul."

Ram didn't know if he would ever get to speak to Bheem again. His own death was certain, now that he had chosen his path. But maybe he would get a moment to beg for forgiveness. Just a moment.

That night, sleep eluded Ram, which was fine, because he had prepared his bed for his final rest. There was only one task ahead of him.

Bheem would live to fight another day.

[detectivejigsawpines]

RRR Analysis-Part 2

This analysis is specifically about Lacchu.

And how despite how naïve he was to trust Ram right from the get-go, in both their confrontations he actually managed to beat him.

First, he manages to outrun him, something Ram's opening scene establishes as very difficult to do, even with a crowd on your side-but Lacchu still does it.

Then, when he's caught and tortured by Ram for goodness knows how long, he refuses to tell him anything no matter how much pain he suffers, and then, in an absolutely hardcore moment, he manages to sic a snake on him (when I first saw this scene, I thought he was going to kill himself with it so he couldn't be forced to talk, like that moment from Pan's Labyrinth, so the fact that he used it on his attacker instead kind of makes it even more hardcore) and actually would've succeeded in killing him if it weren't for Bheem.

Conclusion:

Lacchu: 2.

Ram: 0.

[aw-nah-sol]

RRR Is Now My Favorite Movie, Officially

This movie is *slams* absolutely *hand* friggin *on table* beautiful. The beginning totally pulls you in, hell, Netflix's preview with Bheem fighting the tiger in his trunks pulled me in 😳 But come on the story is riveting! The two leads do soooo well - their dance battle? EPIC. Loved seeing that crowd loosen up, I even found myself doing the kick with them and tested my endurance lol.

The music didn't captivate me as much as say, Mirzya, but the action was still top notch. Marvel Avenger's level, and everyone was so on point with their choreography! This movie could go for so many awards. I even salute the subtitles because tbh, I do check for good captioning.

I'm not a critic or anything, but I did see maybe one or two like SFX mistakes, but nothing jarring. What did break my immersion was the dubbing. I'm used to it trust me, but the voice actors sounded so rich in Hindi and when I could see it was not matching, I wondered about the original Telugu, and wishing that audio option was available.

So mad props to N. T. & Ram, the starring actors, voice actors, and the behind the scenes crew - because you've created a masterpiece.

(Shout out to the background actors too - who, in the time of Covid 1920, came out in droves to set the scene. 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿)

All this being said is why this is 7 out of 5 stars for me. 7 is my favorite and yes, a lucky number to me.

Favorite movie - chuckled, teared up, full on cheered.

WATCH

[vakhiyamusings]

I’m fucked (and not in the fun way!)

The letter in his hands filled him with jubilation.

The news he heard however filled him with dread.

His oath to his father, just mere seconds before his death was so close to being fulfilled.

His love was not going to see the sun rise after tomorrow.

He needed to do something.

His word of honor or his love

He had to decide.

The decision was rather simple…

Or so he liked to believe.

                                          ***

Trailing behind this sadistic behemoth was not something he liked to do. 

And considering where they were, it annoyed him even more!

Ram had to check his emotions behind his blank mask as he took in the pitiful sight of his lover in chains.

Ram doubted he was fed or given water after his public flogging. 

The punishment that he himself had to bestow upon his love.

Ram took a moment for a little pity party.

Why was he fated to hurt the people he loved?

He first killed his own father.

Then he hurt his best friend by making a solemn oath to his people and leaving her behind.

And now he tortured his lover in public.

Ram had decided from a young age that he was going to hell. There was simply no other option for someone like him.

He almost missed the soliloquy of the evil dictator in front of him.

“I want the best hangman for the job!”

“I want to see his neck drawn out tight and his eyes bulge and pop just before his neck snaps!”

Ram stifled the urge to strangle the British pumpkin.

“Yes sir, but I doubt you will see fear in his eyes,” he taunted subtly.

The governor turned to fix him with a narrowed gaze.

“If I recall, it was you who failed to bring him to his knees,” the devil said with repressed anger.

Oh shit! He had to think fast.

“I’m sorry, sir. If I may suggest an idea? Why not bring the little girl to his hanging. That would hurt him more than anything else in the world,” Ram replied.

He tamped down the wince as Bheem’s eyes widened in fear. The look of betrayal and pain was heart wrenchingly obvious and it made Ram want to die a little.

The governor buffoon chuckled as he watched Bheem struggle against the chains. The first reaction he had since their arrival here.

“I see you’ve learnt the ways of the empire, young man,” he said with pride in his voice.

Ram shrugged off the satisfied feeling he got whenever he received praise from his superiors. It made him feel nasty inside these days.

As they strode off, he explained that it would be safer to hang Bheem on the riverside than in the midst of a crowd. He explained that the people might choose him as a martyr and that would be disastrous for the British government.

Ram was quite surprised his plan worked flawlessly when Scott shook his hand, agreeing to his terms before he left.

It honestly couldn’t be this easy, could it?

                                                                                        ***

Ram was nervous.

It was understandable considering the fact that he was in a lion’s den and was planning on stealing their steak away from them.

One might argue it was a suicidal task.

Ram agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment.

Unfortunately, he had to save his headstrong, big hearted and well endowed (Ram checked *wink*) love before it was too late. 

The guy’s recklessness brought him to stand right before a fucking noose!

Ram was so going to murder him in the future for making him do something equally feckless!

Ram watched Scott and his entourage follow his car.

He swiftly cut the rope to allow a tree to fall over the jeeps and impede their path.

What he wasn’t expecting was being torpedoed out of the car himself and get punctured by a tree stump.

The pain was searing through his mind, clouding his thoughts.

Malli’s cries helped him focus and brought him to reality.

He had to save her.

He had to give Bheem a chance to escape with her.

Ram fought through the pain, breaking necks and bones.

Fighting was second natured to him these days.

He spat out blood.

Hmm… He must’ve punctured a lung.

That’s why he had two of them anyway.

Ram ran behind Malli protecting her from all the men trying to kill her.

Malli almost reached Bheem.

Ram wanted to witness the joyous reunion. He really did.

Unfortunately, he noticed a man trying to target his Bheem!

That wasn’t happening under his watch!

Ram took aim.

Bheem watched his gun point at Malli.

Bheem roared in rage.

Ram ignored him and shot the guy in the forehead.

Bheem bashed him over the head in thanks.

What. A. Fucking. Idiot!

Ram took it like a champ.

Because, what else could he do?

The situation was way too charged for an explanation.

Ram himself was out of breath and seeing two Bheems stand side by side over him.

They were both holding a rock over his head.

What a way to go!

Ram briefly imagined having two Bheems stand over him, kiss him and do filthy, filthy things to him together.

Man, was he out of his goddamn mind!

He probably had a concussion.

It was totally worth it after all the stress that Ram put Bheem through over the past few days.

They should probably make a tally to see if they were even. 

Ram believed that he was in the lead. He was competitive like that.

Now, back to his two lovers.

No, wait. They merged into one. 

Ram missed his Bheem clone.

The sharp rock shook in Bheem’s grip as Bheem stared at him with absolute fury.

Ram felt like he was being stared down by a dangerous wild tiger.

It excited him, tremendously!

Bheem let out a cry and Ram closed his eyes.

The stone landed right beside his head.

Lips crashed into his almost punishing in their assault. He tasted blood and it fueled their lust.

“I hate you for making me feel this way! You almost killed Malli! You betrayed India!” Bheem snarled viciously above him.

“If I did all that, then why are you kissing me?” Ram asked drily.

He heard footsteps of the soldiers coming after them.

Bheem was still fucking here!

“I used you to make my way up the ladder. Finding you gave me a promotion. I’m exactly where I need to be right now,” Ram said giving him a shit eating grin.

Bheem looked further enraged. 

“You better run before the soldiers come after you. I should take you both back now but consider this as repayment for saving my life from the snake bite,” Ram drawled looking bored.

Bheem stood up shakily and kicked him right in the stomach.

“I don’t know what I saw in you! I can’t believe I trusted you! I never want to see you again!” he snarled before lifting Malli up and running away.

Ram pretended the words didn’t hurt as much as they did. 

His lover was alive and safe.

And he was going to make sure he stayed that way.

Ram fought till he could no more.

He fate was now pretty clear.

He was utterly, irrevocably fucked!

[filesbeorganized]

Nymphaea

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Author’s Note - Start: This fic falls under the series My Garden of Love, which is part of the submission for Celebrrration in Tumblr. The accompanying song for this fic collection is “Flowers” by Hadestown.

Celebrrration Day 3 Prompt: Music

Warnings/Tags:  Celebrrration submission, developing relationship, flower language, canon typical violence, can be read as stand alone but you might be a little confused if you don’t read the previous instalment, songfic, TW for sexual harrasment, TW for blood and major injuries

Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komuram Bheem, Seetha&Jenny

___

Flowers, I remember fields of flowers,

soft beneath my heels.

Walking in the sun.

___

Bheem walked with him through the forest. He keeps Ram updated about what he has been up to, at least the things that he hasn't mentioned in the letters. Jenny walked with Seetha, the both of them deep in conversation, chattering about their own activities.

They end up at the entrance of the village. Passing several children running about, and the communal kitchen alive with the fire and smoke lifting into the air. The sun slowly disappears into the horizon, leaving only streaks of warm light in the sky.

“So that’s the team I was telling you about,” Bheem points to a clearing, several men are engaged in military training. “Currently Lacchu’s training them, I oversee once in a while. In a few months they’ll be ready for their first mission.”

Ram peers into the crowd and found the man who he had tortured for information standing in front of the group. Every so often he delves into the lines of men, correcting postures and adjusting the form. So, his name is Lacchu.

“Want to visit them?” Bheem offers.

He thought about the awkwardness of confronting Lacchu. Plus he just arrived. Does he really want to raise hostility this early in his visit? So, for the sake of maintaining some of the peace, he said, “Maybe another time.”

Bheem raises his eyebrows but does not ask any question.

So they walked to Bheem’s cottage instead. Jenny has her own hut and she had invited Seetha to stay with her during their visit. Seetha accepted.

That means Ram will be staying with Bheem.

After putting his belongings where Bheem had directed him to, Ram wanders around the house. It’s not a massive place, but it is definitely Bheem’s. There’s not a lot of his personal belongings, only the essentials like clothing and a short table where some books and documents are piled on top. There’s a door to the backyard, a pot of fresh water stands beside it. Ram walks to the backyard.

He found Bheem hunched over the soil. Beside him, the hyacinth they found in the forest last time has thrived into thick shrubs of purple flowers. Bheem truly hadn’t lied when he said no plants will perish when he’s around.

Bheem finishes planting the white alyssum Ram had given him. He turns around and smiles as he notices Ram’s presence.

“It’s beautiful already,” Bheem exclaimed, “Can’t wait for it to grow.”

Ram could watch that smile for the rest of time and he won’t get sick of it.

“It’s getting late, we should clean up and rest,” Bheem suggested. Ram nodded in agreement. He let Bheem herded him to a small opening at the side of the cottage. A big pot of water stood beside a small fireplace. Bheem boiled some water and soaked soap beans in them. Then he left Ram to cleans up.

When Ram enters the main room, Bheem is tidying an extra mat beside the one already in the room when he first arrived. He’s not sure why but his cheeks are heating up at the thought of sleeping that close to Bheem.

It’s not even that weird. Back in Delhi, sometimes Bheem will stay over in his house. Most of the time Bheem will just sleep on the floor. But sometimes Ram will insist he take the bed, while Ram sleep on the floor. Sometimes the both of them were just so exhausted, they both just passed out on the bed. He’s not sure why today is any different. Nevertheless it’s apparent that his heart rate is still accelerating.

He scolds himself to please, just be normal.

After Bheem finishes, he brings Ram to get their food at the communal kitchen. Ram watches as the people fuss over Bheem. The village healers surrounded Seetha and exchanged knowledge. Even the raiding team’s men chats along with Jenny, praising her for working as an informant, working behind enemy’s lines.

Ram is content watching the people he loves having the time of their lives. He feels just slightly lonely in that crowd. The disadvantage of people considering you to be a half god, a legend, is that it puts a distance between you and them. Usually Ram won’t mind people ignoring him. But this is Bheem’s people. It feels like their approval of him holds more weight than others. Luckily, the soft smile Bheem wears the whole evening distracts him from the stinging pinch in his heart.

___

The next day Ram has to fulfil his promise to meet Bheem’s raiding team. The men are excited. They’re so filled with idealism and long for justice, for freedom to come to their homeland. They ask him questions and insist he oversee their training for the day.

Lacchu was there too. Lacchu will talk to Bheem, and help correct poses like he did the day before. He didn’t do anything particularly hostile. But he is also pretending that Ram did not exist either. After what Ram did to him, this should be considered hospitality, though.

It was past noon when they all took a break. Lacchu immediately parted ways with them, which just emphasised that he won’t be wasting any more time than needed to deal with Ram. Despite knowing he absolutely deserves this treatment, Ram has to push a bitter taste down.

Bheem somehow misses Ram’s pained expression, because he directed Ram to the communal kitchen to fetch their lunch. Leave it to Bheem to make sure Ram never misses his meal.

“Loki-akka!” Bheem greets the woman nursing the fire under a big pot of rice. “I’m here for lunch!”.

She laughs, “Sure, sure. Go have a seat, I’ll fetch a plate.”

He and Ram sat beside the low table nearby. He watches as the children play under the shades of trees. He has a flashback of Bheem and him playing with the Delhi’s children. Part of him felt like he’s not only accompanying them to play, but also is playing with them. Doing things he hadn’t got the chance to do as a child. Being around Bheem tends to make him experience new, amazing things.

Loki-akka comes to the table bringing a big plate of rice and bread. She fetched another plate and put it on another table nearby. She then calls on the kids, announcing that they got to eat their lunch. Hurricanes of limbs and yelps invade the table beside him. The kids quickly wash their hands and take a spot around the table.

Bheem began to eat, so he followed as well. They watched as the kids started ravaging their meals. At some point a couple of kids had begun quarrelling over a piece of chicken. Bheem laughs at that while Loki-akka tries to calm both of the kids. The two kids refuse to let go of the chicken and Loki-akka is clearly running out of patience. She took the chicken from both kids and is ready to scold both of them. Before the whole ordeal turns into a crying match, Ram takes the chicken from his plate and offers it to the kids.

“Here,” he waves it in front of the kid who’s clearly the closest to tears. “I’ve got extras.”

The kid beams for a moment, but the smile quickly dies down as she notices the person offering the food.

“I don’t want it,” she said. The boy who had been wrestling the previous chicken from her quickly took the chicken from Ram’s hand instead.

“You don’t like chicken anymore?” Ram tried to joke. He recognizes this girl as well, he just hopes she does not recognize him.

“I don’t like you,” she scooted farther from him, “You’re a villain.”

Loki-akka inhales a sharp breath nearby, as Bheem stops eating at all. They all went silent for a moment, except some kids that clearly have no interest in following their conversations. They’d rather finish their lunch instead.

“Malli,” Loki-akka’s voice sounded edged, “You can’t say that. Apologise to your anna.”

“I’m not in the wrong!,” Malli insisted, “He hurted Bheem-anna before. He might do it again!”

“Malli!” Loki-akka raises her voice. Even some of the kids previously occupied by their food started staring at them.

“You’re not my anna,” Malli glares at Ram, “Never will be.”

With that she stood up and ran away.

“Oh! That girl will send me to an early grave,” Loki-akka clicks her tongue in frustration. “My apologies, she’s still recovering from..”. From the trauma that you helped cause, is probably what she might have said. But since she’s too polite for that kind of remark, Loki-akka didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she offers him a sympathetic smile and walks away to resume nursing the fire.

That left Ram staring into nothing as Bheem tried to catch his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Bheem cautiously asked.

“Yeah,” Ram tried to fight the stinging in his eyes, “Yeah. I’m full actually. So-”

He stood up and left for Bheem’s cottage.

___

For a moment he does nothing except sit on that mat and stares at the wall.

Malli’s right. He’s a villain. He’s not going to be accepted here. Not after he hurt Bheem, the person most beloved by the whole village. Not after he almost caught Malli in the cross-fire. Not after he tortures Lacchu, who hadn’t want to do anything but save Malli.

He’s not sure how to look at any of the villager’s faces without his cheeks burning up in shame.

A knock comes from the door. Bheem appears on the doorway.

“It’s your house,” Ram sighs, “You don’t have to knock.”

“Well, let’s pretend I just knock before entering my house all the time, just for fun,” Bheem said.

Ram shakes his head in disbelief, too tired to laugh at that.

Bheem takes a seat beside him. He sat so close that their shoulders knocked at each other. Even that simple touch is already calming Ram down.

“Thought you might want company,” Bheem murmurs.

“No, I-” Ram chokes on a sob, “No, I actually deserved that.”

Bheem offers his upturned palm, and Ram just has to take it. Just this once he wants to accept Bheem’s help to collect himself, so he does not break down completely.

“They need time to heal,” Bheem stated, “They have every right to take as much time as they need to heal. They’ve been through so much after all.”

Ram nodded in agreement. He’s not sure if by ‘them’ Bheem is referring to Loki-akka and Malli, or to the entire village. They all had been traumatized by the whole kidnapping incident after all.

“You can’t demand them to accept you immediately,” Bheem continued, and he is so right except this reality is also quite painful to swallow, “But what you can do, is to accept yourself first.”

Ram turns his head to face Bheem, his gaze filled with questions.

“I don’t deserve acceptance, though,” Ram whispered, “I did many bad things. Since when does a villain deserve healing?”.

Bheem squeezes Ram’s palm in his hand, “Oh, but you’re not a villain. A villain doesn’t tend to feel bad when they do bad things. But you do. So you do deserve healing. And it can’t start unless you accept yourself first.”

“That man that’s training your team, Bheem,” Ram sighs, “Lacchu. Remember when I was searching for a man all over Delhi? He was the one I was searching for. I tortured him for information, Bheem. I was ready to keep Malli under house imprisonment for the rest of her life in the Scotts house, for a mere promotion. How can you not be disgusted at me?”.

Bheem took both of Ram’s hands into his, “I know about Lacchu. He told me once we got reunited. He’s rightfully angry at you, but after Seetha’s story, he knows that you didn’t have much choice either. All he asks is that he doesn’t want to interact often with you. And that is fair, right? As for the disgusted part, I thought I told you this. I can’t hate you. I love you too much to spare a room for hate in my heart. And did you not end up trying to help Malli? You can’t rewind time to fix the past. But you tried to be better in the future. To be honest, that’s the only thing we all could do. Live for the future. You look too long at your past and you’ll stand still while life passes you by. I don’t want that for you.”

Ram shrugged, “Lacchu has been watching me roaming around his village for the whole day and he’s patient enough not to kick me out immediately. But one scold from Malli and suddenly I’m the one sulking? I don’t deserve your sympathy, Bheem.”

Bheem smacked his side and Ram looked at him in surprise.

“Stop that. You’re deserving of my love. It’s a non-negotiable part of our friendship. You better accept that. And while you’re at it, you better start to accept that you deserve to have a good future as well.”.

“Or what?” Ram’s lips start to quirk up to the side. His breath is less heavy, and he can feel his shoulder loses its tense. He can stand to lose the love of the whole world, as long as he still gets Bheem’s love.

“Or I’ll tickle you to death!” Bheem announced as he lunged to make true of his promise. Ram tries to wrestle out of his death hug but can’t help but start laughing.

A quick knock and the sound of the door opening stops their wrestle. They tried to sit properly as the person at the door made their way inside.

“Hey you guys,” Jenny said, “Seetha told me today’s Dhanteras, so she wants to take me shopping in the-” Her words stopped as she saw Bheem and Ram still somewhat tangled with each other.

“Ah, we’re interrupting them,” Seetha emerges from behind Jenny. Her eyes glinting as if she’s holding in a laughter.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jenny sighs, “Anyway, if you’re not too busy being joined at the hips, we’re going to the city to shop. If you want to join, meet us at the village’s entrance in ten minutes.”

“Now that’s out of the way,” Seetha steers Jenny to the door, “Let’s leave before we witness any more weird things.”

Jenny barks a laugh at that.

Ram loses the ability to speak for a moment.

“Is she…uh, okay with this?” he asked finally.

“Who? Jenny?” Bheem questioned, “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t she?”.

“Well I thought you both have a crush on each other, figured she’d be jealous or something with us being so close or whatever,” Ram tried to sound as neutral as possible.

“Oh. About that,” Bheem actually blushes, “We kind of…drifted apart.”

“Wait, what?” Ram is genuinely concerned, “Are you okay? Don’t tell me you messed it up so hard with the flirting that she got disinterested.”

Bheem bites the side of his cheek, “Shut up, you’re not a master of flirting as far as I can tell. She actually got into trouble for the whole nails in the wheel shenanigans.”.

“Oops,” Ram tuts, but he actually feels a bit bad.

“But anyway,” Bheem continues, “We try to go out together for a while. Didn’t work. Apparently we’re better as friends. So here we are.”

Ram has a surge of irrational fear down his spine. He hopes that he and Bheem weren't just better as friends.

“We should get going,” Bheem tugs at him after a while, “Nothing better to cheer you up than to see fresh scenery. Let’s go!”.

___

The city’s streets are jam packed with stalls.

The four of them just wander around for a while. Bheem dragged them from one stall to another in search of the candies to give to the village’s children.

“Perhaps we can ask for a truce to Malli,” Bheem picks several types of candies from the merchant’s boxes. Ram has the urges to buy all of them if that can grant him Malli’s forgiveness, except he knows full well it doesn’t work like that. Forgiveness and trust are things that are quite hard to be bought.

They resume their walk until they come to a stall selling bangles and earrings. Seetha drags Jenny to select their choices of accessories.

“I somehow have the flashback of shopping with Bheem, he ends up buying a bangle for Malli instead,” Jenny hums.

“I did not buy a bangle for Malli,” Bheem declared, “I made it.”

“Yeah, because he’s romantic like that,” Seetha comments nonchalantly. “Is that why you lost your girlfriend, you ol’ snooze?”.

“Hey!” Bheem protested, “Jenny, Tell her it was a mutual decision!”.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jenny retorts, “It was a mutually made decision after he considers that we’re better as friends, and after I consider that he’d made a terrible boyfriend.”

Ram has the impulse to defend that Bheem would have made a great boyfriend. He did not get to voice it because Jenny suddenly jumps and turns around, panic displayed in her eyes.

Seetha moves first and asks Jenny, “What? What happened?”.

Jenny points to the hollering crowd of boys standing not too far from them. They yell obscenities at Jenny and point at her.

Jenny looked like she wanted to vomit, “I think one of them just slapped my behind.”

One of the foolish boys approaches Seetha and tugged at her saree, trying to pull her closer.

“Want to have fun with me, darling?” he said. Eyes clearly looking vulgarly at her.

Bheem moved forward and the boy finally took notice of him and Ram.

“These two’s your girls, brother?” he raised two hands up, “If so, apologies. Thought that they were alone.”

“They’re not our girls, but-” Bheem enunciated his words slowly, voice laced with barely contained anger.

“Oh!,” the boy laughed as if this whole thing were mere jokes, “Then it’s fine if I took them to have some fun with us?” He points at his friends, still hooting improper words at Jenny.

Ram is standing still, fury starts boiling inside him. Whether they are their girls or not, these boys are not treating their fellow humans with respect and it is unacceptable.

Before he nor the boy could react, something flashes forward and hits the boy’s face.

A loud crack made Ram unconsciously wince. Then he took in the scene of Seetha chasing that boy away.

“You want to have fun? Is that why you harass my friend?” she yelled, bangles rustling in her fist. Whenever she catches up with one of the boys, she lands her punch powered with those iron bangles. The chiming noise of the bangles mixed with bones cracking sound is so absurd that the rest of the group just kind of stands there and stares. She chases them all the way to the road’s branch. The boys ducked into the street’s darkness and Seetha finally gave up her chase. She stomps her way back to the group and checks on Jenny.

“Are you okay?” She touches Jenny's side cautiously. Jenny thoughtlessly nodded.

“Those senseless boys!” Seetha exclaims, “If they come back here I’ll beat them to death!”.

“Uhh, miss?”.

“What?!” she barks her reply.

The stall’s vendor just stares with some fear in his eyes, “Uhh, sorry, but are you going to pay for that?”.

He points at the misshapen, bloodied bangles in Seetha's grip. Seetha looks at him and the bangles a few times before snapping back to reality, “Oh, yes. Apologies for the ruckus. How much are these for?”.

Seetha paid for the broken bangles and some pairs of new ones. The night is decidedly ruined, so they opt for walking back home instead.

“Here,” Seetha hands Jenny the newly bought bangles, “Sorry you have to go through that.”

Jenny stares at her for a moment, her eyes unreadable, then she reaches for the broken bangles in Seetha's other hand instead.

“I want this one,” she takes the broken bangles.

Seetha looks up in confusion, “Why? It’s all bent, you can’t wear that.”

“Sure, I can,” Jenny firmly insists as she fits the broken bangles into her wrists, “You fought tooth and nail to get me these ones. It’s my new treasure now.”

Seetha blushes, her face went bright red, “O-oh. Uh, sure. Thank you?”.

“Thank you to you too,” Jenny replied with a soft expression on her face.

Ram and Bheem exchange a confused look but wordlessly agree that they better not comment anything.

___

After the whole ordeal, Ram thought they’d all slept like the dead all day, but that morning he found Bheem already awake at dawn. The sun barely crept into the sky but Bheem’s standing near the door, buckets of water, mop and broom at his disposal.

He lets his head clear up for a moment before he remembers what’s the day’s occasion.

“Cleaning up for chhoti diwali?” he yawns, still somewhat sleepy.

“Correct,” Bheem beams for some reason. There’s no way anyone is excited to brush their home from floor to ceiling, but there Bheem is, a big smile plastered to his face as he offers Ram a broom.

Ram relents and crawls out of the mat. He helps Bheem roll the mat and put them aside so they can start sweeping the house.

After the sweeping comes the hard part, which was to mop the whole place clean. It involves buckets and buckets of water, and a sore back from bending down to mop the floor. Every so often Ram has to throw away the dirty waters outside, and he’ll be greeted by Seetha or Jenny for Jenny’s hut, both of them also hard at work cleaning the place.

By noon all of them were sprawled across the house’s lawn, tired from the day’s activities. Bheem was pulling a last minute groom for the flowers in the backyard. Apparently he bought a water lily when they went to the city, so he’s now fussing over the new addition to his garden, making sure it has enough water and all that. So Ram’s just sitting on the front lawn, exchanging groans with anyone who was passing, their conversations basically going, Are you tired? Me too, I’m tired too. At one point Seetha crosses the road to bring him water, but almost pour the water down his face because she was so out of breath that her hand’s shaking. After that no one tried to move for a while, trying to regain their energy and calm their breath.

Fate seems to be in a joking mood that day, because that’s the moment a kid ran across the lawn. She tried to climb a tree in panic, which means she failed miserably. Ram’s brain was sluggish, his overworked body still dealing with the tiredness fatigue, but he finally saw the thing that had alarmed the girl. That thing is turning so fast at the corner that it slips and falls, but it quickly gets up its feet again. That thing is a wild boar, and it is readying itself to charge forward.

Now it’s Ram’s turn to panic. He doesn’t know what to do, his movement still slow from weariness, but the boar is definitely not waiting until he can plan a reasonable course of action. So he does the next best thing, which in retrospect is actually the worst thing ever. He throws himself in the course of the boar.

Ram can feel the boar’s ploughing through him. He bet this is what getting hit by a truck felt like. His limbs do their best to wrestle against the boar, trying to steer farther from where the kid is. He feels that he’s losing his footing, so he does his last ditch move and tries to break the boar’s neck. The boar’s struggling under him but clearly still has a lot of fight in it. He heard someone yell as he felt the boar’s tusk digging itself into his stomach. The flare of pain only feeds his adrenaline. With his last burst of energy, he twists the boar’s head until he can hear the bones breaking inside. This also means he’s yanking out the boar’s tusk out of his stomach. Blood seeped into his clothes and he felt lightheaded. The good thing is his last ditch move works and the boar fell limp beside his foot. He did not have the time to congratulate himself because he soon followed the boar’s lead and passed out on top of it.

___

As Ram wakes up, he almost wishes he didn’t.

There’s a throbbing pain on his sides and the fatigue hasn’t gone away either. Overall it’s quite an unpleasant waking up experience.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a small voice beside him spoke, “I thought you’ll spend another day in a coma.”

He tried to follow where the sound came from, but his headache said otherwise. So he just croaks, “Yep. Awake. A hundred percent awake. Hi.”

A small face looms over him, “You’re in pretty bad shape.”

“Gee, thanks for your observation,” he huffs.

“How are you still annoying despite being currently in death’s door,” the kid scoffs.

His eyes clears up and he finally registers that the small face belongs to none other but Malli.

“Oh, hey you,” he finally said.

“The only reason I didn’t stab you again in your sleep is because Bheem-anna would be disappointed in me,” Malli announces. She shuffles uncomfortably from where she’s sitting, then continues, “And also because you saved me. So thanks for that, I guess.”

Ram vaguely remembers the girl that’s trying to climb the tree in panic, “Oh, that was you trying to imitate a broken legged goat on that tree?”.

Malli huffs but Ram’s suspicious that she’s holding a laughter rather than being offended.

“Shut up,” she fumed, “I’ll call Bheem-anna to check on you, but only after he finishes putting up diyas outside.”

“Are you…prioritising a candle over me not dying?” Ram asked, he’ll laugh if that won’t make his whole body ache.

“Yeah, that’s your punishment,” Malli insists, “No way I’m letting you get in the way of my anna getting his yearly blessings.”

“Also,” Malli poked her tiny finger into Ram’s cheek, “You’re not dying anymore, Seetha-akka basically yanks you out of the afterlife. You’re okay now, crybaby.”

This kid is so disrespectful but somehow Ram can’t bring himself to get angry at her.

“Okay, then. If I died, however, I’m haunting you forever,” Ram said.

Malli stood up so she once again loomed over Ram, “Sure you will.”

Then, perhaps Malli got scared of being haunted, or maybe it’s something else. But she puts a few candies she must have gotten from Bheem in Ram's hand.

She talks quickly in a harsh tone, as if embarrassed, “Happy Diwali anna, sorry you have to miss it. And, thank you.”

Then she ran out of the door, all the while yelling, “Enjoy your stab wound!”.

That impertinent girl.

Ram sighs as he feels the weight of the candies in his hand. He tastes sweetness in his mouth despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. From outside the house, he can hear the faint sound of laughing and music being played. Light from the bonfire somewhere out there flickers across the room every so often. The booming sound of the firecrackers being lit up is not helping his stinging headache. But all in all, not the worst day he’s ever had in his life.

___

Author’s Note - End: Pink Nymphaea/Water Lily symbolises joy, youth, and friendship. The word is derived from "nymph" which referenced the spirits of plants from Greek mythos. It has opposing qualities, for example, despite its beauty, this plant often grows in ponds with thick muds. In parallel, nymphs are creatures that can bring both harm and good to humans who encounter them.

Tagging the mods @stanleykubricks and @fangirlshrewt97 and the blog @celebrrration in case my Tumblr went nuts again.

Shout out to @dumdaradumdaradum on Tumblr for letting me annoy her with questions about the festivals mentioned in this fic.

[voidsteffy]

Was riding the public bus the other day and well... Saw a couple sitting on the other's lap cuz the bus was crowded and was thinking of a scenario where Ram and Bheem are strangers but due to circumstances, Ram or Bheem accidentally sits on the other person's lap (nearly happened to me a couple of times actually) and the relationship kinda develops from there?

I am so gonna start writing these fics now... Beware...