#never gonna draw that probably but its very angsty and awful

[moonlit-ripples]

a volo I don't think i'll ever finish

[maonoka]

“Time Slip”, a ‘MAO’ au

Sooo.... I had this dream... well, a couple dreams, that basically revolved around Heian-era Mao being the soft young man he is, and feisty Nanoka coming along and turning his world upside down. Turned out that scenario became an angsty semi-au, and this fic was born. I don’t plan on leaving it a oneshot - I would love to write more for this. It pains me, cuz it’s gonna get complicated, but I wanna continue this.

Series: MAO

Ratings: T

Pairings: eventual Mao/Nanoka (slooow-buuuuurn)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nanoka shivered, rubbing her bare arms and wishing she’d brought a cardigan with her uniform. It hadn’t been too cold in the modern era, but the moment she’d passed through the gate… well, the sudden burst of panic she'd felt at seeing the other side had left all practical thoughts behind. It was only early October back home, but the air here in the Taisho era was bitter cold. At least… she assumed it was still the Taisho era. Where once had been the rubble of Gougyou town was now empty, desolate farmland. Simple shacks and huts stood next to the gate, which had become a looming red shrine.

Fear had seized her, and at once she took off with a yell. “MAO!” Her white sneakers threw clouds of dust into the dry air as she hurried down the village’s dirt road. “Mao! Otoya!” Nanoka’s blood burned, her skin prickling as she felt her adrenaline pick up. The change was coming, and she welcomed it. Rice paddies and rows of crops sped by as wind whistled in her ears; the cold air didn’t bother her anymore, instead pushing her to run faster and further in her search for her friends. They had to be here. She wouldn’t accept that they weren’t! Whatever had happened to the gate, wherever it had taken her, she wouldn’t let it take them away.

Suddenly the crisp air became tinged with smoke, and Nanoka stumbled to a halt as she caught the smell of incense: this was no peasants fire. Hope bubbled up inside her, hope that perhaps her Onmyouji friend was working some spell to get this place back to normal, to make the gate work like it was supposed to… maybe even to find her. She took off at a steady pace, following the scent with her curse-enhanced senses, veering off the dirt road into thick trees speckled orange and red.

The sun traveled behind clouds high above her, but even behind its harsh white cover, she could tell it would be setting soon. She wished she had her phone, or even the clock on Mao’s clinic wall to tell her the time – but her bag had been dropped at the gate entrance, and the clinic and everything in it vanished. Wherever she was, she didn’t like the idea of being here after dark. Nanoka pressed forward, until the trees began to thin, and new forms began to rise above them: buildings. There were rooftops beyond the farthest trees. Old-fashioned, slanted wooden rafters in a classical mansion style. The closer Nanoka got, the more awed she felt. It was like seeing a samurai castle in its glory days, or stepping into the Tale of Genji. The smell of incense became more powerful, almost overwhelming, and Nanoka slowed her approach.

If this really was a mansion, then whoever maintained it should be able to tell her more about where she was and what had happened to Gougyou town. And if Mao was really the source of the smoke as she hoped… she’d have a thing or two to say to him, and then she’d probably have an embarrassing break down.

Nanoka followed the tendrils of white smoke through the trees surrounding the mansion complex; it spread out in all directions so that she could never really see the edge. But here someone had found the edge after all, and Nanoka crept forward until she spotted a figure seated on the ground outside the building compound, surrounded by candles, ropes, paper, and symbols drawn in the dirt. It was a young man, his broad shoulders stiff and straight and soft voice murmuring over the thin candles in the ground. He wore blue robes in the old Heian style… Nanoka pondered that they looked like the ones Mao had worn when he’d fought the flea-demon-nuns. This man wore his hair similar to Mao’s as well: a long ponytail at his nape – only his hair was jet black and tidy in comparison to the ragged doctor.

She continued to watch in silent fascination as the mysterious man worked various incantations over the materials he’d brought, winding the rope and folding the paper, until Nanoka began to realize he was only making simple wards. From all the smoke and magic she’d thought this would be some grand, miraculous summoning – but this was nothing more than a priest making good luck charms to keep away evil spirits. Nanoka couldn’t help it: she laughed. And suddenly the young man turned around.

The gasp that tore from her throat was painful. All that running in the cold autumn air had been fine – refreshing even! Seeing Mao’s eyes, so bright and young and free of the pain almost a thousand years had inflicted, staring back at her from a face free of scars knocked the wind from her lungs. It was him: unmistakably, undeniably, and yet… it wasn’t. This wasn’t the Mao she had met in the Taisho era as she ran from a giant Mantis, this wasn’t the Mao who had patched up her arm and told her she was an ayakashi. This wasn’t the Mao who had put blood on her cheek and sent crazed demon nuns after her, who had transformed into a beast before her very eyes… who had tried to save her child self, had sent a shikigami to protect her in the future, had asked her to stay with him, even if it was just as an assistant….

Mao continued to watch her shadowed form warily through the trees, and Nanoka swallowed hard. If her guess was correct, this Mao wouldn’t do any of that for another 900 years.

“What are you doing here, Ayakashi?”

She startled. Somewhere in her musings, she’d forgotten that this Mao was still a living, breathing human and not some phantom of the past. “Uh…” she’d also forgotten about the transformation brought by Byouki’s blood… and about Mao’s exorcist duties as an Onmyouji. She was in trouble now. “Look, I’m… I’m not really an ayakashi, okay?” she began, stepping out from the shadowy trees and clutching a hand to her chest. “I’m just a human who got cursed, and… uh…. Excuse me?”

Her explanation ground to a halt as this Heian-era Mao did something Nanoka had never seen her Mao do: he looked her up and down… and blushed a bright pink. Mao turned away slightly, a voluminous sleeve coming up to block his view of her, and a somewhat rushed version of his usual calm voice rang out “Forgive me, miss. I did not realize your state of undress. If you will wait here, I can fetch you something from the mansion. I… apologize, you must be cold as well. You should have a hot drink, as well as a meal.”

Nanoka stood motionless, unable to believe either her ears at his flustered tone or her eyes at his flushed face. The Mao she knew would never have reacted to her uniform like this or shown such concern for her being in a short skirt out in the cold. ‘Of course’, she thought sullenly, ‘I don’t actually know this Mao, do I? I guess a person really changes over 900 years. He’s acting more like Shiraha-kun would than an experienced doctor.’

Mao lowered his arm but refused to look at her, bending instead to gather his materials in preparation to leave. She hoped it would be to find food and clothing for her, but she had to remind herself they’d only met moments ago – he didn’t know her, and she was starting to think she might know him even less. Her mind grappled for something to hold onto, something to tie them together in this foreign place, and she said suddenly “I’m not feeling well.”

He paused in the motion of dousing the incense in the dirt, and very cautiously rose to look back at her. Nanoka gripped the hem of her skirt, biting her lip to hide a smile. That was an expression she recognized: the concern of a doctor for an ailing patient. “It’s this curse I have. Is there anyone here who could help me?”

He stared at her, his brown eyes searching and intense, but after a moment his shoulders slumped and he admitted “This place is not very welcoming of outsiders. I’m afraid you wouldn’t find much help. You see, it’s training grounds for Onmyouji. Demons, ayakashi… they’re not exactly welcome here unless it’s for target practice.” Nanoka saw the slight turn of his lip, and smiled, glad to see his dry humor had always been part of him. “Of course, the way of onmyoudo does include healing arts… it’s not practiced nearly enough as curses. A shame if you ask me.” He turned his head as if this was nothing more than a mild annoyance to him, but Nanoka was starting to see beyond the innocence of this younger Mao. She was starting to recognize a familiar soul, and that soul was crying to help others, not to hurt.

“But then…” she began tentatively, drawing his attention back to her and noticing amusedly how his eyes wandered to her bare legs, “you’ve been trained in those healing… whatever arts, right? You could help me, couldn’t you?” She could tell he was struggling not to respond ‘yes’ all at once, still torn by some code or rule to leave her stranded. Nanoka knew what would happen though, now that she’d said she needed the help. She’d seen it with clients who came to ‘Doctor Mao’ with everything from stomach bugs to murderous masters; this was part of who he was.

It was no surprise to her when he said softly “Yes, of course, I’ll help you the best I can. I warn you, I’m still in training, but there’s always somewhere to start. At the very least, you can warm up from this weather, Miss…”

“Nanoka” she replied quickly, taken aback by the gentleness in his voice and the fall of black bangs over his eyes. Perhaps it was the cold finally affecting her, but her cheeks were starting to feel warm, and her heart was beating fast.

“Nanoka-san” he replied with a slight bow. “I am Mao. It might be… a little improper, but you’re welcome to stay with me for a while, until I’ve had a chance to study your curse and perhaps find a cure for you. It’s dangerous for a human to be mistaken for a demon in these days.”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as he said her name in that familiar voice, those words ‘stay with me’ echoing as though from a past life. ‘This is the past life’ she told herself harshly. ‘You can’t get involved here! This could ruin everything!’ Her thoughts abruptly shut off as Mao put down his tools and undid his blue suikan, draping it around Nanoka’s shoulders and folding it about her with some explanation about warmth that was lost amidst the drumming blood in her ears.

The last coherent thought she had as she followed Mao through the dim twilight, watching the cream-colored robes on his back as the two of them wove carefully around buildings to his room, was a sharp and panicked ‘I’m screwed.’

[augujerdeer]

🍎👠🎃🌆👂😱💬!!! Feel free to not answer any of them!

IM CRYING BECAUSE YOU ACTUALLY SENT INE THANK YOU jnsjshdjhsdjh

🍎what are yall’s favourite foods?

I think this is gonna be a long post now that I think about it, but i’m asking everyone what their favourite food would be if they could only pick one or two (not everyone answered or can but >:0)

Mine (Jamie) would be pancakes! or grilled salmon! OR SPICY TUNA SASHIMI!!!!

Kris, Chara and Matthew immediately just have chocolate as their answer dicenksfvjk but kris says “anything” and he lives up to it sometimes

Jaiden says gummy bears and gummy worms (all he eats is CANDY)

Kobe says flowers,,,,

Sal is picking between pizza and cheesecake smoothies

Peter says he doesn’t have one yet ;;

👠how difficult is it for y'all to agree on one cohesive outfit?

So this kind of depends on how many people are out, but I usually follow whoever wants to wear something if only one person is requesting something (Like when Kris would screech and ask for me/us to wear the pink hoodie or his sequins sneakers)

But if there’s multiple people, (usually Kris, Chara, or Matthew) it might take a while ksjskjskjs but generally everyone would go rock-paper-scissors or let the other person have us wear what they want! Usually because they deserve this turn or we take turns :0

🎃how many head mates could be considered scary?

HMM,,, I guess I would say Severous first. He’s a 8+ foot werewolf man, he is a BEAR

his fur is PITCH BLACK especially at night and his eyes and drool glow white (so he has no pupils, that’s his entire eyes), so if you’re in the forest in Providence in the middle of the night, you’ll just see a scary OwO face in the dark

HE DOESNT DO THE OWO FACE BUT ITS NOT LIKE I CAN COPY IT IN TEXT FORM

he always stands on two legs unless he’s SPRINTING , but honestly??? HES BABY and we all love him, Kobe calls him “PUPPY” and even drew him a few times while fronting ;;;;;;;; He’s actually a dad to one of our littles Penny and is gay and dates someone from one of my partners’ system

Also he doesn’t speak very well? He used to speak fluently but overtime and he was recovering from being a persecutor, his ability to speak was kind of, disintegrating? So he only speaks in SUPER SHORT and almost broken english sentences. if you visit him you can catch him reading children’s books and practicing to read and speak again,,, he’s baby,,,,

Chara (from undertale) could be considered scary inspace becaus ethey can go goopy- they’re not a scary person but if they want to scare you, (especially if you don’t know who they are i mean), they will be intimidating and stuff ;; when i first met them, they did spook me, and their eyes are very bright red

Sal (from Sally Face) I guess could be considered spooky because i was drawing him in class one time (prosthetic ON of course) and my friend said he looked scary ;;;? poor sal;;; he’s not scary at all

🌆what does your headspace look like?

*clasps hands together* goodness it’s a good thing i made this map. it’s VERY OLD but it’s still the same except imagine everything is WAAAAAY more spaced Out!

honestly i need to move the teleporters and mansion higher up (and the main tree closer to them) but this is it!!!

The most common places people go to is The Mansion, The Bunker, The Farmhouse, and The Picnic Ground! People when going for walks in the forest usually stick around the Picnic Grounds-Cave Pool-Farmhouse Triangle but usually can go anywhere- the forest is SO big though (alven took me flying once and it stretches to the horizon)

The Mansion is where most of us live! Here you can find Jaiden and the kids (Kobe, Aco, and Penny– and Carla (Carla is an NPC [who is aware of the outside?] but we don’t care she is family). Alven is also here with his lab, so is Joseph and Louise!! (and their dog, Troy). On the outside, you can’t see the mansion, only two giant doors (nobody ever uses kdndckdocsl we honestly just use the teleporters to go anywhere– Also, everything you see INSIDE the meadow excluding the bunker was what our headspace FIRST looked like!!! it was the start of everything ;; Jaiden made the mansion. The mansion has two main rooms- The Main Hall, and The Tall Corridor. There’s a looooot of history here

The Farmhouse is where I (Jamie) live! But i’m not inspace a lot so it’s honestly empty until i meditate there ;;

The bunker existed and is a place some people permanently moved to because we started having some Bad Refuses To Do Good Persecutors, or just bad people. They were VERY violent so half of us went to hide- and eventually the entire system actually moved to the bunker for almost a year and a half before moving out- and then some people stayed- mainly Matthew. People who live in the bunker are Matthew, Kris, Peter, Jade, Chara, Liam, and Sal! Icari should be here somewhere but i think she’s still hiding ;;

Most of the time if we have a new person, they move to the bunker right away. There’s a teleport system almost all over the frequent spots in the headspace so they can easily leave and enter! Matthew lives one the second ground below the 1st ground below because of some bad things that happened- he never leave the bunker because being outside scares him a lot- especially with the entire headspace being a forest :( you need special access to get down there

The Picnic grounds isn’t very special to me personally but Jaiden made it so people can have picnics!! It’s honestly SUPER pretty oh goodness, and no matter what time of day (unless it’s night) the sun is always shining nicely and it’s so pretty there, and people actually go there!!

The only people that don’t go there are Joseph and Louise because we had one bad person hurt them badly in that area,

Also the Ruined City i didn’t mention because– no one goes there- but we all know it exists. Basically it’s a purely grey/monotone/greyscale land? Like the moment you enter, the world transitions to black and white (not your body but the environment) and the only things that have colour are the miss and greenery in the background (mostly grass and parks, not a lot of trees). all the buildings are collapsed or destroyed in some way- so imagine a big area with degree and rubble and standing building but there’s so many destroyed parts like one building is missing an entire second floor and another has a giant gaping hole not eh side, etc.

we also don’t go there because it’s dangerous- there are giant SPIDER robots that patrol the area- we still don’t know why, but they shook lasers! (come back to this post later because I WILL add a picture of what i’m talking about!! i just don’t have my phone on me)

ANYWAY THERES MORE BUT ITS TOO MUCH TO PUT HERE

WE ALSO HAVE ANOTHER PLANET

👂What kind of music do y'all like?

Jamie - what do you mean people have favourite music? i’m just kidding uksdeijfdkj i like indie and broadway!!! pop is pretty cool but it’s not my first choice at all ;;; rock and metal hurts my ears

Chara - they have 4 playlists on spotify! One playlist is called Soft Knives for calm music (it’s usually happy but there could be some sad ones there- but no angst songs- imagine songs you can sleep to or calm down with). Blunt Knives is for angsty or apathetic moods- and Angry Knives is for ANGRY LOUD music. The have a 4th playlist called Chara’s Classical Collection. Chara can range from Classical music to indie music death metal and rock. They usually hate pop

Kris - he loves rap and r&b! though he loves a lot of music besides those! He loves tally hall and kid bloom :0 mostly chill or music that makes you go aW YEAH (his words) he also has Classic Songs in his playlist. So if you have it one shuffle, you’re listening to some sick bops and then all of a sudden Rockefeller Street Nightcore comes on and you get whiplash. doesn’t like metal or rock. He has a second playlist called “it’s Saturday Morning” for stuff like heo soul or “music you can dissociate to but not in a bad way” (Listen to Sugarcoat by Kid Bloom or Different State of Mind (some artist) for a general idea)

Matthew - rock and stuff similar to chemical romance and panic! at the disco. they like metal and rock but he says Sal’s and Chara’s are too aggressive for his taste- and hen you find out he sometimes listens to screamo

Sal - honestly i find his playlist super weird ? Some music sounds weird to me but otherwise his playlist is full over a lot of genres ! It’s kind of wack and funky- not the genre- but the amount of variety he has. And in his 2nd playlist is death/metal and rock- a bunch of loud music that can be fast sometimes too- is not afraid to head bang in public and do air guitar

Peter - We’re not sure yet but he likes music from his time- plus old music- specifically New Wave for now!his playlist is super new and he hasn’t been here a while so we’re not sure o>o

Jade - Soft calm or upbeat and happy music

Kobe and Aco - they are babies- Kobe still sings the ABC’s everyday so

😱do your headmates have any phobias?

i don’t think any of us has phobias- because it’s defined as “irrational fear” actually wikipedia says it can be CAUSED so nevermind dkjjkfd

Honestly these feel like triggers more than phobias butnit first thendescription of a phobia so;; i’m putting POSSIBLE because we’re not sure

Chara - Possible Nyctophobia (fear of the dark, but specifically extreme pitch blackness for Chara), Possible Ecclesiophobia (fear of the church -either building or what it represents])

Matthew - Agoraphobia most probably (fear of going outdoors/leaving the house, some say wide open spaces)

Sal - somewhat Cynophobia but wants to overcome it (fear of dogs) ((likes dogs but is afraid of them honestly))

Kris - Monophobia/Autophobia (Fear of isolation and abandonment) ((this is a big one))

That’s all i can think of for now

💬free space! one cool fact!

uuHHH,,,,,, i can’t think of any, but i know one thing: i love our system and i can see everyone’s trying really hard to take care of each other or are doing a lot to process their own memories and feelings ;;;

[vivithefolle]

Why I headcanon Hermione as white, an essay by me

I’ve been told to post this as an individual post since apparently I was making good points - so here ya go. Please don’t bake me into Dementor cookies.

Okay, so I never thought of Hermione as being anything but white, because in the books there are a few lines that describe her has having pale skin; however “going pale” is also a euphemism for being afraid. Same as “going green” is a euphemism for sickness.

However, I never thought of Hermione as anything but a British white girl because of her lack of reaction to the word “Mudblood”.

Okay so now I’m gonna dig myself a grave because people will accuse me of racism, but hear me out on this one. To be clear: I don’t mind fanarts of Hermione or Harry with varied skin colors. Hell, draw and interpret canon in any way you want, buddy, it’s your interpretation and it’s awesome! But when I write about Hermione and Harry, in my mind’s eye, I envision them as your average caucasian kid.

Below are my explanations for it. You’re free to disagree or call me out, but please read them first before you condemn me to twelve years in Azkaban.

When Hermione is being called a Mudblood, she doesn’t react. She understands that it’s an insult but she doesn’t seem to grasp its actual meaning, even after she’s learned what it’s for, and as the series progresses, she still doesn’t react to it. She mostly tries to keep Ron from beating Malfoy into a pulp over it.

Now, this behaviour doesn’t strike me as that of a socially inept, extremely opinionated and argumentative, very bossy young woman.

I mean. Would Hermione be the sort to let herself be insulted without doing anything about it? She replies to Pansy Parkinson’s cruel barbs by comments of her own. She defends herself when she’s being called out by her friends. She has no problem insulting Ron when she thinks he’s being insensitive. Rita Skeeter talks shit about her and she ends up locked in a jar for a week!! But have Malfoy call her “Mudblood” and she remains silent, at least until the sixth book.

What if it wasn’t because she’s used to racism, but on the contrary because she doesn’t know how to handle it, because she’s never experienced it?

I mean, had Hermione ever gotten grief over her skin colour, she’d be outraged and disappointed that this ideal, magical new world, that she would consider an outlet from the racist bullies back home, had actually its own form of racism, right?

Seeing her reactions to being called a racial slur, Hermione doesn’t strike me as a person who experienced racism - it’s because she’s not used to it, because to her it’s isn’t someone insulting her heritage; rather, it’s just some bully calling her an insult that feels distant and faraway to her.

For example. I once got called a whore. I’m asexual, I’ve never dated anyone, and never once dressed in anything that could be considered as remotely risqué. Still I got called a whore. And it mostly left me a bit confused rather than offended, because I knew that if there was a word to use to qualify me, “whore” would definitely not be one. (For the curious ones, the guy called me a whore because of my lifelong obsession with Pokémon. Yes, I fail to see the logic as well.)

So when Hermione hears someone call her a Mudblood, she doesn’t really registers the word as being a racist comment, instead she considers it some trivial, playground-level insult. It’s exactly why Ron gets so angry and protective on her behalf: because she should be offended by such a slur, and she isn’t. Anyway, that’s always how I’ve read it.

Also, her comment on horses when she talks about Firenze. Now I know that people of color can be racist as well, but she says it so… casually, so flippantly. It’d strike me as odd that someone so sensitive to the plight of creatures seen as “subhuman” would be able to say something like that without understanding the implications… Unless she has no idea that referring to centaurs as “horses” is an extremely offensive thing to do, because she doesn’t realize how racist it sounds, because she herself has never heard someone, say, call her “a monkey” for being black.

And you know, I think that having Hermione as a white girl isn’t so bad, come to think of it. My opinion is probably going to come off as controversial but I really, really want to voice it.

We have Harry, Ron and Hermione, a set of three characters, all from different backgrounds, and all privileged in different ways.

For Harry, it’s fame and fortune. Being the Boy-Who-Lived, no matter how much he may complain about it, is something that puts him ‘above the rest’. It allows him to get away with ballooning up Aunt Marge because Fudge won’t have the Saviour of Wizarding Britain in prison over something as minuscule as one tiny breach of the Statute of Secrecy - yes, it’s sarcasm. The point is: Harry’s status as Boy-Who-Lived may cause him grief, but it certainly comes with a few perks.

Ron’s privilege is, of course, his blood status. Being a pureblood is valued among the magical community and could even make some Death Eaters think twice before killing you. I think Voldemort would want to preserve as much of the Sacred Twenty-Eight’s bloodlines, considering how few there are left. (and yes, I have my own headcanon for how exactly he’d keep them alive. Wait for it…)

Hermione’s privilege is, quite simply, her normal, comfortable life in the Muggle world. A life where nobody looks down on her origins; a life where she never had to experience a war and its aftermaths; a life where she might feel a bit the outcast due to her brains and accidental magic, but would you rather be an outcast and live, or be considered “impure” and be killed without a second thought?

So, each member of the trio has some form of privilege, and it’s counterbalanced by a lack of privilege somewhere else. The ironic thing is that it’s usually the privilege of another one of them!

Harry’s, we all know: not everyone can be raised in a loving, accepting home like Hermione and Ron do, and it hits him full force with the Dursleys. For all his money and fame, Harry lacks a true, warm family (luckily Ron is quick to offer him one). And even if he can see the Weasleys every summer, he still has to return to Privet Drive and be reminded for a few weeks that yes, these arseholes he’s forced to live with are his only still living relatives.

The Weasleys’ poverty is evidently one of the ways Ron lacks privilege, but the very thing that is considered a privilege in the magical community turns out to be a double-edged sword; being a blood traitor, in dear Bella’s own words, is “right next to being a Mudblood”. Now, I mentioned I had a headcanon for how Voldemort might try to keep the old bloodlines running? Well, even though they’re blood traitors, the blood’s still pure, right? You’d just need them to stop supporting these pesky Muggleborns… you could have one of them conceive an heir, a perfect blank slate whom you’d teach all about blood purity… Now wouldn’t that be convenient? (I am aware that this headcanon is absolutely horrifying and I’m sorry I ever came up with it. I was just thinking of what Molly might have said to try and stop Ron from going on the run in DH, and suddenly this popped into my head and I was like “oh this is so awful!… it’s perfect”.)

And finally, Hermione’s lack of privilege solely resides in the Wizarding World she loves so much, and is probably what she considers the only downside to her being a witch: the fact that she’s looked down upon by blood supremacists who hold on to archaic views, and sadly these guys are from rich families and have influence over several important people… since they can bribe the less morally sound, it makes them much more dangerous than a couple of penniless drunkards shouting abuse in the street.

Making Hermione into someone who’s been dealing with racism her whole life instead of giving her this comfortable, safe home to return to - it breaks the delicate balance of privilege / lack of privilege in the trio.

I personally think that Hermione’s character is much more interesting if you make her come into the Wizarding World as this wide-eyed little kid who’s already persuaded she knows everything and that she’ll be hailed as a prodigy, only to have her understand that, just as respect is not something you’re entitled to, but something you have to earn - that’s the first lesson she’ll learn from Ron - there are also people who just won’t respect you because they’re prejudiced little buggers - and that’s where Malfoy comes in (and sorry but he’s just here to be a disgusting bigot, not to be redeemed by Hermione’s luuuuurve).

I get it, the the whole “Hermione is discriminated in both worlds” theme makes her a very tragic character… But that’s exactly the problem. If you take away Hermione’s privilege, it ends up being “the terrible, tragic, angsty tale of Hermione Granger, woe is her”, and she ends up in a position where people will just throw her a gigantic pity-party.

The trio’s characters are carefully balanced, and making Hermione a victim of racism in both Muggle and magical worlds ends up screwing over the remaining two by putting more woes on Hermione’s shoulders. Making Harry a victim of racism as well does the exact same thing - and I’d argue it makes it worse, because Ron-bashers are already very eager to scream “omg so wha t if he doezn’t hav moneys he complain for nuthing what a t erribl e freind” and to completely disregard Ron’s struggles… so add discriminated, rejected-by-both-worlds Harry and Hermione into this mix and Ron’s issues would be downright ignored in favour of Harry’s and Hermione’s, who would seem to have “more misery” on their plates compared to him, at least in a purely mathematical sense (the argument being that “more issues to deal with = more misery”).

Okay, you’re still with me, you haven’t unfollowed me, and you’re not completely outraged at my reasoning? Then let me tell you again: I don’t care about the characters’ skin color, and you can interpret them any way you want. Make Harry have Asian ancestry or have Hermione be a black woman, be creative, have fun. This is the way I see the characters and the way I interpret them, and my own reasoning for doing so. A trio is a balancing act and must be carefully constructed so there is equilibrium on every side. Add or substract something and it all tips over. It’s the main reason why the trio is so unrecognizable in the movies, with a Harry as bland as canned soup, a Ron turned into both a joke and dead weight, and a Hermione as realistic as a turtle dancing the boogie on ice-skates.

The triangle is the most stable geometric figure. Without Harry, Ron and Hermione have no purpose (besides falling in love and living happily ever after of course). Without Hermione, Harry and Ron manage but lose a great deal of time, and then it might be too late for them to save the day. And without Ron… Harry and Hermione are downright unable to function, kind of like a horse with a broken leg.

Why do you think Rowling had created only three different wand cores at first? Or why Harry, Ron and Hermione present some qualities from Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively? (yes, I associated Ron to Ravenclaw, because Rowena wanted “wit beyond measure” and Ron has wit in spades, and Hufflepuffs are known to be hard-working, which fits Hermione’s work ethic perfectly) Or why there are three Hallows, and why each member of the trio picks a different one? It’s all for the sake of the balancing act. A duo is made of opposites. A trio is made of complementarities.

… Well, this turned into an impromptu lecture on literature. I hope this’ll help you if you ever need to create your very own trio of heroes.

[shenanigumi]

If you're accepting the drabbles still (which are great so far!) Weird story for this one, but when you first started the prompts I misread the Paint Me prompt as Paint It Blood. So if you don't mind the specificity... OkiChi, Paint Me or Haunt Me, en route for the bad ending?

Wow, out of the few prompts I’ve already done, this is the one I decide to make not sad or angsty, even though you gave me an opening. Paint Me it is~

Chizuru supposed there were worse things she could have walked in on than Okita drawing, but that didn’t make her any less surprised to see all the paper lying scattered around his charcoal-stained futon.

More importantly, from the looks of things, he was quite good at it. She couldn’t see too many of the details, but several of them appeared to feature cats. However, her observations were cut short as Okita addressed her. “Chizuru-chan,” he greeted, not looking up from his current work. “Do you need something, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

“I’m sorry,” said Chizuru. “I just… didn’t know you could draw, Okita-san.”

“Well, I can,” said Okita, rolling his shoulders in something between a shrug and a stretch. “Anyway, I’m not shy or anything, but there’s a bit of a draft. I don’t care which side of the door you end up on, but I’d appreciate it if you’d shut it.”

Jolting to action, Chizuru stepped fully into the room and slid the door softly shut behind her. “Did you… teach yourself?” she asked tentatively, daring to approach.

“Yeah,” replied Okita, still sketching. “This might be news to you, but lying in bed all day is kinda boring, so I’ve gotten in a lot of practice over the years. You can thank Yamazaki-kun for lending me the supplies.”

Chizuru knew from Okita’s dismissive tone that he meant that literally: he had no intention of thanking Yamazaki himself. Struggling not to roll her eyes, she knelt next to his futon. “Can I ask what you’re drawing now?”

“Mm-hmm.” When Okita said nothing further, only continued his work, Chizuru really did roll her eyes this time. Even if it was only a glance skyward. Why did he always have to be so literal?

“Then… what are you drawing now?”

“You,” responded Okita, so nonchalantly that Chizuru almost didn’t understand.

“M-me?” asked Chizuru, blinking a few times, once she had her wits about her. She didn’t particularly consider herself worth being drawn, especially since Okita’s only other subjects seemed to be cats and the occasional sword—both things he liked very much. Why would he even consider placing her among them when he always treated her like such a nuisance…?

Okita glanced over at her, eyes sparkling. “Is it that much of a surprise?” he asked, pausing in his sketch, and tilted his head. “You’re a pretty obvious subject. I mean, I do see you every day, whether I like it or not.”

Chizuru sighed, but her smile returned almost immediately. As frustrating as Okita’s teasing always was, It was honestly a relief to see that he was feeling a little better, even if it resulted in mischief. He’d been so listless for so long that she had begun to feel helpless. If drawing her helped somehow, then so be it.

“Do you want to see it?” asked Okita conversationally, setting down his charcoal. “I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

Chizuru stared at him. She’d been shocked enough that Okita would draw her to begin with, but to offer to show her? “I—I’d be honored, Okita-san,” she said, dipping her head awkwardly. But for some reason, Okita almost snorted, then coughed to cover it up. Chizuru found herself nonplussed by his derisive reaction, until he turned his paper around and held it up for her to see.

This was no ordinary portrait. Rather than her face, Okita’s drawing was of her back from the shoulderblades up. But… but… she wasn’t wearing anything! And her hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of up in its usual ponytail! “O-Okita-san!” exclaimed Chizuru, face burning, and covered her eyes in shame. How could he do such a thing?!

It was admittedly a beautiful drawing, but the problem was that she couldn’t possibly be that pretty. Okita must have used someone else as a model, even if only from memory. That thought made her uncomfortable for reasons she didn’t want to think about yet, but she supposed it was better than the only other possibility, which was being spied on in the bath.

And wait—why would Okita draw such a thing in the first place?!

“Aw, is it really that bad?” asked Okita, and there was a rustle as though he was turning the paper around to look at it again. “In that case, do you mind giving me some reference? I’d like to check if I got it right, since I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Then why did y—?!” Chizuru slid her hands from her eyes down to her mouth, taking a deep breath. She probably shouldn’t raise her voice at Okita, even if he had drawn her in such a way. Matsumoto might think something was seriously wrong and come bursting in, and the last thing Chizuru needed was for anyone else to see that.

“I just thought it’d be a fun project, okay?” said Okita, more than a little alarmed by the force of Chizuru’s reaction. “Keep your shirt on. Or… actually, on second thought, maybe don’t.”

Even if Okita was joking, there was a time and a place, and that was the last straw. “I—I’m going to tell Yamazaki-san,” said Chizuru, leaping to her feet. “If you don’t have any drawing supplies, you might not waste your time drawing such ridiculous things!”

“All right, all right, fine,” conceded Okita, tossing her a look of mingling betrayal and resignation. “I’m sorry for drawing you without permission.” He may have been missing the point, but where Okita was concerned, Chizuru would take any apology she could get. “But if I can’t draw, I’m going to need something else to do.” Setting his latest work aside, he leaned back on his hands and tilted his head to look up at her. “You’ll entertain me, right?”

“As long as I don’t have to take off my clothes,” said Chizuru stiffly, crossing her arms in as stern a gesture as she could manage while she was still so flustered.

Okita grinned, but there was something sly about it. Almost like he knew something Chizuru didn’t. “Not if you don’t want to, Chizuru-chan,” he smiled, and that was when she knew she wasn’t out of the woods just yet.