Ash ✨A Fine Fish✨ 🍊🏴‍☠️🧜‍♂️
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widogastweb.bsky.social
Ash ✨A Fine Fish✨ 🍊🏴‍☠️🧜‍♂️
@widogastweb.bsky.social
540 followers 640 following 3.4K posts
they/he 🏳️‍🌈 your non-binary boywife✨mostly here for the old gay pirates 🏴‍☠️mid-30s, frequently dehydrated 🍊WidogastsWebofFire on AO3🔞
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widogastweb.bsky.social
Happy #WIPWednesday! Just a little more of my Christmas fic, where Alma has completely misjudged her dad’s relationship to Santa Claus.
Because Dad got closer––closer––even closer to Santa. So close that he was able to wrap his arms around his neck. He smiled with that secretive grin again and asked, “So, have I been a good boy this year?” “What the––” Louis whispered beside her, but Alma clamped a hand around his mouth before he could blow their cover. To be fair, she was thinking the exact same thing. What the hell, what the hell, what the freaking HELL. She nearly shriveled up into a husk as Santa slid his arms around Dad’s middle and hugged him close––so close that the wispy bits of his white beard curled up against his cheek. “For the most part,” Santa answered, his voice losing its jolliness, going so low that Alma could hardly hear him. “Though, I do have you on record doing some very naughty things.” Dad made a mock frown. “Surely a couple naughty things here and there doesn’t get one on the Naughty List?” “Not usually, no,” Santa said, “but some of those things are pretty deeply naughty.” And Dad leaned in––how was that even possible? There was hardly any space between them anymore––and said, “Maybe I can make up for it?” “Not a lot of time left for that,” Santa chuckled. “Oh, trust me, Mr. Claus,” Dad said. “Once you see your Christmas gift, I’ll be going straight to the top of the Nice List, no question.” “We’ll see about that,” Santa said. And–– No. NO. NO NO NOPE NUH-UH NO WAY NO NO NO.
December 10, 2025 at 10:25 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
I’m doing WIP Waturday because I need you all to get as excited for my dopey little Christmas fic as I am.

Alma and Louis get a little more than they ask for when they spy on Santa Claus.
Alma’s eyes went wide. Her logical arguments all started fading away, because yeah, that wasn’t Dad. Not the right build or height. His back was to them as he took another cookie off the plate and munched, but even without seeing his face, Alma knew that wasn’t her dad. He didn’t move the same way, didn’t stand in place in the awkward-yet-confident way Dad did––kind of like a pelican who thought he was a bald eagle. And the cookies––Dad’s been yapping nonstop about how high his sugar levels were at his last doctor appointment, so he’s been trying to stay away from sweets. There’s no way he’d be eating a plate of homemade snickerdoodles. He saw for himself how much sugar she and Ed put in those. Not a chance he would even go after one of those. And––well––if it wasn’t Dad… “Holy shit,” she muttered. “It’s Santa.” “Told you,” Louis said, shoving her arm. She shoved him back, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the scene in the living room. The plate on the mantle, from what she could see from where she sat, was empty. He must have been hungry––he usually left at least one or two of them for them to have in the morning. As he munched, his back still turned, he leaned down to the foot of the Christmas tree and adjusted the wrapped boxes that sat underneath the pine branches. (Jeez, she’d been so distracted by her whole concept of reality being shattered, she hadn’t even noticed the presents. That’s how serious this was.) He hummed to himself as he did so, and it was even more proof that it wasn’t Dad. His voice was low and buttery, not high and nasally like Dad’s. It was fascinating. Like watching a wild animal in its natural habitat. She wished she brought her phone with her so she could take pictures or a video. Document this somehow so Billy Badminton could choke on his words right in front of her as she presented her irrefutable evidence. Just as she was about to sneak back to her room for it, though, a shadow stretched out across the living room floor from the kitchen doorway. “Oh! Look who it is!” Yep. It definitely wasn’t Dad in a Santa costume. Because Dad himself padded into the living room, already in his silky teal pajamas, gold bathrobe, and house slippers. Weird. He was never usually up so late. Somedays, he was asleep before her or Louis. But he was awake and alert as he walked across the creaky wood flooring, shoving his phone into his bathrobe pocket. He smiled, and it was––weird. It was the kind of smile he had only when he thought no one was looking at him. The kind that made him look like he was in on some kind of secret joke. And Alma knew, even though she couldn’t see his face, Santa was in on the same joke. Just with the way he turned toward Dad and leaned against the mantle on his elbow. “And shouldn’t you be asleep, little boy?” Santa asked. Again, a low tone. A lot closer to the mall Santas she’d encountered in the past. She would have thought that would have been an inaccurate stereotype. Interesting. Dad chuckled as he drew closer. “I thought you’d know if I was awake.” Santa snickered, though it was a bit higher pitched than before. He cleared his throat, though, and said in his lower, jollier voice, “My Santa Senses must be buggy today.” “Mmm,” Dad said with a nod. “Bad day for those to be going haywire, huh?” “Tell me about it.” Dad laughed again. Again, weird. He wasn’t surprised at all about Santa freaking Claus standing in the middle of their living room. It was like they knew each other. Dad had casually mentioned to Louis a few weeks ago that he had Santa’s phone number, so yes, he would for sure get the message about the Lego dinosaur set he wanted. Alma thought he was kidding, just making something up to get Louis to shut up about the Legos already. But maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe he was actually friends with Santa. What a thing to keep from them! The betrayal! She’d definitely have to give him a hard time about that later. Except… Oh. Wait. What? Maybe friends wasn’t the right word. Because Dad got closer––closer––even closer to Santa. So close that he was able to wrap his arms around his neck. He smiled with that secretive grin again and asked, “So, have I been a good boy this year?” “What the––” Louis whispered beside her, but Alma clamped a hand around his mouth before he could blow their cover. To be fair, she was thinking the exact same thing. What the hell, what the hell, what the freaking HELL.
December 6, 2025 at 4:12 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Yes, I may have been Going Through Something™️ this year. Why do you ask?
Spotify wrapped screenshot confirming all of my top songs of the year were from Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Spotify Wrapped screenshot Top artists: 1. Noah Kahan, 2. Chappell Roan 3. Ninja Sex Party 4. Hozier 5. Phoebe Bridgers.
December 3, 2025 at 1:58 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
STOP. This is a selfie checkpoint. You must repost with a cute selfie to proceed.
A selfie of me in the mirror. I’m wearing a purple hat and a black shirt with the Fullmetal Alchemist logo on it.
November 22, 2025 at 3:09 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
I want to learn to draw solely so I can give Ed Teach novelty claw clips.
A person with long dark hair being held up by a claw clip shaped like a Wet Floor sign that says “CAUTION: OVERSTIMULATED. DO NOT APPROACH”
November 21, 2025 at 4:47 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
It has been so long since I’ve written smut.
A meme of a cat biting a sparking electrical cord
November 15, 2025 at 1:18 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Told my spouse to get some candid shots of me at a book thing I did tonight, and…

This goes in all the documentaries if I end up getting murdered lol
A pic of me in front of a wall of illustrated books leaning my elbow on a table. My face is twisted up midsentence.
November 7, 2025 at 1:28 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Just got the best comment on this 😂

If you want to read about an omega and an alpha live-streaming their rut/heat while trying not to fall in love, @thatmothra.bsky.social and I have just the thing for you. James Joyce can eat it.

archiveofourown.org/works/718566...
Ao3 comment that reads “This is the single greatest concept in the history of literature; suck it, James Joyce.”
November 5, 2025 at 5:02 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Happy #WIPWednesday from the omegaverse porn boys!

Ed is having the best dream.

Or is it? 👀

(CW: somnophilia)
Alpha. Alpha. It’s the only word that comes to him in the dark as he relents to the building pleasure rolling over his body. No sight, no sound. Just one word for a thought. Alpha. That bliss drags him under with every pulse––a sequence of waves that catches him in its rip current and drags him below the surface, only letting up momentarily, just enough for a breath before he’s sucked back beneath its overpowering force. It’s overwhelming. Almost too much. But it’s so perfect, ricocheting through his core so perfectly––maybe giving in and drowning wouldn’t be so bad. Alpha. He thinks it again as those waves grow higher, as the warm ripples shudder through him over and over and over and–– He can’t catch his breath anymore. He’s officially caught in the undertow. Limbs giving out. Nerve endings surrendering themselves to unending rapture as the largest wave crests, heaving him into the air. Alpha. Alpha. My alpha. My alpha. My–– The wave crashes. And he becomes part of it. Dissolving into particles, his atoms melding with the same atoms that break against the shoreline, rending him down to such tiny motes that he doesn’t know where he stops and the pleasure of the release begins. Even after he cracks against the shoreline. Even as he feels himself coming back together, those subatomic particles arranging themselves into a flushed chest, a sweaty mane of hair, an arched back, fingers wound into bedsheets… “Oh, fuck,” his reassembled voice croaks. “That’s it, darling. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
November 5, 2025 at 2:15 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Felt hot, might delete later.
A selfie of me in the car wearing sunglasses. Another selfie of me in the car but my sunglasses are slightly down so you can see my eyes.
November 2, 2025 at 4:30 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
I’ve been perceived 🫠
An Instagram story with a pic of a pumpkin that has the Slut flag painted on it. The caption reads “@dvidjenkins this is your legacy 🏴‍☠️🐈‍⬛” The same pic and caption but on David Jenkins’ Instagram story.
October 28, 2025 at 12:23 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Alternate shot, because I painted the back of mine with the slut flag.
October 27, 2025 at 1:37 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Spouse’s coworker gave him a homemade treat the other day that was giving a lot of rosy maple moth vibes. (It was like a pineapple cake thing! Very tasty!)
A small rectangular cake in a baking tin with piped yellow and pink swirled frosting on top.
October 24, 2025 at 2:23 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
All right, happy #WIPWednesday because I’m insane, apparently.
It’s for all of about two minutes of his lunch date with Mary that Ed thinks maybe he’s freaked out for no reason. That he’s done the thing he’s always been so good at—jumped to conclusions before any actual evidence presents itself. He’s been working on it in therapy, and honestly, not to brag, he’s gotten pretty good at just taking things at face value. Not everything has to be analyzed down to the last minute detail. Not everyone is hiding something from him. Not everything has some underlying meaning he has to be suspicious of. But once the hugs are over and the waitress takes their order, Ed knows he was right to panic. Because Mary tells her, “I’ll just stick with water, thanks.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Ed’s been sober going on ten years now, but he never minds if his friends want to drink around him. Most of his alcohol problems, he found through years of therapy, were self-medication tactics to calm a torrential combination of untreated mental illness, neurodivergence, and gender dysphoria. You know, usual millennial bullshit. He’s worked on his baggage, and transitioning helped a hell of a lot. The need for a drink has faded for him significantly, and his friends know it. They aren’t shy about having a glass of wine with a meal when he’s at the table, at least not these days. Mary, for example, usually orders a mimosa at their biweekly Sunday brunch dates. Sometimes, if the conversation gets really juicy, she gets two or three. Ed doesn’t think she’s ever just had water. Not in the three years they’ve been doing this on a regular basis. And that doesn’t necessarily mean anything by itself, but along with everything else… The question doesn’t so much slip as it explodes out of him like those freaky little puppets from the Alien movies. No subtlety, no coy pleasantries. Just four words with no preamble. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He kind of expects her to—oh, he doesn’t know—do a spit take, a huge gasp, have a bit of a diva moment over the out-of-nowhereness of the accusation. But Mary’s not like that. She grins around the rim of her water glass, finishing her gulp before she laughs. “Jesus, Ed. No lead in? No ‘how’s the weather?’” Usually, Ed would laugh with her. But the anxious knot in his stomach just balls up a little tighter. “Well?” he asks. “Am I right?” She bites her bottom lip, the elation on her face undeniable. And she nods. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Okay, he’s got to act happy about this, right? She’s his friend, and he knows she’s been wanting this for years now. Making this about him will just sour the whole experience for both of them, and this is happy, if not—terrifying. Extremely, extremely terrifying.
October 22, 2025 at 3:35 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Got my own apron at work, so I’m decorating accordingly. (Blacked out pin is my work place, so I’m trying not to dox myself lol)
A torso pic of me in a black apron with an assortment of pins.
October 21, 2025 at 3:27 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
I sold out of all my books in the first hour of my five hour event 🙃

But I looked cute doin’ it.
Selfie of me smiling. I have pink hair and am wearing a black jacket with a white shirt underneath, a black choker, and a glasses chain with raven skulls dangling from them.
October 18, 2025 at 9:14 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
First panel: Castiel from Supernatural saying “I love you.” Second panel: Dean from Supernatural saying, “Dan and Phil have been dating for the past 16 years.”
October 14, 2025 at 2:38 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Three Spidermen pointing at each other.
October 5, 2025 at 11:26 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
The best ligs in New Zealand will be here in approximately an hour 👀
A comedy stage lit up in red and blue with chairs and people seated in front of it.
October 5, 2025 at 12:09 AM
widogastweb.bsky.social
archiveofourown.org/works/718566...
October 4, 2025 at 1:42 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
It's #kinktober, bitch. Time for the Omegaverse.

@thatmothra.bsky.social and I are proud to present STREAMING KILLED THE VIDEO STAR, an Omegaverse pornstar AU!

🔗⬇️
A camera set up pointed at a bed. The text reads "Streaming Killed the Video Star, An Omegaverse AU by WidogastsWebofFire and That_Mothra"
October 4, 2025 at 1:40 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Sun bathing.
A sleeping black, tan, and white dog in a blue Star Wars collar laying in a patch of sun on a beige carpeted floor.
October 2, 2025 at 4:41 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Post you from a different era.

College me, about 2011? (You know, when writing Goodness, I use Ed as my stand in, but college me was WAY more Stede. Repressed, uptight, and blonde 😂)
A photo of me sitting on the ground in front of a brick wall with my legs tucked off to the side. I’m smiling and wearing a purple jacket, jeans, and have a green bag sitting next to me.
September 30, 2025 at 5:24 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
Happy #WIPWednesday! Guess what @thatmothra.bsky.social and I are cooking up for Kinktober?

That’s right, beech. We’re going to the omegaverse 👹

Pornstars Ed and Stede come up with the greatest charity stream idea ever: spend their coinciding rut and heat together. What could go wrong?
When the week of the charity event was announced, Ed expressed his frustration to Stede in one of their late night video chats that it would be falling on the week of his heat, and he absolutely could not do something as important as that event while in heat. “It doesn't feel right, man. This thing is so important. And here I'll be, completely unfocused, while some alpha I barely know that Izzy manages to scrounge up knots me.” Ed has no idea why it's such a thing for him. Maybe it's the weight of the event or having to fuck some person he doesn't like on camera. Whatever it is, there's something inside of him that hates the idea. There’s no one he'd want to be in heat on camera with. Well, maybe not no one, but… “Well, what if I did it?” It took Ed a moment to register what Stede said, positive for a moment that the call glitched and he said like, “butterfly dipshit” or something else completely unrelated. “Don't be ridiculous,” he finally said. “I'm serious!” Stede replied. “It’s actually a funny coincidence. That’s around when I'll be in rut.” “Wait, really?” “Yeah! If you're comfortable, I'd be more than happy to spend your heat with you. Giving breaks obviously to do what you need to do for the site.” And the very last hinge Ed had finally broke at that, an idea emerging fully formed in his mind. “Or we could stream it,” he said. “The entire heat. We stream it for the charity week, twenty-four hours a day for three days.” It seemed so obvious. It’s nothing new, of course. Alpha and omega performers have been streaming their ruts and heats since online livestreaming became a thing, but the two current biggest names in online porn doing it together? That’s a recipe for success. Cut to now, the planning meeting for this stream, and Ed remembers they do in fact have a plan.” “Actually Iz, Stede and I were talking, and we kinda figured out a plan.” “Oh can't wait to fucking hear this one.” “Well, my rut starts around the same time as Ed's heat. And we thought, why not spend it together. Streaming the whole thing?” There's a moment of silence on the call, until Lucius announces, “Fucking brilliant, holy shit. The views alone will be staggering!” “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?” Izzy, wet blanket that he is, asks. “Oh come on, Iz. It's genius! The viewer retention alone could generate a shitload of adsense for the cause.” “And what happens when you two imprint on each other midway through?” “That won't happen. We're grown ass adults who do this shit for a living. It'll be fine.” And even as he says it, Ed can practically hear the disembodied Ron Howard narration in his ear say, “It will, in fact, be excruciating.”
September 24, 2025 at 2:39 PM
widogastweb.bsky.social
The things I posit to people before noon.
A Discord snip: “So the real question: pussy tentacles? Yay or nay?”
September 22, 2025 at 4:12 PM