#I son on the inside whenever I have to draw anything with talons

[nymphrasis]

Why does almost everything you draw have to be so cute, and friend-shaped?

aaaaaa I wish I had a proper answer to that qwq.

All I could say is that those cutely shaped designs is something I always love to draw nwn. They are easy, they make me happy, and just so fun to draw out!

I always say to others that drawing cute things is my specialty >w<! And, admittedly, with these designs I like to make some of them feel friendly and welcoming! To where they could make people smile and feel a bit of warm happiness within nwn. The characters themselves certainly makes me feel happy!

Even ones I have created and sold in the past, they make me smile pretty happily nwn

[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter Eight (Zuko x Reader)

Part Seven

Word Count: 3,000

Warning: This chapter gets violent - there are mentions of death and assault. I'll include a recap at the beginning of next week's chapter for those who choose not to read for the sake of their mental wellbeing. No harm done in not reading; I appreciate you taking care of yourself ♥

Author’s Note: .......... yeah idk what happened either. oops there’s actually a plot here lmao

~ Muerta

Your tour of the city the following day is rained out by mid-morning, leaving you cozily stranded at the Jasmine Dragon until the weather decides to clear. Iroh gives you a private room to relax in while you wait, coming by every hour or so with a new menu item for you to sample. Since the weather is quite chilly, he’s converted the table in the room into a kotatsu, which you’re curled up under with Toph leaned comfortably against your shoulder. From where you sit, you have a perfect view of not only the street from the room’s window, but the rest of the tea shop, your gaze shifting between watching passerby avoiding the downpour outside and customers milling about inside, smiling to yourself each time you catch a glimpse of Zuko darting between tables; He insisted on working the rush that day, all of you changing out of your ceremonial robes and into something more low key so as not to attract attention.

Regular customers are happy to see Zuko, greeting him excitedly and asking how his “travels” have been; he nods over to you a few times while speaking, multiple people coming up to meet and congratulate you. Toph smirks at you, teasingly nudging your arm.

“I think you’re more popular as Lee from the tea shop’s wife than you are as Firelady,” she observes. “Not one person who’s come over here has said anything about the royalty sitting next to us.”

Kuei looks up from his reading, shrugging his shoulders as Bosco - whose head rests lazily in the king’s lap - lets out a grumbling yawn.

“I’m not meant to be noticed,” he states. “Besides, I come here all the time; regulars are used to seeing me here.”

“Are they also used to your guards taking up every table within twenty feet of you?” you joke. You’re only half kidding - plainclothes guards are stationed at three tables beside the room’s open door, all tensing up and ready to pounce every time anyone who isn’t Iroh or Zuko approaches.

Kuei grins sheepishly at you, offering another shrug.

“Not all of us are warriors,” he excuses.

“We need to teach you to fight,” Toph comments. “Having a scrawny Earth King is embarrassing.”

Before Kuei can retort, Zuko appears at the threshold, sliding the door shut behind him with urgency. Kuei stands immediately, instantly alert.

“The Dai Li were just spotted in the refugee district,” Zuko announces. “A customer told me they're staging some kind of protest.”

“Does it really count as a protest if they're facists?” Toph mutters. “Seems like the kind of thing they'd be opposed to.”

“A protest against what?” Kuei asks. “They don't typically operate so boldly.”

“I don't know,” Zuko answers, “but we should go there and stop it. They're too powerful for the regular guard to subdue.”

He turns to you, eyeing you sternly.

“Stay here,” he orders. “Toph and I will handle this.”

“Oh, the hell you will,” you quip, standing so abruptly that Toph tumbles over. “I've already told enough imperialist assholes that I don't answer to you - you shouldn't have to be one of them.”

Zuko shakes his head, ignoring your harsh comment.

“Darling, please, I'm not trying to boss you around,” he explains. “The Dai Li are dangerous and I want to keep you safe.”

“I'm not even safe in my own home, Zuko,” you counter. “We’re a team - we face danger together.”

You cross your arms, challenging Zuko with a determined, defiant glare. He sighs frustratedly, furrowing his brow but eventually giving in.

“Alright fine,” he caves. “We don't have time to argue. Let's go.”

You leave the Jasmine Dragon through a hidden panel in one of the private room’s walls, installed for just such occasions when Kuei needs to make a hasty exit; his guards are already assembled on the street, perched on ostrich horses with two steeds empty for the Firelord and king.

As Kuei mounts, you help Toph onto the back of his saddle, where she takes hold of your forearm and pulls you close so she can whisper in your ear.

“Did Sparky call you ‘darling' just now?” she marvels.

You blush, realizing that yes, he most definitely did.

“I think so,” you mumble in response.

Zuko calls for you and you part from her, noting the smirk that spreads across her features. You climb into the saddle behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as he digs a heel into the ostrich horse’s side, sending you speeding through the streets of Ba Sing Se; you hardly feel the rain biting at your cheeks and hands against the firmness of his back.

The refugee district scatters in chaos, people scampering like ants separated from their colony as they attempt to flee the terror the Dai Li have inflicted.

Agents prowl up and down the streets, raiding homes and businesses seemingly at random and interrogating their owners, many of them beaten or bound in stone cuffs. You ride past an agent looming over a man and his young children, his hand raised to strike; as you pass, you pull Zuko’s sheathed katana from its slot in the saddle, holding it out so it hits the agent in the throat and topples him, incapacitated; the man wails, tears streaming down his face as he lifts his children and carries them away from the scene.

You arrive at the source of the bedlam, where the heads of the Dai Li have gathered in a market square and bark out commands, taking prisoners and making displays of their battered, comatose bodies. Zuko reins the ostrich horse to a halt, leaping off before fully coming to a stop and removing his dual swords from the horse’s pack, strapping them onto his back. He hands you the reins, roughly taking your hands in his and leaning in close to you, shouting over the din.

“Can you ride?”

You nod as you settle yourself into the center of the saddle, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Go with Kuei and take out as many Dai Li as you can for the guard to arrest,” he tells you. “Toph and I will go for their leaders.”

He places both of his palms on either side of your face, bringing your head down so he can press his lips firmly against your forehead.

“Be careful,” he says in parting.

You kick into the ostrich horse’s side, turning back the direction you came and following Kuei through the streets, Zuko’s katana strapped at your hip.

Despite Toph’s teasing, Kuei is actually a skilled rider; though weaponless, he maneuvers his steed with ease, steering headlong into members of the Dai Li and trampling them, the beast lashing its long, razorlike talons until they fall unconscious. You ride close behind, sweeping the surrounding area whenever he overtakes a target and stunning anyone who tries to interfere, driving the edge of Zuko’s katana into their stomach or back; the only time you unsheath the blade is when you come upon an agent with a young girl pinned beneath him, her dress hiked above her hips and his body far too close to hers for your liking.

The image sends rage coursing like fire through your veins, and you remove the katana from its casing, riding up swiftly behind the man and drawing the blade across his neck, slitting his throat before he has a chance to react; his blood splatters across your legs and the face of the girl he attacked, causing her to shriek and crumple into tears. You reach down and lift her into the saddle behind you, riding her to the nearest area of relative safety you can find before returning to Kuei’s side.

“Is there anyone else?” you ask, looking around. Things seem to have calmed, the guard already arriving to take their prisoners and the citizens of the district starting to collect themselves, those not harrowed by shock either coming to the aid of their neighbors or starting to tidy the buildings that were raided.

Kuei shakes his head, panting heavily as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I passed the head of the guard a moment ago,” he tells you. “She said they have most of the situation under control - they're having trouble getting the leaders to surrender.”

“Let's go back,” you suggest. “We might be able to help.”

Kuei nods, trailing beside you as you gallop back to the market square, stumbling into a standoff between the Dai Li and the guard, Zuko and Toph in the middle of the fray - they have the leaders cornered, Toph having bent the earth around a few of them and Zuko with a flame ready in hand, one of his swords in the other. The scene is still but tense, and you sit with Zuko’s katana drawn.

“It’s your choice,” Zuko booms, approaching one of the captured Dai Li with predatory grace. “Either you come peacefully, or your entire troop will be killed.”

The bound man gives Zuko a wicked smirk, rolling his head to the side.

“Wouldn’t your father be proud,” he drones deeply. “His disgraced son, meddling where he doesn’t belong and threatening death when he can’t get his way - just like daddy. Even after you defeated him, you’re still seeking his approval, aren’t you Firelord Zuko?”

The man grunts as Toph’s fist closes, the rock around him compressing his chest.

“Watch it,” she snaps. “Zuko might be above squashing a slimy little roach like you, but I’m not - and he’s not the one who has you in a vice right now.”

“The Firelord is merely following Earth Kingdom law,” Kuei interjects. He rides into the center of the circle the guards and seized Dai Li have formed. “Dai Li have been considered highly dangerous by my guard since a child was found murdered in the catacombs under Lake Laogai preceding the end of the war; any members who resist arrest are sentenced to death once taken into custody. It’s your choice - be found responsible for the death of your men, or let them face fair trial.”

You don’t hear the man answer. One of the apprehended Dai Li nearby takes hold of the knife from the belt strap of the guard who holds him, stabbing her in the stomach to free himself; he makes a beeline for you, shoving his shoulder into your ostrich horse’s side and knocking you out of the saddle, sending you to the ground at his feet.

The Dai Li grips you by the hair, hoisting you up by the scalp and pressing his arm forcefully into your chest - the knife, still wet with blood, digs into your neck, so rigidly you feel a sting as its blade slices through the top layer of your skin. Zuko, who’d rushed forward the instant the man lashed out, pauses, his stature braced and eyes wide with terror. The Dai Li chuckles evilly, running a blood-soaked hand through your hair.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you Zuzu?” he mocks. “Let’s see if your no-killing rule applies when your pretty little plaything is up for grabs.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Zuko snarls. “You already face a death sentence just for touching her.”

“Then I might as well go out with a bang,” the Dai Li hisses.

You feel your skin start to split as the knife cuts deeper, and you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for your lungs to fill with blood.

Before the worst can come, a metallic snap cuts through the strained silence, the arm flattened to your chest going slack as the man it belongs to slumps into a heap beside you.

You fall to your knees, limbs quivering as a quiet, heaving sob escapes your chest. Zuko sprints to your side, scooping you into his arms and immediately taking you away, carrying you into the back of one of the guard’s wagons and ordering to return to the palace.

“Kill them all,” you hear Kuei gravely command as the cart rolls away. “None of them can be trusted in trial.”

You don’t realize it until you arrive at the infirmary, but you’re soaked. Healers strip you of your wet clothes and assess you for injuries, finding only a small laceration on your neck from where the Dai Li threatened you. They clean the wound thoroughly, draping you in a large blanket and serving you sweet, calming tea, keeping you there for a few hours before allowing you to return to your suite.

Rain streaks down the sitting room window in sheets as you ghost through the threshold, thanking the healer who escorted you in a whisper as she assuringly touches your shoulder, then shuts the door behind you.

Zuko stands from his place by the pane when he hears your voice, swallowing heavily as he watches you enter.

“What happened?” you rasp, blinking drearily.

Zuko approaches you slowly, gingerly lowering you into the nearest chair.

“Toph snapped the knife and shot the tip through the Dai Li’s forehead,” Zuko recounts. His voice is dark, roughened with gravel. “They’re all dead. There are more still out there, but their numbers are significantly less after today.”

You nod, your gaze directed away from him, eyes unfocused as you stare into nothing.

“The guard who was stabbed is okay,” Zuko continues, taking one of your hands and clasping it between his own. “She apologizes for letting her duties slip.”

You shake your head, pressing your eyes tightly closed as you try to force the image of the day’s events from your mind.

“She has no need to apologize,” you murmur. “I’m okay; she’s the one who got hurt.”

Zuko sighs softly, reaching up to rest his hand on your cheek.

“This is why I wanted you to stay with Iroh,” he chides. “You’re not trained to defend yourself. It’s too dangerous for you to go everywhere with me.”

You pull your face away from him. From the corner of your eye, you shoot him a glare.

“Don’t scold me,” you mutter. “I defended myself well enough.”

Zuko retracts his hand, leaning away as if you struck him. He lets out a frustrated huff.

“Seriously?” he quips. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“And so you could you,” you retort. “I’ve had a price on my head ever since I came to the Fire Nation; I don’t think I have to remind you that a man was murdered for the sake of making a threat towards us. Everyone’s after both of us, so we might as well stick together.”

“No,” Zuko snaps. “I won’t allow that. You’re my responsibility and I have to keep you safe.”

You jump to your feet, glowering down at him. He stands in return, taking a step back as your eyes meet his in a heated stare.

“You won’t allow that?” you challenge him. “What the fuck happened to treating me like an equal? You said in your damned wedding vows that you wanted to give me freedom. Did that only mean when it was convenient for you? You only want me as an ally when it looks good? Need I remind you that you were perfectly willing to let me ride out into battle when I was doing so under your command? You know that I’m capable of standing up for myself - I don’t need you playing savior whenever you think I can’t.”

“I’m not trying so suppress you,” Zuko counters. “I’m trying to make sure that the people who want us dead don’t actually achieve it. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you because you were following me. You need protection.”

“Zuko, I killed a man today.”

You make the statement plainly, in a deadpan, looking him directly in the eye. He pales, his face going completely ashen.

“What?”

“I killed someone today,” you repeat in a hiss. “Before today I’d never even held a weapon, let alone used one on another person; that didn’t stop me cutting a Dai Li’s neck open because he tried to rape a teenage girl in the street. I feel like a monster, Zuko, but don’t you dare tell me I need protection - what I need is your help. I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I need my husband.”

Zuko’s expression falls, your brows still arched together as you realize you’ve been shouting. You take a deep, shaky breath, crossing your arms and clutching the sleeves of your robe.

Zuko crosses the room to you, resting one of his hands behind your head; his other arm curls around your waist, pulling you in and pressing you flush against his chest.

You didn’t notice before, but your whole body is trembling, tears starting to pour down the sides of your face. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko breathes. “You’re right. We need to stick together. I just… I hate the idea of losing you. I… care… I care so much about you…”

You bury your face in his shoulder, your fingers knitting themselves into the fabric of his robe; the shock of the day finally hits you, and you feel as if you’ll crumble in his arms.

“I know,” you whimper. “I care about you, too.”

Zuko lifts you into his arms, cradling you like a child as he carries you into the bedroom. He lays down beside you, and for a while that could be minutes as much as it could be hours, he holds you, rocking you gently and rubbing your back as your body heaves with sobs, tears soaking your face the way the rain beats against the walls of your room. When you’re finally calm, he leaves only as long as it takes you to change into your night clothes, returning once you’re dressed and taking you into his arms again, comforting you as the sound of thunder trembles somewhere in the distance.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest, clutching him tightly through the night. You dream of nothing, and for that, you’re thankful.

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[themurphyzone]

Secret Santa Ch 7

Holidays are a great source of inspiration! Just sayin’!

Ch 7-Melissa

The nice thing about her gift was that she had most of her materials already. It was just a matter of putting it together in a scrapbook whenever she found the time. Her photo collection of Murphy’s Law incidents took up so much space that her dad had complained, so she figured storing the ones she didn’t regularly analyze in a scrapbook and giving it to Milo would be better than tossing them.

So far, she had a section dedicated to school, animals, family, and miscellaneous things that didn’t fit anywhere else.

“Maybe there’s such a thing as too much,” she muttered, tossing aside another photo of the Llama Incident. There were ten of those in the scrapbook already, so she didn’t need any more from that day. Unfortunately, her phone had died in the middle of the Woodpecker Incident, so she only had pictures until they evaded the crocodiles.

It didn’t bother her too much though.  

Melissa kept anything that had Cavendish and Dakota in the background, since she was still trying to figure out a pattern for their appearances. Besides, Cavendish getting hit with Murphy’s Law by proxy was comedy gold.

Soon she only had two pages left, but no more photos. To fill in the space, she signed her name with a huge signature that took up half the page.

Then she fired off a quick text to Sara and Zack, asking them to meet her in the park in an hour. She was lucky Milo was out for father-son bonding time this afternoon.

“Glad you could make it,” Melissa said, opening her backpack and taking out the scrapbook and several colored pens. “Sign somewhere on the last two pages please. I’d like to have this scrapbook done today.”

Sara claimed almost the entire space with a sketch of Dr. Zone and Time Ape, leaving Zack to write his name in a spare corner.

“Was the drawing necessary?” Zack asked.

“Look, I’m trying to learn how to do art here,” Sara replied. “This girl’s gotta practice. At least a legion of Oldbies can’t possibly flame me for this one because they don’t like how I’ve been drawing Dr. Zone’s cast.”

When they were finished, Melissa unzipped her bag and shoved two other books to the side to make room. Before she could put the scrapbook away, something swooped out of nowhere and snatched it out of her hand.

She yelped and pulled back, her hand suddenly stinging. A small gash had opened on her skin, but it wasn’t too deep. Sara pointed up with a shout of surprise, and they watched an eagle fly towards the trees with the scrapbook clutched in its talons.

Before Melissa could rush off after the eagle, Sara pulled her towards her car and bandaged the scratch. “Lucked out,” Sara said. “The talon only grazed you.”

Melissa scowled. “I didn’t spend all week on that scrapbook just to have a birdbrain snatch it out of my hand. I’m going after it.”

Zack scanned the area with a pair of borrowed binoculars from Sara’s car. “Looks like the eagle dropped it and caught a duck instead. Hopefully it didn’t drop the scrapbook directly into the lake.”

The park was full of kids playing in the snow, so they had to be careful. Zack was nearly knocked down by two girls on a sled, while Sara had snow in her cap from being pelted with a stray snowball.

When they reached the shore, they found Elliot sprawled on his back, the scrapbook lying on his chest as he wheezed for air. His earmuffs were half-buried in the snow behind him.

“Thanks for being a pillow to my scrapbook,” Melissa said. She plucked it off his chest, flipping through the pages to make sure there wasn’t any damage. There were several scratches from the talons on the cover, and a small amount of snow had collected in the corners, but she didn’t see any long-lasting damage.

“Not so fast,” Elliot recovered quickly, and he put the scrapbook in a large, crumpled plastic bag faster than she could blink. “This is a direct violation of the Safety Manifesto, Article Two, Section Five, which clearly states that heavy objects cannot incapacitate the Safety Czar by falling out of the sky. And by the powers invested in the Safety Czar, that would be me, Paragraph Three allows the one who got hit, again that’s me, to take the object in question as incriminating evidence of a disregard for the safety of the populace and the greater good.”

“Aren’t you violating park rules by stealing?” Zack asked.

Melissa rolled her eyes. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that Elliot managed to annoy everyone except Milo on his off-days too. “That’s a gift for a friend,” she said, deliberately not mentioning the recipient. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with another anti-Milo rant. “So fork it over.”

“You’ll get it back once I’m finished analyzing the evidence,” Elliot replied. “Which could take anywhere from a few days to a month.”

“A month?” Melissa protested. “The Secret Santa party is in a week!”

Elliot ignored her, waving to Sara as he passed by her. “Hey, Sara. What’s up?”

Sara just glared at him. “You are very lucky there are witnesses around.”

He laughed nervously. “So about the incident in B Hall when you were a freshman-“

Sara crossed her arms. “Kris still hasn’t forgiven you. I suppose I could text her right now. I bet she would love to catch up and see how you’re doing now that you’ve graduated.”

Elliot gulped, wisely deciding not to push his luck. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll...I’ll just be on my way. No need to let her know of my whereabouts!”

Tossing the scrapbook to Melissa, he ran away, not even bothering with the blatant ‘safety violations’ that were being committed by children of all ages as he made a beeline for the bike rack.

“Thanks, Sara,” Melissa said, putting the scrapbook away before anything else could harm it. She made a mental note to store her gift under lock and key until the day of the party. “So why is Elliot afraid of your friend?”

“In order to properly tell you, I would need to flashback to the day of November 8 in my freshman year,” Sara said, waving her arms in an arc above her head. “Commence ripple effect!”

“Ripple effect?” Zack whispered.

“Just pretend there’s a distortion in space-time that allows us to see into the past,” Melissa said.

‘Twas a dark and stormy hallway….

“Wait, how can a hallway be stormy?”

Get out of my flashback!

“Sorry.”

Eh, letting it slide. Two pretty freshman girls waited with bated breath for Mrs. Gilbert’s infamous English class. Rumor has it that the smartest students have been driven insane by an unknown entity that lurks within her wig. A senior once knocked it off her head to discover the hidden trove of secrets buried in the strands, and nobody ever saw hide or hair of him again.

But even the hallways are filled with danger in the early hours of the morning! While it wasn’t late enough for the boys’ bathroom to emit a stench so powerful it would make a thousand skunks boil with envy, at no hour was any student safe from the likes of…Elliot Decker!

DUN DUN DUN!

“I don’t think the sound effects were necessary.”

“Zack, just let her flashback in peace!”

Aka the Hall Monitor!

A weirdo who would try to write you up for not having double knots in shoelaces, or try to pass a resolution through the student council that anyone caught with an open flap in their backpacks would be sentenced to two days in detention!

That fateful day, he spotted us minding our own beeswax while we waited anxiously for class to begin.

“Halt!” he declared. “You two aren’t sitting criss-cross applesauce! Your legs are a prime tripping hazard for those hurrying to class!”

He may have thought we were weak little freshman ripe for the picking, but there was nothing that could scare Kris! She was fearless! Except for copyright strikes, of course, but that’s another story.

“I spent the last 36 hours marathoning The Dr. Zone Files in preparation for the new season,” Kris growled. “I am tired, I regret nothing, I didn’t eat breakfast, and I swear if you try and pull this garbage on me, I will hunt you down and force-feed you that stop sign piece by piece.”

And so Elliot slunk away, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

“End ripple effect!” Sara said. “So yeah, that’s what happened! Don’t mess with Kris when she’s sleep-deprived.”

“Wow,” Zack said. “It’s hard to believe you went to the same high school.”

Melissa nodded. “But still just as crazy.”

Sara’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket, shaking her head. “I gotta run. Milo and Dad managed to get themselves tangled in Christmas lights around a life-sized gingerbread house.”

“Okay, I’m putting this scrapbook away where no eagles can snatch it. See you guys later!”

She waved goodbye to Sara and Zack, holding the straps of her bag tightly as she walked home.

Her dad was in the kitchen with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate when she walked in through the front door. “Figured you wanted to warm up,” he said. “Lots of marshmallows too, just how you like it.”

Melissa shook off her snow boots, leaving them on the porch outside. She shut the door behind her, taking a spare key that hung on a rack above the dresser and locking the scrapbook inside the top drawer. “Thanks, Dad,” she said. “By the way, the scrapbook doesn’t leave that dresser until the day of the party.”

She sipped her mug, the warmth trickling down her throat. Richard Chase made the best hot chocolate in the city, she was sure.

“Well, at least there’s room to breathe around here now,” Richard said. “And try not to burn anything down next week when you’re having fun with your friends.”

Melissa shrugged. “I make no promises.”