Welcome to my blog! Here are some quick facts about me.
This blog is 18+. That means if you're a minor, please leave. Anyone aged 18 and up who is not rude or a bot may enjoy their stay here.
My pronouns are she/her.
I'm pansexual.
My zodiac sign is Pisces♓️
I am a die-hard Swiftie<333 (if you wanna talk to me abt her my asks are always open)
My fandoms are: MCU, HP, PJO, Hunger Games, The Lunar Chronicles, Maze Runner (i'm still reading the second book so no spoilers please!), and The Inheritance Cycle.
This is the first time i've posted art in like. Two years, maybe more, and its only like. The second/third time I have EVER posted art to tumblr... Hi my names Vee im actually studying visual arts NOT writing HAHHGD
This is Zuko, designed specifically for the AU im writing over on ao3 called No thing defines a man like love WHICH HAS A NEW CHAPTER OUT WOWIE WHAT!?>!??!! (I just went to link it and then I realised that the chapter isnt out yet bc I need to post this so I can put it in the chapter oh god I swear I'll update this with the links hjdhjfjhds)
( I just realised i should just put the normnal link for the fic in not. The most recent chapter. Um. here https://archiveofourown.org/works/55992616/chapters/142200913 )
So!! yes! Zuko! Um. I put a lot of thought into this design, but now im actually here I have. No clue what to say!
The blue spirit mask is slightly altered, little additions such as a second set of protruding canines on the bottom and water tribe style carvings along the horns + teeth! This is a nod to Zukos mum, I like the idea of her performing and then local performances of shows having different interpretations of the Blue Spirit! hers had the teeth, I also have in the fic a few other details I imagine were more unique to Zukos design. The carving is done by a crew member, Kovak, as a way of tying Zuko in more with the Water Tribe. Theres also some dangly leather bc I think its cute and its my Zuko design. So.
The details of his canon timeline design will become fully explained within the next few chapters!! U will get to see the changes develop : D
Um. Oh god I had so much more to say about it but now im blanking i get so nervous posting my art... if u have any questions i suppose pls ask... I am very proud of this. Uh. YEAH!
Also pls dont repost this work anywhere I'll be very upset if u do....
♪ Prompt | Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin | "But she'll take away your pain."
♪ Summary | Sent to spy on The Asset in Romania, you bite off more than you can chew.
♪ Warnings + Tags | Brief mention of kidnapping + torture by HYDRA, reader gets held at gunpoint
♪ Phoenix Chirps | This 300 word max is really messing with me. The original text was 800 words, and upon condensing it, I feel like it lost its charm 😭 maybe there's an extended play in this one's future
♪ Word Count | 300
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The nickname 'The Fixer' had followed you long before you had fallen into the clutches of HYDRA. Known by many as someone who handled problems by slipping in and out of sticky situations undetected, you were kidnapped and forced to undergo treatment to do their bidding.
Whenever the organization needed you, you were brought out of cryofreeze, and sent to fix whatever had been broken. And right now, that meant returning The Asset who had been lucky enough to escape.
He wasn't easy to track. A frustrating round of dead ends later, and you found him buying…plums of all things. In a little stall in Bucharest. The weather far too warm for the layers of clothes he wore, right down to the leather gloves that you knew concealed a metal arm that could crush you in half without a second thought.
Once you laid eyes on him, where the Winter Soldier went, you followed.
Empathy began to claw at your chest when you saw his living situation. A small rundown apartment with barely a mattress, running water, or heat. Sure it wasn't luxurious by any means, but it was better than where he had come from at least. And the longer you stayed away from your own handlers, the more you wanted a life…like this. Without having to do anyone's bidding.
"Soldat," you whispered, finally revealing yourself from the shadows after weeks of staying hidden.
The Asset moved swiftly, drawing a gun, and aiming right for your chest. "Who sent you?" his voice carried none of the confidence you would've expected. Instead, he seemed…scared.
"You know who sent me," you answered gently, not even flinching away from the loaded weapon. "But if you let me help you, I think I can take away both of our pain."
♪ Prompt | Praying - Kesha | “And you said that I was done.”
♪ Summary | In the aftermath of your mistake, you aren't sure how much longer you can go on like this. Follow up to Pan Fried.
♪ Warnings + Tags | Talk of captivity, Steve Kemp is really charming, Stockholm Syndrome has completely kicked in, 'sweets' as a pet name, no use of y/n, slight allusion to smut if you use your imagination and squint at your screen just right
♪ Phoenix Chirps | When they said do ALL the prompts to get a badge, I took that literally. So I'll be doing the swap outs on random days when the inspiration strikes. I love this pairing down bad your honor. So enjoy some more of them <3
♪ Word Count | 300
| Masterlist ⏯ Event Masterlist |
The click of the door being unlocked had your ears immediately perking, and raising your hopes. You knew you had messed up that last task he gave you, but…he had said he was proud of you. So when you were shown back to your cell instead of his bedroom as you were promised, it really wore down your already dwindling confidence.
"Hey, sweets, how are ya?" Steve was gentle as ever, walking with light footsteps and carrying a plastic tray that held your dinner. He knelt in front of your position on the small mattress he was kind enough to give you, a sympathetic smile and what you interpreted as genuine kindness in his eyes.
You picked at a thread absently, the metal of your cuffs clinking softly. "I'm okay…just didn't expect to be in here again. You said that I was done."
A crease formed between his brows, his fingers coming up to brush a stand of hair back from your face. "I know, I know I said that," he agreed. "But you did mess up a bit didn't you?"
Tipping your head down to avoid his scrutinizing gaze did nothing when two of his fingers just forced your eyes back to meet his. "Sorry," you whispered.
The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You'll get another chance, alright?"
Nodding your thanks, your bottom lip drew between your teeth just barely, the tension mounting in the small room as Steve leaned closer. His thumb gently freed the flesh, the warmth of him already sending small shockwaves of heat through your body.
"You know why I keep you around?" he whispered, lips connecting with the corner of your mouth, tongue lightly grazing your skin. "Because you taste so sweet."
♪ Prompt | Mack the Knife by Bobby Darin | Scarlet billows start to spread.
♪ Summary | Maybe...grabbing a cast iron skillet wasn't the best idea...
♪ Warnings + Tags | Mature fic warning!!! Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, blood mention, death briefly mentioned, talks of cannibalism
♪ Phoenix Chirps | Please heed the warnings! This one's a tad dark. Steve Kemp, where do I begin? I know it makes me an awful person, but I would've gladly adopted to his lifestyle...also three days of staying UNDER the word limit. Let us rejoice!
♪ Word Count | 300
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This was supposed to be easy. Or at least a way to prove that you no longer needed to be kept in a cell like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
The parameters Steve Kemp had set forth were two fold. One, find a victim. Two, bring her to him. As a reward, your shackles would be loosened - both physically and mentally.
Maybe you shouldn't have let Stockholm Syndrome take over. But you knew that the man that courted you for months and slept in your bed before he kidnapped you to upstate New York was still in there. And if by bringing him a victim you would be able to live in domestic bliss? Well, there was shockingly little that would stand in your way.
"Steve, I - I fucked up," your voice trembled, watching scarlet billows start to spread onto the stark white tiles. That was going to be a bitch to clean. Your weapon of choice, a cast iron skillet, clattered to the floor as the events of what transpired caught up to you.
Okay, maybe a skillet shouldn't have been the first thing to reach your grasp, but you were desperate. Days of trying to convince your new 'friend' to take a trip with you was making you grow impatient. And with Steve dangling the promise like a carrot, you…snapped. In a panic, you called the only person you could for help.
A deep sigh sounded on the other end of the line. "Was she scared when you hit her?"
"No…no, she didn't even know it was coming."
A hum of approval had your heart leaping. Maybe you hadn't fucked up too terribly. "Then the meat is still salvageable. I'll be there soon to help you, sweets. I'm so proud of you for doing what I asked."
The Metros absolutely crush Buffalo, and Shane's phone get's broken in the post-game locker room celebration chaos.
He is Freaking Out bc he doesn't actually know what Ilya's phone number is. His SIM card got crushed underneath a pair skates, so there's no recovering "Lily's" contact card.
On top of that, his old Ottowa number won't transfer to his Montreal provider. So "Lily's" texts will now be delivered into the ether. Or to some random person's phone if his old Ottowa number gets given out again.
Ilya of course has literally no idea this has happened and is sending his usual flirtatious messages to...silence. No response. He's not even getting left on read. Because the messages aren't even getting read. He goes through the five stages of grief. Fuck Shane Hollander, he doesn't need this shit. They're supposed to play against each other Tomorrow for fucks sake. His resolve lasts for about....two hours? And then he's on social media. What's this fucking asshole up to that he can't even read Ilya's texts?
He pulls up the first interview, the one right after Buffalo. Shane looks....really stressed out. Which is confusing given that they've just won.
"Yes of course I am super happy to win. Unfortunately the locker room celebration did get a little out of hand though."
He holds up his mangled phone.
"So if you're trying to contact me, sorry about that!"
He's blushing and smiling and seems so flustered and embarrassed. He's looking at a camera, millions of people can hear him, but he's speaking directly to Ilya. Ilya's face breaks out into his "you have a stylist?" smile. He feels....a little embarrassed about his crashout, but also super fucking relieved. Ilya swipes through a couple more videos and watches the most recent interview.
"We are absolutely looking forward to facing off against the Raiders. Also I brought this up last time but, turns out I can't keep my old phone number. So if you're texting me and I'm not responding, it's because I can't!"
He laughs, but it seemd a bit forced. Like he might tear up if he gets pushed the wrong way. Ilya goes back and watches through all the interviews since the Buffalo game. Shane has found a way to bring up his broken phone in every single interview for the past two weeks. It's so sweet...and also a little heartbreaking. He knew exactly what was gonna happen, and was terrified of Ilya thinking that he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want Ilya to feel alone and confused and upset. He's so fucking ernest and endearing.
Ilya cannot Wait to give him shit about it on the ice tomorrow.
