#thank you again to Second for their incredible fic and Beau for your beautiful art!! this wouldn't work without you

[salemoleander]

attempt thirty-three webweave

Made in collaboration w/ @girltimeswithscar for the incredible fic by @theminecraftbee

Sources under readmore!

Pt. 1: What Resembles the Grave but Isn't / Anne Boyer // uselessgaywhovian // Lithscape / Esther Ruiz // Plunge #2 / Joe Hill, Stuart Immonen, Dan McDaid // snailspng // The Storm / James Whistler // cyus-on-the-internet // teaboot // Untitled colored pencil piece / Dan Huston // Studies of a Man's Head / John Singer Sargent

Pt. 2: Davies Adding Machine // It Never Goes Away / Sophie Cabot Black // gravesent // trxnspxrxnts // buddwyer // Illustrations by girltimeswithscar // Neverafter / Siobhan Thompson // snailspng // sofubis // Alcove in the Salon of the Grand Duchess Anna of Mecklenburg-Schwerin / C. Rath

Pt. 3: o'death / Frances Molina // 'If' Medallion // Oriens Tarot Deck / Ambisun (photo by me) // The Gift / Leonard Cohen // Illustration by girltimeswithscar // Meanwhile / Joseph Yaeger // Come the Slumberless to the Land of Nod / Traci Brimhall // 'its so stupid...' text post / katadesmoi // Broken 8-day Clock // Ancient Castle / Georgette Agutte

Pt. 3 Background: Folded Strata, a Great Geological Arch / W. H. Holmes // Aurora Borealis / Frederic Church // Playing with the Colours / W. H. Holmes // Light and Heavenly / Frank Myers // Distortion achieved via the Glitch Art Generator

[flowercoasts]

Hey I saw from your beaujes ao3 fic (which was incredible I already left a comment there but) that you're taking requests and uhhhh I have one: ANYTHING darrow x fjord literally anything. Beaujes is welcome as well. Maybe comphet discovery like the beaujes fic? That would be nice. Just anything fjarrow and fluffy and no content warnings and a happy ending haha

“Hey, mind if I get you a coffee?” 

Fjord blinks at Darrow’s proffered hand. “Uh.”

When Darrow smiles, it’s wide and bright, his eyes sparkling in the midmorning sun, glinting off of his shiny armor. It’s almost a little blinding, to be honest, and Fjord has to squint a little to see past the glare. 

“Hm… You know -“ Beau elbows him. Fjord whips around to see her raising her eyebrows very pointedly as if to say do it. Behind her, Jester and Nott nod enthusiastically along with matching smiles, while Yasha very unsubtly slides a gold coin over the table. 

What? He mouths to her. 

Beau points at Darrow. Then sighs at Fjord confused look and points again, gesturing from Fjord to Darrow and back, like that’ll help clear up any confusion. 

It doesn’t really, but if they want Fjord to hang out with him there’s no real reason to not go. So, why not? 

“Sure,” Fjord replies, side-eyeing Beau for a second more before turning back to Darrow, who’s grinning even wider now, all shiny teeth and bright eyes. Fjord grins back, albeit a little more hesitant as he places his hand in Darrow’s outstretched palm. 

With a gentle but strong tug, Darrow pulls Fjord up to standing. “Perfect! I know just the place.” 

“Lead the way,” Fjord says, ignoring the snickering of his friends behind him as his ears suddenly warm. 

Darrow’s eyes are sparkling as he pulls Fjord through the door of the bakery and out into the open street, their hands still palm to palm, even when Darrow stops pulling and just starts ambling along the road. His hand is warm, the weight of it easing something in Fjord that he can’t quite explain. Probably just the sun feeling so nice on his skin after a while spent in the sun-less Xhorhas. Or maybe it’s a paladin thing. Maybe. Probably. 

“How’ve you been, Fjord? Haven’t seen you much since the fight down in Rexxentrum - what brings you to the coast?” Darrow swings their hands lightly between them. 

Fjord runs a hand through his hair, averts his gaze from Darrow’s intense eyes. “Oh, you know. Been great, actually, adventuring with my friends and slaying monsters and all that.” When he looks back, Darrow is still staring at him, which is kind of a lot to take in and a bit confusing, if Fjord’s being perfectly honest. He clears his throat. “I’m actually from the coast. Port Damali. We wanted to come back to Nicodranis though, for a little vacation. It gets tiring after a while - we wanted to see something beautiful for once, you know?”

“I do know.” Darrow smiles, and there’s a certain lilt to his mouth as he regards Fjord with a heavy gaze. Briefly, Fjord wonders if all paladins are like this, or if it’s just Darrow. Maybe he should try being more intense like him? “Ah, we’re here.”

‘Here’ is a large wooden building, a small little boutique on the wharf that’s a little worn with age. There’s two large windows that take up practically the whole front of the shop, and flowers grow brightly from the windowsill. It’s a nice place, probably somewhere Cad or Yasha would go, just because of the aesthetic. 

Darrow lets go of Fjord’s hand to hold open the door, and Fjord doesn’t examine why his hand feels so empty afterwards. “After you.” 

How is his smile so charming? Is that a paladin thing too? “Thanks.” 

The inside of the shop is just as quaint and flowery as the outside. Streaming rays of sunlight hit beautiful potted plants sitting on the tables and countertops, which are all a nice birch wood and treated with some sort of shiny blue wax. It’s a nice place - aromatic too, with coffee and light menagerie coast specialty spices in the air. It reminds Fjord a lot of the little places by the beach in Port Damali, the ones he’d go to when they were docked after weeks on the open sea. 

A man with long red hair peeks up from under the bar counter, his face lighting up with a grin as soon as he sees Darrow walking in. 

“Hey, long time no see!” 

Darrow spreads his arms wide, his ever-present grin glowing as he hugs the man from across the long countertop. “Fenriel! It’s been awhile man, how’s everything going?”

“Pretty good, pretty good! Been missing my favorite customer, though.” The man, Fenriel, begins to make a drink, pouring liquids and syrups into a decently sized mug - even though neither of them gave their order yet. “Hey, who’s your friend?”

“This is Fjord.” Darrow turns, and his wide grin softens a bit around the edges. Fjord tries to mimic it. 

“Hello. Nice to meet you.” 

Fenriel takes one good long look at Fjord, not bothering to hide the way his eyes sweep up and down his body. He turns to Darrow with a smirk. “Handsome.” Then, almost like it never happened, he turns back to Fjord and sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you Fjord. I’m Fenriel, keeper of the Coffeebean Corner.” 

Reaching over the counter to shake Fenriel’s hand, Fjord glances over at Darrow to find his cheeks somewhat red and splotchy. Before he can ask why, Fenriel breaks their handshake to sweep both arms over the countertop grandly. 

“Welcome to Coffebean Corner!” He smiles, rapping his knuckles against the grain of the wooden countertop. “What can I get ya?” 

“Uh.” Fjord looks to Darrow, who nods encouragingly. “You know what? Surprise me.” 

A cheshire cat grin crawls across Fenriel’s face. “That’s what we like to hear. You two can take a table and I’ll bring it over.” 

“Thank you. How much -“

Darrow places his hand over Fjord’s, stopping him from reaching into his bag. Fjord looks up and Darrow is smiling kindly at him, eyes still sparkling in that weird charming way of his. “I got it.” With his other hand, Darrow reaches into his pocket and takes out two silver and slides them over the countertop. 

Fenriel’s eyes have a glint in them that Fjord can’t parse out, but he takes the coin with a smile and waves over to a table near the window. 

Still holding Fjord’s hand, Darrow leads them to the white and blue wood table. He drops Fjord’s hand to pull out their chairs with a flourish and a kind smile. Seriously, is this a paladin thing? The kind smile and nice eyes and handsome face and chivalrous attitude? Fjord should ask sometime. Maybe later, after the blush is down from his cheeks. If it’s a paladin thing, then Darrow’s seriously mastered the art of it. 

Fjord clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck to avoid looking at Darrow straight in the eye across the table. “So. This is your favorite coffee place?”

“Mhm. Only place I know that sells Spiced Ginger Coffee.” 

“… Spiced Ginger Coffee.” 

“Trust me,” Darrow says, smiling at Fjord’s dubious expression. Fenriel walks over then, carrying two large mugs - including the mug he filled earlier when they were talking at the bar. 

“Your usual and today’s special for Fjord.” With a wink, Fenriel slides a coffee and a plate full of steaming something in front of Fjord. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” Fjord squints down at the plate, which is a cookie shaped like a heart. “I didn’t order this…?”

“On the house.” Taking one long last look at Darrow, Fenriel steps away, back behind the counter to leave the two of them alone with their food and drinks. 

The drink in his mug is steaming, and the liquid inside is a pale cream. It’s topped with what looks like shredded nutmeg and… cinnamon? Some other spice that smells nutty and cozy. Very Nicodranis. Fjord takes a cautious sip. Then instantly takes another. 

“Good?” Darrow laughs a bit at Fjord’s enthusiasm. 

A thumbs up in response as Fjord swallows another big gulp. “Amazing.”

“Wanna try mine?” 

Fjord eyes his mug - it certainly looks like a light coffee, but the smell of spices is so present that it’s nearly overpowering. “Hm.” He looks up at Darrow, whose eyes are so soft and open in the sun. “Ah, sure.”

Their fingers brush lightly as Darrow passes his mug over, and Fjord coughs away the blush that rises high on his cheeks. It’s probably just a side effect of the whole paladin thing that he really should ask Darrow about. With one last dubious glance at the drink, Fjord takes a sip. 

“What do you think?”

It’s surprisingly rich, creamy, and light all at the same time. The ginger is present enough to taste but not overpowering the drink - it’s honestly amazing. Maybe even better than the other drink. Fjord blinks. “Best drink I’ve ever had.” 

“Next time we come here, we can both buy.” Darrow’s smile is nearly as blinding as the sun streaming in through the window. Fjord stares at it, wonders why gold looks so good on him, the soft colors painting his strong jaw so nicely. It’s a warm feeling coming through his chest as he looks at Darrow, who’s still waiting for some sort of response - 

Wait. 

“Next time?” 

Darrow blushes, a beautiful red on his handsome face. “I mean, if you’d like to go on another date.” He rubs at the back of his neck and glances away. 

Oh.

Not a paladin thing. 

Just a Darrow thing. Which, surprisingly, makes it better. Or maybe not surprisingly. Because Darrow’s handsome, kind, and very charming, and Fjord’s hand is still tingling from where Darrow pressed his palm to it. Warmth fills Fjord’s chest tenfold as he fondly looks at Darrow’s bashful face, who’s looking at the floor. 

Fjord smiles and places his hand over Darrow’s, fingers gently intertwining. “I’d like that very much.” 

~~~

☕️ also on AO3! kofi link in bio and prompts are open ☕️

[mollymauk-teafleak]

my heart is hitting the ground (Chapter One)

An urban fantasy/college Widomauk AU! Many many many thanks to the wonderful @minky-for-short for getting me into this podcast in the first place and workshopping this fic with me. Also enormous thanks to the amazingly talented @rabdoidal whose fantastic art this fic is based on but I could honestly write a multi-chapter fic on every bit of fan art he’s ever done, it’s all that great. 

Please consider reblogging and leaving me some feedback!

Ao3 | Ko-fi

Caleb Widoghast isn't the kind of guy who blows off studying and goes out a lot. He isn't the kind of guy to get too drunk at the gig for some college band he's never heard of. He isn't the kind of guy to fall hopelessly in love with the tiefling singer of said band and flirt with him after way too much whiskey.

Caleb Widoghast wakes up to find that, last night, he did exactly that. And now he has to deal with the fallout.

The night before came back to Caleb in pieces, each one worse than the last.

The dry mouth. The pounding headache. The fact that he was still wearing jeans under the covers but no shirt at all. The ringing ears.

He moaned and pushed the hair back from his forehead, wrinkling his nose at the almost immediate reek of whiskey. Why the hell was he drinking whiskey, he never…

And then the last piece fell into place. And Caleb seriously considered diving back down underneath his blankets and never emerging again.

“Good morning!”

Of course, no knock preceded his bedroom door flinging open with a bang that made his eardrums throb, the only person it could be was Nott and courtesy wasn’t her strong suit. They’d known each other too long for that.

“I am…struggling to see what’s good about it,” Caleb groaned, pulling a face as the sound that came out of him sounded more like the last gasps of a dying squeaky toy.

Nott smirked at him from the cavernous hood of her sweatshirt, “M’kay, before you ask, let’s just do this all in one. Yes, you did get horrendously drunk. Yes, it was bad. And yes, Beau has video.”

Caleb slumped back into the tangled mess of his bedding, whimpering pathetically, “That’s it. I’m done with civilisation. I’m going to live in the woods and be a hermit and never speak to another person ever again. They will tell tales of me…”

Nott snorted, scrambling up on the end of his bed, “Aw, don’t be so dramatic. Beau had a few herself, it’s all shaky, you can barely see anything,” she took a sip of her tea, “Jester’s the one that got the really good shot…”

Caleb moaned again, louder as if making a point, dragging one of the pillows over his head.

His roommate couldn’t contain her giggles, though she tried to discreetly direct it into her mug, “The night wasn’t a total waste. You really seemed like you were having fun after about the third whiskey and coke. And you were really digging the band…”

Caleb threw his arm from his protective nest of blankets, accusatorily, “No! No, we are not talking about that!”

Nott held up her hands, “Hey, we all thought it was adorable! The way you kept ordering drinks so you could stand closer to the stage, I don’t think you ever heard a word anyone said…we knew you liked that kinda grungy, indie shit but we didn’t know you liked it that much!”

“Nott, I swear, I will kick you off this bed,” Caleb tried to snarl but it came out as more of a whimper, “Can you please take pity on me and make me some coffee?”

“Wish I could, big guy, but we’re all out,” the young goblin shrugged regretfully, “I think you used the last of it to get you through your last deadline.”

Caleb gave another miserable, frustrated groan, now at the world at large rather than Nott. That was just typical.

“Fine…fine, I’ll go get some,” he mumbled, trying to make his head stop throbbing long enough for him to tell up from down and roll out of bed, “Fresh air. it’ll be good for me. I think.”  

“There ya go, positive attitude,” Nott grinned her ear to ear smile, hopping lightly back to the floor, somehow not spilling a single drop of tea to the carpet or, at least, what of it was visible beneath the piles of clothes and notebooks.

Her large ears pricked up as Caleb’s phone gave an annoyingly bright chirp, her smile turning playful and crooked, “If you need a refresher on what happened that night, I bet that’s it.”

Caleb frowned, pawing on his dresser until he found his phone, squinting blearily at it. Sure enough, there was a flurry of messages from his friends, a few pictures that seemed to show nothing but blurs and vague shapes that maybe could be him twirling around lampposts and trying to climb up onto a table. And a video. A few videos actually.

He felt his heart twist with that familiar and unpleasant acid of embarrassment as he studied the thumbnail of the first one. The purple tiefling, the singer, in all his colourful and coiffed glory, somehow still looking as drop dead gorgeous as he had the night before, even when recreated in blocky pixels. He was leaning against a large stacked speaker, an unmistakeably bemused expression on his face while some bedraggled, stooped hobo looking guy clung to a table for balance beside him. Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed the phone over his shoulder (though he was tempted to aim for the window) as it sunk in that it was him.

He hadn’t meant to go over and actually talk to the guy. He’d been perfectly content staying squeezed in between Fjord and Beau, subtly drooling and moony eyed over the front man who alternated between yelling his expletive filled song titles over the clamour of the close, smoky darkness of the bar and singing in a rough, low growl that had done things to Caleb that he really wasn’t ready to admit to. That would have been a perfect plan, maybe he’d daydream about him for a few weeks and months after before accepting that the tiefling was so far out of his league that it wasn’t even funny and sinking back into school work and vague loneliness.

But Caleb had found himself drifting back to the bar, where the view of the singer (Mollymauk, that was his name, Caleb wasn’t likely to forget it any time soon) with the spotlight hitting his exquisitely tattooed chest just right, looked like something from a goddamn renaissance painting. Instead of his usual half pints of what his friends insisted were pretentious hipster beers, Caleb had found himself ordering jack and cokes, eventually graduating to straight whiskeys after a while, hoping that the singer might notice and think him some cool cowboy type rather than the nervous exchange student in rumpled flannel that he was, who could launch into a full-on lecture about the benefits of different brewing techniques if given the slightest nudge.

Caleb blamed the whiskeys and the urging of his friends for the incredibly bad decision that followed the end of the set. He didn’t remember his words exactly, he just remembered a powerful need to go and tell this Mollymauk of the beautiful voice and extravagant dress sense just how much he’d loved his music. And he really had. He’d loved the rawness of it, the clever twists in the lyrics that sent the song suddenly careening in a direction no one would have guessed. He loved its simplicity, just that voice echoing through the underground bar and a simple guitar accompaniment from a very tall woman who’d had Beau staring in a very similar way to Caleb (he wondered why she wasn’t getting any shit for that…and then quickly realised it was probably because she hadn’t made a colossal ass of herself afterwards and because Beau getting heart eyes over a woman she’d only just met was nothing new). Caleb had never, ever found any music that had spoken to him like this stuff did; it make him feel less alone, less broken, less of an outsider. It had been a stronger magic to him than anything he read about in his schoolbooks and he’d fallen for it, hard and devastatingly.

All that would have been a great thing to tell Mollymauk, when Caleb had come staggering over from his table to where the tiefling was packing away his microphone. Unfortunately, what had come tumbling out of his mouth, as far as he could remember, was something about his music being so good that it had ‘given him a boner in his heart’.

Caleb thanked every god he’d ever heard of that he didn’t remember Mollymauk’s reaction, feeling a sickness in his stomach that had nothing to do with his hangover.

“Did you get the one of you doing Singing in the Rain in German?” Nott chirped happily, still in the doorway, swaying in her sweatshirt so long it brushed her knees, the one she always wore, “I never knew you had such a good voice.”

Caleb grumbled at her, glaring with bleary eyes, waving his hand dismissively, “Go. I need to shower…why do I need to shower so bad?”

“Oh,” Nott shrugged, “Probably because you climbed into the dumpster thinking it was the cab.”

Caleb dragged his hand through his long hair, which had taken on the consistency of a reddish brown, greasy birds nest, “Do us all a favour, Nott, and just leave me in the gutter next time. This was an absolute disaster.”

His roommate gave him a look he didn’t understand before disappearing around the corner, “Are you sure?” she called behind her.

That look and those words continued to confuse Caleb until he was in the bathroom, wondering if he should just burn his clothes and have done with it, when he caught sight of his own reflection above the sink. Not a pretty sight on any day and even less now in Caleb’s opinion, but his aching eyes were distracted. By the series of numbers written on his forehead in a flourishing hand, in thick black Sharpie.

Ah. Now Caleb remembered pressing the pen into Mollymauk’s hand, asking him to write his number on his head so he wouldn’t forget it. The wizard slumped, letting his head knock against the cold porcelain of the sink.

Being a forest hermit was sounding more and more tempting every second.