#World Urdu Day

[his-heart-hymns]

Today was World Teen Mental Wellness Day. I hope all teens out there are looking after their mental health. I know mental health stuff is overlooked in Desi homes, so many of us are left to handle it alone. But hey, you're not alone. There are tons of us who care about you and have your back. So, if you ever need to talk or vent, our DMs are wide open.Take care, okay?

[midnightorchids]

Jason x south asian!reader headcanons (I wrote this with a Pakistani fem!reader in mind. However, I did try to keep it neutral)

- He feeds you samosas and ties your hair for you, while your henna is drying. He has the stupidest grin plastered on his face while doing so, it makes his heart feel full

- He studies your native language to try and communicate with you and your family better. He gets really shy when he uses the wrong grammar or pronounces a word wrong

- Jason has a very special place in his heart for Urdu because it is one of the South Asian languages of poetry (I speak this one lol)

- He definitely learned Urdu, Farsi and Arabic for literary and poetic reasons, now you have to hear him recite different sonnets in multiple languages every day (so cute)

- He studied Islamic history and Hindu scriptures. It piqued his interest and if any of these religions apply to you, then it helps him understand you better

- You always make him wear kohl or kajal in his eyes and he never says no

- You sit on his lap and gently add the kajal in his waterline and he can’t help but smirk in excitement. He likes being close to you

- Jason likes to wear black kurtas. Need I say more? They hug his arms so deliciously, he looks so pretty in them

- Your dupatta (scarf) got caught on his watch one time and he couldn’t stop smiling

- He kisses your hand and calls you meri dunya (my world) and meri jaan (my life)

- He’s disgustingly cringe, he watched an old Shahrukh Khan movie with you once and did THE pose (im crying)

- Orange theory but with pomegranates

- Ultimate brown dad behaviour, let me explain, you tell him you like something and the next day there’s a million packets of it

- He’s a Noor Jehan listener and Galib quoter (me)

- Whenever you wear a lengha or any flowy outfit, he’ll spin you around before pulling you in for a kiss

[globlingoober]

My favorite fics I read during painland week!! In no particular order:

- An Experiment by Scarlettfire (Teen, first kiss, 2k, 1/3 parts)

The thing was, he didn’t actually mean to say it. The words had simply slipped out when confronted with Charles’ concerned gaze. The ‘inside thought’, as it were, found voice. “I want to kiss you.”

- Written In the Stars by ingridmatthews (Gen, Domestic, 889)

Charles is working hard for credit at a magical shop. What could he possibly be buying to give to Edwin in their cozy bedroom?

- Dead Letters by ArtistActorAthens (Teen, divergence, casefic, 1k)

While the Dead Boy and Alive Girl Detectives are on a case in a house set to be demolished, Niko finds a letter that unearths a great deal of emotions for them.

- Help Me, I Don’t Know How To Begin by McKat (Teen, Confession, first kiss, 2k)

When a ghost comes in with a case, the boys disagree over whether or not to help. It might be the thing they need to get them on the same page.

- Slip of the tongue by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) (Not Rated, Confession, first kiss, 1k)

Edwin is repressing many many feelings for his college best friend, Charles. He has no intention of saying anything. And then he does, without realizing.

- Heart-Shaped Notes by rocketmmman (Teen, Confession, first kiss, 2k)

A new client arrives at the agency, but he only speaks polari. Fortunately, Edwin understands. Charles makes some discoveries.

- Pyar by Neous (Greyality) (Teen, Love language, 2k)

At first Charles didn't speak Urdu at all. He'd grown up in a world where being different, sounding different could be a death sentence. Fuck, it was his death sentence. The point was, he trusted Edwin, ‘course he did, but Edwin was… Well, Edwin was white.

- i just want you to make a move by halffulljampot (Teen, Divergence, genderbend, 2k)

She stops as she hears the sound of someone crying, the first sign of anyone that Charlie has encountered in the hours that she’s been down here. She holds up their lantern to illuminate a small figure curled up at the end of the hallway. “Edith?” She calls, walking closer.

The figure stops sobbing, looks up, and god that’s so much fucking blood. The right side of Edith’s face is drenched in blood, her hair (curled loose around her face for once) is matted with it, but fuck if Edith isn’t still the most stunning thing that Charlie has ever seen. Her light eyes frown. “Lottie?”

- the case of the cursed mirror by plutomoony (Teen, divergence, casefic, 4k)

When Edwin and Charles encounter a mirror that shows you your worst fears and possible nightmarish future events, how will this impact their relationship? Will they be able to close the case despite the emotions and fears the mirror brings to light?

- That's my wife! By QuintessentialShip (Gen, free day, 855)

charles and edwins disguises look so married and now I can't stop thinking about some random guy trying to connect with charles in his disguise over 'I hate my wife' jokes and charles goig on a wild tangent about how much he loves his wife and how she's his favorite person in the world

- Until Our Fingers Decompose, Keep My Hand in Yours by cordelianoir (Gen, Soulmates, 1k)

Charles Rowland was born with a scarred-over soulmark. That wasn’t so remarkable in and of itself, although modern advancements in hygiene and medicine meant that it was more and more unusual by the time Charles was born in 1973. It was rare. It meant that Charles’ soulmate, the one person in the world most suited to him, had died before Charles had even left his mother’s womb.

[0intp0]

Do you guys know what was the biggest surrender of our history after world war two?

It was the surrender of Pakistani military against Bangladeshi

On 16 December 1971.

But today I didn't grab your attention only to give you some random history facts.

We Bangladeshi students need your help! So please read this article till the end

After the partition of the Indian region in 1947, two independent nations were born.One India and one Pakistan.

The country of Pakistan was divided into two parts, East Pakistan, currently Bangladesh and West Pakistan, currently Pakistan.

But the distance between the two regions was thousands of kilometers. So uniting them into one singular nation was definitely foolish.

To think that the partition actually happened because of religion is laughable on itself but this is a topic of debate for another blog.

Even though we got our freedom from the British empire the people of East Pakistan kept on getting exploited by the west pakistan government.

Note, from now on I will refer to East Pakistan only as Bangladesh because the way we were exploited by our own so called government which only resided on the west pakistan and left us on poverty clearly indicates they never saw us as their own people.

Pakistan didn't only exploit us politically and financially, but they also tried to take away our unique Bengali identity from us.

They banned our traditional Bengali festivals like Noboborso (which is Bengali new year) They tried to ban Rabindra sangeet in fact, they even tried to replace our Bengali alphabet with the Urdu alphabet.

People were already protesting against it and were participating in every traditional festival

But the elastic snapped when they tried to take away our mother tongue, Bangla

When a pakistani politician made the announcement that "Urdu and only Urdu will be the only national language of Pakistan" in Dhaka university's convocation, it was the students who roared in disapproval.

In 1952, breaking the curfew, students and common people went on a protest for our mother language Bangla.

The police started to shoot them and the soil of Bangladesh became stained with blood and Bangla became the only language for people had given up their lives.

That's why we celebrate "Sahid dibos" and "international mother language day" on 21st February.

Throughout the fight for our existence, freedom and culture, students of our nation had always played a crucial role.

They also made a student's political party "Chatro league"

After the election of 1970, when the Pakistani government didn't agree to give power to the Bangladeshi political party "Awami league" our students again started to organize protests and other activities

Finally "Awami league" ordered for a mass protest. 2nd march Dhaka and 3rd march the whole Bangladesh was shut down.

On 2nd march 11 am "Chatro league" students hoisted the flag of Bangladesh in Dhaka university.

All this information dump was for you all to understand how the students of Bangladesh had always played a crucial part in our liberation.

Our students have always been fierce and had stood up for injustice even if they had to sacrifice their life for it.

And right now history is repeating itself!!!

Again students are getting attacked because of their protests but this time, it was our so-called "chatro league" and the government who are doing this inhumane act.

They are beating the students with rods, throwing bricks at them and even police are shooting them.

Only because we wanted the quota policy to demolish. Only because we wanted equal opportunity for civil jobs.

On 25th march 1971, the Pakistani military committed genocide in Dhaka. They attacked sleeping students in Dhaka university and protesters on roads who were still protesting at night.

And now the same thing is happening, history is repeating itself.

Students of public universities are getting attacked in their own dorm rooms, they are getting beaten to death by the so-called "chatro league" members. There are screenshots of the chatro league leaders group chats flothing around the internet where they command the other members to stab the protester students.

There was a time when Chatro league claimed they always stood up when our mother and sisters needed protection

And now those same people are beating up those same sisters they vowed to protect

The police are shooting the protesters like they did in 1952 language movement

The only difference is in the past we were oppressed by another nation's government

But this time it's our own people who are causing our student's blood to stain our roads.

Please do not ignore us. Reblog this post or use the hastag #savebangladeshistudents to create awareness

[hana-no-seiiki]

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

[siriusblack-the-third]

Hey I absolutely adore your Indian James headcanons can you do some for Harry too please <33

Okay this got too long so it's only Harry's first year at Hogwarts. At some point I might do the rest of his years but yeah. Here you go, i hope you like it :)

The first time Harry noticed his skin was darker than the people on Privet Drive was when he was four. The first time he noticed people sneered at him for it was when he was five and a half. He didn't understand it; why did they think the colour of his skin meant that he was inferior to them? He heard the words chee-chee and brownie thrown around like Dudley threw his food, and quietly pulled his shirt tighter around himself.

When Harry is eight, Dudley and his gang throw him in a ditch and throw dirt and soil on him till he's coughing and tears are running down his face. "You blend right into the mud," Piers laughs at him. The next day, the boy turns up to school with black skin. Harry sits in the corner and turns his face away, a secret grin playing on his lips.

He comes to Hogwarts, and there are so many colours. He is approached by Parvati on the second night, and she asks him if he's excited for Ganpati Chaturthi. He stares at her, and then says, "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is." She gets offended, but they haltingly talk it out, awkward and stilted like most eleven year olds. When she realises that he's been kept from his heritage and his magic, she flies off the rails with anger. "That's it," she says, "we're friends now. No arguments."

Harry loves talking to Parvati. She's the one that tells him his father was from India. She's the one that tells him the names of his grandparents, that tells him of the importance of heritage in the magical world. They talk about religion and food and all sorts of things, and within two weeks Harry is asking her to teach him Marathi. It's hard at first; the grammar structure is more like French than English, the alphabet sequence is weird and complicated and has too many letters, but he keeps practising his svar and vyanjana and kana and matra. He will do this, he tells himself. (He doesn't tell Ron. He wants this for himself, he thinks. His family, his heritage. He wants to learn before he shares, and so he doesn't tell Ron. For now. He will, when he knows enough.)

Slowly, he starts talking to other Indian kids at Hogwarts. Padma, a seventh year Slytherin named Aarzoo who's Muslim and always has the prettiest hijabs, Gryffindor Kalyani from fourth year and Hufflepuff Rushabh from the third. Kalyani is from Maharashtra just like the Patil twins and Harry, Rushabh is from Gujarat and Aarzoo from Punjab. Harry finds it fascinating that India has so many different cultures and religions, and demands knowledge from them. Aarzoo laughs, and tells him he should have been with the 'Claws.

Harry disagrees. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, he knows, but he is in Gryffindor, where his family had been. His family had been Indian. He wants to know everything about it. If he couldn't have his parents, he would have that which had been a major part of his father's life. And so he reads and observes and studies and asks questions— hesitating at first in case they yell at him (Aunt Petunia hated questions and he feared these people would be the same), but slowly he asks more and more. He talks for hours with Kalyani and Rushabh, and they tell him about Garba and Dhol Tasha, Ganpati Chaturthi and Diwali, Eid and Gudi Padwa. They talk about the languages of India, and Harry immediately asks Aarzoo to teach him Urdu and Hindi. She laughs, and says he should focus on Marathi first. He pouts, but nods.

The Mirror of Erised shows him his father, and he can't take his eyes off. James Potter is a tall man, bulky frame covered in muscles and warm brown skin that seems to glow with happiness. His eyes are light brown, and the bold black lines drawn under them make the green specks stand out. He's dressed in what Harry knows is called a kurta, white and gold threads woven to form images of peacocks and elephants and other intricate designs. The next day, Harry asks Padma what she lines her eyes with, and she promptly hands him a little round metal box and a tiny wooden stick. "It's called kajal." She tells him the differences in pronunciation between Hindi and Marathi, and shows him how to apply it. Harry wears it everyday. It makes his eyes look bright, brighter than they already are, and he falls in love with it. Kalyani presses a kajal covered finger behind his ear every morning. "For good luck," she tells him, a grin playing on her pretty lips. Harry flushes, and smiles back shyly.

For Christmas, Aarzoo gives him perfume. It's chandan and mogra with hints of rose, she says, "and your grandfather made it. His name was Fleamont Henry Potter, and he was an exceptionally talented potioneer." Harry wears it religiously. Padma and Parvati band together and get him books on the Potter family and their historical importance, and he almost cries. Rushabh promises to teach him how to play Garba, and Kalyani gives him a cookbook for everyday Indian foods— breakfast and lunch and a few fancy stuff. Harry hugs it to his chest and thanks her with shining eyes. (he may have a bit of a crush on her. He can't help it— she's really smart, and she's pretty.)

Throughout the year, all of them work to introduce him to Indian food. At first, he thinks it will be easy. It is not. There is no such cuisine named Indian, Parvati tells him sternly. There is Punjabi, South Indian, Mughlai, Maharashtrian, North Indian, Bihari, Bengali and so many more. "The food in India changes with every twenty kilometres of travel," Aarzoo says when he mock complains about it. "It's never the same, and that's what makes it so special." He agrees.

The end of the year arrives, and Harry is still weak from his tryst down the trapdoor. When Ron and Hermione aren't present, his friends from home (because that's what India is, isn't it? His home. The home he never got to see, but is no less a part of him.) crowd around his hospital bed and have long talks with him, filled with banter and laughter. His Marathi is so much better now than it was in September, and he blushes when Kalyani compliments him on it. Rushabh winks at him, and Harry throws a pillow at him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at being caught out.

On the last day of school, he hugs Aarzoo around the waist and cries into her stomach. It's the first time he calls her "Aarzoo Tai", and she smiles widely, her own eyes dripping tears. "You will write," she says sternly, "okay? This might be the end of my Hogwarts years, but you are my little brother." He cries harder and nods, refuses to let go until the very last minute.

Harry goes back to Privet Drive with a heavy heart and a proud smile. He isn't inferior to the people there, he knows. He's special. He's Indian. He's James Potter's son, and he's going to live up to it.

[curtwilde]

i have a genuine question, what is arab colonisation? Is it a real thing? The context where I have read about it was a bigoted islamophic hindutvabadi page so I don't know if it's true or just part of their larger lie. Do you have any readings, sources on it?

According to Marriam Abboud Hourani, Arabization is a sociological process of cultural change in which a non-Arab society becomes Arab, meaning it either directly adopts or becomes strongly influenced by the Arabic language and culture. After the rise of Islam in Hejaz, there were a series of conquests in the Middle East and North Africa, after which the Rashidun Caliphate, the first Muslim empire was established. Arab culture spread through the Middle East and North Africa along with the spread of Islam, and in some places pre-Islamic religions and cultures were violently suppressed. These days, most Islamic countries have reconciled elements of their older traditions with Islam. The older religions survive among minorities in some places - Christians, Kurds, Ezidis and Mizrahi Jews for example and are still oppressed under some Islamic fundamentalist countries, like Iran.

Often, the term Arabization or Arab colonialism is used interchangeably with Islamic fundamentalism. On paper they mean entirely different things. However, in reality Islamic fundamentalists revere Arabic culture because the Quran was written in Arabic and events of the Quran are set in Arabia. The difference between the two is a slippery slope and I will let you decide on that.

The term colonization is such a red herring these days and is used to fit a lot of problematic narratives. It is a favourite with zionists, which is probably where these hindutvadis picked it up. And if you come across it on the internet I'd advise you to re-examine the source as they may have an anti-Muslim bias. That said, Islamic fundamentalism is very much a real thing and I wholeheartedly believe that any form of religious fundamentalism, and especially those fundamentalists that try to gain administrative and jurisdictional power for themselves, are a problem. All government and administrative bodies, across the world, should be compulsorily secular.

Now, in the context of South Asia, Arabization in it's strict meaning of the word, has nothing to do with our geopolitical history. Our Muslim rulers were all of Turkish, Afghan, and Central Asian origins with no connection to Arabia. Even culturally, elements of Indian Muslim culture can be traced back to Persia rather than Arabia; and linguistically the Persian influence on Hindi/Urdu is obvious. The term Arab colonization is often used by hindutvadis to mean the spread Islam in the subcontinent but of course they see the Islamic world as a monolith and I doubt they have the reading comprehension to know the difference even if they bothered to look it up.

Books:

The History of the Middle East by Peter Mansfield is a great place to start.

Islam, a short history by Karen Armstrong - very quick read + unbiased take on the Arab conquests.

The Arabization of Islam by Al Mubarak Nadir Shabaz

History of North Africa by Charles Andre Julien

From the holy mountain: a journey among the Christians of the Middle East by William Dalrymple

The Kurds: a contemporary history by Patrick S. Clancy

The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon for a general idea of colonization.

Mutuals if you have any other recommendations please feel free to add.

[neousfics]

Day 1: Language of Love

Words: 2,099

Rating: Teen

Summary:

At first Charles didn't speak Urdu at all.

He'd grown up in a world where being different, sounding different could be a death sentence.

Fuck, it was his death sentence.

(He wonders what happened to the kid he saved, the one from Pakistan. Did he get away? Or did Charles die in vain, only delaying the inevitable.)

The point was, he trusted Edwin, ‘course he did, but Edwin was… Well, Edwin was white.

----

Or Charles, Urdu, and Edwin's nosey ass

[happilyaloof]

Who is Laila? Who is Tara, or even Heer? They are not put in a story, to play their role of a lover, turning their lovers against the world or his family. They are not supposed to be conscious of the importance of their part in the bigger picture of Imtiaz Ali’s final thought. I don’t think so. They are not meant to know the mysteries of what lies on the other side of these questions or even be intrigued by these questions. Why?

Because they are beautiful metaphors of the utmost innocence, beyond and above anything ‘worldly’ we have to put up with, to survive.

And when Imtiaz Ali brings together a Qais and a Laila, it is not to create another Raj and Simran but to shake Qais’ or Ved’s world into disorder and bring to him those same questions of what lies “Pahad ke uss paar’’ or what is even the need of that Pahad? Laila, the metaphor, is his way to the answer and sometimes, she IS the answer.

Imtiaz Ali may provide different plots, ambitions, backgrounds; only to ditch the mundane and the superficialities of society, for ‘’…what you love and let it kill you’’ (Charles Bukowski). His philosophy resonates with me and since I am someone who deals with those existential questions day in and day out, I have the greatest urge to be the male character in all of his films.

Jordan in Rockstar holds Heer’s hand and walks her towards the field, away from right and wrong.

Ved in Tamasha finally breaks free from what limits him, with Tara as his guiding Star.

It was when Qais becomes Majnu (Urdu for mad), I knew why I chose to watch Laila Majnu after all these years of its release. I know the kind of effect these philosophical dramas have over me. I am all about the reaction that he gives in one noteworthy scene where he is talking to himself, leading to him getting hit with a stone and starts bleeding. He runs and he laughs. He is celebrating. He felt the rush, he was alive. His love was finally seen! He did not have to hide who he was anymore from anyone for the sake of this illusion of a world, now that he knows Laila is ‘real.’ The blood and the pain being the proof that he was not mad. He had his world in his Laila, walking with him all along, everywhere.

[lilacmuse]

On Finding Beauty in a Burning World || May 2024

Sometimes, when the world is especially full of chaos, i almost wish i could slip away and live inside an Ivan Aivazovsky painting for a while. I wish the blues of the ocean could wash over me, drenching me permanently in color and serenity; that i could kiss the sky like brushstrokes tenderly kissing a canvas, get utterly lost in the unimpeachable tranquility of nature as captured through the eyes of a man madly in love with the beauty of creation. Aivazovsky, too, witnessed atrocities in his time that broke his heart, including the massacre of his own people. But despite the horrors he saw, they say he had the ability to look at the ocean once and capture its beauty entirely from memory, as though his heart could somehow remember exactly how the light would hit the water, and which shades of blue would most perfectly capture the ethereal essence of the sea.

I'm the girl who is known for writing about beauty, but my words have been scant lately; beauty becomes difficult to express in a world where genocide is unfolding with seemingly no end. I've been wanting to write for weeks about how much i love my baby nieces- how their smiles and the sun are indistinguishable in warmth and brightness, how we occasionally look at each other and instantly erupt into giggles so uncontrollable, we fall into a heap of silliness- but then i think about the mothers and fathers in Gaza and Rafah who have watched their children starve and burn to death, and my ink runs dry, and i find it difficult to speak or write.

I've always reveled in the process of finding and creating beauty- my raison d'etre since childhood- but these past eight months have been exceptionally heavy. There's a genocide raging in Palestine, famine looming over Sudan, and never-ending horrors unfolding in Congo that have kept me up at night since i was 17... At times like this, i rest my head on my prayer rug and tell God that it's His turn to speak about the beauty; my fragile heart is tired, and there's no one i can talk to but Him about how much it hurts to be alive to see such things.

His answers come in the form of soft mornings spent planting kisses on my newborn niece's tiny feet as she coos and stares up at me with the sweetest eyes i've ever seen, sitting my vivacious 2-year-old niece on the counter as we make breakfast together and she babbles excitedly in her signature blend of baby Urdu and gibberish, or rubs her nose against mine to express affection like a cat. Some days, the answer lies in making my nieces laugh, and feeling my heart become reborn through the sweet music of their giggles. Or wandering through a forest rustling with the sounds of mysterious creatures at twilight, marveling at the sight of burgeoning waterfalls pouring into a gleaming river, then gazing up at a sky full of stars in pure, astonished wonder with my equally awestruck brother.

It isn't sustainable to spend every moment ruminating on the unbearable pain of the world, so i try my best to assuage my grief like this as often as i can: with a balanced diet of wonder, joy, and reverence for every instance of beauty i can find.

While i was still in Arizona, i watched a few episodes of Virgin River, which seemed like the ideal dose of wholesome sweetness my mind has needed lately, and oh my goodness... The scenery is so, so beautiful- i think i could watch the entire show on mute just for the scenery alone. If i could move to a beautiful little town near a lake nestled in the mountains, i don't think i'd ever complain again; i'd look out my window every morning and live out my days in a never-ending state of gratitude and bliss. But i know what God would say to that: it isn't about where you are in the world, or what the scenery is like- it's up to you to make a place beautiful. He endowed us with that power when He made us His khulafa on earth. An open heart perceives beauty everywhere; a willing heart creates it.

Every day, my heart awaits the era when all the oppressed people of the world will finally be free. If i live to see that day, i'll have to invent a new language to convey my joy, because my heart will finally be free to experience the collective bliss of humanity's happiness, instead of its pain. Before i die, i dream of being kept awake by the world's joy instead of its anguish. I experience a taste of that feeling every time i'm with the people i love most, but my own happiness isn't enough- i want joy for everyone. I don't know if i'll be alive when that time comes, but i will never stop praying for and waiting for it. I'll never stop rebuilding my optimism and rekindling the fires of my hope, and i'll never stop thanking Him for the rare moments of beauty still to be found in this wounded, burning world.

x r

[wannabehighachiever]

Ok so I need everyone's help. My exams are starting in less than 2 weeks(10 days) and I can't study at all. These are my final boards and they are nationwide. In fact it's kinda international like kids from my nationality all over the world and taking part and everyone has high expectations from me. I just got my pre boards/ mock tests result from my school. Here's the result:

Overall 79.45 (I know it sucks I used to the overachieving gifted kid). 437 marks out of 550.

Grade: B++

Physics: 51/65

Chemistry: 57/65

Biology:57/65

Maths: 39/75

English: 65/75

Urdu: 55/75

Pakistan Studies(History): 45/50

Islamiyat: 44/50

Physics(practical): 6/10 Biology(Practical): 8/10 Chemistry(Practical): 9.5/10

Goals

60+ in Maths, Physics, Bio, Chem

65+ in Urdu and 70 in English

Practicals full

Islamiyat and Pak studies 48+

I am putting this post as a way to stay accountable. And I will update my result on this post. And you guys will decide my punishment for this 🙏🏻 please help a fellow out.

Like I mark less= 1 hour fasting or smth please please 🥺

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: Of all the many languages you speak which is your weakest one? Do you use those languages?

It’s privilege to learn any language that isn’t your mother tongue. As Ludwig Wittgenstein correctly observed, “The limits of my language means the limits of my world”. If English is our native tongue we put ourselves at a disadvantage because we expect every other nationality to take the trouble to speak it. There seems no incentive to learn a foreign language. We become lazy not just in language but also in other ways including our cultural enrichment, our imagination, and a misplaced sense of our self-importance in the world.

Of the European languages I know, I probably think German would be my weakest. When I was in school in Switzerland you’re brought up in three languages: French, Italian, and German (even if the Swiss speak Swiss German). When I say weakest I mean I can converse fluently, but I don’t have time to read German literature in the same immersive way I would say with French literature or take any special interest in German affairs.

I would say I’m fairly fluent in French now but still prone to silly mistakes. I’ve been told that I can speak without an accent and that is heart warming to know, because that was always the goal once I moved here to France. I don’t really use French in my work as it’s a multi-national entity and so English is the default language of corporate world, but I’m speaking French pretty much the rest of the time outside of work.

I was extremely fortunate to be born into a multi-lingual family where Norwegian and English were spoken from birth. All my siblings were being versed in Latin (not Greek which came years later after doing Classics at university) by the time I was 8 or 9 years old because my father was a classicist and he felt Latin was the building blocks to mastering other languages.

All this occurring whilst we moved lived and moved around a lot in the world such as China, Japan, India, and the Middle East. When I was initially sent to one of the first of my English girls boarding schools I was horrified that most of the girls only spoke English. I thought I was the stupid one for only knowing 6. Boarding school, if nothing else, gave me a great privilege to hone in on the languages I did know and start to learn others.

My parents didn’t take the easy way out and put us children in international schools like all the other expat children. That would have been too easy given how tight knit the British expatriate community was out there. Instead we were left to sink or swim in local schools in places like Tokyo and Kyoto in Japan or Shanghai in China or in Delhi, India. It was a struggle but you soon find your feet and you stumble towards some basic level of fluency.

I’m fortunate that before Covid my corporate work took me often to the Far East and it was a great opportunity to hone what I already knew. The result is I can converse and take business meetings in Chinese and Japanese (though English gets thrown into the mix too).

I would say Chinese is more of a struggle for me these days because I’ve not been back since before the Covid lockdown in 2020. Chinese is one of those languages that can easily melt away if you don’t get the chance to converse in it on a regular basis. Japanese less so, probably because the culture had more profound impact on me than Chinese culture.

Hindi is less of an issue because I have close Indian friends and also I watch Bollywood movies as well as converse with Indian immigrants here in Paris who have local stores. Urdu I learned through the backdoor because Urdu has a spoken affinity with Hindi (if you know Hindi then you know spoken Urdu, more or less, especially in Northern India and cities like Delhi where Urdu was born in the burnt ashes of Mughal India). Reading is another matter because they each use different scripts - Sanskrit for Hindi and Arabic and Persian script for Urdu.

Strangely enough when I was doing my tour in Afghanistan years ago with the British army, I would speak Urdu with local Afghans who served as official translators or were selling goods on the base. These Afghans knew Urdu because an entire generation of Afghan boys and girls grew up in refugee camps on the Pakistani border during the different phases of the Afghan war. I have very fond memories of their friendship and hospitality, but less so of the war itself. 

With Arabic, it had lapsed woefully until I did a posting in Dubai in the past year (as catalogued in my blog) and I found myself suddenly remembering a lot and asking Arab friends. Soon I was able to hold my own amongst my colleagues and corporate clients. In these cultures it’s really hard to stay focused because so many of them speak very good English. So it’s hard to get them to stick with their own language because you want to learn from them - but they want to show off their English proficiency - and so you have to be polite but persistent to stick with Arabic.  

If you’re learning a new language then I hope you stick with it. There’s almost nothing more rewarding in your life than the disocovery a rich culture through language. The key is to find a way to make it fun rather than a trip to the dentist chair for a root canal operation.

Thanks for your question.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Characters I headcanon as Pakistani because I am Pakistani.

Jason and Thalia Grace.

Beryl was on popular Pakistani Dramas in her hay day and made sure both her kids were fluent in Urdu.

Jason ended up forgetting it when he was taken by Lupa who spoke to him in Latin. And then Camp Jupiter demanded he speak English.

But then he lost his memories and could only speak his mother tongue. And only Thalia, Annabeth and Grover could understand him. Urdu was Thalia’s first language too. She knows enough English to get by and can’t be arsed learning any more.

Annabeth because she demanded Thalia teach her and began doing her own learning. And Grover because he’s Indian in the to series and I head canon speaks Hindi, which is very similar to Urdu.

Steve Harrington.

Parents tried to assimilate and outside the home just try and hide their heritage. His grandparents spoke to him in Urdu as a child but he didn’t retain much of it. Definitely had a “wish I was white” phase (and probably had fair and lovely pushed on him as child.)

As he began to grow and accept himself, he desperately tried to reach his roots. Got in touch with his grandparents again and began to heal.

Ain’t no Farah Fawcett here we be oiling that hair. Cooks recipes his grandmother used to make him (which the kids demand more of once they get a taste.) Re-learning Urdu with his grandparents and Robin.

He’s done the kurta over jeans look.

(Probably very much watched over by Lucas’s parents after they find out because he’s one of the only other people of colour in this white ass town.)

2012 Casey Jones.

Grew up in New York with an American father and Pakistani mother. Even after her mysterious death he’s still beloved by his family and goes to all the events.

He’s the cool cousin.

He’s always had a deep love for his culture and his city. And always been unapologetically himself no matter what. He has won over Splinter with karak (desi) tea. Has also definitely worn a kurta over jeans and trainers.

Bought mithai as an apology gift after bringing a footbot to the turtles lair and became Mikey’s best friend.

Blake Belladonna

Loved her culture, her home still ran off with a white man Blake tried to leave it all behind and assimilate to life in Vale. But she never felt like she belonged, but also believed she’d changed too much to belong back home.

But as she grew to accept herself and all that made her Blake Belladonna, that feeling begin to lessen. It’s still there, but maybe she can exist in two worlds instead of one. She shares stories with her friends, practices and teaches them (particularly Weiss) her mother tongue and traditions.

And they embrace her just like they always will.

Ozma

He assimilates to each new life but he’s still him under it all. It’s under lock and key, who he was but in the quiet moments he shares those little things. He’s not a fan off tea, he drinks only coffee and yet there’s a certain pink tea that he will always accept.

He and Salem smh ran off with a white woman had a grand wedding, there were no attendants but they more than made up for it. His girls all had bangles around their wrists and there was a once a time where wrapping them in his mother’s dupatta was the most magical thing of them all.

He’d leave a plate off apple slices in their rooms and smile as they happily ate them. The old men at the market would gently pat him on the head when they meet. Some of them still do, as if they know and maybe they do.

Things from the past hurt so much now, and yet he loves them.

[i-cant-sing]

life update?

Well... life feels like I'm on rollercoater that's on fire and is heading towards a pit of needles and I'm just.... vibing because I'd never scream or cry in public cause "embarrassing". I mean, exam season is approaching, my brother is getting married in that season and I have to participate actively in wedding activities and keep everyone entertained because its not like I have spare siblings that I can do this for...

And then talking about the actual exam season is also stressful because I'm someone who locks herself away for 4-6 months to study and become a hermit but now I can't do that because guests from all over the world will be staying over and my parents are old and don't have it in them to be running around all day serving guests, even domestic help goes so far.

Hmm what else.... I mean I'm crying over everything these days. The current state of the world? Yes. Palestine? Yes. The world is ending? Yes. Am I gonna end up in hell? Tears. Reading my urdu novel that is soooo well written and I 1000% don't relate to the female mc's struggles? Even more tears. I'm even crying when I thunk about the time I cried over something💀💀💀 (this all very new to me because I've never been so emotional over anything)

Oh and I found out I am not eligible to donate blood because my hemoglobin is in the single digits (so like I know why I couldn't see anything for a minute straight whenever I stood up💀💀)

I have a crush, he's smart and handsome(but like why does he as a man need LONGER LASHES AND CLEARER SKIN THAN ME???HES MAKING ME WANNA START A SKINCARE ROUTINE) But the thing that is the most appealing about him is the way he talks😭 like it just makes u swoon. Idk how to describe it, but like he has a deep voice but not too deep, just the perfect balance between mature adult and charismatic golden boy. And it's not just the way he talks with me or his friends, BUT THE WAY HE TALKS WITH HIS PATIENTS🤌✨️ like I'm here befriending 70 year old women before filling their cavities and he's all "Yes, ma'am/sir. Of course, it'll be done as you want." Like he's so professional even at the end of the day when everyone's just tired from doing their umpteenth patient and start slacking off in the whole "VVIP treatment of all patients". I'm just praying to Allah to make us soulmates (if we're meant to be), I have left this matter in God's hands because He's never disappointed me before and I can't afford to be distracted rn (I borrowed a book from my crush for some notes and was comparing how we even highlighted the same stuff.... we are sooo compatible.... this is so delulu of me omg never thinking about him again- unless he approaches me first)

I feel like having a crush is good because look at me rn- I have started a skincare routine, I am actually studying hard so that if he ever asks me a question, he knows that I'm not a dumbass. And if I had the time to go to the gym, I would, instead I'm doing counting calories and skipping unnecessary meals! What do I have to lose in all of this if he rejects me? Nothing. I end up with clear skin, hot body, and smart af brain.

Like he has a lot more on the line as a crush because he's one, ONE ick away from making me lose complete interest in him. See? This is a win-win for me.

[rook-of-the-woods]

woah rook wrote something

crazy I know. Uhhh yeah I like it so. Here. Feast my beloved followers

TW// implied end of world, missiles, apocalypse

No one expected Armageddon to come. It wouldn’t have been as devastating if they did. So when missiles rained down upon humanity, all they could do was watch and wait until it was their turn. Warnings blared across every television and radio station. Phones beeped and buzzed the impending doom loud enough to drown out the sirens.

Across the world, people left their places of work, rushing home. They picked up their children from school and went home. There, they huddled together. Tears streaked down cheeks and whispered prayers filled the air. If their gods were listening, they did not intervene.

Families who normally found themselves at odds reconciled and parents held their children close. Spouses and siblings all sitting together, watching the sky slowly turn an unnatural orange as the last parts of the day made one more spectacular sunset. In other places, darkness and night was all anyone knew as they stood watch through the night and into the morning, waiting for the end. 

So many mouths all forming the same words. In every language, in every place, humanity was united in its love. I love you. 我爱你. Te amo. मुझे तुमसे प्यार है. Je t’aime. Я тебя люблю. أحبك. আমি তোমাকে ভালোবাসি. 

How many times can one say I love you before the world ends? How many times will it take to believe? How much does it really matter, in the end. Maybe it never did. Maybe it’s all that matters.

For the briefest amount of time, all anyone could imagine was just one more moment. One more moment. Just one more. Let me hold onto them and this world for just a moment more.

Some closed their eyes, others watched the missiles get closer and closer. Everyone murmured their last. I love you. 我爱你. Te amo. मुझे तुमसे प्यार है. Je t’aime. Я тебя люблю. أحبك. আ���ি তোমাকে ভালোবাসি. Eu te amo. میں تم سے پیار کرتا ہوں. 愛してます

For all humanity's brief existence in the universe, the thousands of years it took to develop, it all ends so quickly. 

Languages (In order):

English, Simplified Chinese, Spanish, Hindi, French, Russian, Arabic, Bangala, Portuguese, Urdu, Japanese

[james-sunshine-potter]

Specific character headcannons pt. 1

•James Potter

> He’s vegetarian. He grew up that way due to the culture in his home. He grew up in a Hindu/ Indian household, and his parents didn’t cook or buy meat so he never ate it. By the time they joined Hogwarts, he got so grossed out by it he never even tried.

> He’s Indian, Vietnamese and Mexican. Indian and Vietnamese from his mothers side and Mexican from his father.

> He’s a big fan of Fleetwood Mac. Mary introduced to them, and it was best thing to happen to James’ music taste.

> He was a really fast runner. Like super fast. Which was really convenient for missions. He could out run any death eater and he was a nightmare chasing them. Him and Marlene would race and James always won. (Like 21 years of knowing each, Marlene never won a single race).

> He got along super easy with old people. Old people love James. They’d talk to him on the street, in shops, on the bus etc. (His friends suspect it’s the fact he smiles at the strangers he makes eye contact with on the street, plus how can you not like James’ smile?).

> He can speak multiple languages. Urdu, Hindi, Spanish, Portuguese (which he learnt for fun really) and English. English was the last one he learnt, and his weakest. But he still speaks it great.

> He gets nosebleeds very often. And they are messy. He’s always got a pack of tissues on him. He’s fainted more than once because of them.

> He loses his glasses constantly. He always finds them. He’s never broke a pair though.

> He’s allergic to a lot of ingredients which go into the main healing and pain potions. Unfortunately for him, they learnt that the hard way.

> Goes by they/he pronouns.

> He hates pineapple flavoured anything. Juice, sweets, the fruit. Even the artificial smell. Can’t stand it.

> He hates the feeling of the school jumpers. The uniform in general. The school tie is always too tight when done up properly and the jumper is so itchy he can’t think whilst wearing it. He never wears the formal shoes he’s mean to because he doesn’t like the nose they make whilst walking. He gets lots of detentions for not following the dress code.

> He walks in wonky lies. He physically can’t walk in straight lines. Sirius always has to yank him out the way of other people or they will walk into people. (Thankfully he isn’t like this on a broom…).

> He doesn’t know his lefts or rights.

> He either has all the energy in the world or none at all. He’s an all or nothing kind of guy.

> He’d watch the same five shows. He barely ever watched anything new.

> They don’t know how to whistle. Or click for that matter.

> They physically can’t sit still. There is always some part of them which is moving. They bob their knee, drum their fingers etc. People ask them to stop constantly, but even with all the effort they can must, he never does.

> He counts on their fingers. They add on their fingers etc. They can’t do it in their head.

> AuADHD.

> A big ice cream person. Huge. Their favourite is Mango.

> He’s very hairy. Hairy arms, legs. Has to shave routinely every three days. He doesn’t care at all for body hair though.