When I Read A Fanfic I Like, The Author Becomes A Mini Celebrity To Me. So When An Author With A Work

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.

#omnamahshivaya

☀ 𝐎𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐡 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐲𝐚 ☀

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.

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

so the 'elphaba's promise' deleted scene went like this right

Fanfictions and Hinduism.

Those who are active on Wattpad, might know that there are many many writers (including myself) who tend to write fiction over itihāsa or historical epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, purely for fun and our love for them. It seems very odd, yes, and we do get to see blasphemy there too. People love some characters, hate the others with a burning passion and there are hour long debates over human nature, characterisations, myths involved, folklores and the many versions both of them have.

We have OCs, we make graphics and video edits, we pair the said OCs with CCs and sometimes with other OCs. The comment sections are the most fun things because writers and their audience interact there. Some works are much more impressive than published paperbacks while some are simply atrocious. You know it, shades are everywhere.

Now, very recently did I come to know that in Tamil literature, a fictional tale that is weaved around a couple or more incidents or points coming from the purānas or itihāsas is called a prabandha. Fun, right?

We do get to see fanfictions in Hinduism by the name of Pancharātram by Bhāsa (the one who also penned Svapna Vāsavadattā) and Kalidāsa's Abhigyāna Shākuntalam. While the latter romanticises and adds non canon events to the canon event of Lady Shakuntala and King Dushyanta's love story, the former is about a "what-if" scenario based on the Mahabharata.

So, do we promote fiction writings on such stuff? Definitely. I got much into the Sanatana culture solely via such fictions. They promote higher thinking skills, brainstorming, even fun facts many a times if the author is literate enough. And is that different from disrespecting scriptures and our very own ancestors? Also yes. Because neither of these authors claim to strictly follow the canon events. You do not like something you see, click away. As easy as that.

Do I support all of them, tho? For sure not. There are some which whitewash the bad guys and blackwash even the divine figures. Some straight up induce cringe. But that's just my opinion. A debate is always based on facts, not personal opinions. So yes, you do you.

But are they also dangerous? Umhm. Look at the Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. One word : atrocious. Some modern day prabandha style novel which sat a little above average in my reading experience? Abhaya by Saiswaroopa Iyer is the one (she's also written Mauri, Avishi, Draupadi and a few more if I'm not wrong.) (Abhaya is an OC paired opposite Kanha and tbh their chemistry was chef's kiss jsjshdjsjd-)

Should you write such, if that is what you want? Yes! I'd love to read-

But do you have to be careful with the message you deliver via your work? Swayam vichar kijiye *wink wink*

Some fanfictions which I may recommend. Note : not all of them involve OCs. All of these are from Wattpad. The authors' usernames are in bold.

— To Love A Murderer, Hope Embodied, and Samsrishti ; ruhitherambler.

— Satata Haritam ; Ramayana_Lover.

— Hello Mahabharata and My Days In Mahabharata ; thewomanwhobleedsink.

— Sambhavāmi ; indeevara18ls.

— Mathuraraaj ; Shivran86.

— Ehi Murare ; kanakangi.

— The Diary Of A Gopika ; Thoughtshub.

props for possibly my fav comment on AO3 ever

Hindus In Bangladesh-

Why do you ignore genocide and persecution when it happens to Hindus? Why are we called propagandists for raising our voices? Who will speak for them if not other Hindus? How many will you brand as “sanghi and hindutvadis” for saying the truth?

If we don’t care then who will?

- No one.

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.

RIP Odysseus of Ithaca you would’ve loved FaceTime