#nobody needs to shuffle to my side and send me positive messages or support or whatever

[paper-mirio]

let the world turn without you tonight

Kirishima Eijirou x Reader, Platonic!Class 1-A x Reader

College AU

Words: 4,966

Summary: You’re the resident assistant for floor 1-A in a dorm building at U.A. University. You have many responsibilities that come with this position, yet you still have to maintain your grades on top of this. You’ve been able to handle things so far, but the stress of university life creeps up slowly on you. How long will you be able to keep saying that everything’s fine?

Warnings: light angst, negative thoughts, anxiety, imposter syndrome, mentions of fire

  The clock read 11:43 pm. It was a Saturday night, and it had been three hours since the last time Bakugou was heard yelling at someone in the halls. Kaminari had apparently brought snacks to the floor’s lounge to share with everyone, including peanut butter cookies. Peanuts, of course, were banned from the lounge due to Yaoyorozu’s severe allergies, and this was the fourth time this semester Kaminari forgot that particular rule. You supposed you should thank Bakugou for resolving the situation quickly. The last thing you needed was to write up a report on why a student had to be sent to the emergency room while you were on duty. Still, it would've been nice for him to be a bit quieter during midterm season.

Your eyes tore away from the clock, looking back down to the textbook in front of you. You took a few moments to try and blink the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you did so. Your midterm wasn't for another week, but you knew there wouldn't be enough time for you to cram in the days before. With planning for the floor’s retreat, writing up funding proposals, and making sure nobody started a third fire this month, you knew you would have been far too busy in the days before the exam. Besides, wasn't this a more effective way of studying?

As you moved your hand to write down the answer to a problem you were working on, you stopped, noticing the pencil had gone missing from your hand. And the paper had gone missing from your desk. And the clock now read 12:25 am.

Oh, right, you thought. I was packing up for the night.

You closed your textbook and set it aside, avoiding the pile of notebooks that was dangerously close to toppling over. You stood and stretched, letting out a squeak upon hearing a multitude of cracks and snaps in your spine. I really need to work on my posture, you thought as you reached up to turn off your desk lamp.

You made a brief glance at your phone to check the notifications. Other than a few reminders you'd set and some memes in the group chat from Ashido, there was no new activity. You plugged your phone in and set it down, feeling a bit relieved. It was earlier than you'd normally go to bed, but nobody on the floor seemed to need anything tonight, and you were especially exhausted. You shuffled across the room to your bed and threw yourself across it. As the soft mattress hit your back, you let out a soft moan at the comfort. After sitting hunched at your desk for hours, either studying or doing work, it was a relief to lie back and let yourself rest. You sank into the mattress, leaned back against your pillow, and closed your eyes, letting yourself drift off into sleep.

---

It's 2:15 am, not even two hours later, when you're woken up by a loud screech and white flashing lights. A crackling sound came from your intercom, and you heard the prerecorded voice begin to give instructions. Standard procedure for a fire alarm being set off. You turned over in bed, burying your face into your pillow, and let out a strangled sob.

It’s fine, you thought, stumbling out of bed to slip on your shoes. I’m fine, as you shrugged on your uniform jacket. Everything’s fine, as you stepped out of your room and into the hallway, finding a few of the residents standing in the doorways to their rooms. You closed your eyes, inhale slow and deep, and let out a sigh. Fine.

You walked over to Uraraka, Hagakure, Sero, and Kirishima, whose rooms were closest to yours and were already standing outside. Uraraka rubbed her eyes, a pout on her face. “Ugh, another one already?” she whined. “(Y/N), I thought you said we were only gonna have one drill this semester. This is, like, the fourth one!”

“I know, I know, but you know the drill by now,” you started. “Get to the stairs, head down and out. Get away from the building. I'll meet you all there.”

Sero and Uraraka nodded, moving to leave. Hagakure stayed put and appeared to gesture to the rest of the hall. “I can wake everyone else up!” she offered. You smiled, noting that she was oddly cheery and energetic for someone woken up so early in the morning, before shaking your head.

“As much as I’d appreciate the help, I need you to evacuate with everyone else. Get to safety. Let me handle this.” When you finished telling her this, she made a movement you could only assume was a nod before heading toward the staircase, a spring in her step. You watched her leave with a smile on your face. At least she seems unbothered by this.

You turned back around to wake up the rest of the hall, only to be faced with Kirishima. He was still standing outside his door and didn't seem to have moved at all. You let out a sigh—you were already going to have to deal with a bunch of other 19 year-olds waking up, and you did not want to have to repeat the same directions to your boyfriend of all people.

“Listen, Eijirou, that applies to you too. I need you to leave with everyone else,” you stated, moving to walk around him only to stop as he grabbed your shoulder. You looked back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face. He seemed cautious, as his grip on you was light. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, only to shut it, changing his mind. Finally, he seemed to gather himself as he looked you in the eyes.

“(Y/N),” he began, “are you sure you're alright?”

I’m fine. Everything's fine. You gave him a strained smile, placing your hand over his. “I will be once you're out of the building safely. We can talk later, okay?”

His frown deepened, and you felt his grip on your arm tighten briefly before letting go. His arm dropped to his side, and he turned to walk toward the staircase without another word.

As you watched him leave, you felt an uneasy feeling set in your chest. The way he'd frowned at you, how he didn't respond to you, his posture—all of it told you something was wrong. You replayed the interaction in your head, trying to think of something you'd said to upset him, only to come up with nothing. You were fine, and you wanted him to be safe, so everything should be fine, right?

A harsh shove met your side, knocking you out of your thoughts and into the wall next to you. Your head and shoulder took the brunt of the impact, and your hands caught the wall to prevent yourself from toppling onto the ground.

After getting yourself back upright, you looked ahead, slightly dazed, to see two hooded figures running towards the staircase. You squinted at them in annoyance. Nobody ever pays attention to the instructions...

“Hey!” you shouted at them, before wincing at how loud your voice sounded. “No running! Walk out of the building in an orderly fashion!” Your head throbbed from hitting the wall, the blaring alarm and the volume you had to use to be heard only worsening the pain. You decided you'd need to send out a message to everyone later letting them know what “orderly” meant.

At your instruction, the two slowed their pace, but not by much. As the two speed-walked towards the exit, one of them turned their head around to glance back at you. Midoriya, as you could now tell, smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, (Y/N)!” he laughed, before turning back and continuing to walk.

The second person ducked their head and pulled their hood further down, as if they didn't want to be seen. Despite this, you caught a glimpse of red and white hair peeking out from underneath. You let out an annoyed sigh.

“Just get to the evacuation zone safely. And Todoroki, please watch where you're going,” you called after them, watching them exit through the door to the staircase.

You marked the two of them off on a mental checklist, noting that they'd left the building. That made six who'd left already, three who were off-campus or in other buildings, and six who were visiting their families for the weekend. As you counted off in your head, you saw the last few unaccounted for students make their ways to the exit, stumbling in a sleepy haze. You smiled to yourself, glad that everyone would be safe and accounted for.

You walked behind them toward the staircase, ready to exit. As you walked, however, a faint smell reached you, causing you to falter in your steps. You inhaled sharply in surprise, and the smell became stronger, causing you to cover your nose with your sleeve.

Shit, you thought. Something’s actually burning...

---

It was dark out, save for the flashing lights of the fire alarm in the building behind you and a few street lamps. You stood at the entrance of the building, having just turned away a seventh student who tried to enter despite it clearly being evacuated. A harsh breeze hit your face and you flinched, shrinking in on yourself to try and hide your face in the thin jacket you wore. Your hands trembled, and you cursed under your breath. The firefighters normally didn't take this long to resolve the issue.

You looked over to the parking lot across the street, where the residents of your floor had gathered. They were scattered across the lot, some on their phones, and some others talking with students living in building B, who had come out to see what the commotion was about. Some, like Koda and his emotional support rabbit, tried to escape the cold by entering the B building, with the residents being kind enough to allow entry. Ojiro and Tsuyu were both leaned against a wall, asleep already, while Tokoyami seemed more awake and alert than normal.

As you looked across the lot, verifying that everyone had evacuated for the tenth time since you left the building, you couldn't help the dread building in you. The firefighters still hadn't left the building yet, and you'd started to worry that this may be something serious. Had this been a larger fire? Was this something more dangerous? Different possibilities occurred to you suddenly, and each one made your stomach flip and your heart drop. Shaky breaths came out your mouth, forming visible clouds in the cold air. Maybe I should check on everyone one last time, just to be sure, you thought. So you looked across the lot for the eleventh time.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice behind you. “You're (Y/N), right? The resident assistant on floor 1-A?”

You turned to see a fireman standing in the doorway to the building. He had a grimace on his face and was holding something charred, black, and annoyingly familiar in his hands.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you started, the worry starting the fade and irritation quickly taking its place. “Is everything alright? Is the fire taken care of?”

“It's all fine now. Just try to make sure this doesn't happen again,” he scolded, before turning and walking away, muttering something about a damn smell and annoying kids.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, counting to five before letting out the breath. It’s fine.

After heading to the parking lot and informing everyone that they could return to their rooms, you did a quick headcount to yourself to make sure nobody who had fallen asleep was left behind in the parking lot. Once you verified that everyone was making their way inside, you searched the crowd for your two targets. Spotting the two blondes about to enter an elevator, you glared and rushed forward, sticking your arm in before the elevator could close completely. “Fuck,” you muttered as the elevator doors opened, rubbing your arm.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)!” Kaminari laughed. “Sorry, didn't see you there. Would've held the door open if I did. Guess I'm still kinda tired, heh.” You rolled your eyes, teeth gritting at his nonchalance, and stepped into the elevator, letting the doors shut behind you.

Bakugou remained silent and rubbed his eyes, clearly exhausted. When he saw you glaring at him, however, he frowned. “The fuck is your problem?”

You crossed your arms, not looking away. “My problem,” you hissed, “is that I have told both of you on multiple occasions that using your quirks to make popcorn is not only stupid, but incredibly dangerous. This is the third time we’ve had to evacuate because of this.”

Both blondes blinked in confusion, taking in your accusation.

“Wait, you think we did this?” Kaminari asked. “Why?”

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “History. You've done it before. I don't doubt you did it again.” You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head. “I don't have proof it was you two, so nothing’s gonna happen. Just, please, don't do this again. Especially this late.”

The elevator jolted to a stop as you reached your floor. The doors slid open, and the three of you exited together.

Bakugou growled, turning and stomping in the direction of his room. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “Too fucking late to be blamed for this shit...” Kaminari followed him with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes at the two, before turning and heading in the direction of your room. You looked down at your watch. 3:20 am. That gives me...three more hours of sleep? Maybe I can fit in 20 extra minutes if I run to class.

Once in your room, you pondered over how much sleep you could get while still having time for breakfast and coffee. Slipping back into bed, you attempted to make the calculations in your head. Hindered by your sleep deprivation, you had lost 20 minutes of potential sleep time by the time you gave up on trying to figure it out. You turned off your light, collapsed on your bed, and finally returned to sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be fine. Better than today.

---

It took all your willpower to resist slamming your laptop shut and hurling it out the window, though you doubt you would've had the strength to even lift it at this point. Your eyes burned as you continued to stare at the bright screen, hoping to somehow change what you’ve read. Your vision blurred, making the results illegible to you as tears ran down your face. The numbers were etched firmly into your mind, however, impossible to ignore.

All of that time spent studying, stressing, just to receive a 53% on the midterm. It was pathetic. You choked down a sob and frantically tried to scrub the tears from your eyes. Pathetic. You were an adult, sitting in your room and crying like a child over a bad grade. It happens to everyone. Everyone, that is, except the students at U.A., known for its prestige and academic excellence.

Yet here you were, failing. You should've known this would happen. You felt lucky enough to be accepted that you tricked yourself into getting comfortable, believing that luck would carry over the entire time you spent here. But no, it was just luck. That's all it had to be, if all of your efforts resulted in failure anyway.

You let these thoughts fill your head as your face was buried into your hands. You attempted to steady your breathing, but hearing how shaky your voice sounded only distressed you further.

I’m fine, you tried. I’m okay.

Because failing was fine, right? You only wasted money and time on this school when somebody else more deserving could easily have taken your place. Fine. Pathetic.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of your door opening. You cursed under your breath, suddenly regretting the open door policy you had with your residents.

“Woah, it's so dark in here,” Kirishima muttered, causing you to flinch. Of all people to walk in right now, why did it have to be him? “Hey, (Y/N), are you busy right now? Because there's something going on in the lounge and I think—“ he cut himself off, suddenly taking in the sight of you curled up in front of your laptop, face buried into your arms.

Great, now he’s worried about me. You took in a deep breath before removing your hands from your face, wiping your eyes as you do so. You turned to smile at him, trying to convince him nothing is wrong. Because you were fine.

Judging by the frown on his face, he wasn't convinced. He shut the door behind him and locked it before making his way over to stand behind the chair you were curled up in. He leaned over, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“(Y/N), honey, what's wrong?”

You sat in silence, wondering if you should tell him. You didn't want to bother him with your own failures. But, you thought, he cares. He wouldn't want me to keep this to myself. You open your mouth to speak, then shut it, remembering how your voice sounded earlier. You didn't want it to be any more obvious that you were crying, if he couldn't already tell. Instead, you gestured wordlessly to the screen in front of you, still displaying your grades.

Kirishima looked to the screen at your direction, only to inhale sharply through his teeth upon reading the score. You deflated hearing that, shame pooling in your stomach. See? It's bad, and he knows it.

“Yikes,” he muttered. “I see the problem, now...” You frown, nodding silently. The problem, of course, being the solid dent in your GPA.

You sniffed, reaching up to rub at your eyes. “It’s just, I studied so hard for this,” you whispered, still not quite trusting your voice. “It feels like it was all for nothing, now.”

“You’ve got Aizawa-sensei for this course, right? Yeah, his exams are always like that.”

Wait, what?

“Like...that?” you muttered. You turned your head away from the screen to look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, I had him last semester. His exams are always this difficult, full of trick questions and so long hardly anyone can complete them in time.” Kirishima chuckled, leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder as he stared at the screen. “The highest I've ever heard anyone getting on his exams was 65%, and I'm pretty sure that person cheated.”

You blinked, trying to process this information. “But, if everyone scores low, how do they pass?” you questioned, trying to make sense of it.

Kirishima looked at you and gave a toothy grin. “His exams are tough as hell, but Aizawa-sensei’s a fair teacher. Those scores are just for us to use as a reference point for what we need to focus on moving forward, but he doesn't actually grade by percentage. If he thinks you know the material well enough, you pass the course.” He lifted a hand to point at your screen. “And 53%? Is pretty damn great, all things considered. I never got anything higher than 40% in his class and I still made it out with a B.”

His grin turned to a soft smile as he watched you try to process this. While you sat in shock, he reached over to shut your laptop closed. “Let’s not worry about that anymore,” he muttered, before reaching down to scoop you into his arms. “C’mere, let's lay down a minute.”

He carried you over to your bed before gently laying you down on your back. He slid in next to you, lazily wrapping an arm around your middle and resting his head on top of yours. You leaned into his embrace, face still scrunched up in confusion.

“So...I didn't fail?” you asked.

He laughed and gently pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I thought I said let's not worry about that, hm? But no, (Y/N), you didn't fail.” He hummed softly, using his arm to pull you closer. “You're actually doing great. Not that I'm surprised, of course. I've got the smartest partner in the whole world.” He laughed again before leaning down to pepper soft kisses on your neck. “I'm so lucky...”

Your face heated up, and you laughed nervously. “Eiji, stop...” You gasped, feeling his hand begin to slide up under your shirt, but made no move to stop him. “Somebody could walk in!”

Kirishima shook his head. “Nah, I made sure I locked it this time.” He shifted himself until he was on top of you, legs straddling your waist. He gave you a goofy grin that caused you to laugh.

“That's what you said last time,” you giggled. “Then Mina walked in. I mean, it's probably the most embarrassing thing that's happened to me, but the look on her face!” You burst into laughter, clutching your sides.

Kirishima laughed above you. “True, but seriously! I did lock it this time!” His laughter died down while you continued to giggle. He smiled warmly before leaning down to peck at your lips, effectively cutting off your laughter. “There's that smile,” he murmured. “You've been so stressed lately, I missed seeing it on you.”

You blushed, smiling up at him. “Well, I can't help but laugh when my boyfriend’s this much of a dork.” He let out a snort at that. “But still, I guess it does help that I love you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, moving a hand to your cheek to gently caress it. “I love you too, (Y/N).” He then pressed his lips to yours.

As you get lost in the sensation of kissing your boyfriend, you feel yourself relax under him. The feeling was strange, unfamiliar, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you couldn't remember a time without it. You lifted a hand to run through Kirishima’s hair, trying to bring him closer somehow. He hummed, pressing his body into yours.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. You tried not to let it distract you.

You thought about how long it had been since the two of you really kissed like this, or even just had a moment to yourselves. You had been far too busy lately with work and classes, and you'd spent so long stressing over both that you hadn't had much time to just relax with your boyfriend. You thought about all the times he'd asked if you were okay or looked at you with worry, and you'd just brushed it off, saying you'd talk later. Did you ever talk with him? You couldn't remember.

Kirishima broke the kiss, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You're overthinking again,” he stated.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the mattress. “Sorry,” you muttered. “I was just thinking how long it's been since we were able to just...do this. Be alone. Kiss. Hell, even just talk to each other.” You frowned, turning your head to the side. “I've been busy lately, but I still could've made time for this. For us. I'm sorry.”

Kirishima shook his head, using his hand on your cheek to turn you to look at him. “(Y/N), all of that was out of your control. You had all of these responsibilities before we got together, so I knew what I was getting into.” His phone buzzes again, making him pause and roll his eyes. He continued, ignoring it. “I'm just worried about you. You push yourself too hard sometimes, and I know it gets overwhelming. I don't want to see you cry the way you were when I first walked in.”

He pecked your cheek. “Let's enjoy this time we have now, alright? No more worrying about anything else.” He gave you a gentle smile, and you couldn't help but return it. He always seemed to know just what to say. He leaned back in to kiss you again.

Kirishima’s phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket, causing both of you to let out load groans.

“Who the hell is texting me this late?” he questioned, exasperated. His phone buzzed again, making Kirishima sigh and roll off of you.

“It might be important,” you said, giving an awkward smile. You rolled onto your side to face him. “You should probably check it, just to be sure.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the notifications. His eyes widened, and he jolted upright in the bed. You startled, slowly sitting up next to him.

“Shit!”

“What?” you asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Completely forgot the reason I came in here in the first place!” he exclaimed, smacking his forehead with his palm.

“The reason you came in here?” You thought about what that could mean, then suddenly you remembered his words upon entering. You sucked in a gasp. “Wait, you said something was going on in the lounge? Is it bad?” Without waiting for an answer, you bolted out of bed. You hurriedly put on your shoes and scrambled to get your jacket.

“Wait, (Y/N), calm down for a moment, it's nothing that serious!” Kirishima got up after you, alarmed by your sudden panic.

“But you said something was happening and wanted me to come check it out. What if it is serious by now?” You shook your head, heading towards the door. “I'm heading over just to be sure.” You opened the door and walked out into the hall, walking swiftly towards the lounge.

Kirishima let out a deep sigh, burying his face into his hands. “Nice going, dumbass. Couldn't find an excuse that wouldn't make them panic...” He shook his head before following after you, doing his best to keep up with your pace.

You reached the door to the lounge. You braced yourself for what chaos you might find inside. I just hope nobody started another fight over the TV. That's the last thing we need right now, you thought, before turning the knob and opening the door.

“Finally! Took you long enough to get them, Kirishima,” Ashido exclaimed. The occupants startled, turning towards the door. It seemed everyone on the floor was inside. They all beamed upon seeing you, before simultaneously shouting, “Surprise!”

You stood in the doorway in shock. Rather than chaos and potential damage reports you'd need to write, the room was decorated and relatively clean. There was a table full of food and snacks, many of which were your favorites. The TV was hooked up to a console, one you assumed belonged to Kaminari, and it seemed they were in the middle of a Mario Kart match before pausing it when you walked in.

“What's all of this?” you asked, not quite understanding what was happening. Your birthday wasn't for a few more months, and Kirishima’s had been last semester. You couldn't recall anything happening recently worth celebrating, but the surprise seemed to be meant for you.

“Well, we had this party set up for you, and it would've started half an hour ago, but someone got distracted when sent to retrieve the guest of honor,” Hagakure explained. Ashido looked to Kirishima with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, to which Kirishima blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ok,” you replied. “Why, though?”

“To thank you, of course!” Midoriya smiled. “For being the best resident assistant we could've asked for!”

“Yes! You've been fair at enforcing the rules while also going above and beyond to ensure our safety!” Iida exclaimed, gesturing from you to everyone else.

“Not to mention the fact that you were able to get Mineta kicked out after the school wouldn't listen to our complaints,” Jirou smirked, giving a thumbs up. “We still owe you for that one.”

As the others began to speak up with more praise and thanks, you felt your face heating up from having this much attention on you. You'd never really thought about how they'd feel about the work you did. They really did all of this for me?

“So, to show our appreciation, we set up this party! Because even though you're technically the boss of us now, we’re still all your friends!” Uraraka said. “We got Satou to make these sweets, and Aoyama and Yaoyorozu helped us with the decorations, and Shoji helped us hang them up, and Kaminari and Sero told us what your favorite games were, and—“ she rambled on, listing every detail of the party and exactly how every person on the floor was able to contribute. “Even Bakugou pitched in and was able to tell us what times you were busy, based on when you tell him to stop yelling!”

Kirishima wrapped his arms around you from behind. “You’ve done a lot for us this past year. Let us take care of you tonight, okay?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “All of this is for you.”

You looked to Kirishima, who had a large grin on his face. You glanced around the room at everyone, noticing how happy they all looked. A warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. A few managed to escape and fall down your cheek.

Hagakure jumped, panicking. “Oh no, we made them cry!”

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” Kirishima asked softly.

You laughed, reaching up to wipe away your tears. Everything was fine, right? No, you thought, not fine. You gave everyone a large grin.

“Yeah, everything’s great!”

[happyfunnycoolgirl96]

oh shit more anglophobia talk below I guess

i suppose all those faceless strangers in my inbox didn't particularly get to me because it's easier to take it as a fat joke since you can always slam an anon down with "come off of anon pussy" it's an easy target but whatever, but when an actual mutual who i'd had conversations with, who'd answer my asks and complement, was pretty nice and vice versa, just completely fucking TURNED on me and started calling me a chav... (why does everyone use that directed towards me? it's brit slang created by the country you hate so much apparently. also it's supposed to attack lower class people despite one of the guys who called me a chav literally saying right ON HER BIO THAT SHE BLOCKS ANYONE WHOS CLASSIST DEAR SWEET LORD LMAO and you know what I had to do to find that out? i selected the word chav on my phone and clicked define on the pop up. get smart) ....despite comparing oranges to apples and saying that it was similar to straights and gay people discourse, like he was acting like he didn't like the contextual or subliminal meaning of this particular type of argument despite showing some pretty strong signs that he just straight up didn't really like brits at all. i thought you were chill man!! why the fuck did you get your panties in such a twist!!! the fuck? why did you react like that? fr!! and like, if we argue in a post and you start being all paggro and calling me chav don't delete the post later just so that your public image looks nice and shiny and lovely! the fuck! that's sneaky man i'm not telling you how to run your tumblr but oh fuck i'm getting pretty unreasonably mad about this one guy so whatever. anyway i hate everything about vagueposting and the philosophy behind so jeremie if you're reading this i don't particularly hate you (despite the really aggressive tone of this post lmfao) i'm just upset on how much you seemed like a nice person and how easily that bond was broke, I don't doubt that you're a good guy but it's more of a "i think you're okay but I don't like the things you do" sort of thing. tumblr didn't glitch and make you unfollow me if you were wondering, i soft blocked you since you don't really seem like a particularly... chill or understanding person, to be frank. i don't mind if you pm me, i don't mind if you don't, i'm not trying to seem like the bigger man here or like the more responsible one i suppose but in short, i don't hate you, i don't love you, and you're just another guy on the internet to me, as neutral as can be. also if you read this lol kudos, hope nobody takes this as a sign to stalk people's blogs after they fight or anything i'm just not in the mood (or ever will be) to be bitter right now. thank you for coming to the worst ted talk ever, this will be the last time i talk about that one specific brit fight again, fin

[multiversemuses]

Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon || A Slytherin House Altercation

@darthvoldemaul

Cori could ignore a lot of nonsense. When it came to student rivalry, Slytherin was known to do its fair share of bragging and swaggering. However, some members of her house seemed to be all hiss and no bite. One boy struck her as especially guilty of this. Due to being louder than any other arrogant parties, he was also significantly more difficult to tune out. Draco Malfoy. The privileged only son of Lucius Malfoy preened more than the albino peacock his family kept on their property, and he made just as much ruckus. The Malfoys had money, influence, and power -- all facts which Draco had doubtless been fed since birth, and all of which gave him the impact of being a richly powerful pain in the ass.

Today, Draco was boisterous as he swept into the common room with a large posse in tow. Crabbe and Goyle (whose nose looked oddly speckled and sore) flanked him. Pansy Parkinson was not far behind and trying her best to weave past them. Several strides back from the usual trio, Cori estimated that there were at least an additional dozen following Draco’s every step. She curled her lip and went back to her Potions textbook. Her brow furrowed as she tried to block out Draco’s voice and focus on homework. The expression of concentration on Cori's face morphed into an irritated scowl as Draco's calls grew noisier with each proclamation. 

“Badges! Get your badges, if you haven’t already!” he shouted gaily. His hand plunged repeatedly into the bag at his hip. Draco passed the contents to his cronies, delegating the task of distribution to everyone but himself. “Supplies are limited, so don’t miss out!”

Judging from the metallic clinking that reached Cori’s ears every time Draco rifled past his books, this was a bold-faced lie. He had enough to adorn all of Slytherin house and then some, from the sound of it. The braggart merely wanted to create a false impression of high demand. 

Crabbe shuffled across the floor with several badges clenched in his sweaty hands. He came to a halt in front of Cori and fanned out his fingers, waiting for her to take one. 

“No, thanks,” she said tersely without making eye contact. 

Crabbe blinked at her in befuddlement. He nudged a single badge over his skin with a short and jagged fingernail. His arm extended farther, entering Cori’s field of vision. It was as if Crabbe thought forcing her to get a closer look at his offering would change her mind. Cori tucked two fingers into the Potions book to mark her page and finally looked up at him. Her lips formed a flat line.

“Yes, I saw it perfectly well from across the room, which I’m sure was the point of its design,” she acknowledged. “Still don’t want one, you semi-sentient boulder. Move along.”

“What’s this, then?” a second voice interrupted. Draco.

Cori let out a beleaguered sigh. She turned her still very visibly perturbed face to him. 

“Go on, Selwyn,” Draco goaded with what he must have assumed to be a charming smile. “They’re two for one, really. The message changes, see?” 

The pad of his forefinger covered the upper half of the badge, which read SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY. All the letters of the first slogan swirled and changed before turning green to spell: POTTER STINKS.

Cori’s eyebrows lifted. “You wasted that much time on little button things for other houses?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Draco’s face. He plucked the badge off Crabbe’s hand and pinched the pin between two fingers. 

“It’s not a waste,” he argued. “It’s taking Potter down a peg, which still leaves his opinion of himself about fifty notches above where it ought to be.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about having an excess of self-confidence,” Cori remarked dryly. “Half your badge might do that, but the other half cheers on Cedric. He’s a Hufflepuff. Harry’s a Gryffindor. Why mention either by name if they aren’t Slytherins like us? It could just say something about Hogwarts in general.”

“Because it’s important everyone sees that nobody wanted Potter representing us. His trick to get attention backfired. Everyone hates him now.” Draco cast a look behind him at his friends. Several murmured in agreement or nodded their assent. 

“And yet I don’t see anyone else making merchandise to say so.” Cori set aside her book and sat up straighter, resigned to the oncoming argument. She squared her shoulders and draped her open hands across the arms of the chair.  

“I expect they would’ve, but I beat them to it. Anything after this would look like a pathetic knockoff.” Draco bounced the heel of his hand, causing the badge to flip midair and catch the light. He caught it and held the emblem out to Cori as Crabbe had done. “Take the damn badge. You’ll be the only one here without one, elsewise, and you wouldn’t want people thinking you’re a Potter fan. You don’t support Potter do you, Selwyn?” His smile shifted into something more smug and jeering.

“I don’t give a good goddamn who got chosen, so long as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons get obliterated in the tasks. They’re the ones who really need to be taken down a peg or two, if you ask me. Put them on one of your buttons.” Cori reached as if she were going to pick up her textbook again but, predictably, Draco wasn’t finished yet. 

“Little Coriander Selwyn, waving a banner for half-blood Harry Potter.” Draco tsked. “What would Mummy and Daddy have to say about that?”

“I don’t know or particularly care. I’m not the one who keeps my parents as pen pals,” Cori retorted. She held an imaginary quill in the air and made strokes across an invisible piece of parchment. “Dear Mum, Second best at everything, as ever, but I made wearable circles with words on them and everyone thinks they’re brill! Love and Kisses, Draco. P.S., Please ask Father to stop sending back his envelopes unopened.”

Pansy swooped down and emitted a steady stream of scathing insults, but they were drowned out by Draco’s sharp reply.

“Careful, Selwyn, the last person who crossed me went to the hospital wing.”

Cori scoffed. “Granger? You can’t take credit for that one, Malfoy; the hex was meant for Potter!”

“Potter’s hex missed, too!” Pansy was quick to retort.

Draco jumped in immediately afterward. “Granger went from rabbit to walrus in ten seconds flat!” He and Pansy laughed. 

“And what difference does that make?” Cori overrode them both. “Why do you even know how long they were to begin with? Do you spend a lot of time staring at Hermione Granger’s mouth?”

Pansy looked as if she could breathe fire, but Cori noted with satisfaction that her eyes darted frantically to the boy at her side. Draco, for his part, had an unusual amount of color in his generally pale face. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Draco snarled. “Anyone who’s ever had a class with her knows what her teeth are like. They’re right in your face every time she speaks.”

“And she never shuts up!” Pansy added. 

“Right, sure.” Cori nodded slowly. She touched her fingers together in a steeple. “You know, Malfoy, if Granger bothers you in class so much, why don’t you just spend more time studying so you can answer faster? I’m sure everyone will be thankful for the peace and quiet while you have that pointy nose in a book.”

Pansy harrumphed. “What, like you?”

“And how do you stand up for Slytherin?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, one hand closing around the badge. “What would you suggest, exactly?”

“We’re the house known for our ambition! Let your actions speak for themselves. Tearing down the competition doesn’t raise you any higher, you fumbling git. Beating them at their own game is what makes sure you stay at the top. If you’ve got a problem with someone, you defeat them at what they do best and make sure there are witnesses.” Here, Cori mirrored Draco’s earlier smirk back at him and looked pointedly at the crowd of fellow Slytherins behind them. A look of dawning comprehension appeared behind his gray eyes. 

Draco’s jaw clenched. He cast the badge aside. It hit a nearby pillar with a quiet crack and clattered to the floor. 

“All right, Selwyn, since you’re so keen for a fight,” Draco growled through clenched teeth, “how about you and I settle this in a duel?”

Cori was on her feet, wand in hand and pointed just below his chin, before Draco had even twitched his fingers toward the pocket of his robes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you not mean now?” Cori asked innocently, although her wand remained exactly where it was. “I can give you a while to prepare, if you’d like. You can send your dear old mum a list of last wishes. Tell your dad how you’re about to get your ego blasted off and handed to you by a girl who’s eight inches shorter and a year your junior.”

For a moment, Draco tried to draw himself to his full height and sneer down his nose at her. Cori could see the calculations that must be taking place in his mind, realizing just how much judgment and criticism he would face if Cori were the victor. She could also tell how badly he wanted to inform her that his father would hear about this, but she had effectively denied him his most reliable threat. 

“This isn’t over, Selwyn,” he spat. “Watch your back.”

Cori snorted derisively. “I won’t need to. If Moody finds out you tried the coward’s way again, he’ll present you to me as a winter stole. Well, you and about two dozen of your white-haired polecat friends.”

She twitched her nose, imitating his unanticipated transformation into a ferret earlier that year. Draco was positively pink with fury.

“I’ll make sure you regret this,” he promised with a jab of his finger. 

Draco swept away in a rather clumsy swish of his cloak. He stalked off toward his dorm room with Pansy following as far as the magical separation security would allow. 

Cori picked up her book once more and settled comfortably back into her chair as she called after Draco:

“Be sure to send me an owl with the place and time!”

[tearingoutmythinninghair]

Stop shouting at the grey skies above and start worrying about the stinking mire below

Monday night’s demo at Downing Street has since been broadly labelled as ‘anti-Trump’. I am no Trump fan (although I can’t knock his stance on TTIP), but an awful lot of us were there to protest Theresa May’s unmandated obsequiousness to the Tangerine Nightmare. And it is frustrating that this critical narrative has been railroaded.

I’m not particularly representative of any group. I’m a mixed race child of immigrants, raised to be a half-arsed Muslim by another half-arsed Muslim, and a rabid Filipina Catholic (and I find myself strangely on Duterte’s side when it comes to that particular branch of Papists). I went to almost every type of school, bar borstal - and my dying brain cells have done me alright ever since. I am well aware I have a very niche perspective, but from this lonely spot, it seems we’ve all missed the point. Or rather, lots of the points. 

Turning the narrative of the demo into an ‘anti-Trump’ one plays straight into the hands of the Tories. It is the unelected* Theresa May whom we need to hold account - not only for her actions in America and in Turkey, but they’re a pretty good starting point. I imagine most of us protesting on Monday were UK voters, and we have limited opportunity - if any - to change the politics of the Trump administration, and we don’t even have that if we have a Prime Minister who wilfully kneels before Zod.

*I’ll pop my asterisk here: yes, I know Gordon Brown was also unelected, but I was all for a general election at the time, and I fully believe that the lack of an election shuffled us closer to the demise of the Labour Party. Tragically I can’t see it doing the same for the Tories.

We also appear to have missed the point that Theresa May stands for very little. There’s no doubt she is a competent and professional politician - but what does she actually believe in? Her most famous actions at the Home Office were around immigration - despite her ‘Go Home’ vans, net immigration rose and rose during her tenure. Shame, eh? She’s changed her position on a wide raft of policy - sometimes for the better, such as on gay rights. Technically, she’s a classic ‘flipflopper’ - remember those? But her silence during the referendum, then pushing for a hard Brexit, while claiming to be a ‘one-nation Conservative’ (whatever the fuck that means) all belie her lack of conviction in anything other than retaining power.

This makes holding her to account an even more slippery task - but at the very least you’d hope she’d stand for basic human decency and the rule of law. I do not care if she uttered the meaningless words ‘special relationship’, ‘we’ll whack the NHS in when no-one’s looking’, or even if she channelled George Michael and whispered ‘put your tiny hand in mine’. But I do care that she did not confront Trump on the 6000 illegal homes Israel has started building on Palestinian land, which appears to have his (currently) tacit support. I do care that she saw fit to invite him to the UK on a State visit just days into his reign of terror. I am furious that she was told about the immigration suspension and did not speak out. And I laugh bitterly at the token nod to the upholding of human rights in Turkey as she grabbed her fistful of cash from Erdogan for more fighter jets.

We’re doing ourselves a bit of an injustice too by blurring that Brexit-Trump line. The phenomena of Brexit and of Trump are not same-same, however much you want to pop them into a sentence which ends with ‘rise of populism’ (which in itself also misses the point). The UK and the US are not same-same - partly because there are fundamental rights in the UK which were hard won, which we would never be prepared to ignore, and which are alien to the US: free healthcare, a national minimum wage, paid (or in fact any) maternity leave - even child labour laws. Importantly, our language is not same-same - but we’re happily, sloppily using the word ‘liberal’ when what it is taken to mean in the US is a bit different to the UK. And I fear we’re doing to the detriment of the word ‘socialist’.

[A boring aside here on how US-UK is at even the dullest levels not same-same: if you’re one of those people who circulates horror stories like ‘I USED TO EAT MUESLI ALL THE TIME UNTIL I FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS HORRIFYING INGREDIENT!’ - fucking work out which country it’s from. The UK - currently - has generally higher food standards and many of the nasties in US foods are banned. Well, they are until Brexit, because they’re EU standards. MegaLOLZ.]

Much as we want to stand up to what looks and smells an awful lot like fascism, changing the politics of the US administration is the right of the American people - not ours. Solidarity is obviously important - but if our Prime Minister is not yet prepared to stand up to Trump, then it is all the more important any actions taken in solidarity are targeted, and coherent. Again, bear in mind my tiny little perspective: I was genuinely surprised by the apparent need for an explanation of Trump’s tactics - illustrated by the heavy sharing on social media of this Medium article and this post by American academic Heather Richardson - did people really not see this coming? Shock tactics, divide and conquer - come on everyone, work it out. Of COURSE they will flood the political arena with heinous acts - and OF COURSE it will work because the opposition is in such disarray. (A nod to my Polish friends here, who were circulating these wise words days ago.)

There are concerted and noble efforts to defeat the terrifying Trump Cabinet and justice appointments - efforts in which US citizens can participate by calling their representatives to protest. The overwhelming response of lawyers when asked to volunteer to support refugees arriving at US airports was heartening and impressive. Veterans coming out en masse to support the former translators from Iraq and Afghanistan who were promised visas for the risks they were taking with their lives. The daily protests at the airports. The Women’s March.

Yet it still feels the US opposition IS in disarray - regardless of the huge (yuge?) surge in demonstrations, protests and activism. It is not clear who to look to, nobody is leading the way in terms of organising which battles should be fought or how, and the messaging (as perceived by me, from this side of the ocean) is a clusterfuck. (I’ve watched a couple of videos of demonstrators welcoming refugees at US airports - am I the only person who felt a bit grubby upon hearing the familiarly, deafeningly aggressive “USA! USA!” chants?)

But, er, doesn’t this sound familiar..? 

WE are in disarray - and we have been for much longer than the US has. But it’s all a bit more fun to slap a comedy Trump slogan on a banner and have a bit of a shout at Downing Street than it is to rock up to a 2-hour Labour (or other) Party constituency meeting, isn’t it? (Not a criticism - guilty as charged.) Popping yer name on the ‘open letter to oppose Trump’ only takes 20 seconds compared to rummaging around on the internet to work out how to send an email to your MP. (And there will be no link from me to this shameless data grab which has zero advocacy merit.)

Unfortunately for us, we don’t even have that tiny drop of hope that someone even vaguely as charismatic as Barack Obama might come riding in to bring the opposition to its senses with a brief yet considered Tweet. (Tony Blair rode in a while back, although I can only imagine he was greeted by a ring of the doorbell and a mysteriously flaming brown bag on his doorstep.) 

What we have is an all-powerful Tory party, with a Prime Minister who stands for little, and an opposition party that has torn itself apart - making it stand for little. We have 56 SNP MPs who will, for at least the next election, stop the opposition party having any chance of gaining serious ground (I know it’s only 9%, but all it takes is 1 more seat to have a majority, right?!). We have an angry electorate - on all sides - although May seems to be gaining ground with Brexit voters - on most sides. (I mean, probably not in Scotland.) And in case you missed it, we have a forthcoming boundary shake-up which will no doubt stick the boot into any resurgence of a vaguely socialist party or - gasp - coalition. NB I’m all for a new, progressive paradigm in UK government - but I’m not here to wang on about that.

So what am I wanging on about? Hmmm.

I once, briefly, joined a group on Facebook called ‘If David Cameron wants change, give him 50p and tell him to fuck off!’ Now the boot is on the other foot, 50p - or, maybe, signing a petition devoid of political merit - is probably not going to cut it.

If we want change in the UK, or anywhere else in the world, we have to keep protesting - but those protests must be directed at effecting change in the UK, whether that is to change the government’s policies or diplomacy with the US, or to change other UK policies - on immigration, public services, refugees - whatever. It’s also not enough to shout - we have to write. I am sloppy at this too, but we need to keep the pressure up on our representatives - ask them questions, make them ask questions in the House, and make them respond to you. Importantly for the socialists, you do not have to be a member of a political party to ask your MP how they plan to work with the other parties to defeat the Tories come the next election. (And to make it easier, here is a link which enables you to find and write to councillors, MPs, MEPs etc.: https://www.writetothem.com/.)

Solidarity can make a difference, but when you’re dealing with a Head of State who has the same attitude to non-Americans as Honey Badger does to, well, everything, it is really only our government which can try to hold Trump - and other world leaders - to account. We still have the power to force this kind of change in attitude from our government, and we have to use it.