#((it's here!!!

[s3rvurcortado]

Sanssemblepoll2026 Semifinals Match 2

Light!sans from @burnedtoast-cb vs Martyr!sans from @camera-face

Round 4!

Light!sans

Marty!sans

Voting ended onApr 3

^edit: Martyr!sans Masterpost

[idrellegames]

WAYFARER took you to the continent of Rhesainia where you faced magical monsters, tyrannical crime lords, powerful mages, conniving nobles, ancient artefacts, and splintered factions vying for control. Now for the first time step away from the perspective of the Wayfarer and explore Rhesainia from a brand-new point of view. From the contentious illusionist Veyer Krellion to the steadfast Wayfarer archivist Rindan Cenric to the winged assassin Ves Sithia, explore nine tales of magic, danger, and intrigue.

These stories were originally published between 2021 and 2024 on Idrelle Games’ Patreon. They include:

“Blood Rites” [featuring Veyer Krellion]

“Hearth & Home” [featuring Rindan Cenric & the Wayfarer Order]

“The Edge of Nothing” [featuring Sabien Quirinus & Umbria Bellaris]

“Dark Ritual” [featuring Veyer Krellion]

“Scattered to the Winds” [featuring Ren Varadon & Raven]

“First Strike” [featuring Ves Sithia & Ren Varadon]

“The Shore” [featuring Rhodarth Nairan]

“Pressure Point” [featuring Zenaida & Sophia Anaxas]

“Balanced on the Edge” [featuring Aeran Kellis and the Wayfarer]

Idrelle Games is the studio name of A.M. Morrigan, a Canadian playwright and indie game developer.

Patreon

Ko-fi

Gumroad

Itch.io

First eBook release January 2026 Purchase includes EPUB, MOBI and PDF versions

*A copy of this collection is automatically available for APPRENTICE tier memberships on my Patreon. If you have a membership, please check your benefits before purchasing!

[bisexualjumpol]

off jumpol as boss in break up service

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Something About Dragons

What if Alex was a dragon and he nabbed a prince to claim a ransom, but ended up keeping the prince instead? What if the prince didn’t want to go back to his kingdom and wanted to stay with the dragon? What if they fall in love? -------------------- Let’s journey into a world of dragons and princes. Join our darling dragon and his prince as they find each other and build a world together all their own. A world where they can love and live in peace (well most of the time).

will update every 3rd day starting today June 27th

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18 | chapter 19 | chapter 20

art for each new chapter (if applicable) will be added under a cut on reblogs

[f1amboyant]

Training Season

Charles had always liked football just fine. He played as a kid in the schoolyard with his classmates and was as bad at it as everyone else but laughed all the same. Then… Well, then he couldn’t really play anymore, but he still watched the games on TV and followed the big international events. He liked it just fine. But now. Now Charles was rethinking his love for the sport entirely. Come to think of it, he might actually love football. For his son, of course. And not at all for the coach running from one end of the pitch to the other with wild hair and high cheekbones tinted pink, short shorts and muscular hairy legs and an ass that–

OR: Single dad Charles takes his son to football practice and falls in love with the unfraily handsome coach: Carlos. Also, he may have a lot of trauma to work on, but who has the time?

explicit ~ 50k ~ AU, fluff and angst, trauma, mpreg, so much fluffffff

READ ON AO3

Charles had always liked football just fine. He played as a kid in the schoolyard with his classmates and was as bad at it as everyone else but laughed all the same. Then… Well, then he couldn’t really play anymore, but he still watched the games on TV and followed the big international events. He liked it just fine.

But now. Now Charles was rethinking his love for the sport entirely. Come to think of it, he might actually lovefootball.

For his son, of course. 

And not at all for the coach running from one end of the pitch to the other with wild hair and high cheekbones tinted pink, short shorts and muscular hairy legs and an ass that–

“Dad! Dad, did you see this? Dad! Look!”

Charles’ eyes snapped away from the coach’s posterior and settled back on the little boy with sandy hair and a bright red shirt and even brighter blue eyes.

“Did you see?” the boy asked excitedly, jumping on the green in front of the bench where Charles was sitting. “Did you see, Dad?”

“Yes, yes, of course, I saw. You’re doing amazing, Gab!” Charles lied through his teeth with cheeks as red as the shirt his son was wearing.

He didn’t see a thing, too focused on the coach instead of his own son.

Come on, Charles. You’re here for Gabriel, not to ogle the coach.

But to Charles’ defense, the coach was truly something to look at.

Surrounded by a dozen of excited and chaotic children running around everywhere, the man still ran twice as much as them, showing off his football skills. His t-shirt clang to his sweaty skin, hinting at muscular pecs and defined abs. His short shorts hiked up on his thick thighs showing way more than what was decent for Charles’ sanity. And truly he looked like a Greek god running around among mortals, if Charles could say so himself.

“Vamos, vamos, vamos!” the coach shouted, encouraging the children and oh no, Charles thought, was that Spanish? Poor Charles wasn’t ready for a sexy man like this one with an even sexier Spanish accent, no no no.

Charles tried very hard to focus on his son on the pitch. It lasted for half a minute before his gaze found the coach again. And apparently he wasn’t the only one ogling.

“Damn,” a woman sighed longingly behind Charles. “I would let that man do anything he wanted to me.”  

Her friend giggled.

“You are married, Susie,” the friend said. “Leave him for us, single gals, okay?”

Susie laughed and Charles risked a glance back, and yep, sure enough, the two middle-aged women followed the very same coach Charles was drooling over. Weren’t they a little old for him? But before he could ponder if yes or no, and that no, he shouldn’t shame women’s sexuality no matter their age, one of them noticed him.

“Oh, hi!” the one with the platinum square-cut hair said. Charles recognized Susie’s voice. “Sorry about that, dear. We can get a bit carried away with a man like this one. All the football moms are. You should see the group chat.”

She chuckled and Charles tried very hard not to blush.

“Sorry,” she said again, extending a hand. “I’m Susie, by the way.”

He shook her hand.

“I’m Charles. Gabriel is my son.”

“Oh, he’s such a sweet kid. And he looks a lot like you, I should have guessed. I don’t think we’ve seen you here before, though.”

“Busy with work.”

Charles tried (and failed) not to blush.

“Gabriel says you build houses,” Susan ventured carefully.

“I’m an architect.”

“Close enough,” she said with the knowing smile of a mother. “I'm Jack's mom, by the way. There’s a little gathering after practice next week. All the parents are invited to bring snacks and drinks. You’re probably busy but if you want, you are more than welcome to come. Gabriel’s mom, too.”

“Oh, it’s just me and Gab,” Charles mumbled but his shy reply was swallowed by the whistle ringing high in his ears and a cacophony of young voices heading straight for the stands and the changing rooms.

An armful of eight years old suddenly tackled him and Charles picked up his son, embracing sweat and dirt and grass and everything.

“Dad! Did you see all my moves? Did you see the goal I scored?”

“I did!”

He did not.

“I’m getting so good! The coach said so! And…”

The little boy babbled away in his dad’s ear as Charles waved a shy goodbye at Susie and the other mom, before going to the car. He risked a last glance at the pitch, but the coach was already gone.

“So, what’s the name of your coach, again?” Charles asked as innocently as he could when Gabriel paused in his incessant babbling just long enough to breathe in the back of the car.

In the rearview mirror, Charles could see the boy’s eyes sparkle at the mention of the coach.

“Carlos!” Gab shouted, grabbing the back of Charles’ seat. “He is so so cool and he is so so good at football. He teaches me all these tricks and…”

Charles smiled softly, listening to his son babble on and on about his favorite coach in the whole world and how talented and nice and funny and great and amazing and super and cool and awesome he was. For a second, Charles’ heart tugged with something like longing. A man, who was so sexy it hurt and so sweet with the kids, it had Charles’ belly in all sorts of little twists.

But no. No no no. Not possible, not happening.

Don’t even think about it, Charlie. That’s how you end up in trouble. These sorts of things never ended well for him.

He clenched his jaw, forced the devilishly handsome Spaniard out of his mind and called to Gabriel.

“We’re eating lasagna, tonight.”

“Oh. Okay,” the boy answered with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

“At Grandma’s,” Charles added and the smile was back on his son’s face.

“Yes!” the kid shouted, bouncing on the backseat happily.

Yeah, Charles could pretend he was hurt by Gabriel’s lack of confidence in his father’s cooking abilities, but truly the boy was right. Anyways, all was normal. Life was good, for Charles’ little family of two. He didn’t need anyone else.

(A little fantasy on the football coach couldn’t hurt, though, right?)

(Right.)

-> Read the rest on AO3

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[hotshotsxyz]

run it back (just one more replay)

NOVEMBER 10th, 2024 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, USA

The fire burns hot and fast, consuming everything it touches in seconds. It moves in a way Eddie’s never seen before, jumping from wall to wall with no clear burn pattern. He and Buck are pinned down. In a word, they’re screwed.

“Eddie,” Buck shouts over the roar of the flames. He points and—yes, stairs. They lead up to a catwalk that runs through the center of the warehouse and around its perimeter. Under any other circumstance, it’d be a terrible plan; right now, it’s their only chance.

They run, Eddie a half step behind Buck.

The warehouse is huge and meandering, a maze of machinery and temporary offices. It’s a fire safety nightmare, and Eddie has no idea how it hasn’t been shut down already. There are massive barrels scattered across the floor, full of what Eddie can only assume is an accelerant, given their luck so far.

In the center of it all is a strange looking piece of equipment, a hollowed out sphere whose contents glow bright enough to be visible, even amongst the flames. It sits just beneath the catwalk, clearly situated for some kind of work from above. The hum it emits is headache inducing, and it gets louder the closer they get.

The reach the base of the stairs. Buck takes them two at time, moving as fast as he can to give Eddie enough space to climb. Eddie stumbles and has to grab the railing to right himself. Buck reaches the catwalk and looks back.

“Go!” Eddie yells over the deafening combination of fire and machinery. “I’m right behind you!”

Buck hesitates for a second, then nods decisively. He moves, slower now, step by careful step. He’s almost halfway across when their situation goes from bad to worse. One of the barrels catches, and horrifically, Eddie was right. It explodes in a massive fireball, bringing with it a pressure wave that knocks Eddie back a few steps.

The catwalk twists and sways, and with a horrible groan gives way beneath Buck’s feet.

“Buck!” Eddie shouts, reaching, helpless.

He falls in slow motion. The fire roars beneath him, and, improbable though it may be over the deafening noise, Eddie could swear he hears Buck calling his name in return. He—god—he doesn’t know what to do. There’s nowhere to go. No safe landing for Buck. No way out of this monstrous fire.

And then—Buck falls past the lip of the sphere. In a blinding flash he disappears. The fire goes with him.

Then silence that follows is heavy and oppressive. Eddie sags against railing, unable to support his own weight. He doesn’t—what happened? His thoughts feel jumbled and disoriented, like he was the one who fell. And Buck, he’s just—nowhere.  

“Mayday, mayday,” Eddie calls over his radio. He has no idea what to say next.

(read the rest on ao3)

[shoukohime]

spotify wrapped ask game!!! give me a number 1-100 and I will tell you the song in my spotify wrapped playlist <3