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nightshadcs · 4 years

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･ﾟﾟ･｡ ( camila mendes, cis female, she/her ) — 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 EMMA VANITY, the TENTH year SLYTHERIN student ! i hear that the TWENTY year old is known to be ADVENTUROUS and CHARISMATIC and also very HEDONISTIC and OVERINDULGED. however, if you ask me, the fact that they are a PUREBLOOD ( ¼TH VEELA ) and leaning towards the side of the NEUTRAL is a lot more telling.

h-hewwo ?? this is admin mar, bringing you my second child *queue savage by megan thee stallion* classy, boujee, ratched: emma vanity. once again, i am still a Hot Mess, so this is also going to be a whole ass journey to write out. many apologies!

trigger warnings for: drug use, fertility issues, alcohol use.

i. basics —

name. emma victoria vanity.

nee. emmanuella vittoria vanidad.

nickname. ems, em.

age. twenty years old.

gender & pronouns. cis female, she/her.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

ii. personality —

to put it simply, emma vanity is the perfect cliché of the rich kid starving for their parents’ attention, so they act out to get it. she’s been spoiled pretty much her whole life, but everything has been handed to her, so she gets bored quite easily. she’s incredibly social, enjoys a good party, and frequently gets fucked up during them. though she curses like a sailor, she can be quite charming at times.

getting into trouble is emma’s second favorite hobby. the first is quidditch, and she’s very intense about the sport, like beat your ass serious. very much wants to become a professional player. though she lives a life of hedonism, this is pretty much the only thing she’s ever been really serious about. being spoiled pretty much her entire life, it’s no surprise she can act like a brat when she doesn’t get what she wants.

iii. background —

born in a brazilian pureblood dynasty, the vanity’s only made their move to the united kingdom through emma’s father. he was interested in the promise the death eaters held, and decided to move his family to a new country in the hopes it would raise their family’s status to new heights. his wife, unbeknownst to anyone, really held the leash. a half-veela, she’d charmed & manipulated her husband into doing her bidding.

emma was, and would always be, an only child. her parents’ fertility issues making sure of that. this meant her family put all their focus on her, though — and for the first few years of her life, she was stuck in an endless loop of etiquette, tutors, and whatever event her parents deemed fit to attend.

the first time emma disobeyed her parents was coincidentally also what changed her life. she’d stolen a broom out of the staff closet and taken it for a ride on the grounds of their estate, fell on her ass a few times, but also fell in love with flying. her parents eventually caught her, and deemed it very unladylike for their little girl to be zooming through the air like that, and therefore forbade it. of course, this caused her to sneak around and keep flying, until they finally decided that they could stomach it for the time being, as long as it remained just a whim.

it was not, however, just a whim. first year at hogwarts, emma basically raced towards the slytherin quidditch tryouts, until they laughed her off the pitch without letting her try out. with no quidditch and having covered most of the classes in her tutoring, this was the first time emma got bored — and the school would learn to fear that mood soon enough.

emma vanity became the bane of her teacher’s existence, even in first year. she started fights, pulled pranks, and attended whatever party the older years were throwing ( as soon as they saw her antics, they decided to adopt her for entertainment ). she grew even worse, having her first drink half-way through the year, and her first kiss only a few hours after. when she returned for the second year, and they finally let her fly for the team, her popularity only skyrocketed. the second year chaser who broke someone’s nose on the pitch. the little slytherin girl who caused a fight between the puffs and the gryffindors. the twelve year old who could keep up drinking with much older.

over the years, emma has only gotten worse. she corrupted younger students, threw massive parties, slept with whoever she could get her hands on. the one thing keeping her sane is quidditch. her parents are itching for her to stop playing and become a proper pureblood lady, but all she wants is a professional career — and she’ll do absolutely anything to get it.

#fd.intro #* ☾ ─── 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐏 » about.

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imhereforbvcky · 5 years

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Wide Awake

Summary: When you get yourself into trouble with the law, you call on an ex-something for help. (Tony x reader)

Prompt/Request: “I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.”

Warnings: None! Just swearing and shenanigans

Word Count: 2118

Author’s Note: Okay this is my first attempt at Tony for more than a scene. He is difficult to write. So complex and it’s difficult to maintain that much sass. I’m not convinced I got it right, but here we are. Feedback and constructive criticism welcome.

“Uh hi Tony,” you stammered into the recording, holding the heavy plastic phone to your ear. What year was it, anyway? Why was this phone so damn ancient? “It’s me. I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.” The MP at the door scowled at you and you shifted on your chair. The metal scraped across the concrete floor. “Actually that’s not true. I could really use your help.”

You hung up when the recording informed you the message would be delivered. The MP stepped forward and took the phone.

“Hey! Where are you taking that?! He’ll call back!”

The man in full military fatigues turned back with a sigh. You wondered if anyone could be more frustrated with their job. It made you a little pleased. If you had to be dragged in here to this intentionally uncomfortable rat cage of a room, your captors could be a little uncomfortable too.

“We don’t allow treason suspects unrestricted phone access.”

You rolled your eyes. “Light treason. It was light! And accidental!”

He didn’t react in the slightest as he turned with the phone under his arm and headed back out the heavy steel door. Your head fell back between your shoulders when you heard the low clank of the lock.

It was no secret that Tony had an inexorably active mind. No one would be surprised to find him up at odd hours tinkering in his lab. He had a whole floor for it.

Nowadays though, it wasn’t curiosity that kept him up, kept him working. Tony carried more than his fair share of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. He’d come a long way toward channeling them into more constructive directions, and this – the late night tinkering – was one of them.

Instead of a drink to blur the pain or a drug to ease his mind, he focused on something else. But it wasn’t just that his mind was engaged. There was something comforting and familiar about working with his hands. It gave him control in a way nothing else could.

Sometimes his mind was a runaway train. But here, in the lab, with his hands on steel and iron, surrounded by the things he himself had created, he could slow it all down.

No one would have been surprised to find him in the lab at 1:30 in the morning. But not everyone knew him well enough to recognize it as his own brand of therapy. Most people didn’t bother to. The perils of celebrity.

“A call for you, sir,” FRIDAY’s soft accent called through the blaring music of the lab.

Tony frowned. His attention hardly shifted from the delicately balanced wiring he held against the glowing soldering iron with long foceps. FRIDAY allowed only a very small handful of callers through when he was in the lab, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to even that short list just now.

“Busy,” he ordered, tongue poking out involuntarily as he concentrated on the precarious task.

“It’s collect, sir. Department of Homeland Security.”

“Then I’m very busy.”

The AI played the recorded message and Tony froze. It had been years since he’d heard that voice. Another lifetime. The soldering iron slowly sank to the lead table and his eyes drifted to the dark emptiness ahead of him through the floor to ceiling windows.

It had been hours. Hours on hours. Time was meaningless to you, generally. You were smart and quick but scattered. Your conscious unfurled like a tangle of Christmas lights. Just when you think you’re on the right track it takes a sharp angle and gets caught in a knot, a new puzzle, a new challenge. You were always losing track of time.

But here, in this gray room with it’s steel grey table and steel grey chairs and black Styrofoam ceiling, time seemed to unravel entirely. With no external stimulation you drifted down the web until you couldn’t follow the tangle any further. The energy itched beneath your skin until you jumped up from the seat and paced. Then you stretched. Then you lay on the floor and thought some more.

It had been years since your last contact with Tony Stark. But you knew he’d be there when you really needed him. You tried to convince yourself that was true as the time passed in its slow winding way.

Finally, when it seemed you��d been there so long you’d half convinced yourself you could dissolve your own atoms and melt into the floor at any moment… The clatter of the lock turning in the empty room rang as loud as a freight train.

The MP stood at the door, the same bored expression, but this time, he stood to the side, holding it open.

“Morning, Nurse Ratched!” you called, letting your head fall back to the floor after catching a glimpse of his rolling eyes.

“Now that’s just rude.”

Your eyes snapped open, and a grin dragged across your lips at the sound of his voice.

“I have 3 PhDs,” Tony frowned, gliding into the room. “That’s Dr. Ratched to you.”

“No,” you drew out the word as you curled to your feet. “You, darling, are my knight in red shining armor!”

He didn’t speak, but the smile on his lips drew out the series of wrinkles at his eyes and you knew you’d called the right person. Rolling his eyes playfully, he jerked his head toward the open door, beckoning you to get moving.

You did, but not before stopping to throw your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Sweet and spicy cologne tickled your nose, an expensive cocktail, no doubt.

“It’s good to see you, Tony.”

His arm curled around your back and you felt the stubble from his jaw scratch at your shoulder as he pressed in close.

“It’s been a while.” The whisper of his breath tickled your skin and set a shiver prickling up your spine.

“You know these aren’t private rooms,” the MP deadpanned.

The snicker had burst past your lips before you could stop it.

“Who hurt you, Ratched? Why does happiness make you so angry?” So relieved to be free, and to see Tony, your stupid web of a brain, had charged full steam ahead.

As you reached to put a hand on the MP’s elbow, all mock sympathy and snark, Tony snapped out to pull you back with a firm grip on your wrist. The scowl from the officer was enough to have you biting back another giggle.

“Okay, no touching the Military Police,” Tony, instructed, rushing you through the door as another officer led the way out of the tunnel of hallways. “Let’s get you out of here without any new charges.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he teased under his breath. He gave you a familiar squeeze as he guided you into the elevator with an arm still securely around your waist.

“For the record,” you argued, as was your wont. “I took myself… well not here. Where is here, anyway?”

“Disneyworld.”

You looked up at him with a frown and a sigh but he barely cracked even a hint of a smile.

“The Pentagon!” he finally shouted. “How in the hell did you land yourself on the brink of actual oblivion in the basement of the fucking Pentagon?!”

“Okay, relax. It was an ex—“

“If you say ‘It was an experiment,’ I will lock you up myself. Are you insane?” His warm brown eyes had turned hard and angry as they bore into you.

By now you’d left the elevator and you’d practically jogged to the front desk to keep up with his quick pace. His questioning stare never left you as he slammed his visitor badge down onto the counter and they handed you a plastic bag with your belongings.

“Um okay how about it was a… uh… test, then?”

“Oh for the love of…” He rolled his eyes and turned away from you briefly. “You know they could have killed you on sight, right? Like a carnival shooting game. The one with the ducks? What is that called. The one…--”

“Ducks? I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grinned up at him as you leaned into the heavy door and spun out into the warm summer air. The humid night closed around you like a comforting embrace compared to the icy bite of the rigid air conditioned building you’d just fled.

“Yeah, yeah, the one where you were a sitting duck, and they could have legally shot you! in the head!”

“Well that would have been an extremely rude way to greet a guest.”

“You could have been killed!” he shouted. Somehow his hands were around yours and he had pulled you close, eyes dancing back and forth over face, searching for you to recognize how serious this was. “You broke into the White House! They were gonna bury you in some basement cell until you were forgotten.”

“You worry too much, you know that?”

He blinked at you, frustrated, and afraid, and for once in his life, out of words.

This was always how your arguments progressed. There was nothing serious enough for you where Tony was all in, stakes so high he might snap.

You were like that one perfect summer: a light breath and a rash decision, laughter and risks. An exciting toy others always seemed to want to hold in their hands but not to keep. A pleasure but a liability.

When you met him, Tony had seemed a match for your spontaneity. But in the end, he worried. Too much, and constantly. He couldn’t stand to watch the destruction of your fire and you wouldn’t let yourself be dimmed.

“I… nobody’s ever accused me of that particular crime.”

“That’s because you don’t let people see you,” you offered a sad smile and stepped closer, closing the distance, the miles, the years that had separated you all this time. “But I still do.” Your forehead pressed to his and your eyes remained locked on his, warm and open and so wonderfully, comfortingly, familiar.

He sighed, relenting. Letting the argument go for now. There was no other way; there never was with you two.

A slow smirk pulled at your lips when he lifted his gaze back to your face.

“You wanna see how I did it?”

“No.” He was firm and he shook his head, moving yours with it, foreheads still pressed together. “Absolutely not.”

“Yeah you do,” you laughed, trying to nod against his rhythm.

“No!” he laughed but then growled your name as he dragged you down the stairs of the building by the elbow. Like you were kids, like he was scolding you for sneaking into the lab at MIT again. Like you were young and free, pushing boundaries and chasing dreams. Somewhere along the way, though he’d found his dreams and caught them.

You dug through the plastic bag, searching for the small piece of technology that had brought you here.

“You can’t,” he sighed, holding the car door open for you. “Terms of your release. A very strongly worded Cease And Desist.”

Your eyes went wide and you took one last look inside the bag.

“They took it.” The defeat in your voice was palpable.

“I’m sorry,” and he was. He knew too well what it was like to have your work seized and used in ways you would never know, intend, or approve. “It was the only way to guarantee your release.”

It ached like a part of your chest had been taken. Your work was your heart. It gave you purpose and direction and it was gone.

“You know you can’t just teleport inside the President’s bedroom,” he soothed, sweeping gentle hands over your arms and pulled you close. Tony gave the best hugs.

“Gross,” you mumbled against his chest, face scrunched into a grimace. “That’s the last place I want to be.”

“Where do you want to be?” he asked, stroking a hand over your hair. “Name it and we’ll go.”

You sighed and lifted your face, resting your chin on his chest. The cold metal of the arc reactor made you smile. Tony’s work would never be separated from him, he’d made sure of that. At least some of the good ones win.

“Cheeseburger,” you moaned. “I need a cheeseburger.”

A laugh rippled through his chest and shook your body. The sound was high and true; a real, genuine giggle. It pulled a grin to your lips.

He tipped his head down and kissed the tip of your nose. “Okay. I know a place.”

Will reblog with tags shortly

#tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony fanfic #tony imagine #tony stark fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic

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kyemeruth · 4 years

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Proof of life

Two weeks now without Twitter, so I felt like I was out of the news-chismis loop. I sometimes feel the itch to re-download the app, but so far, our conscience is winning. I’m turning either to games or googling or online shopping to steer clear from it. I love Twitter, but most of the time, the environment’s toxic. So I pushed myself to take a one-month hiatus for the meantime. It also gives me space for endeavors I need 100% focus. You see, I’ve been using Twitter as an escape or my go-to app whenever I’m bored. I’m updated, but I’ve noticed I’m more irritable about the little things and my focus is short-lived. Instagram, I’ve already managed to rarely open it because there’s no photo to curate. Hahaha! I tried to document my quarantine life, at least for the hard lockdown period. It was good, but it was also tedious. Twitter is like a drug really, so I had to detox. Messenger is turning out to be one, but because most work concerns are easily sent there, I had to stay. Hayy. Anyway, connectivity is inevitable; we need to really discipline our screentime. Here’s to hoping I can wean away from Twitter. As an accompaniment, I’m reading a Bible plan on reclaiming our relationship with social media.

***

I also haven’t written much here. Regularly liking some tumblr posts, though. Three things I am grateful for this quarter, and also hopeful for the coming last quarter of 2020. One, I happily presented an updated research paper on disinformation trends in Southeast Asia. This time, I focused on assessing ASEAN’s approach and then also attempting to flesh out perspectives towards decoloniality. It was a difficult undertaking, especially because disinformation is a global problem so how can it be decolonized, and should it be a concept on decolonization to begin with. Apparently, it is. The way we view media here in the region is quite different from that of the Euro-American context. Could it be because they are “steeped” in a more liberal set-up or because media plays a larger role in their societies? Not necessarily. Initially, I see a different socio-cultural dynamic here in our region when it comes to media and the public. We’re a region that is more dependent on personal networks, and so we also get our news / information from our family, friends, and those close to us. Media amplifies news, but we’re generally distrustful of them. It may also stem from our mentality even before that media could be coopted by the powerful, by the colonizer, and so we’re wary of whatever they say. Our wariness and dependence on personal networks are both boon and bane to how we deal with disinformation. On one hand, we could be critical of whatever information’s provided; but on the other, we could be very trustful of our personal networks that we forget to validate these info. Another aspect we could look into is the political economy where disinformation thrives. There’s a lot of incentives and leeway for disinfo to flourish-- it’s a lucrative economic opportunity, the regulations are vague so one can play around it. Finally, the way we define fake news could also be a decolonial question. This I would have to further study. Anyway, if you want to listen to my ramblings, you could watch our panel here. We’re Team PUP hahaha! So happy to do this with good friends in our university.

***

The second thing I’m grateful for is the opportunity to join this year’s Asian Ecumenical Institute. It’s a month-long course / workshop on the significance of ecumenism and its contribution to community-building. Received the good news this morning. Hahaha! My father forwarded the invite and encouraged me to join. At first, I was hesitant because of the length of the workshop but also because I am not particularly sure I’d enjoy the topics. I’m still not sure if I’d enjoy it but I think I am interested with how the discussions would play out. Recently, I’ve been praying about God’s calling. Ecumenism and the nexus between secular politics and Biblical foundations to it has become increasingly interesting for me; it really quirks a lot of my curiousities. So there, I’m trying it out. If it weren’t for the pandemic, it would have been held in Bangkok. That would have been good. But if it weren’t for the pandemic too, I may not really be able to participate as I’d be forced to take a month-long leave at work, in the middle of the semester.

The time not spent lounging in my office desk has been redirected to online MOOCs. Our previous director encouraged us to join free short courses on journalism and then the other one was on data ethics. I completed both, which is also good for office productivity targets because the MOOCs have equivalent hours of training. Hahaha! More importantly, I enjoyed answering the quizzes and reading the free materials given to us. They’re mostly investigative pieces, well-written blogs, and some online lecture transcripts. But I still wouldn’t have actively sought those out were it not for these courses. The video lectures were also insightful-- from invited speakers to the actual lecturers, I really learned a lot. It also gave me ideas on how to set up asynchronous online classes during the summer term and for the coming first semester. So, time well spent, I think.

***

The last thing I’m looking forward would be the IELTS exam I’m taking by the end of this month. Really nervous and still not fully ready, but I’m reviewing the structure of the exam so I won’t panic on the day itself. Days, actually. Speaking test comes first on Friday, then the rest on a Saturday. To be fair, it is part of my 2020 list; I’m just moving it to a later date (first March, then June, then end of the year nalang) because I’m chicken but also because the exam’s quite expensive. I planned on taking time to prepare but as it would turn out, critical junctures push us to take leaps of faith. Here’s one of those moments. Hahaha! I have one more week for intensive study, praying for this one and working it out too.

***

In the chiller side of life, we’re done with AppleTV’s Little Voice! I love the soundtrack. It has been on repeat for 2 weeks now. The story is average, but this is Sara Bareilles’ material so we’re supporting this one. Hahaha! Also, I love Louis’ character and his friends. Done also with Dark S02. S01 is a tangled web; I was hoping S02 would untangle some of it, but it made it more complicated. S03′s the last so I hope I’d understand it much better. I’m still thinking if I’d watch Sarah Paulson’s Ratched, but looking forward to the star-studded Enola Holmes film. We’re halfway through S02 of k-drama Stranger (Secret Forest). The story took some time to build up; S01 did a much better job on that. Bae Doona is such an adorable person. I would like her to be my ate or tita. Hahaha! We’re also making good progress with our online Korean classes. I hope to practice this with Tita Paulie soon. :D

***

There. I’m still alive, still breathing. Ocassional bursts of anxiety fill some of my nights, but with God’s grace, we’re pushing through.

#life update

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