Okay so this post from @dissociativehyperfixating got deep into my brain and I actually started writing my version a lil bit.
To summarize: Tim and Danny are soulmates, which in this universe means they share food cravings. Danny gets captured by the GIW and is unable to access any ectoplasm, and so Tim starts DESPERATELY craving something that he has no way to identify. Duke, with his powers, is able to see more of what's going on and helps Tim figure it out.
The opening:
Tim isn't technically one of the family members who's allowed to cook, but it's not exactly unusual to find him in the kitchen at odd hours, grabbing a quick snack or looking for something caffeinated.
No, it's not Tim himself that makes Duke stop in his tracks.
There's an eclectic collection of items on the counter. A 2-liter bottle of sprite and an open can of Mountain Dew. A juicer, next to which sit the empty husks of a lime and a grapefruit. A big plastic tub of something called Guarana Powder. And a bottle of ranch dressing.
There's more, but those are the ones that are closest, that seem to have been used most recently.
Tim's posture is casual, hip pressed against the counter edge where he leans, but his gaze is focused. He is vigorously whisking the contents of a glass with a fork. Duke can see little white bits swirl in the mixture.
There has to be an explanation for this.
Duke valiantly pretends he wasn't staring and makes his way towards the fridge, like he'd meant to when he walked in. “Hey Tim, whatcha up to?” he asks, as if he couldn't care less, and grabs a post-patrol Gatorade.
Tim answers, tone flat, “Inventing Ranch 2.”
Duke cracks his drink and sips it, trying to process, but he can't think of anything better to say than, “Why?”
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well, most of my fics start out with an idea for one or two specific scenes that I want to write, and then I have to figure out how to connect them. sometimes it's less than that, though - just a general vibe, or some specific emotional beats I want to dig into, and I need to find a plot to hinge it on.
how much I plan from there varies wildly, too. sometimes I have a fairly detailed outline of (more or less) all the Big Scenes before I start actually writing - those are usually the fics that start out as "look a cool idea that I'm certainly not gonna write ooooops I have an 800+ word bullet point list of Plot". other times I just start with a vague idea and jot down thoughts as I go.
usually I write chronologically, because it's way way easier for me, but right now all my (too many-ish) WIPs are written in bits and pieces, so we'll see how it goes piecing them together, lol.
however, the most important part of my fic writing is the social one. I love having someone to talk to through the whole process from idea to finished fic, sharing snippets and/or WIP docs. without someone to brainstorm with (or babble at sorrryyyyyy everyone subjected to it) my writing motivation plummets. if it's a fic I've already sunk lots of time and energy into, I might finish it, if not, I'll probably drop it if I don't have someone to bounce ideas off and share the excitement with.
as for editing.... well. after I finish it, I will read through the fic/chapter once before posting, to catch most typos and fix up the occasional sentence or so, but other than that, I mostly don't. I'm eternally impressed by people who write several drafts and edit extensively, but there's no way I'd ever have the spoons to spare for it with fic.
19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic
that is an excellent question actually. probably corpse decomposition. help I'm usually too lazy to do much proper research wah
29. how easy is it for you to come up with titles?
I hate coming up with titles. as often as possible I outsource it to the aforementioned person I'm sharing the fic with. tbh most of my titles are probably decided that way.
Sorry for the wait! It took me a couple of tries to write the prompt the way I liked. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year! The family fluff prompt was really cute!
Between the four of them, tea was an important daily ritual. The most painstaking measures were taken to ensure tea time was a calming and bonding experience. The most important of all was a set of rules; that without exception were to be obeyed. Maribelle was their strictest enforcer and Lissa her adoring, devoted, rule-bending wife. The rules were as follows.
1. No Swords At The Tea Table
Owain was the loudest, rowdiest boy Maribelle had ever seen – or rather heard. He yowled and yelled and whooped at every given opportunity. But he was her darling boy, and so much more like his mums every day. Maribelle heard an anxious pause in the commotion of the gardens but didn’t pause her tea time preparations. The cake stand was still lopsided.
“Mother! Mother!” He charged into the kitchen, arms raised above his head, empty handed. “Mother, I wish your arms to rest in!” He bowled into her legs.
“I beg your pardon?” She stepped back from the counter as best she could in Owain’s grip.
“I’m fading as we speak, my essence disperses ever further.” He pressed closer to her hip and waited for his mother to comb her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been slain mother mine.”
“What a colourful vocabulary you have, darling. And how so have you been slain?” She shuffled out of his arms and scooped him up. He sniffled in her arms, scraped chin wobbling. “Oh, love. What happened?” He whimpered.
“Brady struck me down!” Owain cuddled closer to his mother. “So I have sought your warmth, to comfort me while I expire.”
“I see…” Maribelle carried him to the table and sat him gently on his chair. She cleared her throat. “By the power gifted to me as the Duchess of Themis I shall heal these wounds.” She kissed him on each cheek. “And where is Brady?”
“Outside! Mums had him in her percilous grip before I made my escape!” Maribelle straightened, brushed off Owain’s shoulders and returned to the cake stand.
“Perilous, darling.” The commotion began again very close to the door. Maribelle fought a smile as her wife and youngest son jogged into the kitchen. Brady ran straight for the table, wailing like a teeny tiny barbarian. He threw his sword in a high arc at the table.
“Mums, I found him!” Lissa squeaked in horror as it swept the nearest tea cup off the table. Maribelle continued to stack the cake stand, the casualty of war expected. Brady, climbed into his own seat and stared at it remains briefly. “Whoops…”
“Brady are you okay?!” Lissa's own two toys clattering onto the ground. “Hi, Maribelle, we're not late and I'm going to clean that right up!”
2. Hands Must Be Clean
Lissa bounced Brady on her lap, tea time ready to go, little boy freshly washed. Brady took to etiquette fantastically, but suffered from the same affliction that plagued all very little boys; that at any time he was left unwatched, his hands would very mysteriously become sticky. Brady was very timid without his brother to show off in front of, so he sat quietly and did not pull his mums's gently bouncing pigtails. But he thought about it.
“Where do you think Mari is? She's not late yet, but i haven't seen her.” Brady hummed thoughtfully.
“Maybe she's looking for Owain, because he's looking for frogs.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “I hope she's fast.” Lissa pressed a kiss to the back of his head.
“I'm the best at finding frogs!” She said, indignant. Of everyone in the castle, she really was the best at finding frogs.”I wish he'd invited me, so we'd all be on time for tea.” Brady nodded, he kicked his legs as he waited and tried to decide which of the finger sandwiches he was going to eat first when mother and I walk arrived. “How about you sit nice in your own chair, and I will go have a peak out back? I won't leave the kitchen.” Brady nodded his assent and watched his mums balance on the window ledge and put her whole head out.
“Can I have a sammich?” He had decided on a cucumber one, and patted his tummy while he waited.
“‘Fraid not yet, sweetie. Mari and Owain aren't here yet.” She bounced on her toes and swept over the garden a third and final time. “But they won't be late!” She sat back down with Brady. “Any minute now okay?” Then, as if summoned she heard the melodic trill of her wife from the garden.
“Incoming!” Owain burst into the kitchen, as he was prone to, grinning from ear to ear. Brady cheered and pilfered his chosen sandwich.
“I brought you a present mums! He's here for lunch!” Lissa's eyes widened with horror when she realised what was about to happen. Noticed Owain’s wet shirt and clasped hands.
“Frooog!” Yelled Maribelle. And what a frog it was. A mucus covered little monster sprung up from Owain’s hands just as Maribelle rounded into the kitchen. “Not inside, my love!” The frog was sadly, already loose. Lissa leapt forward desperately grabbing where the frog had been just seconds ago.
“Catch it mums!” Cheered Owain.
“Frof.” Agreed Brady, around another sandwich. Lissa chased the frog almost to the stove, before it sprung up and back to the table.
“Not the tea set!” Cried Maribelle. “Dear gods!” Owain wiped his slimy hands on the table cloth, and smiled at his little brother.
“I knew she would love it.” He said.
3. One Will Not Shake Oneself Out Like A Dog In Any Circumstance
The castle gardens, to which the kitchen opened, were exceptionally muddy throughout the spring. In order of the boys favourite things; mud fell somewhere between the knights game and musical instruments of arguable armament. Brady was subsequently the only of Lissa and Maribelle’s children allowed to continue violin lessons. Lissa swung a boy on each arm as she stomped through each slimy puddle she could see.
“Plop, plop, plop.” Owain sang. “Mud never stops!”
“What a lovely song!” Lissa said, swinging Owain a little higher. “Is there more of it?”
“Not yet, mums.” He kicked at the mud excitedly. “Waiting on Brady to write the rest.” He looked over at Brady on his mums's other arm. “Did you?” Brady dropped viciously into another puddle.
“Not yet, the rest is gonna be about mud.” Lissa swung him higher this time, as a reward for the effort.
“Should we all write it together, and we can all sing it to Mari?” Owain let go of his mums to inspect a particularly grassless puddle, while Brady was spun to face Lissa.
“Nope.” He said looking between his mums's muddy boots and his own, and deciding that is own aren't nearly muddy enough. “It's my song, and she hates mud!”
“True enough.” Said Lissa bouncing him into a deeper puddle than either of them were expecting. “Oops…” She said as she took in the mud that now covered his trouser legs as well. “We're going to have a bath before tea time, okay?” Brady nodded.
“If we're going to have a bath can I get really, really muddy?” Owain in his usual fashion, was far too quick to stop. He slammed his palms to the ground and performed his best - only slightly wobbly - forward roll.
“Oh no.” Lissa scooped him up under his arms. And lifted him up to look at. “Owaaain!” He was filthy absolutely soaked through with mud. But he looked so happy in her arms, muddied up to the nines. Behind her Brady had sat down in his own muddy puddle.
“What did you think of that?” He asked. “Could you tell I was practicing?” She could, but in reply all she could do was laugh incredulously.
“Alrighy troops!” She managed when she had stifled her giggles. Owain under one arm, and Brady holding her hand between his own sticky ones she lead them back to the kitchen. “I won't tell if you don't.” She said.
Brady kicked one boot back into the garden once he had wrestled the laces loose enough to pull off. Owain left his on the floor. He looked at the tea table, not yet set, and grinned. Mums was going to make scones with them once they were washed. He shook the mud out his hair, and jogged off to the washroom. Lissa helped Brady with his other boot and smiled as he threw that into the garden as well.
“I love baths.” He said to himself as he glanced at the new polka dotty tablecloth. He figured mother had bought a new one, and mums just hadn't noticed.
“Me too.” Sighed Lissa. “ Lets all go for a bath together.”
Maribelle joined them in the washroom not twelve minutes later. She had a tablecloth rolled up under her arm.
“Good afternoon, sweethearts.” She rested a hand primly on the bath tubs edge, and leaned over her little boys to press a kiss on the lips of her wife. “Could any of you tell me,” she began, “What pattern this table cloth is?” She leaned back and let it unfurl.
“It's dots.” Said Brady helpfully from where he leaned on Lissa's shoulder.
“It's mud!” Cried Owain, bubble beard doing nothing to make him look less guilty.
“I'm sorry!” Wailed Lissa, reaching one soapy hand to her wife. “I don't even know when that happened!” Maribelle let Lissa dig her closer by her body loops and kissed her again, on the crown of her head.
“It's alright darling, but don't do it again.” She ran a had through the soapy bath water and frowned at the feeling. "We're going to need another bath I think." Lissa smiled up at her.
"We?" Maribelle shucked off her cardigan.
"Yes we, I feel very grimy after cleaning up the mess you rascals left in our kitchen. I expect a thorough back rub, and three of your finest scones." Maribelle sighed when Lissa pulled her into another kiss, politely ignoring the soft 'yuck from her youngest.
"Yes ma'am." Giggled Lissa. "Come on boys, we need fresh bath water."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
After a successful heist and talent performance, Owain, Inigo, Lissa, Maribelle, Brady, Gaius, and Olivia have a feast in the castle they conquered.
Written for @avesmonster, as a secret santa gift! Not a secret anymore, hopefully! The event was put into place by @fe-holiday-exchange, thank you and everyone else who participated! 💕💕
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avesmonster replied to your post “mo-bu replied to your post “You can be positive and nice but that...”
people suck!! you don't have to forgive shit!! your happiness is much more important than they are and sometimes being the bigger person means taking care of yourself first
I think its really dumb that it takes so long to figure out that it’s important to take care of yourself and being kind to yourself is just as important as being kind to other people
