#ask-pakistan

[ask-pakistan]

He just did some "Friendly" Firing, not a big deal

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[peonycats]

Ooh, could I see Pakistan? My mum's from there!

P.S. If you recieved a notification that I followed you, I accidentally unfollowed you while trying to write this ask-

As always, you're a huge inspiration to me, and stay safe, or should I say..

!محفوظ رہو

I am so, so sorry this took so long 😭😭 I got really ambitious with this piece and i had to take a break in between working on this and resting and actual work before i finally felt satisfied posting! There are still technically a lot of mistakes in this, but ultimately i'm really happy with the results, esp considering that i'm trying to be more proactive drawing backgrounds and lighting!

as always, this pakistan oc belongs to my dear friendly @letttalias and the transp edition is below the readme!

[reality-detective]

Does this löök familiar? Clear your calendar, grab your popcorn and buckle up. 🤔

[ceiling-karasu]

Other Countries in the Squirrel and Hedgehog AUs, Part One, Plus OCs

Chaand Hadia (Moon Gift, Urdu)

For my AUs, I will have Flower Hill (North Korea) be very close to the country of Chaand Hadia (Moon Gift), located the left of the country. I'm ignoring the distance in between them for now, because this is fiction and I have decided it.

Location and Geography: Shares a border with Flower Hill. Plains, plateaus, mountains, rivers, fertile valleys, and ocean make for varied regions.

The Farmhouse Villa for Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket most likely takes place a few hours from the border between Flower Hill and Chaand Hadia.

Government: democratic parliamentary federal republic but local cultural rules specific regions.

Economy: The economy is largely based off of herbs, medicines, and dyes, with large exports of textiles. Essential medical compounds are grown in villages around the country or on mountaintops. Herbalists are seen as an essential job, and doctors that travel between small villages and neighboring countries are commonplace.

Flower Hill provides a lot of silk to Chaand Hadia, and receives essential medicines, dyes, and weapon components (in secret) that they may not have been able to grow or find themselves.

Demographics: hog deer, goats, sheep, boars, mongoose, Indian pangolin, striped hyenas, black and brown bears

Culture: Each province has it’s own rules and specific clothing styles based on the standard. Important families carry a detailed pocket compass to identify themselves, although the meanings can vary, and the presence of one can be a coded message.

Foreign Relations: Balanced and outwardly neutral, although getting more and more friendly with Flower Hill. Very friendly with Chambelli Koh.

Relation to Flower Hill: Alongside regular trade, secretly smuggles extra weapons and medicines into Flower Hill, possibly even up to weapons of mass destruction. After all, if Flower Hill falls the the Weasel Unit, their own coastlines will be next. Will not do anything overtly to support their neighbor, though, unless pushed.

Traditional Clothing Style (Not military attire): Shalwar kameez, hijab, Niqab. Clothing used to be more plain until they began acquiring large amounts of silk from Flower Hill.

OC Character: Soor-Hiran (May appear Briefly)

Rei-Does-Stuff mentioned the idea of a goat that could smuggle weapons and such into Flower Hill, and to Geumsaegi. I made a joke about the deer I had made in Lily Bell in the Thorn Thicket, who does kind of do that. They responded with the concept of the Pakistani hog-deer, with absolutely no hesitation. Later, they discussed how Pakistan was such a close ally of North Korea, to the point that they smuggled nuclear weapons into the country. Well, that was also a background plot (not a spoiler), and the deer smuggling weapons and poisons may be a larger plot-line in the current AU. So, we got to talking.

As such, I would like to formally dedicate my Hog-Deer Smuggler, Soor-Hiran, to @Rei-Does-Stuff.

Gender: Ambiguous.

Country: Chaand Hadia (Moon gift, Urdu)

Alliance: Chaand Hadia

Attire: Hijab, loose trousers and shirts (Shalwar kameez), but province styles are blended together.

Skills: Herbs, medicine, espionage, deceit, eavesdropping, eidetic memory of mountain paths and plants, and schematics.

Weapon: Poison needles.

Day job: traveling herbalist, doctor. Is allowed to travel between Chaand Hadia and Flower Hill, and works with the commanders in Cherry Valley, as permitted by their own government. Alongside medicines, they bring materials for weapons, schematics, and messages pertaining to Weasel Unit movements and acquisitions. Their village is next to the border of Flower Hill, so it is easy to travel in between.

Works with: markhor goat group of apprentice herbalists and couriers. But they may be more than they seem to be...

Secret Job and backstory: While they will happily accept requests from Flower Hill, Soor-Hiran's group secretly works as a black market smuggler. Other weapons, foods, stolen items, jewels, and information are sold to those willing to pay the price. So far, the Weasel Unit has been unable to afford their cost, but how desperate will they get until they are willing to pay?

Likes: Silk, moths, flowers

Dislikes: being belittled for their culture

Personal Item: Beloved family antique pocket compass/sundial. This specific heirloom allows them free entry into Flower Hill.

OC Character: Pangulggot

Gender: Male

Country and Alliance: Chaand Hadia

Attire: loose trousers and shirts (Shalwar kameez)

Skills: medicine, ignoring things that don't apply to him.

Weapon: nothing other than his scales and claws. Is far too mild mannered to fight back if attacked for the most part. His scales prevent him from being harmed.

Day Job: traveling herbalist and medicine worker, bringing important medicinal components to Flower Hill

Works with: markhor goat group of apprentice herbalists, guards, and couriers

Likes: his job, Lily of the Valley flowers

Dislikes: People trying to eat Lily of the Valley Flowers. They are poisonous, but yet...

Backstory: They do very much love their name. However:

Pangulggot is aware that authorities act strangely when they say their name, and tries to hide it, since there is something going on that they probably should not know. Possibly a dangerous individual with the same name, or a military code word…?

Whatever it is, they sure notice that it gets them pulled into empty rooms while going through customs and checkpoints as ‘randomly selected,’ for extra questioning that sure sounds like they contain specific phrases for a specific person he is not.

[rei-does-stuff]

the glassworker is now pakistan's entry for oscar

I saw!!!! I don’t think it’ll win but I hope it gets nominated at least!

That reminds me,

THE GLASSWORKER IS PREMIERING IN CALIFORNIA ON OCTOBER 25

If you are near or in the area do check it out!!

[ask-jay-gatsby]

hello Miss Gatsby

I would like to ask if I can have a sleepover at your house, please in exchange for me to cook you some Pakistani food:3

POST: LONG ISLAND, NY. 29 AUG 1922

Dear Old Sport,

..."Miss" Gatsby? I beg your pardon. I may not be married but I am a man, last I checked. And there are witnesses to such a fact. Nick will confirm that if you ask him.

As for the subject of a "sleepover"—well, yes! Guests make use of my spare rooms every weekend, and you're more than welcome to join them. And I've never heard of a 'Pakistani' but there's much to this world to discover, isn't there? I would delight in tasting a foreign cuisine.

Just let me know if I need to tell my cook to order anything specific.

Sincerely and emphatically,

Jay Gatsby

[metamatar]

idk if u have any familiarity w this but since u seem well versed in criticism of the hindu nationalist project in india, do u know anything similar for the pakistani muslim nationalist side of it? ik manan ahmed asif takes a broader view of it but basically criticizes the so-called civilizational divide in the subcontinent invented by colonialists 4 their divide & conquer purposes, just curious if u know of anyone writing abt the other side of the border, since growing up i've always felt weird abt it but never had the verbiage. no worries if not, technically they're v different fields, thank u for ur time!

unfortunately, in so far as im familiar with the muslim nationalist movement in pakistan its in the way it interacted with the partition and quite limited to jinnah and nehru and gandhi. nothing about the modern stuff either, which is def worth remedying. maybe my followers have recs about it?

[sir-ballister-boldheart]

ballister after watching yesterday's pakistan vs australia cricket match: inshallah boys did NOT play well

Context

Noooo, because what was yesterday's world cup? 😭😭😭 Pakistan, why are you performing so badly? I mean, the bowlers did make sort of a comeback near the end, but oof, the damage was already done. 367 fucking runs???? Bhai zaleel kar diya becharo ko Australia ne.

Sending strength, prayers and condolences to the Pakistani fans in these tough times 🙏🏽 Let's hope they can bounce back and we get another India vs Pakistan match in the knock-outs

[ask-pakistan]

Would you like to see him on your Dash more often? ;D

[theshinazugawaslut]

Will answer all asks tomorrow, and I'll also be starting my writing as promised!

Thank you to every single one of you who supported me during this time, I'm genuinely so thankful, and every single person here has given me so, so much positivity!

[peonycats]

hey mate! :D can u draw the desi gang (india,pakistan, bang and sri) BTWWWWW UR ART IS SOOOOOOOOO COOOOOOOOL 0////0

I can do you one better how about the whole South Asia gang

left to right: India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Nepal, Bhutan, Maldives, Afghanistan

CLOSEUPS:

[reality-detective]

At least 55 people are dead and 135 more are injured in a suspected suicide bombing at a political rally in northwest Pakistan. 

Details and more video:👇

[topnotchquark]

😳

I see you just experienced horrors you weren't meant to comprehend.

[moonshynecybin]

oommgg I am that kayaker anon, I saw it first in your tags and asked. But honestly I dgasped twice when I read some part was inspired by your brother

lmaoooo okay so my brother (very good kayaker) was kicking around the royal gorge in 2021 for the yearly release and his group of kayakers ended up juuuuuuust ahead of dane jackson, who is the best kayaker in the WORLD (his dad also owns jackson kayak, one of the major whitewater kayaking manufacturers in the sport. not relevant to the story but he annoys me bc of it). so my brother had SHREDDED his shoulder ligaments playsurfing this big hole on the ottawa river in 2019 BUT he kept paddling like an idiot even though he absolutely needed surgery (he got it last winter the surgeon was like WHAT. ON EARTH.) so when he dropped it over this big ass waterfall and got weirdly pinned in a cave he had a hard time rolling up/popping his skirt bc he dislocated his shoulder immediatelyyyyyy. anyways he got unpinned bc he had some buddies running safety but dane jackson posted a video some months later of his footage from the trip like. troubleshooting how to save my brother (who was. fine at that point anyways. like in pain but not pinned) which is SO FUNNYYY to me but pissed my brother OFFFFFFF. like dane is monologing about how he will try to get my brother's boat out of that cave like a HEROOO while my brother is fully out of the water with all his gear getting his arm popped back in. dane also does NOT know who my brother is so every time they meet he POINTEDLY re-introduces himself LMAO

[khaperai]