#may the fic be left untitled to avoid judgement

[abby420]

hello love!! this turned out way way longer than i meant it to so feel free to ignore/not answer/whatever works for you. i am a wordy bitch and i tried to add enters to make it slightly less terrible to read but like? i don’t blame you if you see the paragraphs and check out. it’s not *that* good a story

i was thinking about aquariums to try to remember if i had any fun experiences there and it’s not romantic in any capacity so it’s not applicable to the fic but i have a kind of funny story. so i did theatre camp every year cause yeah im cool 😎 and it went from ages 5-13. which is obviously a huge age range. i started going when i was probably 9 or 10 and this story takes place when i was 12 or 13.

so at the aquarium they obviously split us into groups and the theatre’s director, who were going to call J, was given a single child. i don’t really remember why, but yeah. his job was to keep an eye on this teeny tiny 7 year old👧🏻. all the other counselors who he was technically in charge of had 5-7 kids and J had only one kid.

anyway, we’re going through the aquarium (we get to touch the stingrays and little sharks and like feed the moon jellies i think) and suddenly the counselors are just like “yeah we’re just gonna hang out on these seats in front of the sharks, 🦈 just hang out guys.”

now most of the kids are just vibing cause it’s kinda dark and you can watch the sharks or talk to each other but me and my one friend are like 🧐 they never let us stop, what’s going on. so we very casually glance around and we realize 🤭 that the seven year old isn’t with the group (and neither was J). ❌👧🏻❌🤭

and yup, you guessed it. the grown man in charge of ONE SINGULAR CHILD managed to look away for one moment and lose her. but it was okay cause she wasn’t lost for very long and didn’t even get upset. but like me, my friend, and all the counselors all teased J like crazy for this (i mean, he regularly runs rehearsal where he’s in charge of 20 kids, yet he can’t keep track of one??) and i felt very cool 😎being a camper who was in on the secret (the counselors had to be like 🤫don’t tell other people they’ll freak out ashdhsjaka)

anyway i was just telling you this story cause i thought it wasn’t gonna be this long and it might be fun, but also if you ever need a crying child to run into one of the boys? 😉

hope u have an amazing day, ilysm

boom i absolutely love this now i either want sokka to run into a random kid and be like what the fuck or have him be in charge of one of the aquarium things for little kids and lose one and zuko find the kid and be like “yo i think this is yours 😐”

[morosoro]

So I know I asked for help continuing a Dark Forest Fic but...

I think I accidentally finished it while I was reading it over and editing it today? I feel like it’s already met a sort of natural end and stands alone perfectly as an alternative meeting short... of course I’m still going to post it and see if anyone wants to see it continued or can find any questions to ask so here it is! Also if anyone can think of a title I could use for it when I post in AO3 that would be great!

(Currently Untitled)

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t typically the type to go for long walks in the woods. Usually he was much too busy preparing one thing or another, making sure each step towards the future he wanted was successfully taken. However sometimes there was nothing more for him to do than wait for the next piece to fall into place.

That is why he found himself wandering through the Dark Forest today. He truly had nothing better to do and the wood that surrounded his home was vast. Change was bound to have happened since he last had the opportunity to meander throughout its winding labyrinth of trails. He thought the best use of his day would be to survey his land.

He’d been wandering most of the day, long hours having passed since he began early that morning. He’d come across several new groves of magical plant life, and spotted the occasional creature habitat in places where there hadn’t been in years previous and he took mental note. They may come in handy for potions and spells after all. You never knew when you needed a fresh sprig of something, or the still beating heart of another.

Unknown to him he’d managed to lead himself quite close to the easternmost edge of his property, near the border of a relatively new and small dukedom called Avonlea which extended off of King George’s land. That’s why the faint sound of a voice on the wind caused him to pause. Tuning his ears in on it he heard the noise again. It was the sound of a girl, one trying to keep down the sound of her cries.

Curious about what a girl might be doing whimpering in his woods he decided to find her. He moved quickly yet quietly, following the trail of sniffles and mumbled words until he caught sight of not a girl, per say, but a young woman. A lady, by the looks of her clothing. She was sitting on the forest floor under a large and imposing old oak on the very edge of a small clearing. He eyed her quietly from where he peaked out behind a few tall bushes.

He wondered what had her so upset, and why she’d run onto his lands. Perhaps she needed help of a dubious nature, or perhaps she simply didn’t know the dark woods belonged to him. Of course, it could be both and fate had merely guided her his way.

He looked above her, at the thick, gnarled branches of the tree and decided he could probably get closer. Maybe from such a vantage he could make out what had her in such a state of upset. With that though he disappeared from the bushes and in a small puff of reddish smoke he took up a position perched like a bird above her.

Despite how close his new position brought him he still couldn’t make out a thing. She whimpered and cried and muttered such things as “It wasn’t just! It isn’t fair!” But that didn’t tell him anything of the specifics that he wanted to know.

He sat and strained his ears for a few moments longer and grew impatient when he was still given no good context clues. Giving up, he decided to just be upfront. He cleared his throat and asked aloud in his typical showman’s tone “My, my… What has you in such a dismal state?”

She froze, startled and looked around frantically for the source of the voice. “W-who’s there?!”

“That’s not an answer to my question now is it, Dearie?”

Her head turned upwards and her gaze locked on him where he sat in the tree. Her eyes went wide in shock, or perhaps fright, he couldn’t quite tell, but his experience from when people first saw him told him it must be one of the two. It was never anything else. She hurried to stand and took a few steps back, away from the tree. For a moment he thought she might run, but to his surprise, she didn’t. Instead she merely straightened her spine, still dashing the stray tears from her under her eyes, and asked a firm “Who are you?”

He clicked his tongue, hating introductions, especially towards nobles, and hopped down from the tree to be back on even grounds with her. He swooped low into an almost mocking bow and gave her his name. “Rumplestiltskin. And you might be...?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked instead and it caught him, only slightly, off guard. Surely one would be curious, but he wouldn’t think a teary-eyed girl to be quite so demanding.

“That’s not how conversation works, Dearie.” He tutted with a waggling of his finger. “You see, you’re supposed to offer the other your name before you demand anything from him.”

She leveled him with an amused look… imagine that, somebody being genuinely amused by him? Such things didn’t happen often. “You asked my reason for crying before introducing yourself?”

He nodded, a broken grin spreading out across his crooked lips as he made a show of inspecting his dark coloured, almost claw-like nails. “Yes, well, I’m not typically one for following etiquette.”

“Well, perhaps neither am I. Ever think of that?” Looking up at her over his fingertips, he saw her standing with a hand on her jutted-out hip. Her head inclined slightly so she could look down the brim of her petite little tear-stained nose at him. Her newfound amusement still displayed with the upward tug of her lips.

Ooh! So she had a flavour to her, a hint of stubborness and bravery! That gave this interaction a bit more flair, a bit more potential. How exciting! He giggled in that high unsettling trill of his. “Touché, but now, how about you answer those questions for me, and then maybe…” a took a brief pause to wave a careless hand in her direction, wanting to appear more aloof than he was. “... I’ll answer yours.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye as she seemed to weigh him over, trying to decide whether or not he could be trusted. After a long moment, she relented any judgement and sighed. “I am Lady Belle of Avonlea, only child to the Duke, Sir Maurice. Perhaps that might answer your remaining question.”

He raised a brow. “Avonlea?” He’d never been there, hadn’t even heard of it. “I’m afraid that doesn’t answer anything for me.”

“You mustn't be from the area then.” He nearly snorted at her ignorance, they were In his woods afterall, but kept quiet to allow her to give her explanation. “You see, Avonlea was established only forty and some years ago, when my grandfather proved himself a great knight and was bestowed the dukedom by King George’s father, King Osmind.” She summarized.

Now that he thought about it he supposed he did remember hearing about it a lifetime ago. An expansion to the edge of his woods, not yet his territory but close. He hadn’t much cared as he wasn’t one to fight over unclaimed land. He only cared for the mountains and the DarkForest. It meant smaller villages and less people living within his boundaries.

“Though, I’m afraid it may not last much longer…” Lady Belle continued, sounding solemn once again, pulling him out of his thoughts. “There is a great war upon us. One seemingly impossible to win. The Ogres are attacking the southern townships, King George refuses to send us aid, considers it too big of an expense for one little dukedom, and things have gotten grim.” She deflated further then, a wave of fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks as she was reminded of her grief.

“My mother was killed whilst protecting me at the Summer Palace earlier this month…”

Ogre wars. That was something Rumplestiltskin knew almost too much about, what light was left in his dark little heart went out to her as he listened. He never knew his mother, but he imagined losing one in such a brutal way would be devastating to the young woman. He offered her reassuring look, for even he was not so heartless that he couldn’t offer condolences in some form, and with another minute wave of his hand prompted her to go on. He could tell that was not the end of her woe.

“And now my father, desperate as he is to end the wars, has decided to marry me off to a man I cannot stand. Reasoning being simply that his army is larger than ours.”

He had to fight to hold back a chuckle then. Now was not the time for laughter, but It was such a common ‘problem’ young ladies seemed to face, and yet it was entirely avoidable. He wondered why noble folk still felt the need to dictate who their children married when it seemed to only cause problems. It had happened with Queen Regina, and the predictability of her discontent in her marriage was the main reason she’d been perfect to help him out with his plans.

He thought about informing this ‘Lady Belle of Avonlea’ that sometimes ‘such is life’ and an unexpected betrothal was nothing to cry over and that if this man was willing to battle ogres for her hand, it may not be as bad as she thought. However she kept talking and her next words caught his attention.

“My betrothed is evil incarnate! I saw it in his eyes with the magic mirror, they were blood red!” She exclaimed, distressed. “It seems I’m left either to be eaten by a monster or married to one!”

Magic was, of course, his domain. He knew plenty about magic mirrors, and that it was far from impossible to believe that the daughter of a Duke could’ve gotten her hands on one with the power to show a man’s true nature. Red was often associated with darkness and anger, his own magic an example of such so he didn’t doubt her tale. Now, despite his own dark nature, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t the type to let an innocent truly suffer, especially desperation hung so thick in the air, and most definitely not at the hands of ogres. A deal could definitely be struck here.

“Perhaps I could help?” He offered, fingers steepled before him as he thought of all the things he could ask for and all the ways this could turn out.

“You?” She snuffled, calming herself again. “However could you help?”

“Well,” he began to walk, an arm extending, hand ghosting over the small of her back to guide her alongside him. They were headed down a trail he’d yet to go down on his venture, deeper into the dark woods. “I’m known far and wide for my,” he paused momentarily for dramatic effect. He continued with a flourish of his free hand, tendrils of reddish smoke puffing out from his fingertips. “Magical abilities. And for my penchant for making deals. I’m sure we could work something out.”

[dragonnan]

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The work I thought it would be fun to share is an in-progress unpublished work that will likely take a while to put together.  I was incredibly inspired by the brilliant writing of both @hanuko and silentsaebyeok who both have stories about Wilson Fisk.  Here is my take on that character in an Avengers fic!

Untitled Fic

Setting: near the end of Homecoming and just prior to Tony reconciling with Pepper

AU of Daredevil season 2-3 (Karen didn't murder Wesley as Fisk's mother didn't remember her visit.  She only remembered Ben)

Late afternoon sunlight had turned every pane of glass into a pool of gold.  The patio doors of the tall office building had been left open – allowing the haze of late day warmth to coil upwards; carried on drafts of air heated from the concrete below.  Rubber soles squeaked softly against marble that knew mainly Italian leather and the rare alligator hide.  Two-hundred dollar sneakers were incongruous to the wealth of the man sporting them, but then, Tony Stark had never been a fan of the expected.    

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?”  One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing.  Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle.  Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark.  I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room.  Tony raised an eyebrow.  “You didn't say please.”

A smooth, tight lipped smile, followed his quip.  Meanwhile, the still silent other member of their trifecta finally stepped forward – grasping one of the stuffed leather office chairs and rolling it back before seating himself.  Wilson Fisk wove his hands together above propped elbows.  “I appreciate your willingness to meet me so early, Anthony.  I felt it best to speak with you privately given the... delicacy... of the issue at hand.”  He gestured towards the single remaining chair.

Well that wasn't at all circumspect.

Returning the tight lipped smile in kind, Tony grabbed the chair facing the head of the table and sat; leaning back and settling his arms on the padded rests.  “You know, usually I let Pepper handle SI business.  Not sure if you got the memo but I'm not actually CEO any longer.  How was prison, by the way?  I heard the kitchen got a new chef.”

Ignoring the comment, Fisk tapped his thumbs together and kept a close study of the polished inlay before him.  “That is something we share in common,” he looked up, then, finally, “I, too, find that most business affairs tend to be... tedious.”  Fisk grinned, a flash of small, even, teeth, before he nodded towards his assistant... Wilbur?  Weston?  “Mr. Wesley, if you would please?”  He turned back to Tony – also leaning back and resting his thick hands over his thicker waist.  “I can assure you, however, that what we're here to discuss is a matter that falls somewhat outside the purview of Stark Industries.”

While his employer spoke, Wesley neatly stacked the pages of the file before sliding the bundle across the polished tabletop to Tony.  Eager to just get everything done with, Tony pressed his hand flat on the cover to slide it close, flipped it back... and froze.

Across from him, Fisk continued speaking.  “I have found that I have an over-abundance of pressure on me as I attempt to rebuild was was lost during my incarceration. Aside from the judgement of the good people of this city I also have faced an ongoing assault from a number of vigilantes.  This city, for all of its potential, has the unfortunate side effect of breeding these... vermin... faster than the rats that inhabit the sewers.  As it is they are beneath the notice of those who claim to protect the people of this city.”  His hands stilled – lying one on top of the other as Tony silently turned to the next page.  “Too busy protecting the rest of the world, perhaps.”

Tony made himself turn to the next page; his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Of course it isn't in my nature to harm innocents.  I find it distasteful to involve women and children in such matters.  And, yet, I find that it is, in fact, a child at the center of my current dilemma.  Of greater irony is that this child has both power and connections that would, under normal circumstances, place him outside the reach of those who would wish him harm.”

The forth page was a photo – clipped from a newspaper and a duplicate to the framed image that sat on the worktable in Tony's lab.  In the grainy image he stood, one arm slung around a young man's shoulders, as the kid received his certification for completing the “Stark Internship”.  Tony licked his tongue across his teeth before closing the file once more.

Fisk let out a soft hum.  “As it is, prison has a way of creating strange bedfellows.  I met someone – a man you may know.  Adrian Toomes.  After some persuasion he had something very interesting to share with me.  Something that, I can only imagine, you would wish to keep out of the hands of certain individuals.”

Tony wanted to clench his hands – his fingertips twitching before he pushed them flat against the wood beneath them.  “Just to clarify you're threatening my intern?”

Fisk leaned forward; hands folding tight before him on the table.  “I was hoping we wouldn't have to play any games but given your refusal to read the rest of the documents Mr. Wesley provided, I will summarize them for you.” Here he stood; walking to the open doors facing the patio.  “I know who Peter Parker really is.  I know about his aunt.  I know the names of his friends, where he goes to school, and where he buys his favorite sandwich every afternoon.”  He rested his hands behind his back; squinting in the sunlight.  “If he continues to disrupt my affairs in Hell's Kitchen, the consequences could be... unpleasant.” He glanced back at Tony; his face serene.  “You realize I'm asking for very little.  Keep your new pet leashed and allow me to conduct my business in peace.  The child will never have to know my name. Other than what he may learn from news reports; of course.” Tugging his cuffs, Fisk turned to more fully face into the room.  “I never wanted to involve you.  This is the sort of attention I have spent a fortune to avoid.  As it is I find myself in a position where reticence could cost me even more.”  

Pushing to his feet, Tony could no longer stop his hands from fisting at his sides – though he managed to control the tremor as he joined Fisk.  Side by side, the other man practically loomed over him.  

“So you aren't just threatening a kid – you're threatening everyone he cares about.  Little bit budget TV villain but you do you I guess.”  Pulling off his tinted glasses, he stared up at the other man.  “The thing is this little weekly drama you're playing?” he waggled his fingers back and forth, “way above your pay grade.  Maybe stick to collecting on gambling debts and playing whack-a-mole with the other lowlifes in your contacts list.”

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Fisk's lips.  “I know you're someone who prefers visual aids,” his voice became guttural – losing the soft quality, “perhaps a demonstration would help to convince you.”  

A glance to the side, the barest nod to Wesley, and the other man typed into his phone.

There was a moment – silence this far above the city.

And then an apartment complex, three blocks away, exploded into flame.

Horrified, Tony gave Fisk a single look, seeing the purpose in that cold gaze, before twisting the dial on his watch and backing up just enough to turn and take a running leap.  One foot caught on the railing and with a surge of his muscles, he launched himself out into open space.

Terrifying free fall – the ground racing towards him at breakneck speed.

And then smooth metal wrapped his body and he shot towards the blaze.  

:Cutting things a little bit tight, aren't we, Boss?:          

      “No time to chat, Fri.  Emergency response status?”  He twisted his body into an angle as the building grew large in his visor – too few residents stumbling free out onto the pavement.

:Fire and Rescue are three minutes away:

“Shit.”  Aiming for a top floor window that had been blasted out with the explosion, Tony shot through the opening and made a quick scan of the room.  He winced at the sudden burst of heat that briefly enveloped his suit.  “Anyone on this level?”

He almost swore he could hear his AI sighing.  :Apologies, Boss.  I am unable to differentiate life signs from the ambient temperature.  Also the heat is steadily rising and will soon be at levels exceeding this suit's tolerances.:

Ignoring the warning, Tony finished his check of the room and moved on to the next apartment.  “Yeah, let's put a pin in that.  Adjust audio input and scan for human voices.”

In the second apartment he found a single person – deceased.  Same for the next two.  In the forth apartment there were two dead but he also found a child – burned and terrified but alive – buried beneath the blankets in her parent's closet.  Tony kept her wrapped to protect against the flames and rushed her to the sidewalk and into the arms of one of the firemen who had just arrived on scene.  

“Explosion – multiple charges – there's still people...”  He coughed at the black smoke boiling from the ruined building and dropped his visor back into place before returning inside.

Even with the protection of his suit the heat was breathtaking.  There were no more survivors on the top floor so Tony proceeded to the next level down.

:I'm detecting instability in the surrounding structure.:

“We got three apartments left on this floor.  Stop listening to the walls and keep listening for voices!”

The next sign of life he found, however wasn't a human but a howling dog still locked in its kennel.  Tucking the kennel under one arm, Tony finished his search of that floor – finding three additional people and four more pets.  With everyone holding their respective creatures he didn't risk another flight but, instead, soaked several blankets in a shower and guided them to a stairwell FRIDAY had located that was still relatively flame free. Then, turning back to his task he set out to locate more survivors.

Another five minutes in – fire and rescue now dousing the building as fireman began going door to door on the bottom two floors, Tony took the last one remaining.

It was then that disaster struck.

He'd just entered the first apartment – already racing towards the elderly man collapsed on the floor when there was a sudden burst of flames across the ceiling above – overlaid by a warning from FRIDAY.  

:Boss, there is a weakening of the...:

“Shit!”  His heartbeat was a drum in his ears as hooked a thick blanket from the ratty chair in the living room – slow motion tornados of smoke lifting up from the surrounding dry surfaces.  Propulsion would actually take longer – factoring in the time to slow his speed before reaching the man.  It was a fast paced eternity bolting across the ancient carpet.  The blanket billowed out ahead of him and cloaked the man just moments before he wrapped arms around him – knowing that even inside the blanket he was burning the old man with the super heated surface of his suit.  

He managed two steps to the window.

And then the world shattered in a concussive blast.