#their call for home

[writingmaidenwarrior]

Their Call for Home

The city of Mer'Teval is not only the home of the Queen and her family, but also to thousands of inhabitants as the kingdom's biggest city. One of them are the orc couple Maud and Amon, once adventurers of their own, who settled down and started to gather by accident the misfits among the misfits around them as healer and artificer who don't care who you are or where you come from. Some of those misfits are closer to them than others, and then there are their dear ones, their little unusual horde that consist of their old dwarven friend Kaladin and his warden Saylah with strong magic, the young tiefling bard Iskra with the dream to become famous, and the former royal guard Meir who has a good heart but also a habit to get into trouble. When Feyre, the young necromancer beast woman, becomes part of this unusual horde, a chain of events gets put into motion. She, Saylah, Iskra, and Meir have to face the demons of the past to lift the fog of the political schemes going on that started after the death of the Queen and created a tyranny under the new King no one expected to ascend at all. Accidentally becoming the spearhead of the rebellion, those four have only one option: Going forward. What to expect: found family, champion of the gods, accidental heroes, slow burn romance side plot, LGBTQA+ characters, mentions of emotional neglect, mentions of trauma

Story Snippets:

Flash FicFriday Prompt Tree of Life  (A usual morning at Maud’s and Amon’s house) Meir's and Feyre's First Meeting Flash Fic Friday Prompt Against The Flow (Saylah's magic trainig with her foster father Kaladin) Flash Fic Friday Prompt Celestial Bodies  (Amon tells Feyre a story during a picknick)

OC Favorites Tag for Meir (Moodboard)

STS Ask about their perfect day

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[saizun]

seashell teapots.

[stuckinapril]

[writingfromasgard]

"She was perfect. The only thing going for me." Simon mumbled, alcohol blazing through his veins as he leaned on Soap.

"She didnae break up wit' ya, mate. She needed tae go feed her dog." Soap snorted.

"I can still smell her perfume, Jawnny." Simon sniffled.

[wombywoo]

business

[time-woods]

isnt it so strange how something can be so so so different yet at the sum of its parts its still the same? hard concept to grasp,,

full ver plus before i rendered!! (iv been rendering a bit different as of late and its basically just me not doing anything else in between the sketch and render)) (this is based off of PartyCoffins tumblr post! i needa go to bed so i shall find the link to it tomorrow)

[dragonpyre]

The real reason Jason Todd hasn’t legally come back to life is cuz he’d be expected to do Wayne Family shit in public, and honestly he’d rather not

[soyochii]

Grown adults but also Highschool bullies fr

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

so how about that update, huh

[writingmaidenwarrior]

STS: if you had to survive the apocalypse with one of your original characters, who would it be?

Happy STS @joeys-piano,

Only one character is a tough choice. I would have it easier with two 😂

I think I would pick Meir from "Their Call for Home" because he is a former royal guard turned adventurer, and got this weird lucky curse going on that might come in handy. Bonus point for him not looking threatening at all and most people underestimating him.

[hajimedics]

I'M NOT YOUR DOLL AND I'LL THINK FOR MYSELF AND I'LL LIVE FOR MYSELF

[pinkmelodie]

König & his demonic back shots are plaguing my thoughts 😣😣

Warnings: 18+, this is pure filth so like yeah🤨 König x female reader, p in v, just a short blurb ୨୧

Cause I know damn well this man would give the FILTHIEST back shots. Like you feel like your being resurrected every time he slams you onto his cock.

“Maus- oh fuuuuck…” He groaned, drilling into you with so much force the bed shook.

You were moaning and screaming into the pillow, your backside being held up completely by him. He manhandled you on his cock like a doll, mindlessly slamming into your cunt over and over like he was trying to fuck the demons right out of his body.

He reached down and circled your waist, holding you up with just one arm. With his free hand he rubbed at your clit, always making sure you feel good no matter how pussy-drunk he is. The man is just so big—it feels like he’s everywhere. If you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was reaching all the way down to your throat. The slight pain of him slamming into your cervix overwhelmed your senses and heightened the pleasure along with the feeling of him playing with your clit. You doubted either of you were making it there after this but you could have swore you saw a flash of heavens gates every time he plunged into you.

He spread your legs wider and angled his thrusts to meet that spongey spot inside you every time his pelvis met your ass with an audible slap ! Even the sound of the headboard slamming into the wall wasn’t enough to drown out both your noises. This was definitely gonna earn you a noise complaint—tho it was worth it for the mind blowing orgasm that washed over you when that coil in your stomach finally snapped.

You came all over his cock, leaving a sticky white ring around the base of it that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of every time he slid his thick cock in and out again. With a pathetic whimper you never thought you’d hear come out of a man of his size, he pressed into you as deep as your body would let him and came hard. 

So much of his seed was stuffed inside you that it began to flow out, dripping all over both of your thighs. Before you could complain, he collapsed on top of you, crushing you with his weight. It felt like being stuck under a city bus, but you just sighed and let him have this one.

[ghostbsuter]

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

[userarmand]

Lover, murderer, maker. You took him back. It’s a bond that can never fully be severed.