abhisocool

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Does anyone have any good marauders fanfic recs? I'm trynna find some with desi James, but just any recs are good with me.

'I am Prince Jaron' - Short Fanfic 👑

*Set at the end of TFP with an alternate ending*

What if Imogen found out slightly earlier than in the books? What if she didn't wait for Tobias and the crown? What if Imogen was there to support Jaron when he confronts his past for the first time in years?

Even though I actually felt some inspiration, I feel like this cut off abruptly. Ran out of ideas. Sorry for any spelling mistakes as always

⚔️⚔️⚔️

I looked directly at Mott. “Go now.”

Mott nodded and took Conner’s arm. “Sir, Prince Jaron will be there. Let’s go.”

“I will get there in time,” I told Conner. “Have Mott secure the kitchen for us.”

They ran ahead and Imogen knelt beside me, asking, “You knew about Roden and Cregan. How?”

“It was their last chance to make Roden the prince.”

She reached for the hem of her skirt, intending to tear off strips for bandages. “Where are you hurt?" 

“Nowhere. Everything is fine. Really.” I smiled and held out my arms to prove it to her. “I just needed a reason to get separated from Conner. Do you think Mott has secured the kitchen yet?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand — you faked that injury?”

“Yes.” It was the first time her confusion could have been mistaken for distrust. I stretched out my hand to help her up, “I’ll explain on the way.”

“But what about Tobias? What about the crown?” Even though nobody could hear us, she still whispered the word.

“The crown will gain him entry, and I won’t need it.”

“Sage—” She tugged me back as I started walking, searching my eyes desperately.

I squeezed her hand, “Trust me.”

Although she didn’t seem all that convinced, she allowed me to lead her until we saw light pouring  into the tunnel and a figure taking up too much space to be anyone but Mott. I let her climb the ladder first and followed soon after.

“How bad is it?” 

He was obviously asking about my injury, so I just grinned at both of them, “Practically nonexistent.”

Imogen’s frown deepened just as Mott understood, “Unbelievable.”

“I thought it was rather clever.”

“You think everything you do is clever,” This time it was Imogen, still looking as though I was some puzzle that had been scattered and she had to put together again.

“And since when can you talk?”

She gave Mott a pointed look just as I spotted Cook, my favourite chef who always kept silent about my midnight escapes through the trapdoor and into the world. And suddenly, I felt very hollow. I was home. I was prince. And yet I felt like neither. I longed for my family, but they weren’t here. Only Cook. Still, as if drawn to her like a echo from the past, I needed to see her. I needed someone to know I had come home before the entire kingdom knew it. I tapped her on the shoulder before Mott could stop me.

“Did you get the potatoes I asked—” The plate she held shattered at our feet and her mouth hung open. She was looking at a ghost, I realised. It was best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So I just grabbed a pastry from behind her and winked. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I knew the tears I had caused weren’t out of grief. 

I strode back to my friends with a grin, “Time to come back to life.”

Mott just shook his head with a smile but promised to remain at the sewer entrance to wait for Tobias, nodding once at me as though he knew my plan without my telling him. Perhaps also in good luck. I generously left him the rest of my partly-bitten pastry and exited through the staff door.

Imogen followed me in silence. Up the curving stairs I hadn’t stepped on for half a decade as I ran my hand along the stone walls, each bump and crevice unearthing memories from deep within me. And dread, and sadness. I pushed the last two emotions aside and dared to glance back at Imogen.

She no longer looked suspicious, only nervous.

“I have something I need to tell you.” I said as I stopped and pushed our backs against the wall. A guard was walking by, armed heavily in anticipation of the coronation. My old room was almost in sight. I knew how to get there unnoticed. 

“Yes?” She whispered.

“I—” She looked at me with such trust in her eyes. Trust that would be broken in an instant when she found out who I truly was. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You don’t have to be. I know why you’re doing this now. I understand.”

“No, you don’t. Not until I tell you everything.” I gently ushered her across the walkway and into the royal quarters. And with a wave of nausea, I realised nobody would be here. 

She noticed my distress apparently, “Sage, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I—” The door to my parents room. I gasped, seeing myself caught by them sneaking around. But that wasn’t real, of course. Just my own ghosts. “I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me.” This time she squeezed my hand.

And quietly, because the words seemed to seek refuge in my throat, “I am prince Jaron.”

“Yes, I know.”

“No,” I looked directly at her, “I am him.”

“Sage, I understand if you want me to call you that, and I will. But what’s really going on?”

It’s better to show than to try convince her of the impossible. I nudged open the door to my old room and walked in. The smell of pine and dust thick in the air. Everything was just as I had left it. 

Imogen froze as the door shut behind her, hissing, “Sage, why are we in a royal’s bedroom?”

I took exactly three steps, knowing which floorboard I needed but still waiting for it to creak and then knelt down to tear it free. 

“Sage!”

There, sandwiched between two loose pieces of wood, was the inspiration for Conner's prized replica. I lifted my up my sword and watched it glimmer in the moonlight. The leather warming in my palm. Rubies sparkling. 

It was like the world quietened around me. Enough that Imogen's sharp inhale was just as loud as her back hitting the door. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Stop talking,” her eyes widened, “Wait, no. Forget I said that.”

She looked impossibly small when I stood back up, and suddenly she bowed low.

“Please rise,” I said. “It’s still me.”

She obeyed but shook her head, avoiding my eyes. “No, I don’t think it is, your Highness.”

I frowned at my sword as if it had personally ruined everything. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Her voice was almost imperceptible. 

“I have everything to apologise for.” I allowed myself to really look around. A melted wax candle on my bedside table. The sheets tucked carefully into the bed like a treasured memory. Blue and yellow drapes canvasing the bedposts and pot of rotted flower stems, the petals long disintegrated. Forgotten, much like I was. 

“Are you alright?” The words seemed to take on a new meaning.

“No.” I swallowed. Throat burning with unshed tears. But I had a job to do. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

I didn’t notice her walking up to me until she touched my wrist, getting my attention, “I understand.”

That was all I needed to hear. I was breathing again. Where Cook saw a ghost Imogen must have seen a complete stranger. And the thought of my closest friend no longer sharing that sentiment was a nice addition to the pain that was already crippling me from inside out.

"How much time do you have?" She was speaking quietly now. And, to my surprise, studying my face.

"The regents would have started their proceeding. Connor would have made it just about now. I expect another ten minutes until I have to make a grand entrance."

She giggled, "I'm not the least bit surprised you want it to be grand."

"I want Conner to think he's won."

"I forgot about that part. He has no idea, does he?"

"And he won't know until I have him arrested," I looked at her through blurry eyes, "He killed them Imogen. He murdered them all."

Her eyes widened and a look of horror flickered in her expression. "What?"

"It was him. I figured it out."

"You're saying--"

"He murdered my family."

I hoped that darkness made the tears invisible. Though I suspected the tremor in my voice didn't help me be inconspicuous. For days I had been filled with such unbridled rage, such resentment. Briefly I thought that I should poison him with the same vial myself. But an emotion I hoped I could withstand was haunting me. Loss. I lost my family once again... only this time permanently.

And then, like a bandage holding me together, Imogen wrapped her arms around me and placed her ear above my pounding heart. "I can't pretend to know what you're going though. But I want you to know that even though your life is about to change, I will be here if you need me to be."

"As a subject or a friend?" I sniffed.

"You don't have to order me to be your friend, Jaron."

I sighed. My name sounded so nice when she said it. I was longing to hear someone say it and know it was real. So I couldn't help myself, "Imogen?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you say that again?"

She chuckled slightly and looked up at me, her own brown eyes a bit glassy, "What? Your name?" When I nodded she smiled and repeated it almost reverently, "Jaron."

I tightened our embrace slightly. "Thank you. It has been years since I heard that."

"You should prepare to hear it more often. Or Your Majesty."

"As long as you don't end up calling me that."

"What, by your title?"

I raised my eyebrows and leaned in, "Yes. Or else I'll start calling you Lady Imogen."

She threw her head back and laughed, "That would be a sight. You'll have nobles turning over in their graves."

"Well they better start turning. Because when I'm crowned, it will be my first decree."

She stepped away, "What do you mean?"

"I already planned it, back at Fathernwood. As a thanks for all you did for me."

She was silent for far too long, "Jaron, I can't repay that."

"You already have. Several times over." I stepped close to her, "I would be dead without you, Imogen. Of that I am almost certain."

"It was just some cleaning alcohol, anyone could have done it."

"I'm not just taking about my wounds, Imogen."

And it was almost a whisper when she replied, "Thank you."

I cleared my throat, and with it, reined in my emotions, "Well..." I re-gripped my sword, "I think I should probably go. But I'm going to miss this. Being Sage was one of the best things that ever happened to me, and also the worst."

"You've lived the life of a royal and the life of a peasant. You know your people more that any ruler before you. And from what I know of you already, you are going to be the greatest King that Carthya has ever seen. I can't wait to see who you'll become." She bowed her head once more and looked up with a smile, "Now go and take your kingdom back.”

I kissed her cheek and headed off to take my throne, feeling, for the first time in my life, like I was where I was destined to be.

- The End

I’ve previously stated that when people say “Why have James and Harry as POC?” it’s fair enough to respond, “Why not?” but there are also some reasons that specifically drive me towards representing them that way. So, without further ado, here’s why I tend to view James Potter as a person of colour. 

(Please note that this isn’t about authorial intent, since I’m more than aware that JKR doesn’t exactly write with the purpose of people reading her main characters as POC. It’s more about how the narrative connects as a reader, as well as some personal preferences.)

Racially-Coded Language Directed At James 

[…] Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. (PS1)

and, after Vernon claims James had been unemployed in POA: 

“As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —” (POA2)

There’s a very specific trend in the way that the Dursleys speak about James. “Good-for-nothing,” as soon as he’s introduced, a sentiment repeated by Marge. “Wastrel” in that same chapter of POA. And the way that Marge reacts to James being “unemployed” is very much akin to anti-immigrant rhetoric, i.e. considering them a drain of public resources. It’s classist too, certainly, but that’s not divorced from racial dynamics. The greatest employment disparities in Britain occur among ethnic minorities. And that’s in recent reports. I can guarantee it was worse approximately 30 years ago, during the setting of HP. On top of that, the idea that the Harry’s “otherness” can be identified on sight also reads like an allusion to race. 

Harry’s Appearance

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. (POA2)

and 

Professor Flitwick was walking past a boy with untidy black hair … very untidy black hair…  (OOTP28)

James and Harry share most of their features. The most prominent of these is by far James’s hair, which is consistently described as both “black” and “untidy.” Neither is a trait exclusive to people of colour, but there certainly is a tendency for people of colour to face greater scrutiny for the state of their hair. The Dursleys’ view that having “improper” hair somehow equates lacking societal worth is much along those lines. It’s not at all unreasonable to relate Harry’s struggle with his hair as partly the product of his heritage. 

Dynamic Balance Between James and Lily

This one is a point of personal preference. Since we know so little about either James or Lily, it’s hard to gauge what exactly their relationship was like. But I absolutely love the idea of James as a person of colour and a pure-blood while Lily is white and Muggle-born. Although there’s a claim that there’s no racism in the wizarding world (I’d question that, but that’s a different post), there certainly would be in 1970s Muggle UK. It’s an interesting dynamic to engage with — James, completely unaware of why people would look askew his relationship with Lily even in the Muggle world. Lily, turning indignant protector for James, while people dislike him for his heritage. It’s all the appeal of a role reversal AU but built into canon-compliance. 

Presumption of Delinquency 

For the space of a heartbeat both policemen imagined guns gleaming at them, but a second later they saw that the motorcyclists had drawn nothing more than —

“Drumsticks?” jeered Anderson. “Right pair of jokers, aren’t you? Right, we’re arresting you on a charge of —” (Prequel)

and

Harry preferred Little Whinging by night, when the curtained windows made patches of jewel-bright colors in the darkness and he ran no danger of hearing disapproving mutters about his “delinquent” appearance when he passed the householders. (OOTP1) 

This one’s a bit more depressing, but it’s something that I think holds true for many people of colour in places where they aren’t the majority. Whether in a local neighbourhood, with a police officer, or at an airport, it’s easy enough to think of an instance of racial profiling. Being treated as a threat by people who don’t really know you. In James and Sirius’s interaction with the police, up until that point they’re smarmy, sure, but have made no indication that they’re any kind of threat. They reach back in their pockets and immediately the assumption is that they have guns. Harry experiences similar profiling. In that same chapter, he talks about how some of the neighbourhood kids are afraid of him. Admittedly, he’s got the Dursleys’ badmouthing and the state of his clothing going against him, but James is well-dressed and cared-for and still treated as if he might become violent. 

Nuanced Representation Through James

This point is less about the text itself, and more about how interpreting James as a person of colour is beneficial to readers of colour. Although he sort of gets the least physical presence in the series, the things we do see inform us that he’s got quite the story. He’s described, along with Sirius, as “the cleverest [student] in school,” in POA, he becomes an animagus at the age of fifteen, and he saves the life of his worst enemy (who later sells him out to Voldemort). He dedicates his life to a war that his blood status exempts him from. And he’s got obvious flaws as well! He’s arrogant, sometimes rude, and loyal to the point of being blind to the possibility of betrayal. Of all of the Marauders’ era characters, James has some of the most interesting characterization. In a series where people of colour barely feature, the idea that someone like James (and subsequently Harry) could be men of colour is very exciting. 

And, for what it’s worth, I actually think it’s kind of cool that James is so well-off financially. It’s not only a reversal of expectations with the earlier point of racially-coded insults, but also offers a version of an ethnic minority who doesn’t necessarily have a class disadvantage. And, if you’re on the Desi James train, it actually plays into a specific narrative of migration and employment for Indians in the UK prior to 1981. Racial discrimination and class do not always follow each other, and I think that disconnect can be jarring for those who consider themselves relatively privileged. Again, it’s something I think is interesting to explore.

Diverse Magical Heritage

Again, this idea comes down to personal preference. Since James comes from a long line of mostly pure-bloods, that means that if he is interpreted as a person of colour, there’s an entire magical tradition that can come with that. All of the HP spells are Latin-based, but if you read James as Desi (as I do) then there’s the potential for Sanskrit-based spells! Indian wizard holidays! If Christian wizards celebrate Christmas, surely Hindu wizards celebrate Diwali? Or Muslim wizards celebrate Eid? Not to mention the cool idea of life-cycle rites coming into play. I’d love to see a wizard version of annaprashan, where instead of reaching for just books or toys, you could have Harry reaching for a wand for power, or the Mahabharata for courage. Not to mention that James’ family has a long history in potions, which actually seems closer to Ayurvedic medicine than chemistry. There are so many possibilities that come from seeing James as a person of colour. These are only a few examples. 

have you got any james headcannons?

okay a lot of these are also hindu/desi James because 🥺 yeah

James was absolutely a dancer

specifically a bharatanatyam dancer

his parents were like super big on teaching him about all the cultural stuff and James was super active all the time so James being a dancer just,, made sense

also he had adhd

James lowkey idolised his parents and their relationship but for good reason

they were happy and they cared for each other and they were Peak Romance and James knew that's what he wanted one day

James was absolutely warned about the Black family and he was probably given loads of unsolicited advice on staying away from the infamous Sirius Black because he'd be a bad influence

(not by his parents though, Effie and Monty would never judge someone based on who their parents are)

and then he gets on the train and sees this scared little boy in way too formal clothes looking simultaneously terrified and relieved

and James just goes

FRIEND THIS IS FRIEND HI FRIEND HELLO

he's basically just a human shaped golden retriever

and Sirius is really just relieved that he doesn't have to spend the journey with death eaters in training

and they just kinda ramble at each other for ages

until they notice the two boys sitting across the aisle, one of them's half asleep and the other's very intensely playing with a muggle toy

(Peter was obsessed with rubiks cubes, you can fight me on this)

and James is so fucking confused by the lil cube and Peter shows him how to solve it and it's like James' entire fucking world suddenly makes sense because holy fucking shit

and Sirius thinks it's sweet that James is so easily amused and he's also in awe of how clever Peter is

and Remus just looks fondly at these boys who barely know each others names becoming friends so easily

and James definitely has an om pendant on black thread and it keeps catching Remus' eye

so eventually Remus asks about it

and James goes on this wholeee rant about his religion and culture and the food and presents

and he promises to take them all home one day to show them what desi festivals are like

and then they get to hogwarts and it's sorting time

and James knows how stressed Sirius is

so he makes shitty jokes and gets the other two to try and help cheer Sirius up

it doesn't really work but knowing that James is there means more to Sirius than he could ever say

the boys share a dorm obviously and James is,,, surprisingly neat

like you'd expect this whirlwind of an 11 year old to get his shit everywhere but he sorts his clothes into neat piles and he's super careful with his folds and he's got little desk organisers and he spends like half a day just focused on organising his stuff and putting everything away properly

James sees Lily on their first night when she's reading by the fireplace

and his brain is like

FRIEND NEW FRIEND HELLO FRIEND

because sweet little baby just wants to be friends with everyone

he remembers her name from the sorting and he's kinda worried because it's late

so he's like

hey Evans, right? it's getting late, you should probably head to bed soon

and she ends up saying she's homesick, mumbling it, hoping he won't hear because she's a bit embarrassed

he hears, of course

and he sits with her, talking to her about nothing and everything until she finally decides she's ready to go to bed

James gets back to the dorm and Sirius IMMEDIATELY gets on his ass because they're all immature 11 year olds when girls are the worst but also anytime a boy's nice to a girl they just assume he likes her

sooooo we heard you were with a girllllll

it's not like that, she just needed a friend

mmmhmmmm whatever you say potter

the next morning James sees Lily on the way to breakfast

he asks if she slept okay and she says yes and thanks him

and he tells her about what Sirius said because he thinks it's funny and she laughs too

and they start a little inside joke where he asks her out and she says no and they think it's cute and funny

and eventually James has his oh shit moment

because he wasn't meant to catch feelings, it was all just a joke

but then he'd ask her out and she'd roll her eyes and laugh a little

and James melts because holy shit the things he'd give to hear her laugh again

but of course he doesn't tell her because she can't possibly feel the same way right?

enter snivellus

Snape gets all jealous and starts acting up and being a prick

and James is like ??? you did this for what

like he doesn't get it because he doesn't know that Snape's jealous right and he just doesn't get why????

and Remus is like bro,, he fancies Evans but he thinks you fancy Evans so he's being a prick about it

and James and Sirius are like

TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME

and they think it's just harmless pranks at first (which is mostly true)

but Snape gets all whiny and plays the victim card as if he doesn't start shit half the time

and one day James does his usual "oi Evans - you, me, candlelit dinner Saturday night?"

and Lilys like

it's not fucking funny anymore, potter

and James, once again, is very confused

and Remus, once again, has to explain that Lily and Snape are friends and of course she's gonna be pissed off if he complains to her

but James is like

but friend that's my friend don't wanna lose friend

and internally he still kinda really wants her to say yes the next time he asks her out

but of course he doesn't exactly know how to go about keeping his friend

so he tries to carry on with the joke but Lily just gets more pissed off, especially as the pranks continue

James carries on being a great friend though

he's always there for Remus, almost obsessively researching everything he can find about werewolves so he can help

he's extremely protective over Sirius and even tries to help Regulus when he first joins hogwarts

he helps Peter with his homework whenever he needs for as long as he needs (hc borrowed from @join-me-in-the-bog)

he's absolutely the mum friend and he just wants the people he loves to be okay

also we know James is super into quidditch right

so everyone expects him to be the Jock™ right

but one night Peter walks in on him in an empty classroom

the floor's cleared and his ghungroos and footwork are loud but sharp

and James is dancing

and it's amazing and confusing at the same time because it's beautiful but no one really expected that from him

and James catches his eye and he's a little startled but he smiles when he sees it's just wormtail

they sit by the lake that night, just talking

so I suppose you don't want me to tell anyone

tell anyone what?

.... that you dance ??

James is super confused

Peter goes on about how it doesn't really fit people's idea of him, how he's seen as the Dude, the Man that plays Sports and shit

Wormy... I cried over a cat with a pink bow in his hair in the middle of the great hall... I highly doubt anyone thinks I'm a Manly Man

and they just laugh and nothing else matters in that moment

there's definitely more but this post is already long as fuck and brain's decided I'm not allowed anymore words so I might carry on some other time but I hope this was helpful ?? what you were looking for ?? idk, also sorry it took so long 💛

So…one of my favourite headcanons is that the Potter family are Indian. (Those of you who’ve read my Grindeldore/Wolfstar dancer fic might recall that Fleamont Potter, James’ father and the UK Prime Minister, is Indian in that. Funnily enough, our real life Prime Minister is a British Indian Hindu who became PM last year. On Diwali. Yeah, that was an…interesting day in the family. Still not entirely sure how I feel about it.)

Anyway - here are some headcanons about James Potter being Indian, some of which are based around how I actually grew up. (Note: there will probably be more as I think of them!):

When Holi comes around, James wakes the others up by pelting them with coloured powder. He does it every year and every year they fall for it. They also pelt everyone with coloured powder throughout the holiday. It took weeks for the paint to be cleaned fully. (Some people suspected Dumbledore deliberately let it stay like that because he liked the colours.)

Sirius got really angry the first time he heard someone call James a Paki. He doesn’t know what it means, but he never wants to see that look on James’ face again. He absolutely lost it when James told him what it meant. (For those of you who don’t know what it means, it’s an incredibly racist slur towards south Asians; along similar lines of using the n-word to a black person. This is also why James gets so angry whenever anyone uses the word Mudblood - because he knows how that shit feels.)

Sirius helps James create magical rangoli patterns during Diwali. They also take over the kitchen for an evening trying to make Indian sweets. The results are mixed-looking, but they all taste good, and the house elves get some great new dishes.

Every time a festival falls on a full moon, they always celebrate a few days after so Remus can join in. (He hugely appreciates the sweets.)

James initially wasn’t thrilled that his Animagus form is a stag, since a deer is the form one of the bad guys took in the Ramayana when he triggered the events that led to Rama’s wife being kidnapped.

When James’ father died, he had a traditional Hindu funeral. Traditionally, the eldest son leads the proceedings, but when James broke down, Sirius stepped in to continue. In that moment, James loved Sirius more than he could put into words.

James also taught the Marauders some Hindi so they could talk privately, as well as some Indian magic.

James, Lily and Sirius actually go to india for their wedding outfits. Lily also has magical mendhi patterns done by James’ aunts and cousins. James also had to gently explain to Lily that wearing white is associated with funerals.

Petunia showed up to James and Lily’s wedding in a white dress to try and upstage the bride. She’s very confused to realise a) Lily is not wearing white, and b) a lot of James’ relatives are looking at her weirdly, because she’s wearing a funeral colour.

At James and Lily’s engagement party, James’ aunties kept trying to set Sirius up with their daughters and teasing him about getting married. They shut up when Sirius snogged Remus in front of everyone. James wasn’t even mad that his engagement was briefly upstaged.

James has a book of Indian tales and legends passed down from his father. He read them to Harry at bedtime. Lily would smile and watch from the doorway. He also taught his friends some classic Indian songs to sing to Harry.

Every year on Raksha Bandhan, James ties a rakhi on Sirius’ wrist and charms them so they’ll never come undone. One night, Sirius noticed the threads of one of them coming loose. That night was October 31st, 1981.

Indian/Hindu James Potter headcanons

• The Potters gave James his very boring, British name because they were worried he’d be teased if they gave him an Indian name • James worked hard to be good at quidditch, mostly because he enjoyed it, but partly to defy the stereotypes that Indian people weren’t very good at it (what with the popularity of flying carpets in the Eastern hemisphere and the Indian team’s appalling performance in the World Cup) • The boys celebrate Diwali every year by decorating their dorm and the common room with hundreds of lanterns and after the first year the house elves help out, Mrs Potter always sends them all sweets and gifts • One year, James set off fireworks in the great hall at dinner, McGonagall made sure it didn’t happen again • As Holi always falls on the day of a full moon and Remus is too ill to take part, Sirius suggested bringing the powder paint with them to the shrieking shack and celebrating in their animagus forms •The powder always clumps in their fur and sticks to the damp walls of the shack, making it actually quite a cheery place in other circumstances • As James is bilingual in Hindi and English, he will not only swear or insult people in Hindi, but also makes most exclamations of excitement or affection in his mother tongue too • Lily thinks this is extremely cool, James starts speaking in Hindi more often •James is also a vegetarian Hindu and greatly missed his dad’s Mughlai cooking when confronted with the somewhat limited and flavourless vegetarian options at Hogwarts • That is until Peter had a word with the kitchen elves and brilliant Delhi dishes like vegetable biryani and mattar paneer started appearing on the Gryffindor table

AU where the Potters are actually South Asian and their earliest ancestor, Linfred of Stitchcombe, was actually an immigrant from what is now known as Tamil Nadu. He came from a family of potioneers and healers who were known for their relationship with snakes and their ability to understand the language of serpents (known within Europe as Parseltongue) but their variant of Parseltongue was believed to be a blessing from their patron deity Aravan.

The Descendants of Nandhini

The Descendants of Nandhini, more commonly known as the Descendants of Aditya by outsiders, refer to a family of Tamil wix who occupy a heavily warded and hidden territory within part of the Western Ghats in Tamil Nadu, India. They are traditionally healers and agriculturists who work closely with snakes of both Magical and mundane origins. Their affinity and bond with snakes lead them to develop the Magical ability to speak and understand the language of serpents. 

They are named after the first member of the family who mastered the language of serpents, Nandhini. Nandhini was a Tamil witch who lived at the height of the Chola Empire, specifically during the mid-900s. Nandhini was her parents’ third child and only daughter. When Nandhini began to display perfect fluency in the language of serpents, it was viewed as a sign of favour from their patron Aravan and Nandhini was then announced as the family’s next head. However, she was to disguise herself as a man and go by the name Aditya as well as take on a wife for the rest of her life.

From Nandhini, new traditions were developed. One tradition was the secretive way of succession for the title of family head. While the family head remained a male in official records and to anyone who asked. But in reality, a woman held the actual title of family head. The hereditary Magic and Relics of the family was bestowed upon the eldest daughter of the main line, which she would then pass down to her eldest daughter when the daughter came of age. This is one of the family’s best kept secrets and is still kept close and hushed up to this day.

Another tradition was keeping long-living Magical serpents as familiars and protectors of the family and carriers of hereditary knowledge. These serpents were regarded around the same level as the family’s elders and the family often spoke with them for advice or knowledge.

The descendants of Nandhini, like the other Magical families of Tamil Nadu at the time, lived in harmony with their mundane neighbours. Mundanes were aware of and lived with Magic despite being unable to wield it themselves. This carried on until the start of British colonization in India. The Magical families of Tamil Nadu escaped colonization by a breath’s width by using Magic to completely hide themselves from the rest of the world. The descendants of Nandhini in particular worked with their snakes to “camouflage” their biggest family compound within the Western Ghats, with the snakes themselves acting as the living “boundaries” of their territory who also act as natural deterrents for anyone who comes too close.

The Magical families remained isolated from the outside world for the entirety of the British’s colonization of India and even lasted a couple of decades after. However, they have managed to reestablish connection with the other Magical families as the years passed by. During their time of isolation, the caste system was slowly dissolved and forgotten and many Magical Tamil families abandoned their castes and titles in favour of simply calling themselves the descendants of their oldest recorded ancestor. In the present time, Magical Tamil Nadu are large joint family groups scattered geographically but are well-connected by an intricate communication system set up by their ancestors. They are still mostly disconnected from the rest of the Magical World but not as much as it was during the colonial era.

The descendants of Nandhini in the present time mostly use the language of serpents, Tamil, and Sanskrit as their main languages. However, their members also show fluency in Middle Tamil and Classical Sanskrit. The latest generation of the descendants are currently learning present-day English.

BRITISH BRANCH — THE POTTERS

During the 1200s right as the Chola Empire began to decline, a group of the descendants of Nandhini led by someone now known as Linfred of Stitchcombe found their way to the British Isles. Though considered “eccentric” by his British neighbours, Linfred was nonetheless well-liked due to his helpfulness and affable nature. He and his family were known for their excellent healing remedies and strange plants, but they were warned by their ancestral snakes and the local snakes to hide their affinity for snakes and their knowledge of the language of serpents for their own safety. 

This branch eventually adopted the surname of Potter by demand of the British Ministry of Magic, though there wasn’t any significant reason behind the choice of surnames. Though they are Potter on paper, they still proudly refer to themselves as descendants of Nandhini and would often use Nandhini as another surname in addition to Potter. They kept in contact with the main branch throughout the centuries until the main branch seceded during the British colonial period.

Despite their positive reputation in the British Magical community and their position of being essentially Purebloods, the Potters preferred to marry within their South Asian community. The other British Pureblood families attempted to marry into the Potter family for generations especially after the Potters rose to the top of their respective industries, but they remain unsuccessful to this day. It is because of this refusal to marry into the British Pureblood society that the Potters were exempted from the Sacred 28, not that they cared anyways. 

The Potters amassed wealth, prestige, and influence through their revolutionary contributions and breakthroughs for British healing magic and potions. Eventually, they also started to build up a business in Magical pottery and ceramics. The potions they sell are often packaged in custom ceramic bottles made by their own company. Their business partners are exclusively businesses owned and run by South Asians and South Asian immigrants and have recently begun to open their connections to other BIPOC-owned businesses as well. As of the present day, the Potters are one of the leading names in both the potioneering and Magical pottery/ceramics industry.

The Potters usually send their children to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where they would usually be Sorted into either Slytherin or Gryffindor. However since they have reestablished their connection with their main branch in Tamil Nadu, the recent generations have been considering sending their children to their ancestral home for schooling instead.

During the mid-18th century, the Potters began to republicize their affinity and connection with snakes and their usage of the language of serpents as a way of preserving their connection to their family back in their motherland and as a silent protest against the growing negative perception of snakes and serpent-speakers in the United Kingdom. It was noted by Magical linguists that the language of serpents that the Potters knew were far different than what Europe had called “parseltongue”. This variant of “parseltongue” became known as Potters’ parseltongue amongst the European populace, though the family themselves have never used the term themselves.

Despite having lived away from their main branch for centuries, the Potters still maintain almost all of the family traditions. The family is patriarchal on paper but matriarchal in practice. Their family manor in Gloucestershire had an entire green space for the ancestral snakes that they have brought from Tamil Nadu and their other snakes that they have adopted and bred. They continue to revere their patron deity Aravan, whose image decorates sacred spaces within the Potter family estate. 

In the latest generation, the Potter family is closely connected with the other Magical South Asian families within the United Kingdom and the rest of Europe. They also have close ties with the Black family who claims ancestry from ancient Egypt and Persia. The current heads of the Potter family, James and Lily, have both married Regulus Arcturus Black who is the second son of Orion and Walburga Black. James also considers Sirius Orion Black his best friend and the couple have appointed Sirius as the godfather of their eldest child Hariharan "Harry" James Potter.

lily "tea is tea is tea is tea" telugu but adopted and raised by a predominantly white family evans VS james "BRITISH TEA IS THE SHAME OF THE TEA FAMILY IT SHOULDNT EVEN BE CALLED TEA" born and raised tamil potter

choose ur fighter

Okay now imagine desi James Potter but he’s a Kathak or Bharatnatyam dancer.

Okay, so here’s another headcanon relating to James being Indian - one that possibly explains a longstanding mystery.

A little background: record keeping in India is, to say the least, pretty ropey. A lot of the older generation (aka, my grandparents) didn’t actually have birth certificates. Hell, we don’t actually know when my grandmother was born. We know where, but not exactly when. (I’m not entirely sure we know when my grandfather was born either, since I strongly suspect he lied about his age when he joined the army in WW2.)

But anyway. There are some records though, that are literal scrolls kept by the pandits, or Hindu priests, in holy cities on the river Ganges (Varanasi, Haridwar, etc.) Each Hindu family has a pandit, and each family has a set of scrolls tracing the family back generations. My family has one. Chances are, if you’re from a Hindu family or married into one, you’ll be on one, though it’s not always easy to find. (We were just lucky that we knew which city ours were in.)

Okay, so what’s this got to do with James? Well, it’s pretty likely that his Indian family are culturally Hindu (even if they’re not necessarily practicing nowadays), so they’d have these family scrolls in India.

So which mystery does this solve? Well, the mystery of where the hell Sirius was at the start of GoF when he was using huge colourful birds to write to Harry?

Yeah, that’s right. My headcanon is that Sirius went to India. He went to see the Potter family pandit to update the scroll with James’ (and Lily’s, and possibly Fleamont’s, unless someone else did it) date of death and add Harry’s name to the scroll.

But then he saw something that shocked him on the scroll, next to James’ name. His ability to read Sanskrit is pretty rusty nowadays, but he can still recognise his own name. At some point, before he died, Fleamont must have either written to the pandit, or gone to India, and had Sirius’ name added. Listing him as James’ brother. As family.

Later (while sobbing uncontrollably), Sirius mirror-calls Remus to tell him that. But Remus then realises something. If anyone intentionally betrays another member of their family, their name disappears from the scroll. It’s extremely old magic that’s been imbued in those scrolls for centuries. No one knows how it’s done; the only people who would know are long dead.

You see where I’m going with this? Sirius’ name is still there. It was never erased. And he couldn’t have rewritten it. That means he never betrayed James and Lily. It means they have proof he’s innocent.

Remus tells Sirius ‘get that fucking scroll by any means necessary so we can clear your name! Not even Fudge can ignore this, not without being called a massive bigot.’ (Okay, there was actually a lot more swearing, since my headcanon is that Remus swears like a sailor. He’s not a werewolf, he’s a swearwolf!)

So Sirius races back to Haridwar to do just that. Either he manages it and his name gets cleared (thanks to some ‘nudging’ from a few powerful people) or, he’s halfway there when he gets the letter from Harry about his scar hurting and promptly flies home.

Personally, I like the idea that he gets the scroll and gets cleared. Heck, maybe the pandit agrees to testify! And yes, I know it doesn’t happen in canon, but it would make a good AU.

i love these two characters. i need to trap them in a collapsed building so they can talk about their feelings as one of them slowly bleeds out.

A reminder that Glinda having either dyslexia/dysgraphia or a learning disability is canon in the Movieverse.

This is the same paper that we see her get back in this scene, in which we can see this was a large essay too.

There's nothing rushed to her handwriting, this was not an essay done at the last minute, and still, it shows several signs of a learning disability and/or dysgraphia.

Misspells her name in the second line

Wrong and inconsistent pronoun usage

Her margin spacing is consistent with someone who can't do proper syllable division

Immature transcription (see: writes her "um"s)

Limited vocabulary

Shows signs of: difficulty expressing ideas in writing, having a limited vocabulary, mispronouncing words or using a wrong word that sounds similar, and having trouble organizing what she wants to say. Those are all symptoms of a learning disability.

Less of a checklist sign, but her handwriting is very round and careful, while still not being consistently sized (see unfashionable). This and the margin sizes are very common in kids with bad dysgraphia who are made to take rigorous calligraphy courses to "fix the problem". Courses that work on the visual without remedying its underlying issues and causes. Form over content if you will.

Looking at this very blatant sign that she has a learning disability and immediately defaulting to calling her names (yes calling her stupid and saying Elphaba is a moronsexual for this counts), asking how she got into Shiz, or defending Dillamond in doing the very first thing teachers are told NOT to do with disabled students (re: calling attention to it in front of the entire class) is ableist!

Fully optional, but I could use a bit of fluff in my life if you’d be so kind, my very best angst-fluff bestie:

Galinda getting so overly flustered over something simple (an assignment, her makeup, her friends, ect.) that she accidentally hurts herself. Elphaba takes that just as seriously as whatever Galinda was upset about and talks her down from the edge while caring for her.

Please 🥺 if you have time

sorry this is late! and questionably fluffy lol. but it's angstless and sweet at least?? also its way longer than i expected, whoops

///

Elphaba opens the door to a room in chaos, the cause of it a blur of pink and gold as the tiny tornado that is Galinda spins through the room. There are clothes tossed everywhere, half of Galinda’s trunks dumped out onto the floor and creating a minefield of obstacles for Elphaba to try and pick her way around just to get to her bed. 

“Uh, Galinda?” Elphaba calls, racking her brain for what might be the reason for such disaster. 

Galinda whirls around, blonde curls in disarray and eyes wide and wild. She’s holding two different dresses in her hands, one a sparkling pink and the other a tasteful cream. 

“Elphie!” Galinda cries. She surges forward, nearly tripping over an overturned trunk as she reaches to grab Elphaba’s hands. “You have to help me, this is a disaster!” 

Elphaba lifts a pointed eyebrow and looks around at the mess. “I can see that.”

“Not the room.” Galinda shakes her head violently, hair lashing her cheeks as she tries to yank Elphaba forward. “My wardrobe! I can’t find anything to wear!”

There are stacks of clothes nearly as tall as Elphaba’s knees on the floor, clearly having been tossed out of closets, trunks, and drawers. “Have you tried asking the floor if you can borrow something of hers?” Elphaba teases, voice a fond drawl. 

Galinda whines, though, high and long. She rocks from foot to foot, shaking her head again. And again, and again. “None of these are right!” she cries, pulling her hands out of Elphaba’s and falling to her butt on the edge of her bed, a pile of blouses sliding to the floor at the disturbance. 

There’s a faint level of true distress leaking through Galinda’s expression that makes Elphaba step forward, reaching for the blonde’s hands again so she stops pulling at her fingers. “Hey,” she says, as calm and gentle as she can. “Whatever the problem is, we can fix it. What are you getting dressed for, anyway? It’s almost dinner time.”

But the reminder just seems to make Galinda panic more, and she suddenly leaps from the bed, stumbling in her heels as she brushes past Elphaba. “Shit, I’m late!” she yells, aiming for the vanity in the center of the room. 

There’s a pile of her own shoes on the floor, however, that Galinda apparently doesn’t see, the awkward shapes sliding under her feet as she trips, falling to the ground with a yelp. A muted, fleshy thump sounds out as Galinda hits the floor, just barely catching herself on her hands and knees. 

“Galinda!” Elphaba cries, carefully navigating the perilous space as she crouches by the blonde. “Are you okay?”

But Galinda is already scrambling to her feet, blinking rapidly and shoving her fallen hair out of her face. “F-fine,” she stammers, wincing when she straightens her knees. That’s going to hurt later for sure, and they both know Galinda bruises easily. 

It’s in looking down at the matching spots on the girl’s legs that Elphaba notices it: the bright slash of red across Galinda’s hip, the fabric of her grey-striped skirt ripped open. Her eyes widen, breath catching, and she glances behind Galinda and spots the culprit immediately- the sharp metal corner of one of Galinda’s pink trunks.

“Galinda, your hip!” Elphaba reaches for it, stopping just inches away as her hands flutter uselessly, not wanting to touch the exposed skin and cause Galinda any pain. The cut is relatively shallow, but it’s bleeding steadily, about a hands-length of torn skin across Galinda’s right side.

Galinda looks down, gasping when she sees the wound, her face draining of color. Elphaba is sure it means the pain must’ve just hit, and she puts her hands under the girl’s elbows to steady her, worry rising and making her stomach twist. She starts to try and lead Galinda toward the bathroom, but--

“My skirt!” Galinda’s voice is high and horrified, her hands going to her side not to inspect the wound, but to grab at the torn scraps of cloth dangling from the side of it. She sounds so utterly heartbroken and scandalized by the sight, and Elphaba would be amused, usually, if it weren’t for the fact that Galinda is bleeding. 

The sight of the brilliant ruby droplets pooling outside of Galinda’s body makes Elphaba’s heart do gymnastics in her chest, and not in a good way. Icy fear creeps down her spine even if, logically, she knows it’s a superficial wound. 

It’s just-

Galinda doesn’t even seem to care. She doesn’t even seem to notice, the pain not registering for either her torn side or her bruised knees. She’s more worried about her stupid clothes than her own body, and it’s an unfortunate pattern that Elphaba has come to see in the girl. One that frustrates her to no end. 

Galinda tries to pull out of Elphaba’s hold to turn back toward the closet by her bed--to get a new skirt, to grab her sewing kit, to continue searching for the perfect outfit, Elphaba isn’t sure--and Elphaba feels her patience snap. 

“Galinda,” she growls, tightening her hands and giving the blonde a light shake. “You’re bleeding.” 

“I know! It’s going to ruin the fabric, this skirt is custom and I only have a set amount because Shiz gives all new students the same set of--”

“I don’t care about your skirt!” Elphaba cuts off. “You’re hurt, Galinda!”

Galinda finally stills, blinking at Elphaba dumbly and then looking down at her side like she can’t process why Elphaba is so worked up. “Yes?” 

Biting back a groan, Elphaba once again tries to steer the blonde to the bathroom. “So we need to clean it and make sure it isn’t deep enough to need stitches. At the very least, you’ll likely need a bandage.”

“It doesn’t even hurt, Elphaba, I’m fine, and I don’t have time for--”

“Not negotiable.” 

Galinda pouts but lets herself be taken to the bathroom and shoved down to sit on the cold edge of the tub. Her hands find the porcelain edge, gripping tight enough to make her knuckles white as her knee bounces anxiously. Elphaba grabs the first aid kit from under the sink, using the moment with her back turned to take a deep breath and still the shakiness in her own hands. 

Galinda is fine. It’s just a tiny bit of blood, it’s no big deal. 

“You’ll have to take your skirt off,” Elphaba says as she turns back around. She digs through the kit while Galinda shifts her hips enough to do as she’s told, both girls too distracted to make a big deal about her state of undress. 

Elphaba’s mind is whirling slightly, thoughts and feelings tumbling over each other, so she keeps her lips pressed tightly together as she crouches to gently clean the scrape, washing it with clean water and dabbing at it with alcohol that makes Galinda wince and hiss. 

“Sorry,” Elphaba mutters. Galinda seems to have picked up on her mood and is staying quiet herself, staring at the sink instead of watching Elphaba. She sucks in a few more pained hisses but otherwise remains still and silent. 

It isn’t until Elphaba is carefully laying a soft bandage across the girl’s hip, securing it with a potentially-excessive amount of adhesive strips, that Galinda speaks up. “Are you mad at me?” she whispers. Her body tenses slightly as she awaits an answer. 

“I-- No,” Elphaba stutters. She takes a breath. “No, I’m not mad. I just…I wish you would care about yourself more. You were more worried about your clothes than your hip.”

“Sorry.” There’s something fragile and vulnerable to Galinda’s shaky voice that makes Elphaba realize that while she has been gathering herself and calming down, Galinda has been spiraling internally and only getting more worked up. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Elphaba says. She finishes securing the bandage and shifts so she can catch Galinda’s eyes. The other girl tries to duck away, so Elphaba reaches out to lift her chin. “I really am not upset, Galinda. I just care about you.”

She can see the moment Galinda gets a little overwhelmed, a spark of panic in her eyes matching the way her pulse jumps and her breath catches. “It’s okay,” Elphaba says immediately. “Just breathe.”

Galinda tries, her chest heaving slightly. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Elphaba calmly instructs. She places both of her hands on the blonde’s knees, rubbing her thumbs in steady circles as she makes her own breathing deep and loud. “What has you so worked up?”

Galinda shakes her head. “Y-you-- I’m-- You’re gonna think I’m s-stupid.”

“Never. I could never.” Elphaba takes another deep breath, coaxing Galinda into following along. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

“I-I have-- I’ve got--” Galinda breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as she takes several more quick, shallow breaths. 

“In your nose and out your mouth,” Elphaba reminds her. Galinda nods sharply, because they’ve done this before; she knows this trick. 

When she’s managed to get enough air to speak properly, she tries again. “Pfannee…and ShenShen…invited me to a-a dinner, tonight…in the city.”

“Okay. And you need something to wear?” Elphaba deduces.

Galinda nods rapidly. “Sh-ShenShen said not to, to look like a college kid.”

Elphaba keeps her face carefully neutral because she knows why Galinda was worried about her reaction. To Elphaba, this whole thing seems like an entirely inconsequential issue in the grand scheme of life. Galinda has lots of pretty clothes that make her look plenty mature, but the fact of the matter is that she is a college kid, and she shouldn’t take ShenShen’s words to heart. 

However, Elphaba knows that to Galinda, such issues and comments are a big deal, and she wouldn’t be a good friend or roommate if she laughed in the face of Galinda’s anxieties. The younger girl can’t help how she feels, and pointing out that it’s nothing to worry about has never gone over very well. 

“Well, first,” Elphaba starts. “Just take a second and breathe, okay? I am happy to help you find something to wear to dinner, and I have no doubt you’ll look amazing in it.”

“Bu-but what if--”

“Galinda, your wardrobe is the envy of the whole school, and you’re gorgeous, okay? There’s no way you’ll be anything less than stunning tonight.”

A delicate blush rises to Galinda’s cheeks, painting them a rosy pink. She ducks her head, and this time Elphaba lets her, sitting back on her heels with a soft grin. 

“Second,” she continues, her voice dropping into something more serious. “If and when you feel this overwhelmed, you know you can always come to me, right? I will never, ever think you’re stupid for your feelings.”

Galinda’s blush deepens, but she does raise her eyes again so soft chocolate meets rich emerald. She takes a deep, if a bit shaky, inhale. “Thank you,” she whispers. She removes her vice-like grip from the edge of the tub and lets them slide into Elphaba’s waiting hands. 

Elphaba gives both their hands a squeeze. “Third,” she says, tipping her chin to Galinda’s bandaged side. “Please, please, Galinda. Promise me you’ll be more careful?”

“It’s just a scratch--”

“A scratch that was bleeding, and all you cared about was your skirt.” Elphaba sighs, shaking her head. She had told Galinda she wasn’t mad. “It worries me that you don’t see the issue here.”

Galinda pouts, her bottom lip quivering as tears gather in her big brown eyes. “Elphieee” she starts to whine, but Elphaba steels her heart and manages to resist the potent sight. 

“Galinda--” Elphaba takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and laying her cheek against the girls’ conjoined hands. When she opens them again, she hopes Galinda can’t see the depth of the emotions she’s trying to hide. “I care about you, Galinda. Not your clothes. I-I don’t want to see you hurt. Ever.”

Galinda’s performative pout shifts into something much more genuine. She slides off the tub, falling practically into Elphaba’s lap as the older girl lets herself sink to her butt on the cold tiled floor. Galinda is a warm weight across her thighs as the younger girl unclasps her hands so she can loop her arms around Elphaba’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Galinda mumbles, hiding her face in Elphaba’s neck as she speaks. She sighs, slumping further into Elphaba as the older girl carefully holds her in place, trying to ignore the feeling of Galinda’s bare legs draped over her lap. For a moment, they just breathe together, finding their balance after the previous whirlwind. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces, curling around each other as their heartbeats sync up and Elphaba’s legs grow numb. “Will you promise to be more careful?” Elphaba whispers once more. She runs her fingers up and down Galinda’s spine, feeling it stiffen slightly as Galinda works on her response. 

“I promise,” she eventually says. “I- I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know.” Elphaba pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together. The weight of her feelings spreads out from the point of contact, a warm rush of honeyed love flowing through her veins. 

“You matter to me,” Elphaba says, eyes closed against the sight of Galinda’s earnest gaze so close to her. “A lot more than any clothes. I don’t want you to be so careless that you really hurt yourself one day.”

Galinda stifles a sound that could almost be a tiny whimper. Two soft palms come up to cradle Elphaba’s cheeks, thumbs brushing against freckled skin. “You don’t have to worry so much, Elphie. I’m a big girl.”

Galinda’s voice is barely a whisper, ghosting over Elphaba’s lips as the older girl swallows around the lump in her throat, and squeezes her eyes shut even tighter. How does she explain that she’s always going to worry about Galinda? That that’s just what you do for the people you love?

Not too many more words are said as the girls pry themselves off the floor and creep back into their messy bedroom. Elphaba takes Galinda by the hand to lead her through the maze, pushing piles of clothes and shoes and belts and bags aside to make space for them to walk. 

This time, when Elphaba’s foot catches the edge of a rug and she stumbles slightly, not quite a trip, it’s met with Galinda’s sweet giggles, the blonde tugging on their hands to steady Elphaba as a furious blush rises to green cheeks. Her clumsiness at least seems to have lifted the mood.

“Watch your step,” Galinda sing-songs, hopping forward to put herself right under Elphaba’s chin as she grins at her. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes with a huff, but her glowing cheeks give her away as Galinda squeezes their hands once more and leans up to press the most fleeting of kisses to Elphaba’s cheek. “You matter to me, too, Elphie,” she whispers, almost like a secret.

They’re not quite the words either of them wants to say, deep in their heart of hearts, but Elphaba can feel it all the same. She lets it fill her, swelling under her ribs and making her cheeks glow for reasons beyond a touch of embarrassment. 

At some point, they’re going to have to pick everything up. At some point, Galinda will remember she still has a dinner to get to and all her clothes are wrinkled and spread across the floor. Elphaba knows that the anxiety is rooted too deep in the blonde’s brain to be swept away so easily.

But for right now, Elphaba will cherish this moment with Galinda so close she can count the golden flecks in her eyes and promise herself that, the next time Galinda trips, Elphaba will at least be there to catch her before she falls.

Help I’m reading the 2nd Oz book and damn Glindas cold af

My one friend group can't stop saying, "See you in hell!" in a cheerful voice instead of, "Talk to you later!" and my other friend group can't stop calling things "penis" instead of "cool" or "good", so I just unironically uttered the phrase, "Sounds penis, see you in hell," as I got off the phone.

I am totally gonna start saying sounds penis see you in hell now

My one friend group can't stop saying, "See you in hell!" in a cheerful voice instead of, "Talk to you later!" and my other friend group can't stop calling things "penis" instead of "cool" or "good", so I just unironically uttered the phrase, "Sounds penis, see you in hell," as I got off the phone.

elphaba took these pics btw

I love that the fandom simultaneously agreed that Glinda would be the main character we'd traumatize and project onto

Like, wdym every single fanfic I read Glinda is the most mentally unstable person ever?

I love it

Galinda: Hey Elphie, remember how we had to go to the pharmacy to pick up our ADHD meds? Elphaba: Yes? Fiyero: Well, it turns out they're all out for the next five days. Elphaba: Fuck. Galinda: It's going to be a fun week! Elphaba: I'm going to stay with Nessa. Fiyero: Nuh-uh. Through sickness and health, remember?

hey um queer desi people if you think you're alone, i promise you're not. i'm here, we're here, and we exist. i love you.

if i had a cent, NO LISTEN TO ME. a cent, 1/100 of a dollar, every time someone even thought of giving Galinda Glinda trauma, you know how rich i'd be?

GIRL I'D BE RICH ENOUGH TO MAKE MY WICKED MOVIE.

Y'ALL HURT THE BABY TOO MUCH

“Elphie, Elphie wake up.”

“What is it?”

“I’m gay.”

“So am I, now what?”

“Wait what?”

“Go to sleep,”

“I’m not going to sleep after you just came out to me!”

“No? Well, I am.”

Six of Crows Gelphie au?

I genuinely wonder if that would turn out well. I feel like it's such an interesting premise though. Where do you reckon each character is from? Like Elphie comes from Ravka and is a Grisha or maybe she's from Novyi Zem and is secretly a Grisha. Maybe Glinda is from Kerch? And Fiyero from Ravka. I might actually write it when I find the time actually.

I found a site with lots of posters I haven't seen before AND this ONE.

Why are they pluckering their lips like this? Why are their eyes closed? Why do they look about to kiss?

About me

I'm Abhimanyu or Abhi for short. I'm gender fluid and use all pronouns but mainly go by they/he/ze.

I enjoy writing fanfics so if you have any suggestions or ideas for fics I could write you can always ask. Or if you just wanna talk. My main obsession right now is Wicked (I ABSOLUTELY ADORE GELPHIE AND GELPHIE FICS SO MUCH OMG SO IF U EVER WANNA TALK ABOUT THAT MY PAGE IS ALWAYS OPEN), but I also enjoy Percy Jackson, Six of Crows, Hamilton, and the Avengers.

In Eternally Yours, there is a rule in the shared Upland-Thropp house. Elphaba knows it, Peaches and Liir know it. The only person who doesn’t know is Galinda. That rule is very simple:

If Galinda (Miss Upland) is asleep, excluding fire or bodily injury, DO NOT WAKE HER UP!

It doesn’t matter what time it is, what day it is, or any other circumstance. If Galinda is asleep, she is to be left alone until she wakes up.

That being said, Galinda falling asleep on Elphaba is like having a bomb strapped to her chest. On the rare occasion it happens, she can’t move, she can’t talk. She can’t even breathe too deep or Galinda might wake up. And if that happens, it’s unclear when or if she’ll get back to sleep in the next twelve hours. Elphaba can only pray during these moments that the kids stay occupied and that no one rings the damn doorbell.

Okay attempt number 2 at posting why I personally think Galinda Upland is a high masking AuDHD person after I saw a post pegging Elphaba as Autisitic and Galinda as ADHD:

See under the cut

1. She’s very clearly high energy/hyperactive, always busy, never stops talking, the way she talks it seems like that’s how her brain works, just running and running constantly.

2. She speaks what’s on her mind without thinking about how what she says may affect those around her. “You’re green!” It very much gives me “If you’re from Africa why are you white?” From Mean Girls vibes. (And yes, I do think Karen Smith is autistic too lol)

3. She has 2 special interests: being Popular and sorcery. I mean, aside from just being a huge gay flamingo mating dance, Popular also feels like a giant infodumping session of Galinda onto Elphie. She’s sharing all the knowledge she has on one of her favorite topics. The works she puts in to following her hearts desire to be a sorceress, saying how it’s her hearts desire. She would do anything to be able to do magic and I personally think she has the knowledge behind it, even if she doesn’t have the magic ability in her in the way Madame Morrible is looking for. She recognizes that Elphaba was the one who did the magic in the courtyard at Shiz and she begs Elphaba to share how she did it, even though she claims to loathe her. She thinks Elphaba knows something about her special interest that she doesn’t so she MUST find out!

4. I know the suitcases and trunks all her stuff is in is partially because of the lack of closet space in the dorm room but while it seems like everything has its place, drawers are labeled, etc… it’s still very cluttered. She just has SO. MUCH. STUFF. A little bit of hoarding. She cannot bear to get rid of anything because what if she needs it one day?! (I.E. the hat her grandmother made her!)

5. Speaking of the hat. I don’t think she actually hates it. It may not be her style, but her grandma made it for her! When Pfannee pulled the hat out and he and ShenShen started hating on it and Galinda turned around, it took her a moment to read her friend’s tones. You can see for a second her expression looks neutral but contemplative when she’s looking at Pfannee before it changes and she starts to hate on the hat. She had to take a second to read and process her friend’s tone before she responded so she could have the correct reaction her friends were expecting from her.

6. The ‘toss toss’ and ‘leg’ things are both stims. You cannot change my mind.

7. Why is she so high masking? Because her momsie and popsicle conditioned her to hide any trait of hers that could seen as “undesirable” or “unladylike”. She’s Galinda Upland of the Upper Uplands after all! She has a reputation to live up to!

8. After the Ozdust Ballroom night when she and Elphie become friends, she quickly becomes attached to her. Elphie becomes her “safe person” and she develops an attachment to her that I see frequently in neurodiverse people. She always wants to be around her and she is always holding her hand and touching her because she’s so comfortable with Elphaba. She finally has someone she can unmask around.

9. Speaking of Elphie…. Galinda shows some HEAVY Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria in the deleted scene “Elphaba’s Promise”. She is sad and hurt, not that Elphie and Fiyero were doing something without her, but that Elphie “chose” Fiyero to help her rescue the cub, not Galinda. “If you needed someone, you could’ve picked me!” Breaks my heart every time!

10. She seems to have a little bit of rigid thinking when it comes to Dr. Dillamond not being able to pronounce her name. She seems to think if she just keeps repeating the correct way to say it, he’ll eventually get it and not understanding that he’s physically not capable of pronouncing her name correctly because of his lack of upper front teeth, even when it’s explained to her.

11. This last one is very much a stretch (pun not originally intended this time lol) but I’m putting it in too, hypermobility issues are a very high comorbidity with autism and when she’s dancing around during Popular she does a high kick. Could it just be athleticism? Maybe. Could it be a hypermobility thing? Also maybe.

Wicked: Part One (2024) deleted scene

The way he steps down lmao I LOVE THIS

tw: self harm scars

idk, something that's been rattling around in my brain since an anon asked about it. i never could find a full scene to fit it into but oh well.

///

Elphaba brushes a thumb over the scars, the catch of her nails against the rough, raised skin sending shivers down Galinda's spine. She holds her breath on instinct, anxiety tangling in her chest in a way that makes it hard to fill her lungs with air.

"You know," Elphaba starts, eyes still tracing the lines on Galinda's fair skin. "In some ancient Ozian cultures, scars were seen as a badge of honor. A signal to everyone else that the bearer was strong enough to survive something that could've killed them."

Elphaba glances up, her emerald eyes shining as the corners of her lips tilt into the gentlest of smiles. She keeps her gaze locked on Galinda's as she lowers her head to press her lips to the marks.

"I don't think you're disgusting, Galinda," Elphaba whispers, crawling back up the blonde's body to press another kiss to her lips. "I think you're a survivor."