#widomaukweek2019

[artlyloser]

DAY 1 – JUNE 3RD:

Reunion || Confessions

A nervous and a bit confused Molly meeting a shocked Caleb for a second time

[dailymollyfun]

Day 8: the Sun and Moon

i choose to believe the Moonweaver's Ribbons is an all-day event, not just while it's dark.

[m-ollymau-k]

Day 2: giving

All I know is that molly had a heart shaped necklace and then caleb had it too. And it would be really nice if caleb maybe gave his heart the necklace back to him :>

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Widomauk Week 2019

Day 1- Reunion

“Is it really you?”

That was all Caleb could think to say, the words choking out of him, breaking in the air between them. He had to know, before anything else. He’d had so many dreams where this had happened (albeit not in a wooded graveyard in the middle of nowhere), so many desperate wishes given form as torturously sweet dreams that had quickly turned into nightmares as soon as his eyes opened and he remembered everything.

He couldn’t bear it again. He just wasn’t strong enough to hope, to believe he was really here and then have it be a lie, a mistake. Not again. It was agony enough every single morning. He had to be sure before he went even a single step further.

“Is it really you, Mollymauk?”

The tiefling in front of him shifted awkwardly in the doorway of the tiny cottage, suddenly aware of several sets of stunned eyes on him after he’d followed the strange pink firbolg out into the afternoon sunlight and changed everything. He was thinner, somehow younger looking in his blank, wide eyed confusion and underneath the white linen shirt he wore, there was the unmistakable raised, puckered, painful skin of a halfway healed scar lancing across his chest. The coat was gone, the jewels on his horns, the huge, wickedly curved swords and wickedly curved smile. But it was unmistakably him. Mollymauk Tealeaf. The piece of Caleb’s heart that had been torn away.

His mouth had to work a while before any sound came out, it was as if he’d forgotten how. Caleb could remember how it had felt to kiss that mouth, have it open parts of him that he’d thought he’d simply hadn’t been made with. It had been weeks but he still remembered.

“Em…empty?”

The words broke his heart into pieces but the voice kept him tumbling to his knees. It was him. Not a dream, not a hallucination in the midst of a wild fit of grief, not an apparition brought on by a bard in a tavern playing a song Molly had always used to hum on the road.

He didn’t care that the others were watching, he didn’t care that they were still technically a secret, Caleb closed the gap between him and the man he’d loved and lost within a few strides and threw his arms around him.

There was a heartbeat where the tiefling stayed tense and wooden but it was gone quickly and soon he was clinging to Caleb with equal strength, equal relief. His tail moved and wrapped around Caleb’s leg, the way it always used to and his fingers fastened tightly in the tangled thicket of rust red hair, the way they always used to.

And Caleb felt like he could breathe again.

“He just turned up one day covered in soil,” the firbolg was telling the rest of them, sounding far away and distant, “All he can say is that one word but it seemed like he was waiting for something…”

Us,Caleb thought, tears burning behind his eyelids, he was waiting for us.

“Empty…e-empty…” Mollymauk rasped. It really did seem to be all he could say but the cadence was never the same, the words he wanted to say pushing through slightly like the lines of mountains on a well faded map but enough for Caleb to understand. He’d always been able to understand what Molly hid just below the surface.

I know you…

Caleb drew back and cupped Molly’s face between his hands, managing a smile. He hadn’t smiled in a long time, the muscles pulled in shock at being asked to move that way. Almost like when he’d first met Mollymauk.

“I’m Caleb, Molly,” he murmured, keeping his voice low simply because it seemed only appropriate in the muffled quiet of the grove with its hanging fronds of lichen and whispering stream, not because he was trying to hide his words from the rest of the still stunned Nein. They had gone far past that.

“You and I…I know how strange this sounds but we were…we are…I love you. I never got the chance to say it before but it’s true, I promise it’s true, I love you. I was so broken when I met you, Molly, but you helped me heal and you showed me what loving someone could be like. You made me feel things no one ever had before, you held me when I cried, you…you made me feel like I was worth something.”

Molly blinked slowly, absorbing all of that, “Empty…”

The same cadence again. I know you…

Caleb’s face split into a wider grin, “That’s right. You know me and I know you. I don’t know who decided I deserved to have you back in my life, Molly, but thank the gods for them. I’m not making the same mistake twice. I love you. I love you so much.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across Mollymauk’s face, light as a firefly, until it died away. His voice lowered, his tone became apologetic, fearful, “Empty…”

“It’s okay, Molly,” Caleb soothed, stroking a hand through his hair, “It’s okay. Whatever this is, I’m here for you, we’ll get through it. Gods know you stuck with me through a hell of a lot.”

The concern eased a little, those red eyes filled with relief and the arms around his neck grew more secure. Caleb brought his forehead to rest on Mollymauk’s, though he didn’t let his eyes close. He didn’t want to miss a second of this.

What better place for their lives to start again, for their love to bud and grow again, than the Blooming Grove where tea plants grew through the eyes of skulls and death was never the end?

[micklio]

for day2: modern au of widomauk week

[thepetulantpen]

Healing/Ashes

(I swear I’m going to get these done! Here’s day 7 of @widomauk-week , I’ll have day 8 done shortly! Little more angsty today... warning for mild description of injuries and major character injury!)

“You should have Jester heal you.”

Caleb slowly lowers himself next to Molly, wincing at the protest from his bruised ribs and the deep cut on his arm.

“I’m fine.”

Molly frowns in concern but doesn’t bother to argue with Caleb when he knows he’s not going to budge on the matter.

He wishes, not for the first time, he had the power to heal, instead of just to hurt. That way, Molly could heal him whenever he pleased and Caleb would have no choice but to accept it.

Their wizard looks particularly grim after today’s battle, with blood crusting on his head, singed eyebrows, ash dusting the top of his hair, and bloody bandages peeking out of his sleeve. As Molly watches, blood slowly seeps into the bandage on Caleb’s upper arm, spreading and consuming more of the white material.

“Caleb-“

“It’s fine, Mollymauk. She doesn’t need to waste any more spells on me.”

Something is wrong. Molly can feel it, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it.

He supposes he could tell on Caleb, sic Jester on him so he’s forced to submit to a healing spell. Or maybe he has an extra healing potion he could put in some tea; Nott could certainly pull off the sleight of hand required to dose Caleb.

Molly stands, making up his mind to get someone to help heal his stubborn man, but Caleb grabs his hand, tugging him back towards the ground.

“Don’t go.”

Caleb’s hand is sweaty and he’s staring at the ground, hair falling around his face like a curtain. Molly manages a reassuring smile, a dazzling lie to keep Caleb calm.

“It’s ok, I’m just going to get some tea for you.”

“Not yet.” Caleb takes a ragged breath, tilting his head up towards the sky to watch the storm clouds converge over them.

A strong breeze passes through them and Caleb closes his eyes, letting the atmosphere of the storm soak into his skin.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure,” Molly shifts nervously, wanting to help Caleb but not sure whether it’ll be best address his physical or mental concerns first, “I’m an expert on weird.”

“What do you want to happen to you after you die?”

Molly blinks once but doesn’t try to analyze the question, he’s going to deliver on Caleb’s expectation of an answer without judgement. Even if Molly secretly thinks it is a really weird question.

“Mm, I guess the Moonweaver would collect me. I’d want to be a part of whatever mischief she gets up to.”

“No, I mean,” Caleb breathes in again and this time Molly can tell it’s definitely wrong, definitely strained, “Would you want to be buried?”

Molly squints at Caleb, trying to examine his face and determine whether he’s more pale than usual. His eyes are still closed, Molly wishes he would open them.

“I suppose. What else is there?”

A grimace contorts Caleb’s face, taking over for a few long seconds before he’s able to pull back on his neutral mask.

“The pyre. From ashes, to ashes.”

Molly looks around anxiously, wondering if anybody is nearby to call for help if Caleb needs it. He’s talking so weird, maybe the wound is worse than they thought and the blood loss— what if he needs healing now?

No, Molly can’t just leave. Clearly Caleb has something on his mind, it’d be wrong to just ignore that. He’ll get Jester as soon as Caleb is ready. He clears his throat, determined to give Caleb an answer and figure out what his point is so they can move on to more pressing issues- like the blood that’s still traveling down the bandage.

“I don’t think I could do the whole cremation thing- too permanent. What if I come back again? I’d like to leave my body to be recycled by the next guy.”

Caleb laughs, or tries to, but the sound gets stuck in his throat, launching him into a coughing fit. Molly puts a hand on his back as Caleb starts hacking into his hands, watching in horror as blood begins to splatter against his hand wrappings. Caleb gasps, pulling in air for the first time in nearly a minute.

“I don’t think you’d die forever if you burned, Molly,” Caleb smiles, eyes still closed, why won’t he open them-

“I think you’d rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.”

Caleb opens his eyes, staring up at Mollymauk. They’re totally glazed over, a glassy white cloud covering the bright blue completely. Behind the fog, there’s a bright light, a feverish fire burning through Caleb’s mind.

He’s out before he lands in Molly’s arms, before he hears him screaming for Jester, Nott, Fjord, anyone—

...

He has a dream he’s had before, of a fireball and his friends and seven piles of ashes.

Usually, the dream ends after the explosion, after the screams of his subconscious follow him into the waking world.

This time, the dream lingers for a few more silent, dark moments. Caleb just wails, face buried in his hands, ashes in his hair, under his nails, clogged in his tear ducts.

A fire bursts to life amongst the ashes, embers warming without any input from Caleb. The room is suddenly very, very hot, the tears running down Caleb’s face start to boil and it makes him stop crying long enough to shout in surprise and pain.

The flames rise, surrounding him. They don’t spread but move, as if they had bodies to carry them. The pillar of fire in front of Caleb reaches out with a tongue of flames and brushes his face, harmless warmth spreading from cheek to chin.

The living, moving wall of fire parts to reveal a silhouette rising from the ashes, too obscured by the combination of glaring light and all consuming shadow for Caleb to make out.

The flames flicker once, then die, blown out by an unseen force. It’s done with ease and precision, like blowing out birthday candles rather than a room full of wildfire.

The only light that remains are the embers, gently floating through the air like fireflies and collecting on the ground in a path that winds from Caleb to the ashes.

He stands on shaking legs and follows it, not because he wants to but because his feet seem to have developed a mind of their own, siphoning dying coherency from his brain.

The ashes have been replaced by a bed of embers, some hot and yellow, others cooling red, and the rest solid black. The silhouette- now a distinct lavender tiefling- is there, sitting cross-legged and peaceful on the embers. His eyes are closed.

The purple tiefling- Molly?- doesn’t open his eyes but his head tilts up, sensing Caleb’s presence.

“Caleb!”

Eyes still closed, he smiles up at Caleb, the same wide grin that Molly gives him any opportunity he gets: in morning, before bed, after battles, after shopping, when they’re eating, when they’re drinking. It makes Caleb smile too and he reaches out to cup Molly’s cheek.

“-up! Caleb!”

Molly’s eyelids lift but there are no eyes there, just fire and embers spilling out and down his face. He’s crying fire but the smile stays, plastic and perfect, unaffected by Caleb’s horror.

The red fire reaches Caleb’s hand where he’s touching Molly’s face and catches on the bandages there, lighting up and spreading faster than should be possible. He tries to pat out the fire consuming his right arm, tries to scream or do something—

Caleb doesn’t have a chance because he’s already ash, swept away with the breeze.

...

Caleb wakes to something freezing cold on his forehead and an unidentifiable, but definitively unpleasant sensation in his right arm.

He tries to sit up, bat away whatever is touching his arm, but something holds him down, putting gentle weight on his weak shoulders.

“Shh, shh. I’m almost done.”

Like lifting heavy weights, Caleb manages to open his eyes. He’s in a dark room, lit only by dim candles. The window next to his bed is totally dark, revealing a starless night sky.

Molly is leaning over him, holding his arm and screwing up his face in concentration. He mutters something in a language Caleb doesn’t know and waves his hands in an unfamiliar arcane gesture.

The odd sensation starts again, like... bleeding but worse and not dulled by adrenaline. He watches as a green-tinted, translucent liquid leaks from the cut on his arm and floats up towards Molly’s fingers, before getting caught in the vial he holds. Caleb turns his head away, not wanting to further upset his stomach.

A few minutes later, Molly sighs and sets the vial on a side table, alerting Caleb with a soft clinking sound.

“Caleb?”

He turns his head back to Molly, peering up into his eyes. Molly looks so tired, more tired than Caleb has ever seen him. Fatigue weighs down the edges of his eyes and wears a crease in between his eyebrows.

“You know I love you, right?”

Caleb hesitates but nods slowly. He can’t bring himself to protest, uselessly, Molly’s steadfast affection, especially not when he can see tears welling in Molly’s eyes.

“And that’s never going to change, but,” Molly takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, “if you ever do something this stupid again—I don’t know what I’ll do but it will not be pleasant, understand?”

Caleb fumbles for Molly’s hand with his good arm, squeezing weakly when he finds it. Molly squeezes back, with much more force than necessary, though Caleb supposes he deserves that after the day they’ve had.

There’s a million thoughts racing through Caleb’s head, guilt ridden and self-deprecating- I don’t deserve this, I’ve caused so much trouble, I’ve hurt Molly- but he silences all of them at the look on Molly’s face, a powerful mixture of worry and relief.

He doesn’t say anything he’s thinking, just what he’s feeling, “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly smiles, letting the tears in his eyes fall. He leans forward and presses his forehead against Caleb’s; the warmth of his skin sinks into Caleb’s even through the cold compress he’s placed there.

“Of course, Mr. Caleb. What would we do without our all-powerful wizard?” Molly smiles wider, fangs poking out to become part of the shining performance piece of an expression.

Molly turns his head, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead. He adds, much softer, “What would I do without the love of my life?”

Caleb’s going to say something to that, maybe apologize, maybe contradict, but Molly beats him to it, sitting back and rubbing his hand over Caleb’s arm.

“I’ll always be here to save you, Caleb, but I don’t want to, if I can avoid it.”

Caleb swallows, intimidated by Molly’s expectant stare. The vibrant red energy of Molly’s eyes fills his mind and Caleb finds himself giving into the impulse to say what he feels, to say something stupid, something impulsive.

Something Molly wants to hear, something Caleb wants to say.

“I promise you won’t have to. Not like this. Not again.”

Molly makes a happy little hum, satisfied with the flimsy, tired promise. He may be happy with just those words but Caleb is determined to make it more than that, make sure he never makes Molly so tired ever again.

But there’ll be time for making good on promises later, when there’s more light outside and less ache in his bones.

The candle is blown out and Molly tucks himself into bed next to Caleb, careful not to disturb any injuries.

They lay like that for a while, peaceful and content to just be in each other’s company. Caleb is reluctant to fall asleep again, scared of what he’ll find in his dreams and nagged by lingering curiosity about the missing hours of his day. He doesn’t want to wake Molly if he’s already asleep but he can’t help it, he has to know.

“How did you save me?”

Molly, apparently not asleep, laughs against Caleb’s chest.

“I used my brilliant arcane abilities to extract the poison from your blood,” his smile dies a little, hugging Caleb as tight as he dares, “Jester was out of restoration spells, so I had to make due.”

His grip is still weak from the fever and blood loss, but Caleb puts all the strength he has left into hugging Molly.

“That’s pretty clever, Molly.”

Molly snuggles a little closer, holding onto Caleb like he’s scared he’ll slip away.

“I learned from the best.”

[piratekenway]

for day 1 of Widomauk Week 2019, “reunions”.

Xhorhas is—new, to say the least. Finagling a way into it in the middle of a war takes the better part of a month, and enough gold that he ends up resorting to roughing it for a while on his way in, hanging out with a few mercenaries willing to take on a slightly panicky tiefling for a few days. Probably helps that he’s become exceedingly good at killing things, lately.

It’s worth it. It’s all worth it when he gets into Ghor Dranas, or Rosohna, or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now. It’s all worth it, because he asks for the Mighty Nein and someone points out a fucking huge house with a goddamn tree growing on top of a tower. It’s all worth it for the steps he takes towards the door, the sight of a house that he could maybe call home, the certain knowledge that his friends are here and he can rest at last, at last.

He stops at the door, tail lashing back and forth, twinging just the slightest bit.

Could he stay here? Would they still take him back? It’s not like Molly’s death really stopped them for very long, after all, so maybe he’s fooling himself. Maybe they’ll take one look at him, cracked and damaged and even more claustrophobic than before, and gently direct him somewhere else. Maybe they’ll treat him like he’s Kiri and take him somewhere safe.

Maybe they don’t want him anymore.

[selfish-cat]

Pairing: Widomauk, platonic M9

Rating: T

Warnings: Fluff

Preview:

Day 2: Modern AU/Urban Fantasy

The music’s turned down and the door knob turns and the lavender tiefling that he saw through Frumpkin’s eyes emerges. Crimson eyes blink curiously at him. “Hello, can I help you with something?”

Caleb swallows and stiltedly points at his cat, who’s contently being cradled in this stranger’s arms. “Ja, sorry for bothering you, but I was looking for my cat. That one. In your arms, more specifically.”

[artemis-pendragon]

I would just like the person (people?) who organized Widomauk Week to know that I owe them my life

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Please do not use Google Translate on your ancient summoning book

Sometimes Caleb is a splendid wizard, rife with potential and raw power, the best version of the bright young man from a little town that got selected to attent the best magic academy in the country.

Some other times he grabs a book that says things like "blood" and "bond" and "make minutes feel like hours of extasy" and actually thinks he's casting a time spell.

Demon AU, no context needed

Just a little drabble for Widomaukweek’s day 4, free day! 

This is working wonders for me to practice writing shorter things.

[artlyloser]

DAY 3 – JUNE 5TH:

Tarot || Formal Event

This was all an excuse to draw Molly in a very pretty dress

[dailymollyfun]

Day 7: Healing - potions. they keep you alive. use them. *generic commercial music in the background* day 2 will still happen, for some reason i can’t make a decent sketch for it, but eventually it’ll happen

[m-ollymau-k]

day three: tarot

in which caleb decides to humor mollymauk and try his hand at the deck :>

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Last Day of Widomauk Week!

Don’t know why I’m so excited, devastated its ending. Its been so much fun, I feel like a better, more accomplished writer because of this and it’s given me a wonderful sense of community. Thanks so much to @widomauk-week for organising this, its been the first collaborative fan thing I’ve ever taken part in and I loved it!

Final Day- Flowers 

---------

Molly sat on the bench outside the courthouse and enjoyed the warmth of the day. The sun was at the perfect height in the sky, perfect and bright as a newly minted gold piece. Rain was on the way to judge by the heavy grey clouds gathering just behind the skyscrapers and the scent in the gathering wind, though Molly didn’t mind that so much. Rain was good. Rain made the grass smell nice and the leaves look sugared and the lamps and headlights come alive and start to dance. Evening rain was the best of all, when you could lie in the dark between waking and sleeping and hear it rap on the windows. It was already late afternoon. Sun in the afternoon, rain in the evening, that was a perfect kind of day.

A perfect day to get married.

They hadn’t intended for it to be today of course. They were still in that uncommitted, airy phase of having no date and no venue but definitely having the intention. But honestly, the thought of facing all of the planning and spending and stress just to throw a party didn’t appeal to either of them.

So when Caleb had murmured, half asleep, face half pressed into Mollymauk’s chest, that he wanted to marry him that day, that very minute if possible, the tiefling had laughed. And he’d said, “Okay.”

And here they were.

The only thing Mollymauk owned that was white was a crop top with a wildly inappropriate slogan on it and Caleb own anything even remotely suit adjacent. But why get married dressed as other people? No temple, no church, no fancy shindig meant they had no expectations. They were just themselves. Mollymauk and Caleb making another of the impulsive, fun decisions that had worked out so well for them before. He was wearing his ever present coat, loving how it’s thread work caught the sun, tight black jeans with artful rips that he’d put in himself, a t-shirt from one of his own gigs. Might as well promote himself a little, surely he was allowed to do that on his own wedding day? Caleb meanwhile was once again proving that somehow plaid shirts and overwashed jeans could be made sexy as long as the right wizard was wearing them.

He’d lost sight of his husband-to-be-sometime-in-the-next-twenty-minutes-before-the-registrar’s-office-closed, after he’d sat him down and said there was something important he needed to do and he wouldn’t be too long. Molly had just smiled and obediently sat, happy to watch the city street roll by before him, enjoying the little patch of greenery in front of the courthouse, enjoying the quiet.

The quiet, of course, did not have long to live once their witnesses showed up.

“Mollymauk!” Jester hollered from the opposite end of the green, zigzagging her way across it to yank him to his feet and hug him tight. Her girlfriends followed at a much more leisurely pace.

“Hey, Jester,” Molly laughed, patting the top of her head, “Thanks for coming down.”

“I am incredibly mad at you right now,” Jester informs him, her words softened by the hug that’s still going on and on, “Your wedding would have been very fancy and very beautiful and very fun.”

“I know, dear,” Molly smiles, “We’re still gonna go party our asses off after, though, that's the best bit.”

“Want me to call the bar in advance and let them know it's going to be another night where they’ve got to deal with Caleb barfing in the jukebox?” Beau asked, already grinning at the prospect.

“Maybe married life will change him,” Molly cackles, shouldering her lightly, “You guys go inside and find out whatever forms and shit we’ve got to fill in to make us married, I’ll go track down my fiance.”

“Excellent,” Beau drawled, rolling her eyes, “Sounds like you guys really thought this through.”

Molly blew her a kiss and fluttered his fingertips, making her scrunch up her face as Jester ferried her up the steps. Yasha lingered just a bit longer, eyes soft and saying everything her mouth didn’t. When she folded Molly into a hug, he let himself feel small and safe in her arms, the way she’d always been able to make him feel, even on the days when all he’d been able to see was the endless black sink that was his past.

“Thanks, Yasha,” he murmured, patting her shoulder before moving back.

“I’m always proud of you,” she said in her soft voice before turning back up the steps to follow her girls before they left her radius of calming, rational influence and started to cause trouble, “Hold on tight to him.”

“You know I will,” Molly laughed gently, knowing exactly what she meant, “And I still want the bachelor party you were planning. Sure it was going to be a rager.”

Yasha was laughing as she walked away, making Molly smile with satisfaction. He always liked to leave her laughing.

He didn’t have to look far for Caleb. Before he’d gone a few paces, he saw him, walking quickly up the path around the green. The knees of his jeans were black with soil and there were a few twigs in his hair.

“What on earth…” Mollymauk stopped, blinking, “The hell were you doing, love?”

Caleb smiled, looking abashed. He held out his fist, revealing a hastily assembled bouquet of flowers. Clearly they’d been picked from nearby gardens and flower boxes, all the stems were different lengths and the colours clashed and a few were leaning on their neighbours, swaying on bent stalks.

“I didn’t want you to get married without flowers,” Caleb explained, “I know you love them. It’s not a nice bouquet or anything but it’s...something.”

Molly took the flowers, holding them to his chest like they were the most precious things in the world. They smelled of fresh turned earth, of new leaves, of the coming rain.

“It’s everything, Caleb,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him softly.

The actual getting married part was fun, though the two of them kept giggling through their parts, squeezing each other’s hands and catching each other’s eyes at the wrong moments. Jester’s attempt to throw a handful of push pins in the absence of confetti was not well received.

The reception, for what it was, held at their favourite bar in town and then the nearby Waffle House when they all got hungry was even more fun. Their colourful, expansive group of friends surrounding them, the newlyweds took turns sitting in each other’s laps and kissing for inappropriately long lengths of time. Caleb managed not to disgrace himself at the bar, mostly because he spent too much time gazing at Mollymauk and forgetting to finish his drinks, though they later became possibly the first people ever to be ejected from a Waffle House for getting too handsy on one of the formica tables.

But afterwards, as Molly lay in bed while his new husband snored softly, listened to the rain hitting the window pane in its perfect, harmonious music and watched the ghosts of the droplets run over his little bouquet, stood proudly in a tumbler of water, that was the best of all.

[officiallanxichen]

[Image description: a colored pencil drawing of Caleb and and Molly from Critical Role. Caleb is a ginger human man with almost shoulder length hair and a short beard. He is wearing sunglasses, jean shorts, and a black tank top with "Love is Love" written on it in rainbow letters. Molly is a lavender tiefling with purple hair the same length as Caleb's and dark purple horns. He is wearing sunglasses, a pale pink crop top with "Fuck Gender" written on it in the colors of the genderfluid pride flag, and pink booty shorts. There is a peacock tattoo going up the side of his neck and curving just under his right eye, and a sun tattoo on his left shoulder. They are standing with their arms around each other, and Molly's tail is wrapped around Caleb's right leg. The background is rainbow with the stripes going diagonal across the page. End image description.]

Day 2 of Widomauk Week means I get to draw the boys in modern outfit! This was going to be a pride parade scene but ya boy can't draw background people to save his life.

[thepetulantpen]

Flowers/Sun&Moon

(I said I’d get these done and I did...a few days late. Here’s day 8 of @widomauk-week , it was so fun to participate!)

Under the sun, Molly and Caleb lay on their backs in the grass, soaking in the sunshine.

Molly has taken off his coat and his boots, letting the blades of grass tickle in between his toes. Caleb has taken off his coat and bandages, even carefully setting aside his book holsters in an effort to keep himself from overheating.

They lay there for a while, hands intertwined, talking about nothing and laughing about everything.

Molly’s eyes blaze with warmth, radiating happiness just as the sun exudes heat. Caleb’s hair fans out around his head on the grass, fire running through the color like rays off of the sun.

Caleb brings a hand up to shade his eyes, trying not to show how much the glaring sunlight is bothering him, not wanting to ruin this afternoon with Molly.

“Are Zemnians allergic to sunlight?” Molly giggles and sits up, leaning over Caleb to block out the sun with his head, “Is that why you’re so pale?”

Caleb smiles like the sun peeking out from the clouds, a bright patch that seems inordinately small compared to Molly’s full strength smile, sunny in a way that’s just shy of too much.

“Mm, yes. It’s why we rely on... other sources for vitamin D.”

Molly freezes above him and for a silent moment Caleb wonders if he somehow didn’t get the joke.

“...did you just make a dick joke? Are you possessed?” Molly puts his hand against Caleb’s forehead, “Are you sick?”

“A little lovesick, perhaps.”

Then Molly laughs and doesn’t stop laughing, falling backwards and cackling as if Caleb had done something much funnier than make a mediocre pun. He laughs and he looks at Caleb like he’s made of gold, like every joke he makes could change the world and every smile could save lives.

It’s flattering, it’s ill-advised, it’s Molly.

Caleb can’t say he feels the same about himself, can’t even say he’s completely comfortable with how highly Molly thinks of him, but right now they’re sitting in the sun and laughing and it all just feels too good to question.

Still, there are darker, colder thoughts lurking at the edges of his mind and interrupting logistics at the forefront.

“The others are probably wondering where we are,” Caleb props himself up on his elbows, “We should probably head back.”

“They can wait a little longer,” Molly grins mischievously and, before Caleb can protest further, stands up, “Stay here for a second.”

He’s tempted to look behind him and spy on what Molly’s doing but the sun is making him warm and lazy, he realizes he doesn’t want to leave or follow his own suggestion at all. He’d rather just sit here and wait for Molly to get back with whatever shenanigans he’s come up with this time.

Caleb doesn’t hear or see Molly sit back down behind him, but he does feel Molly’s fingers combing through his hair without warning or explanation.

“Molly, what-“

“Shh, it’s a surprise.”

It can’t be much of a surprise since he can feel the tugging on his hair that tells him Molly is braiding it, but Caleb appreciates the sentiment anyway. He closes his eyes and just feels for a while, the repetitive motion of Molly’s fingers against his scalp soothing him and erasing any more thoughts of leaving or being responsible. It takes longer than he would’ve thought, Molly must do something especially complicated to make the most of Caleb’s fairly short hair.

It’s nearly nightfall when Molly leads Caleb back to the inn, turning him around in front of a mirror to show off his handiwork: a complicated web of braids interspersed with tiny wildflowers. The sight of it takes Caleb’s breath away- he has no idea how Molly managed to weave such little, fragile things into his hair and make them stay there.

“Where did you learn how to do this?”

Molly sits cross legged on the bed behind him, tail waving excitedly as he grins at Caleb.

“I used to braid Yasha’s hair, when we were in the circus together. It’s pretty good, right?”

Caleb smiles at himself in the mirror for the first time in years, letting himself see what Molly sees for a moment: a man with a brilliant, soft smile and little flowers in his hair.

“It’s beautiful.”

...

Under the moon, Molly and Caleb sit on a rock ledge a little apart from the party, shivering in the cool night air.

Molly has draped his tapestry over his coat, though the thin material and sequins do little to warm him. Caleb is bundled up in his coat and a few layers beneath it, appropriately dressed for the cold now that he can afford it.

“Are you sure you don’t want my coat?”

Molly smiles and shakes his head, trying for nonchalance even when Caleb can see his teeth chattering. “I suffer for my art, darling. No offense, but I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something so dull and brown.”

“I’ll have you know this is high Zemnian fashion.”

“Mm, I’m sure Dirty-Chic is all the rage there.”

Caleb huffs and pulls on a mock offended scowl but moves closer to Molly, sharing his body heat in a cuddle. Usually, Molly is the warm one but this weather has taken a toll on him and Caleb can feel him shaking against him, shivers and laughter moving through his chest.

They sit like that for a while until Molly stops shaking so much and regains some of that hot-blooded warmth Caleb is used to.

In the meantime, they’re on lookout, or supposed to be on lookout. Caleb would be watching carefully, making sure there aren’t any threats on the horizon, but this road leads to the middle of nowhere and has had no monsters of any sort for days so he feels comfortable becoming entirely transfixed by the flowers growing all around them.

They’re glowing, casting dim light over the road and meadow in an array of fluorescent greens and blues. In the daytime, they were just patches of wildflowers, basically weeds, but at night they’ve come to life, dotting the landscape with brilliant light shows,

It’s breathtaking and it gives Caleb an idea.

“Here, hold this,” Caleb pulls off his coat and drapes it over Molly’s shoulders, ignoring the noise of protest, “I’ll be right back.”

Molly is tempted to bring the coat back, or at least yell after Caleb, but he stays put instead, curious to see what Caleb’s planning. He pulls on the coat because it’s freezing tonight and looks firmly at the ground, determined not to peek and spoil the surprise.

Caleb returns a minute later, settling on the grass behind Molly. There’s more rustling noises and a few huffs of frustration as Caleb struggles to work with whatever he’s collected. At the noise, and because the suspense is killing him, Molly turns his head a little and Caleb immediately stiffens, curling around whatever he’s working on.

“Turn around! It’s a surprise.”

Molly complies, only barely reigning in his energy for the next few minutes before Caleb speaks again.

“Ok, now close your eyes.”

Caleb’s fingers ruffle Molly’s hair, moving it as he puts something in it. He’s pretty sure he can guess what it is, based on the combination of sharp points and soft spots, but he keeps his eyes closed, preserving this idea of surprise that Caleb seems intent on.

“Scheisse.”

Caleb’s fingers fumble around his horns and Molly finally opens his eyes, looking up at Caleb’s face. He’s concentrating on adjusting his gift around the obstacle of Molly’s horns, face screwed up and tongue poking out one side of his mouth in a determined pout.

He notices Molly looking and fidgets with more fervor. “I can fix it, just wait.”

He ends up having to disconnect and retie the flower crown at multiple points, shuffling around Molly to perfect parts all around his head so it fits perfectly at the base of his horns.

Caleb sits back and smiles at Molly, looking more proud of himself than Molly has ever seen him. The smile is a gift in itself, Molly would give anything to see Caleb that happy with himself every day.

“Can I look now?”

“Of course.”

Caleb fumbles with his bag, presumably trying to find something reflective, but Molly unsheathes Summer’s Dance, adjusting it to get the best of his narrow reflection on the gold surface.

The flowers, with their wonderful glow, are truly stunning, lighting his face with an ethereal shine. The crown itself is meticulously crafted, the twisted bonds of twigs between the flowers seem sturdy, like Molly could dance or fight with them in his hair and not lose a single flower.

Caleb stifles a yawn next to him. The moon seems to sag in the sky, as tired as they are. Molly will have to test his theories later, when he’s not dead on his feet.

“Do you like it?”

It’s hard to read Caleb’s face in these moments, where darkness and perpetual uncertainty obscure most of his real intentions, but Molly doesn’t think it particularly matters, he knows his answer.

“I love it, Caleb. I’m never taking it off.”

Molly’s smile shines like a crescent moon breaking out of a twilight sky and Caleb’s eyes twinkle like bright stars in an endless void.

They spend the rest of their watch curled in each other’s arms, bathed in the light of flowers and their own glowing, powerful love.