#round robin fic

[conspiracy-crows]

Round robin fic writing is the best.

Specifically with one of my besties!!

We're working on a dcxdp fic, ghost king Danny and Jazz are on vacation! They have been working very hard for several centuries cleaning up Pryah's messes, they deserve a break!

Where do they go? Gotham, because even if he already has a couple degrees Danny can't actually use them here, and Gotham U has some great engineering and astronomy/astrophysics degrees! A human lifespan(minus the child bits) Isn't too long for a vacation! He wants to work on space stuff! he didn't get to last time!

And we're just bouncing off each other so much it's great!

We've decided that Constantine flirts with pretty much all the Fenton siblings, although Ellie is the only one that really responds much. Danny and him don't meet much and Danny makes jokes out of most stuff (There's ethical concerns, he owns like, as solid 2/3's of John's soul!) and Jazz just, ignores it. Not her type thank you!

Lady G and Danny teaming up to help Red Hood with his corrupt ecto situation, and maybe Jazz can help him find a good therapist because not all of that is the pits my dude. (possible Dead On Main, with a side of Dick/Jazz)

I kinda wanna talk about having Sam and Tuck visit at some point. Mainly cuz we've decided that Sam has been working on a personal project in the Realms for a while, and I kinda wanna make it the Green, and I want her to call Poison Ivy "one of her babies!" the way Ivy calls her plants her babies, yknow? Meanwhile Tuck and Technus have been just, on a tear updating and creating new Realms Tech and code and stuff.

Totally gonna see if I can convince my buddy to either let me post it(and add her as a co-author) or get her to post it when we get to a point where we have more than a couple pages of slightly disjointed scenes lol.

[twinkleallnight]

Isle of Misfits

Chapter 10: Dealing with the Paparazzi.

Fandom: TRR x Platinum x OH x CoP x TNA x ?

Series: Isle of Misfits, Round Robin 24, hosted by @choicesprompts

Characters:

TRR – Liam Rys, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Madeleine Amaranth

RoE – Katie Rys

TNA – Sam Dalton

Word count: 1240

The phone pinged.

‘1 new message’

Leo sighed and picked up to read. He was tired of explaining himself to Katie. The world never understood him or his desire to live a care free life. The paparazzi won’t let him breathe. But he thought Katie would understand. She would always know. He had tried to be honest with her, always.

He was struggling to stay abreast sailing through the rough waters when his brother decided to take the corrective action for Leo’s deeds . He was forced into this PR stunt of a circus with his childhood friend, Bertrand, playing the ring master. And as if Gods had not had enough of entertainment, he was paired with his ex, Madeleine! Just perfect!

Coming out of his reverie, he tapped his fingers on the home screen to check the new message .

‘Meet me at the beach restaurant in 10minutes to collect your dossier .

Countess Madeleine .’

“Better than having Sam Dalton as a mentor” he consoled himself. “His brains function through that Rocket in his pocket. At least Madeleine has her head over her shoulders.”

He dragged himself out of his bed. Sharp after 10 minutes he presented himself in front of the Countess.

“What do you plan to do with this?” He lifted the heavy bundle of papers filed into a folder neatly. ‘Prim and proper. So much like Madeleine.’

But Madeleine’s reply was totally off beat. “why you have not shaved?”

Leo shook his head as if trying to decipher. “What?” He moved his fingers through the over grown messy beard.

Madeleine scoffed, “ Let me make it clear Leo. You are constantly under lens.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want.” He cut her off.

“You were the crown prince.”

“And I abdicated.” He tried to prove his point.

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t change who you are born as.”

“Why?” He pulls his fingers through his sandy blonde hair In frustration.

“Prince Harry abdicated too. But he is always in news.”

Leo scowled, “For heavens sake! Can’t they let me live in peace?”

“Only if you don’t give them chance to rip through your peaceful personal life.” She air quoted.

He nods in agreement. “And I can see, you are here to tell me, how.”

“Now you are talking business.” Madeleine smiled.

Leo closed his eyes for a moment. He had to do this for Katie, for his children. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Tell me what am I supposed to do?”

“You need to look perfect when you walk in public. It shows that you are leading a perfect and happy life.”

Leo smirked, “Yes it’s a very happy life.”

“Make it look like one and I can tell you, they will stop chasing you.”

“Fine! What next?”

“I have appointed a valet for you. He will help with your attire, hair and your over all appearance. You will not leave your room before he checks you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. He had no other option but to accept what was thrown at him.

For the next hour he went back and forth over the plans Madeleine had laid out for him.

******************************************

Bertrand’s office next day

Olivia was seated across Bertrand, discussing their next modus operandi. Olivia had successfully completed her task with Raleigh Carrera and was now assigned to the case of the exiled crown prince, Trystan Thorne, of Drakovia.

An urgent knock on the door brought them to a halt. They both looked at each other. Bertrand voiced, “Come in” , wondering who was their uninvited guest for the meeting .

Leo stormed in and slammed a tabloid onto the desk in front of Bertrand. Olivia stared back at Leo’s fuming face while Bertrand looked in confusion, “ What does this mean?”

“Open and see for yourself.” Leo pointed out his finger.

As soon as Bertrand picked the newspaper and unfolded it, his eyes went wide with shock. Olivia leaned towards him to peer into the news.

The newspaper had images of Leo and Madeleine sitting in a cafe. The first one had Madeleine gleaming at Leo and the second one showed them shaking hands near the exit. The tag line read ‘Former crown prince Leo Rhys, spotted with his ex, Countess Madeleine, at leisure on a private island. Do we smell something burning in Katie Rhys’ sweet home?”

A smile played on Olivia’s lips.

“Seriously?” Leo asked looking at Olivia’s reaction.

“It’s not about you.” She fanned away with her hand.

“From what I can see, it’s definitely about me.” He turned to Bertrand angrily, “This is how you were going to help me save my image and my marriage?”

Olivia spoke instead, “Its not his fault. Madeleine should have been more discreet while planning her meetings.”

Just as on clue, Madeleine stepped inside the office. “Speak for yourself. I know my job well.” She snatched the tabloid from Bertrand’s hand and glanced at the pics, dismissing it in an instant.

She focused on Leo, “ This is the reason I insisted you need to dress up properly. Had you been in a formal attire, this would have been ignored by the media as just another business meeting.”

“Great ! So now it’s all my mistake? You know what my mistake is? Trusting you guys with my future.”

Bertrand replied in a calm note, “I think you are over reacting. It’s just two pics, we can change the flow of events. My PR company can assure you, we are good at turning the waves in your favour.”

Before he completed his sentence, the doors to his office opened with a bang. Drake barged in raging in anger. “The hell you turn things only in your favour. You Beaumonts are the most mean and selfish men walking on this damn planet.” His voice echoed across the halls outside the office.

Bertrand’s eyes roamed behind Drake to check if there were any audience at his doors. He settled his gaze back on Drake. “May I know the reason for this intrusion?”

Drake sneered, “You call yourself CEO of a PR firm yet you don’t have updates of the newsflash on TV channels across Cordonia?”

Bertrand gave Drake an irritated glare and picked up the remote to switch on the flat screen hanging on the wall across his table. The screen brightened up with flashes of red haired lady bouncing on a dance floor. All of them in the room knew that was Olivia but the next few moments left everyone’s mouth hanging open.

Bertrand came into the frame trying to dance. He made some lewd gestures and then grabbed Olivia into a smooch.

Leo and Madeleine jolted back at Bertrand. Even Olivia had shock written all over her face. Definitely she was drunk that she didn’t remember this incident.

Bertrand gulped and fumbled with the remote to switch off the TV. He didn’t want to listen or let others in the room listen to the reporter’s remarks.

“I... I ... I can explain”, he said nervously.

Drake sprinted to him in two steps and held him by collar. “How many times are you going to explain? First my sister, then your back stabbing brother took Riley and now you target my girl friend?”

“Riley is with Max?” The baritone voice from the entrance of the office brought everything to standstill. They all turned to see Liam standing in a thunderstuck state.

Tags : @angelasscribbles @alj4890 @tessa-liam @lizzybeth1986 @3pawandme @annabellewynter @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @rubiwalker @703cowbarn @kyra75 @likealotus @kskvb20 @marietrinmimi @aussiegurl1234

[alj4890]

Round Robin

Choices Books/Characters Used So Far: The Royal Romance, Platinum

Word total: 2,552

Masterlist for the Round Robin event

Next writer: @kingliam2019

Hosted by @choicesprompts

Chapter 4 Initial Meeting

"Gah!"

Bertrand jerked awake from the nightmares he'd been trapped in. Sweat beaded his forehead yet he felt chilled to the bone. His breathing was labored as he kicked the covers off of himself. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and decided that four in the morning was a perfectly acceptable time to give up on sleep.

"How could I possibly rest after that?!" He grumbled.

Slipping his robe on, he quietly left his suite.

The resort he'd secured for this endeavor was on an island off the coast of Cordonia. It had its own airfield, dock, and rolling hills with thick forests to block the hotel from any possible onlookers from the mainland. The front of the hotel faced the ocean and possessed the only beach the island boasted of. The rest was a rocky shore line that few well seasoned boat captains could navigate around.

The secluded area allowed his more famous clients a chance to work through the planned events without paparazzi and the public watching. This would also allow Bertrand to film and have exclusive rights to said progress of these well known individuals.

This has to work, he thought to himself. It must!

Once he made it to the main lobby, he drifted on until he found the hotel's kitchen.

He paused when he heard noise within.

Peering around the corner, he felt both relieved and irritated to see Maxwell rummaging around the industrial size refrigerator.

"Are you still up or have you decided to begin getting up early to start the day off right?"

Maxwell jumped in surprise and whirled around with a large tub of ice cream in his arms.

Bertrand released a resigned sigh at the sight. He knew his brother too well to even hope he had gone to bed at some point during the night.

"What are you doing up so early?" Maxwell asked in order to avoid further questions of his late night activities.

"After the nightmares I've had, I decided that sleep will no longer be of any use."

Bertrand started a nearby coffeepot.

Maxwell found a spoon and hopped up on the counter. Digging in to his tub of Rocky Road, he hummed his concern.

Bertrand rolled his eyes. "Was that an indication of sorrow over my predicament or am I supposed to take it as an inquiry?"

"Both." Maxwell said around a mouthful of heavenly flavors. "What'd you dream about?"

"What else other than the very thing that is weighing heavily upon my mind?" Bertrand grumbled.

"Ah." Maxwell ate another spoonful of ice cream. "How bad was it?"

"Horrible." Bertrand shuddered. "The worst case scenario one could possibly imagine. We were unable to help a wealthy client from Spain reveal her family's questionable background and we had a client murdered by one of our agents."

"Who did the murder?" Maxwell leaned forward with renewed interest.

"Someone I didn't know." Bertrand poured himself a cup of coffee. "It certainly made me rethink my policy of hiring from outside our social status."

After taking a sip, he launched into another rant of how this company had to succeed, that the world was watching and these people needed to be given a chance to prove they could be something other than their reputations.

Maxwell set the tub of ice cream down to search through a nearby cabinet. He came across a bottle of brandy that he figured couldn't hurt. He poured a healthy dose into Bertrand's coffee mug.

"What are you-Maxwell!" Bertrand scolded. "You might be able to flagrantly ignore the pressure we're under, but I--"

"Need to calm down." Maxwell finished for him.

"I can't be drunk on our first official day!" Bertrand argued.

"That teensy splash isn't going to do anything except help you relax." Maxwell pointed out.

Bertrand's jaw dropped when he saw the bottle.

"That's Courvoisier L’Esprit! Do you have any idea how expensive that bottle is?"

Maxwell shrugged. "So? You rented this whole place and all that comes with it. Enjoy it."

"I don't have the luxury of enjoying anything." Bertrand grumbled. "Much less indulging in spirits that costs nearly seven thousand dollars a bottle."

"Live a little." Maxwell patted his back. "It'll do you some good."

"Good? Like it did everyone here?" Bertrand snorted. "All I need to make this company falter is to show I'm no better than they are."

"So they've been caught doing a little bad behavior." Maxwell resumed his ice cream snack. "They're here now, ready to make things right. We'll help them. Word will spread how awesome we are. Badda bing badda boom: everyone wins!"

"Only you could make this sound easy." Bertrand mumbled as he sipped more of his spiked coffee.

"With our people working this, it'll be a piece of cake!" Maxwell exclaimed. "Just you wait and see."

**************

A few hours later, Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, was disabling a computerized lock of one of the suites on the tenth floor. With a satisfied click, the door opened without any further trouble.

Her nose wrinkled at the sight before her. The living room area had been completely trashed. The wet bar was littered with empty tequila bottles and strawberry margarita mixes. Lamps had been knocked over. Couch cushions were dirty from shoe prints. Clothes littered the floor and led the way past half eaten appetizers towards the master suite.

Not even bothering to knock and give warning to the occupants, she stormed into the bedroom and opened up the curtains.

There in the bed lay the client she was given. The sunlight revealed that the infamous musician was sandwiched between one of the resort's staff and one of the three Michelin chefs that worked in the kitchens. The two had the decency to sit up and mumble apologies while Raleigh Carrera casually stretched his naked body.

Olivia rolled her eyes at the sight before her.

"Out." She told his guests.

The two hastily left, swiping up their clothes along the way.

Raleigh groaned over the light and cracked one eye open to see what time it was.

He cursed when he saw that it was barely seven in the morning.

"Why are you in my room?" He grumbled.

"Why else?" Olivia replied. "You agreed to do this."

He rolled over on his back and took a deep breath before glancing her way.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Olivia Nevrakis." She replied, not fazed at all by him being fully naked. "Duchess of Lythikos."

"Beaumont sent you here for what?" He muttered. "Torture?"

"Trust me, if this was torture," she smirked, "you wouldn't be talking right now."

He snorted as he rolled out of bed. Unabashed at her seeing him in all his glory, and secretly hoping it pissed her off, he walked towards her and paused a hair's breath away from her.

Holding her steady gaze, he reached behind her for one of the half empty tequila bottles.

His brow furrowed when she didn't react to his nearness. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he went past her to look out the window.

The morning light made him wince worse than the alcohol burning down his throat did.

"So?" He said. "I take it you're my shadow that Beaumont was talking about yesterday."

"Correct." Olivia pulled out her phone and began to scroll through some documents that had been sent over the night before. "And you're the PR Nightmare."

He snorted. "Nightmare, huh?" His smile grew hearing that. "I guess you could say that."

"Seems ridiculous to me." Olivia remarked. "Your drinking, carousing, and destruction of private property hardly seems worth my time."

"Giving up on me already, Red?" Raleigh teased. "And after your delightful wake-up call, I thought we'd be friends."

Olivia's chuckle had a cold edge that caught his attention. "Friends? No. I don't do friends with people like you."

His eyes narrowed upon her. "You got a problem with singers or tattooed people?"

"Neither." She replied. "In fact, I'm even slightly fond of someone who has a tattoo." Her own eyes raked dispassionately over him. "What I don't like is someone who rolls over and gives up."

"Gives up?" He threw his bottle down. "On what? What have I given up on?"

"From the few minutes I've been forced to endure your company, I would say self-respect." She shrugged. "I have very little patience as it is, so don't expect me to cheer you on during these next few weeks."

Olivia straightened her suit jacket, and walked out of his bedroom without a second glance.

Raleigh cursed as he chased after her.

"Wait a damn second!" He ordered. "What do you mean, I don't have any self-respect?" He gestured around his room. "What, just because I know how to throw a good party and enjoy life the way I want to; that gives off that I have no self-respect?"

"No." Olivia perched her hip on a table. "The fact that you allowed it to be the only thing you're known for proves you don't have any. Who cares what you do during your private time? You're the only one who has allowed this reputation to develop."

"Hold on!" He ran his hand through his tousled curls. "My former PR reps, the record label; they all demanded I date the new stars to help build up their reputations. I then was told to publicly break up with them and stage wild parties."

Olivia merely raised an eyebrow over that explanation.

"I don't need this shit!" He snapped at her. "Believe whatever the hell you like, but I do other things than screw starlets and trash rooms!"

She didn't even blink over him shouting that last bit.

A knock at his door had him swinging around in agitation to jerk it open.

Maxwell stood there with a camera propped up on his shoulder. His jaw dropped at the sight of the famous singer without a shred of clothing.

"Ummm." He cleared his throat. "I can...uh..."

He swallowed when Olivia appeared behind Raleigh's shoulder.

"Give us a few minutes." She ordered.

"A few minutes for what?" Raleigh griped. "I'm not going to participate in this bullshit another--"

The wind was knocked out of him when Olivia flipped him over her shoulder. He tried to breathe but lost the battle when she straddled his chest, pinned his arms down with her knees, and flipped a dagger in her hand so that the edge was right below his eye.

"Listen closely, because I will not repeat myself." She hissed.

Raleigh heard Maxwell breathe out, "Holy sh--" before Olivia kicked the door closed.

"You desperately need someone to right your image. Your label is already threatening to drop you. Your fans are sick of all the drama you do with fresh faced singers and actors." She told him.

Olivia leaned closer, her words dripping like venom.

"I personally don't care if you waste your life or not. You are nothing to me. You will never be worth my time." She paused. "But, I do have loyalty to the Beaumont's so I will improve your image."

She got off him, replaced her dagger in the strap above her thigh, and straightened her skirt.

"So here's how it is going to go." She informed him. "You're going to get off your hungover ass, get dressed for the camera, and do everything I tell you."

Her eyes narrowed upon him. "If you don't, then your little anonymous community centers in low income neighborhoods will cease to exist."

Raleigh shot up when he heard that.

"You know about those?"

Olivia slowly smiled. "Here's a helpful hint when dealing with me: I know everything before anyone else does."

She motioned towards his bedroom. "Go get dressed."

He got to his feet. "How did Beaumont find out about those? Nobody knows about that."

"Bertrand doesn't know. I conducted my own investigation on you like I do with everyone I interact with." She replied.

Raleigh blinked over that.

The last thing he wanted was for the kids in his old neighborhood to lose out on something to make their lives better. He had plans in place to build more of them across the United States. He couldn't let his true passion die now that he'd found it.

"You really think you can fix my image?" He asked.

"Of course I can." Her smile was full of smugness. "I never fail."

Raleigh took a deep breath and slowly released it. He knew he really didn't have a choice, which stung a bit. Still though, what did he have to lose by letting her try and repair his image? It was either going to work or it wasn't. Couldn't be much worse than what his other agents had attempted.

"Okay." He looked up at her. "I'll do it."

"Get dressed." Olivia ordered on her way to the door. "I'll tell Maxwell we'll be ready to film shortly.

"My nakedness bothering you, Red?" He teased to get a rile out of her.

"Hardly." She rolled her eyes.

"So you do like what you see?" He countered.

She eyed him, a hint of a genuine smile drifted across her lips.

"You're going to wish I did." With that, she stepped out of his room.

***************

A few minutes later, Bertrand joined Maxwell outside of Raleigh's suite.

"How's it going?" He asked.

"Well," Maxwell hedged. "It's, um, it's been an interesting start."

"Really?" Bertrand's excitement couldn't be contained. "Let me see what you have so far."

"Maybe you should wait." Maxwell countered. "I mean, I haven't got all the angles right and I should really get some more footage of--"

"Nonsense!" Bertrand snatched the camera out of his hands. "I've been sitting on pins and needles. I just know that..."

His eyes widened at the sight of Olivia throwing a naked Raleigh Carrera over her shoulder and straddling him.

"Good God!" He screeched. "What on-- why?"

"It's okay!" Maxwell quickly reassured him. "Olivia said Raleigh will be ready in a few minutes. We can--"

"I can't release this to the public!" Bertrand cried out. "We're ruined! Those few seconds of footage will shut us down faster than--"

"People are going to love this!" Maxwell argued.

"Yes. Voyeurs of the worst kind." Bertrand raked his hands through his hair. "No one will ever hire our company again after seeing one of our agents physically attacking a client."

He groaned as the realization struck him. "My nightmares have become true."

"But I think--"

They both became silent when Raleigh opened the door once again. He was clean, dressed in his usual rocker style, and actually had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Sorry for the wait." He jerked his head towards his room. "I'm ready when you are to start filming."

Bertrand' gaped at the man. "You are?"

"Yeah." Raleigh glanced back at Olivia. "Gotta do something to fix this, right?"

"Er, right." Bertrand cleared his throat. "Well then. Maxwell, don't keep the man waiting."

He pushed his brother into the room. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Bertrand forced a smile as Raleigh shut the door then sagged back against the opposite wall.

"Oh thank God." He whispered.

With this strangely auspicious start, he wondered how the other initial meetings were going.

[marvelrarepairbingo]

The latest Marvel Rare Pair Round Robin story has been posted on AO3! Thanks to all those who participated in this round's round robin:

The Bakery Job: Marvel Rare Pairs Bingo Round Robin-Dec 2023 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Scott Lang/Matt Murdock, Clint Barton & Scott Lang, Clint Barton & Loki Characters: Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Loki (Marvel), Matt Murdock, America Chavez, Kamala Khan, Kate Bishop, Kaecilius (Marvel), OG Nameless Character Additional Tags: past Matt Murdock/Clint Barton - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Mission Fic, Team Up, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Odd team-up, fake relationship turns real, gender-shifting, Flirting, Fluff, confessions of feelings Summary: Scott Lang and Clint Barton are working together undercover to team up on a mission to take down the ‘Tooth Fairy’, a notorious vandal in the city that targeted owners of some of the smaller shops in the city, namely sweet shops and bakeries across the city. When their mission gets off to a bumpy start, it appears that with a little help from their friends and a touch of a mischievous plan that takes a surprising turn.

[scottsummersbingo]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen M/M Fandoms: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies) Relationship: Bruce Banner/Scott Summers Characters: Scott Summers, Bruce Banner, Rocket Raccoon, Nebula (Marvel), Drax the Destroyer, Mantis (Marvel), Groot (Marvel) Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Holidays, Cabin Fic, Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Friendship, Unexpected Visitors Language: English Collections: Scott Summers Bingo Round Robin Collection Published: 2024-01-21 Words: 4,599 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Scott Summers decides to spend the holidays alone in an isolated cabin away from the others, but will fate have other plans for him along the way when unexpected arrivals at his rental prove to put a twist on his solo holiday plans.

[kedreeva]

What does Round Robin mean when it comes to stranger things? I thought your guys writing was lovely but still didn't know lmao sorry i'm dumb

No worries, I'm happy to spread knowledge, and particularly delighted to talk about this subject! It's not a stranger things term actually, it's a storywriting type!

From Wikipedia:

A round-robin story, or simply "round robin," is a type of collaborative fiction or storytelling in which a number of authors write chapters of a novel or pieces of a story, in rounds. Round-robin novels were invented in the 19th century, and later became a tradition particularly in science fiction.

On Tumblr, it's more like when people just either take turns, or go in a line and everyone writes a little bit of the story. I LOVE collaborative storytelling, I used to be in a fandom that did a ton of it and it was such a GREAT community builder. Someone says something, someone else writes a lil bit of story and leaves it open, another person picks it up and continues for a little longer, leaves it open, and so on. Sometimes people pick it up again after a turn or two. It's SO MUCH FUN and it's been a really long time since I got to do it here. I actually wrote am 18k fic with someone this way once, off a lovely piece of art, and the original artist joined in to draw more! It was so cool.

On tumblr, at least, because of the way reblogging and passing stories on works, it also means that there often ends up being several "paths" the story can take! Almost a little choose your own adventure, except it's choose your own fic path. And if none of them go the direction you want, you go back to the last time someone reblogged it with a bit you wanted, and you write your own branch!

This does, of course, rely heavily on people passing stories/fic onward, which has gotten less popular over the last few years, thus the missing it terribly. I ache for the folks who haven't experienced this delight, but there's not a lot I can do about it, except continue to encourage people to form community and actually share stuff so communal behaviors like round robin tumblr fics do not become a completely lost art.

[megaerakles]

The first thing Jason noticed was that his head was pounding. The second thing that he noticed was that he was lying in a puddle. The third thing that he noticed, after peeling open his eyes, was that he was in a vaguely familiar alleyway in Crime Alley—which happened to be on the other side of the city from where he’d been before getting hit with the energy blast from the Villan de jour’s contraband ray gun.

Something must have gotten busted in the circuitry of his helmet in the blast because the built in comms were making an incessant, high pitched noise that only made the pain in his head sharper, and the internal screens were all wonky and illegible. A quick glance around didn’t reveal any company, so with a groan he pushed himself up and reached for the helmet, twisting it off and setting it aside. “Motherfucker,” he grumbled, rubbing a gloved hand against his temples. The pain was beginning to fade, thankfully, but unfortunately the gaps in his memory remained, and he had no good way to explain how he’d gotten here. Well, one of the others might have an answer, so he reached up to flick on the secondary comm he kept in his ear for when his helmet was off, and—

—nothing. Just the hiss of static that indicated a channel was offline. With a steadily growing frown, he kept flipping through, going through every single channel used by the Bats, and nothing. Nada. Zilch. Either Jason’s comm unit had been fried by the blast that took him out in the first place, or… something worse had happened.

A faint tinkling sound came from behind him and in a second Jason had twisted and rolled into a crouch, his hand flying to one of his guns as he scanned the alleyway. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean shit. He narrowed his eyes and reached up to tap the side of his mask a few times, cycling the lenses of his domino until the thermal vision activated. And—aha! Huddled behind the dumpster was a small, human shaped heat signature. A child, then, and based on his read out, a cold one. Likely homeless, and hiding from the strange adult man who’d shown up in their alleway. Since most of the alley kids trusted him to protect them by now, this one probably hadn’t gotten a good look at his helmet.

On the one hand he really should try to regroup with the others or at least figure out what the deal was with his comms, but on the other hand, fuck ‘em, his family could hold on for five minutes while he checked in with this kid and tried to see if he could find them a better place to spend the night. He straightened up but relaxed his posture and slowly approached the dumpster, making sure his footfalls were audible but not overtly menacing. When he was close enough to be heard without shouting, he cleared his throat and spoke in his gentle, talking-to-kids voice.

“Hey, it’s just me. It’s Red Hood. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The kid didn’t respond, so with a sigh, Jason knelt down and slowly eased his head around the corner, trying to get a good look at what he was dealing with without boxing the poor kid in, and—

Oh. Oh shit. The kid was a painfully thin, grimy little thing, with greasy black hair plastered to his forehead and big blue eyes that had seen far too much for his young age and yet had not lost the barest traces of childhood innocence, but he would, Jason knew he would, because he knew this goddam kid because this kid was him.

What fresh time travel hell was this?

———

The first thing Tim noticed was the headache that felt like it was splitting his skull in two. The second thing he noticed was that he appeared to by lying on something like a bed of gravel. The third thing he noticed, after peeling his eyes open, was the face of an oddly familiar child peering down at him.

Since Tim was wearing his mask, the child wouldn’t be able to tell he was awake, so Tim decided to stay perfectly still and keep his breathing even so he could see what this kid wanted. Maybe he was just a fan who wanted a picture?

Weirdly enough, as soon as that thought passed through his mind, the kid took a step back and lifted up a camera to his face, training the lens on Tim’s prone form. And huh, Tim used to have a camera just like that when he was a—

Holy fuck. Tim bolted upright, causing the kid to yelp and scamper backwards, except his foot caught on some gravel and he fell backwards onto his butt. He started at Tim for a moment, but when Tim didn’t do anything but stare back at him, he started babbling.

“I’m so sorry, I was just checking to see if you were breathing ‘cause you sorta just fell out of the sky onto this rooftop and you weren’t moving so I thought you might be dead, but then I saw that you were breathing after all so I was gonna go and watch from behind the air conditioner to make sure someone came and found you or you woke up ok but then I thought you kinda looked like a superhero and I think superheroes are so cool so I just wanted a quick picture to remember what your costume was like but I didn’t actually get any I swear so if you just let me go we can forget about this it’ll be like it never even happened I won’t tell anyone I promise—”

“Tim,” Tim interrupted, causing the smaller version of himself to fall abruptly silent, before starting to stammer again.

“What? No, I don’t know who you think I am but it’s definitely not anyone named Tim. Nu-uh, no way, the name’s Alvin actually—”

Tim just snorted as he reached up to pull off his domino mask and slowly lowered it so he could smirk at his younger self. “Alvin Draper? I think I’ve heard of you.”

Little Tim’s mouth fell open into a perfect little ‘o’ as he stared up at big Tim before he breathed out, “time travel?”

Tim pursed his lips, considering. “Maybe. Or something cross-dimensional, I’m not sure. I’ll have to look into it,” he said as he considered his younger self again and reviewed his options. An exposed rooftop wasn’t an ideal place to do that, and he wasn’t entirely sure what the closest Bat safehouse would be in this era—judging by his own appearance, this was likely towards the end of Dick’s time as Robin, so it was well before he’d advanced to sleuthing out Bruce’s safehouses in addition to tracking their patrols. But there might be another option… “Mom and Dad home right now?”

Younger Tim hesitated, then shook his head looking resigned in a familiar, painful way. “Burundi,” he said flatly. “Big dig. Won’t be back for months.”

“Ah. Well, that works out for us, in any case, because there will be no one else asking questions about me,” Tim said with a shrug as he pushed himself up. His younger self scrambled up as well, all the while staring at Tim with a mixture of disbelief and awe. “Mind if I stay at your place for a bit while I figure out what’s going on?”

“Of course!” Young Tim nodded quickly, almost desperately, and wow was it a little painful to see just how eager for any bit of attention he’d been back then. Tim’s smile was halfway between nostalgic and bitter as he pulled his grapple gun off his belt.

“Now I know you usually would go grab the bus back to Bristol, but I think I’ll stick out if we do that, so… how do you feel about flying home?” he asked, waving the grapple for emphasis.

Young Tim looked like he might have just died and gone to heaven.

[angelasscribbles]

Round Robin Chapter 1: Welcome

This is still untitled and with no mood board because I have no idea where it's going lol.

Word Count: 448

Next writer: @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto

Bertrand Beaumont stepped up to the podium and surveyed the conference room full of malcontents with equal parts excitement and trepidation. This was the most ambitious project of his career.

They were in an undisclosed location. He had a full production team and camera crew on standby. He was acutely aware that the results of this endeavor would make or break his PR firm. But he had complete confidence in his staff.

Tapping on the microphone, he began. “Settle down, please. I understand that everyone in this room is powerful in some way. You’re royalty, celebrities, and top performers in your field. Doctors, CEO’s, etc. You’re not used to being told what to do. I get it. However…”

He waited for the grumbling to die down before continuing. “You’re all here for the same reason. You’ve become a liability for your family, your agency, your recent movie. You’re a PR nightmare for whoever and whatever you’re attached to.”

This time the grumbles were less angry and more conceding.

Bertrand smiled reassuringly. “We’re here to change that. We’re here to help you. I know none of you are accustomed to taking much direction however, for many of you, this is your last chance before you’re fired, blacklisted from Hollywood, or exiled by your families.”

The former crown prince of Dravokia exchanged a sidelong glance with the former crown prince of Cordonia as he mouthed, “Too late!”

Tobias Carrick rose from his chair to demand, “And how, exactly, are you going to do that?”

Bertrand smiled, “I’m glad you asked! This program will not only teach you the skills you need to spin public opinion but will put you in situations to showcase those skills. Publicly.”

“Publicly?” Came a question from the back.

“Yes, publicly. First, you’ll receive instructions on how to conduct yourselves and then you’ll put what you’ve learned by attending a series of public appearances where you will behave properly. You will rehabilitate your images with the support of our staff and your partner.”

A murmur broke out as several people asked, “What partner?”

“Oh, we have taken the liberty of pairing each of you up with a mentor. Someone who already has a stellar public image. Just being seen with them in public will help you. This person will be your shadow for the duration of the program.”

“How long are we stuck here?” Leo Rys spoke up. He hadn’t abdicated a throne to have his life micro-managed by a PR firm.

“Until your approval ratings are acceptable.”

“Great.” He huffed as he slumped back into his seat. “Just fucking dandy.”

“Everyone get a good night’s sleep,” Bertrand told them brightly. “We start in the morning!”

[idontlikeem]

doing my very best to not get pre-stressed about this stupid team and the prospect of being a week away from sid and geno disappearing into their cryptid activities for four and a half months 😩 i hate offseason, would anyone be interested in a group watch of the three road to the cup videos this summer and live-blogging different sections over the course of a weekend once a month or something? idk i want fandom activities to look forward to that arent just fic fests because while those absolutely rule they’re not interactive until things post!

[artzzyb00-27]

Tavern Tales{Elyan x OC}

Robin Hood and his Merrymen meet the Knights of the Round Table. Along with King Arthur and Merlin. What could go wrong? Not much actually, but Elyan deserves more love so here you go.

Arriving at Camelot came a minstrel, one came from a land near Mercia. Who sang tales of Robin Hood and his legion of Merrymen. The people gathered round to hear the tale. The rhythm of the tale became engraved in everyone's head.

Robin Hood and Little John, walking through the forest

Laughing back and forth at what the other'n has to say

Reminiscing this and that and having such a good time

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day

Never ever thinking there was danger in the water

They were drinking, they just guzzled it down

Never dreaming that a scheming sheriff and his posse

Was a-watching them and gathering around

Robin Hood and Little John, running through the forest

Jumping fences, dodging trees and trying to get away

Contemplating nothing but escape and finally making it

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day

Eventually, the word made its way to King Uther. He wasn't pleased with the thought of rogues attempting to steal from nobles. So he sent his knights to disband the group. Out of the twelve that left, only five returned. When Arthur became king, he wondered what happened to the group of Merrymen, he had only heard stories in passing at the tavern whilst spending time with his knights and manservant.

Till one faithful day.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Merlin! Feed the horses, they're no use to us dead!" The knights could only watch amused at the banter between King and servant. Wondering if they would ever become a normal pair of serving and be served.

"Unlike you right?" Dodging a blow to the head, Merlin ran off to feed their trusty steeds. Turning back to his knights Arthur addressed Leon.

"Where to next?" Looking at the map in front of the curly-haired man, he looked up to his majesty awaiting an answer. The long trip from Mercia taking its toll on the man.

"If we head through the Plains of Othanden, we'll cut travel time by a day. As long as there's no trouble with that my lord?"

"None at all, Sir Leon."

"Speak for yourselves, I'm famished." Gwaine, the lazy oaf he is, dragged out as he leaned on Percival who shook his head fondly. Once the horses were ready, they made haste to cut through the plains as best they could. 

With Lancelot keeping Merlin from going insane and Gwaine sharing stories with Elyan and Percival, it made the trip bearable. Arthur and Leon would only chip in their two silvers when necessary(when they wanted to). Once near the edge of Camelot, they spotted a village nearby.

"It's getting dark, we should rest in the village. Have some time to gather our energy." Merlin suggested. Thinking it over, Arthur agreed and led his friends to the village. Once there, people around whispered. Some are in awe of the king and his knights. Others appeared worried.

At this Merlin became paranoid. So he listened in more carefully at the villagers.

"Why are,..... think they'll,..... hope they,... what of,...?" Fortunately, one question was clear as day. "Do ya' wonder what Robin Hood will think?"

Merlin wanted to freeze in his tracks but his horse kept him along the others. Robin Hood was here. The man from tales at the tavern who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Honorable, but bad news if he tried stealing from Arthur.

No gold or valuables were on them, but Arthur wouldn't hesitate to kill if attacked. Merlin prayed Robin Hood was smarter than that.

Once at a decent-looking Inn, they left their horses to the stable boy and left to a nearby tavern for a light dinner. Or drink in Gwaine's case. A table maid sat them at a window booth and took their orders. Gwaine had attempted to woo her.

It gave the others amusement especially when she was particularly interested in Lancelot. She was making the man bashful and he tried to give attention to Gwaine again.

After she walked away, music began playing louder and cheers were heard. Turning their heads to see the commotion, they saw a bright red-haired woman dancing on the bar along to the beat of the song.

Her hair was in a braid and she wore boots with baggy wool socks. Black pants that sagged at her lower legs and a white blouse that brought out her purple bodice. It seemed she was there alone. 

When the violin played a certain chord, she jumped in the air towards the chandelier and swung in circles everyone around her. Including the visitors from Camelot.

Landing on a table nearby causing the men sitting there to fall over from shock, she continued to dance. Spinning around and swaying her hips along with the music. Getting wolf whistles from men and cheers of praise from women.

Entranced by her dancing, Elyan didn't hear the praise coming from his friends.

"She's good," Arthur said. Leon nodded while taking sips from his drink. Leon nodded his head in agreement.

"Elyan agrees, right mate?" Gwaine said laughing at his friend. Looking besotted at the bold red-head across from them. As the song ended she jumped off the table landing gracefully, giving a bow to the patrons around her. The knights and everyone else raised their glasses to her.

As she went to sit at an empty seat at the bar, Elyan debated on speaking with her.

"If you stare, she'll only think badly of you." Merlin's voice brought him back to reality as his friends sniggered at him. Turning towards the blue-eyed man, Elyan couldn't help but roll his eyes.

A woman as beautiful as her wouldn't be interested in him dressed like a peasant. When they headed into their rooms Leon implied it wise to change into something less formal for their trip to the tavern.

While the others agreed, Elyan couldn't deny he felt stripped. Despite Arthur's reassurance, being from no noble blood made him feel small. Even worse when some common folk looked at him in contempt. Which wasn't always because of his position or origin.

"I'd rather not. Besides she must feel tired, why keep beating a dead horse?" At his words the knights became rigid. Apart from Merlin and Gwaine who held in laughs.

"Because maybe it'll come back to life?" A different voice spoke behind him. An angelic voice. Turning around with a confused expression, Elyan met eyes with the redhead. Her green eyes glimmer despite facing away from the light. He tried to envision what they would look like in the afternoon sun.

"Perhaps that's true." He said after much debate internally, which was hilarious to his friends. Although, it did bring a smile out of her so maybe it worked.

"Glad to know someone thought my performance was exceptional."

"Very, love the bit where you jumped and almost hit the ceiling." Closing her eyes and laughing she headed off to another table shaking her head. She sat down at a table a good feet away chatting with some men sitting and drinking.

"Were you complimenting her or insulting her?" Lancelot may be honorable to anyone else, but his companions were at their wits end with him.

After getting their orders they headed off to the inn to get rest for tomorrow's journey home. Still while lying down on the bed next to Percival's he kept thinking back to the girl. He never got her name.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning they awoke and had a small breakfast. Just something to keep them awake for the start of the path. That is til someone broke into the inn screaming their head off.

"Robin Hood's attacked! Lord John isn't happy!" The people near the door piled out, including the knights. They had heard the tales but had never seen it in person. Now was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Robin Hood?" Arthur asked a patron who just shrugged their shoulders with a smile. Outside the village, people gathered around the middle fountain and grabbed bags of money from the Merrymen.

"Should we do something?" Leon whispered in Arthur's ear and he was debating himself. While they were meant to arrest outlaws, Robin wasn't an outlaw of Camelot. Uther had just been threatened by an outside power that most likely didn't even know of his existence.

"No, they're not a problem as long as they don't attack us. We should go."

And like that, they left. Leaving the village and heading into the forest was browsing but the mood and energy picked up when Gwaine began picking on Elyan again.

"So, did you end up getting her name or what Elyan?" Rolling his eyes he gave his friend a gentle glare.

"No, and for good reason. I'll never see her again. What's the point?"

"Don't speak like that Elyan, there are plenty of women who would love a courtship with Camelot's finest knights," Arthur said trying to console his friend which prompted Merlin to have his usual go at him.

"Makes you wonder why Gwen ever chose you." The knights 'Ooo'ed at this and the king simply threw a fake glare at his manservant. Looking past Merlin, he saw a group of horses running up to them.

Realizing it was the Merrymen, Arthur became tense. Noticing, the Knights drew their swords and turned to the charging quarry behind them. When they got close they slowed down and stopped a few feet away from them.

The figure in front of a white horse spoke from under the hood and mask.

"Relax boys, we know you don't have anything, we're just trying to get through. We're making a stop at Camelot. A friend of ours needs help."

"Who's this friend of yours? Perhaps we could assist you, after all, I would like to be more involved with my people."

The statement ran through the Merrymen. Except for the two in front.

"Her name is Marian and she needs money. Please let us through, she doesn't trust any type of nobility." Frowning Arthur went to retort but Merlin stopped him.

"Arthur no, let them come with us."

"He's right, it could give us a chance to keep an eye on them." Leon reasoned out Merlin's input.

"I for one would love to hear the real story of the mighty Robin Hood." A small chuckle from the opposite group could be heard. Guess they weren't as quiet as they'd hoped.

Elyan however, was more focused on the main hooded figure. Their laughter sounded familiar. Angelic almost.

"What do ya' think Robin?" The man next to the leader asked. The leader whispered and agreement and let the man next to him go up to Arthur.

The knights could tell he wasn't being threatening so they sheethed their swords back in their holsters.

"Very well, we'll accompany you. My name is John."

"Little John?" Percival asked gesturing at the man's size. Like Percival he was big and bulky, the only difference being a darker tone of skin and a subtle belly on him.

Laughter from John and the group startled birds out of the trees. They were called Merrymen for a reason.

"You're her! That girl from the tavern last night!" The Merrymen froze and exchanged looks. Some of them looked at their leader questioningly. Huffing out a small laugh only confirmed Elyan's belief and made him flustered.

The girl pulled off her hood and revealed wavy bright red hair that glowed in the morning sun.

"You got me!" She said and made her horse walk closer to Elyan. "Glad to see my biggest fan again." Smiling at her comment, Elyan went to speak but was interrupted.

"You were flirting with Robin Hood!" Gwaine was going to get beat when they got back to Camelot.

------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"So how did people think you were a man? Don't think anything different, but your physique isn't very masculine." Arthur asked as they sat in the knight's quarters back in the castle. The trip had let Elyan and the others learn about the Merrymen's travels and adventures.

Their recent heists. Any gone wrong attempts that required daring rescues. Including any potential romances whilst on the road.

"I needed people to respect what I was doing, not patronize me for it. So when the minestrel we saved asked to write a song about us I told him to make me male."

"Certainly fooled me, I thought you were a prat like Arthur." That comment earned Merlin a good wallop to the head creating laughter throughout the room.

"Tell us more." Elyan urged Robin leaning back on the bench next to her.

"Well, there was the time we invaded Cendred's castle unnoticed."

[jerzwriter]

One Night in Cordonia Chapter 8: All's Well That Ends Well

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts a Round Robin Event. Fandom: TRR, with some OH introduced here Pairings: You'll See lol Word count: 2.2k (I went over a little - sorry!) Rating: Mature Warnings: talks about sex, innuendos, language Prompt: Cocktails, Gala - @choicesjunechallenge A/N: Every now and then, it's fun to just take your characters and put them in different surroundings. This lil' crack fic allowed me to do just that. I was going to say it's not really "my" Ethan and Tobias here, but, to be honest, it could be them in my Ethan/Kaycee world. Thanks for putting this together and including me Angela!

Next author: ??? @angelasscribbles ???

Summary: It's Leo's social season. The day is Beaumont bash after the formal dinner is done and the royal couple has left. Anton sends his second in command, Claudius, to spread a fog, "Death Smash," that would leave the guests paralyzed and he would attack. But the gas delivered was Shagging smog 2.0 by mistake, leading to a sexual frenzy amongst guests. Anton himself goes to check and falls prey to the gas. The only unaffected members are Max (immune), Leo (because he was in the gardens), and Olivia (partially affected, trying to fight the effects).

The pretty brunette flight attendant was shaky on her feet, and for once, turbulence nor the ridiculously high heels Constantine insisted his flight attendants wear was the cause. No, this time, the mesmerizing aqua-blue eyes of her passenger were the culprit. She hadn’t dared to look at them directly for fear of what they could do to her, but she could feel them raking over as she attempted to pour his bourbon. She only hoped he didn’t notice how she trembled.  

“That’s good right there, darlin’,’ he droned, his husky voice rolling off his tongue like honey. “Any more than that, and I’ll have to wonder if you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

A blush settled on her cheeks as she attempted to come up with a reply. Luckily, the other, equally aesthetically pleasing passenger spared her when he sighed with disgust.

“For Christ’s sake, Tobias, could you maybe have just an ounce of decorum?”

“You know Ethan, decorum is overrated,” he winked. “I prefer fun. You may want to try it sometime.”

“I know how to have fun, and it’s not harassing our flight attendant.” 

Ethan looked over to the young woman, who could not look away before his sapphire orbs met hers. Fuck! She thought because those eyes would render her equally as helpless.

“I apologize for my colleague. Apparently, he was raised by wolves.”

“Hey!” Tobias jumped in. “My mom would kick your ass if she heard you say that!”

“Really? Well, I’m sure she’d love to hear how you are treating this young woman,” Ethan pulled out his phone. “Shall I dial her?”

Tobias threw both hands up in surrender. “Nope! Truce! Truce!”

A satisfied smirk crossed Ethan’s face. “I think you’ll be left in peace for the remainder of the flight,” he smiled. Completely oblivious to the look of disappointment on the woman’s face as she exited the cabin.

Tobias sipped the amber liquor and let out a slow moan. “Mmmm.  This is amazing,” he growled. “Have you tried yours yet? I know you’re a total snob, but I swear, this shit will make you weak in the knees.”

Ethan eyed his untouched beverage and shut his eyes.

“I’ll get to it,” he grumbled. “This whole thing, it’s just… it’s obscene!”

Tobias leaned over and took the papers his companion was reading out of his hands, shoving them into the attaché at his side.

“Hey, what are you….”

“Shut up,” Tobias spat. “Seriously, Ethan. The hospital insisted we go, so just sit back and enjoy the ride. We’re on one of the most luxurious private jets on the planet on someone else’s dime. Our every need is expected to be catered to, and if you hadn’t interrupted… that might have included the beautiful Ashley.”

“Ashley?” He asked.

“The flight attendant…”

“Her name is Amber, you idiot. And sexual harassment isn’t something I wish to add to our resume on this trip.”

“Ethan, relax. I was joking!”

“I’m sorry, I just hate this whole thing. The wealthiest people in the world summoning us across the damn Atlantic to take care of their potential PR disaster is not what I went into medicine for.”

“I don’t disagree,” Tobias shrugged. “But what they’re paying us for two days’ work will fund our department for the next year. So look at the bright side for a change Mr. Sour Pants.”

“You have a point,” Ethan grumbled. “Let’s just make this quick, get in and get out…”

“That was my plan with Am….”

“SHUT UP!” Ethan hollered as Tobias adjusted his sleep mask and drifted off, pleased he had accomplished his goal of getting under his boss’s skin.

~~~~

Upon landing, a heavily guarded motorcade awaited the two doctors and drove them to the Beaumont estate. 

“Is this still fun for you?” Ethan asked.

“Fuck yes! I’m living out some major James Bond fantasies right now.”

Ethan fought the genuine smile that attempted to spread on his lips; maybe there was something to Tobias’s constant glass-half-full approach, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

When they arrived at the scene, Constantine and a Lieutenant from the King’s Guard greeted them at once. The Lieutenant handed each man a gas mask.

“Gentlemen,” Constantine enthused. “We are so happy to have you here! It’s not our first incident with shag smog in Cordonia, but this one is not responding to the normal antidote. That’s why we called in the experts.”

Ethan quickly adjusted his mask, but Tobias made no effort to put his on, earning him a questioning glare.

“No need,” Tobias smiled. “I’ve been exposed in the past, so I’m immune.”

“Of course you have,” Ethan groused. “How bad is the situation?”

“Worse than you could imagine!” The Lieutenant began. “There are only a handful of people present who weren’t affected, reasons unclear at this time. Some may have had prior exposure, some, well… this could be their natural state of being; it’s hard to tell.”

“OK, so we have a handful of people who haven’t turned into sex-crazed lunatics,” Tobias assessed. “But how many have? Do you know how many were in attendance?”

“Several hundred,” a woman’s voice rang out from behind, and Tobias’s body went rigid. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Anyone who is anyone in Cordonian society is here, plus a few plebeians from other nations who are delusional enough to imagine they can fit in with us.”

Tobias turned slowly toward the red-haired beauty, salacious grin in place.

“You say plebeians with such disdain, Duchess. From what I recall, you haven’t always minded rolling around in the dirt with at least… some of us.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her icy gaze meeting Tobias’s heated stare. “You!” she hissed.

Ethan clapped his friend on the back. “It’s so good to see you have fans everywhere. Please tell me you made her acquaintance at a Cordonian History seminar.”

“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled. “Something like that. It’s been a long time, Duchess.”

“I’d prefer it if you called me Olivia,” she seethed.

“Heh! That’s not what you wanted to be called last time we were together.”

Constantine turned to Ethan with a look of distress. “Are you sure the sex pollen isn’t impacting him?”

“No,” Ethan sighed wearily, “Sadly, that’s just him.”

“Tobias?” a naked Maxwell hollered as he approached the group. “Is that you?”

Ethan turned to Constantine, aghast. “I thought you said all the impacted were contained!”

“They are! But that’s Maxwell and… sadly, that’s just… him.”

“It’s me,” Tobias nodded, averting his eyes. He removed his lab coat and tossed it in Max’s direction. “Would you put this on, for Christ’s sake! No one needs to see that damn hippo tattoo.”

“Oh, yeah…” Ethan rolled his eyes. “That’s what we don’t need to see!”

“So, what do we do, gentlemen?” The Lieutenant asked. “Normally, pumping in the antidote smog does the trick.”

“Not with this new variant,” Tobias interrupted. “It’s essentially a concentrated form of GHB in vaporized form.”

“So, how do we reverse this?” Constantine asked.

“There’s been some success with the administration of diclofenac and NSAIDS,” Ethan advised. “But that would require injecting each of the infected individually. There is no way to ‘gas’ everyone back to normal.”

“Well, that could take hours! Days!” A voice called out.

“This is my son, Leo, the crown prince.” Constantine chimed in.  “And I agree with him. We need to get this display of debauchery under control before it’s a scandal!”

“Forgive me if I’m more concerned about the people who were poisoned, not your Palace’s reputation.”

“Dr. Ramsey, I believe I’m paying you quite handsomely to take care of both,” Constantine reminded.

“Going room to room won’t be the fastest way,” Tobias agreed. “But it is the best way. Not only can we ensure it’s administered properly, but you can send someone in with us to confiscate everyone’s mobile devices. That will give you time to destroy any embarrassing pictures you wouldn’t want out there.”

Olivia spat out a laugh behind him. “Yes, Dr. Carrick. Because you, of all people, know about embarrassing blackmail photos. Don’t you?”  

Tobias shot her a knowing look. “We’ll talk after… Duchess. Right now, I have work to do.”

~~~~~

Tobias and Ethan ran up the ornate marble staircase; the team Constantine assembled to assist them quick on their heels.

“So, dare I ask what the deal is with you and Olivia?” Ethan asked.

A blissful look came over Tobias’s face, and Ethan momentarily wondered if his friend was being impacted by the gas.

“You know I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Plus, have you ever had a woman pull a switchblade out of her stilettos and threaten you in the middle of some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had in your life?”  

Ethan looked at Tobias in horror. “No! I can’t say I have.”

Tobias reached over and tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Well, add it to your bucket list, buddy. I promise you, it’s a rush.”

“Gentleman,” Leo interrupted, “if you wouldn’t mind visiting this room first. My brother, Liam, is in here.”

When the men entered, Liam immediately rushed toward them.

“What the…”

“Thank God you’re here!” Liam squealed. “This is shag smog… isn’t it?”

“It is,” Leo frowned. “But… you’re coherent… weren’t you impacted? Do you want to screw any of us right now?”

Liam calmly looked over the three men and shrugged. “I mean, you’re all cute… but not my type… and you’re my brother!”

“But if you weren’t impacted, why are you locked in here?” Leo asked.

“Madeline locked me in here. That woman has been dying to have her way with me and thought she believed this was her big chance.”

“Wait…” Tobias interrupted. “I’m not up on all of the societal gossip, and I know you people have your own little… proclivities… but,” he turned to Leo, “isn’t Madeline your fiance?”

“Technically,” Leo sighed.

“OK, then,” Tobias simpered. “Well, how about we leave you two to sort this out while we go administer the antidote to others.”

Leo nodded at Tobias, “Excellent idea. We’ll meet up again outside.”

~~~~~

Several hours later, Tobias joined a team of King’s Guards assigned to delete all incriminating images from guests' phones. He was having too much fun helping, chuckling repeatedly before hitting delete. He turned to Ethan with a grin.

“You know, if we want to retire early, all I need to do is forward some of these to our phones. Our offspring’s offspring could live off of the blackmail money.”

He heard what sounded like the knuckles cracking behind him and found Oliva glaring his way. “I assure you, that would be ill-advised.”

“Relax, sweetheart. Don’t you know a joke when you hear one?”

Ethan looked between the two and shook his head ruefully. “I know I’m going to live to regret this… but you mentioned blackmail photos before… what were you talking about?”  

Tobias howled with laughter. “She took some photos of me and planned on using them against me. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t factor in that I have no shame. So, she got nothing.”

“Oh dear God,” Ethan groaned. “What the hell was on… you know what… no… I don’t want to know.”

“Why?” Tobias asked. “They were just pictures of me… in various states of undress… some may have involved latex… and a couple had switchblades….”

“OK, STOP!”

“In one,” Tobias said, standing up with dramatic flair, “I was kind of bent over like this….”

“I SAID STOP!” Ethan yelled as he rushed away, muttering under his breath.

Amused, Olivia slid up next to Tobias and gently caressed his forearm.

“He’s a bit squeamish, no?”

“Hey, they can’t all be me,” he laughed. “You’re looking good, Dutchess… you know, I wouldn’t exactly turn down the opportunity to … engage… again….”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Tobias, you’re a terribly handsome man. And as much as I can appreciate someone who eagerly follows my orders and calls me Duchess throughout, I must admit… I rather get off on the fear in my companion's eyes when I unexpectedly pull a sharp object in the heat of the moment… the fact that you kind of got off on that… it takes the fun out of it for me.”

“Hey!” Tobias protested. “Fear? Is that what you’re looking for. Listen, gorgeous, I had four years in drama club in college, and I can feign fear like the best of them. I think you should give me another shot.”

Olivia’s eyes raked over him, slowly taking him in from head to toe, a fiendish grin growing.

“You’re willing to wear a harness?”

Tobias scoffed. “When have I ever said no to that?”

“OK,” she smiled, rising to her feet. “The Beumont’s armory is in the basement. Go down the staircase, make a left, and it’s the last door at the end of the hallway. Meet me there in fifteen minutes. Oh, and get your lab coat back from Maxwell. Make sure you’re wearing that… and nothing else… when I enter,” she winked. “That’s the main course. The harness will be dessert.”

Tobias looked at her with darkened eyes. “At your command, my Duchess.”

Anxioulsy hopping to his, Tobias yelled to Ethan as he made his way to the door.

“Hey, buddy! I’ve got .. uh.. some things to do. Keep yourself occupied… look around for Bertrand… you both love boring things. He’ll know what to do.”

Liam and Leo leaned against the wall, shaking their heads at what they had just witnessed. 

“And that’s without the shag pollen,” Leo sighed. “Could you imagine them under the influence?”

Liam shook his head vigorously. “It would be the demise of Cordonia.  Perhaps the demise of civilization.”

@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others in RB.

[twinkleallnight]

One Night in Cordonia

Chapter 6 : Road to Recovery

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.

Fandom: TRR so far, but others could be added in

Pairings: Various

Word count : ~ 1k with summary.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: talks about sex, innuendos, language

Prompt: Fantasy @choicesjunechallenge or @liaromancewriter.

A/N: This was fun to write playing with my fav characters in an odd setup. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for including me 😘. My sincere thanks to @angelasscribbles and @lizzybeth1986 for being the force behind the scenes.

Next author: @kingliam2019

Summary: It's Leo's social season. The day is Beaumont bash after the formal dinner is done and the royal couple has left. Anton sends his second in command Claudius to spread a fog "Death Smash" that would leave the guests paralysed and he would attack. But the gas delivered was Shagging smog 2.0, by mistake, leading to a sexual frenzy amongst guests. Anton himself goes to check and falls prey to the gas. The only unaffected members are Max (immune), Leo (because he was in the gardens and Olivia (partially affected, trying to fight the effects)

"Tell me everything you know," Leo declared.

Amidst Olivia's uncontrolled advancements, Max summarized the events that took place in Leo's absence.

"What do you think we should be doing?"

Leo took a moment to think before he dashed to the staircase. Max followed, dragging a dizzy Olivia along.

Leo spoke as he climbed down, "Search for that American model Riley first and her press secretary. We have to make sure they are not recording this for their channel. Snatch their cameras if that's their plan. Can't let the whole world see the mess we are in, right now."

Olivia giggled at the thought but quickly composed herself, covering her mouth. Leo shook his head looking at Olivia swaying against her wish, trying hard to remain sane.

He took out his phone and flipped it open to contact the palace. "We need backup if this is an attack." He stated.

Max nodded while handling Olivia, who was again leaning on him. "Olivia…"

"Hmmm?" She looked up at him with a seductive gaze. He eyes roamed across the flush on her skin making her look more attractive.

"You are testing me." He groaned. He touched her cheek to help wake her from her slumber but his fingers lingered on, feeling her soft skin. She gave him a foolish grin. He was about to give in when…

"Max." Leo called him. "Maxwell, Not now! And not her. Remember what she will do to you when she comes back to senses."

Max realised he was playing with fire. His caressing hand started patting Olivia hard.

"Olivia! Olivia!"

"Oww, oww, ouch!"As soon as she was alert she noticed she was hugging Max and he was standing awkwardly. She straightened up and made some distance. She rubbed her cheek that had turned red from Maxwell's patting.

"I am sorry." Max apologised.

"Can you be a bit gentle? I know I am under the spell." She said in a stern tone trying to hide her inner fears, now that she knew about his fantasies of her. She was aware that she was adding fuel to the fire everytime cuddling up to him. But she liked the idea somewhere deep inside. She blushed fiercely and tried to look away.

Thankfully, Leo interrupted her train of thoughts. "I have called for a platoon of men from the palace. Let's go and find Riley now."

They searched through the tangled bodies but couldn't find anyone important. Everyone still seemed to be affected. A hearty laugh between the moans and groans caught their attention. They turned around the corner and saw Riley who was attempting a pole dance on some fake pole.

Liam was splayed on a couch in front of her, his gaze fixated over the display Riley had put up. His eyes did not have the glaze that others had but he seemed to be totally invested into the American beauty. Before they could step ahead, Leo's phone rang.

"Shit. Father is calling." He tensed at the timing of the call but still recieved it.

"Leo?" Constantine almost barked through the phone. "Why have you ordered guards with masks? What's going on? What are you upto and where are you?"

"Father, I am at the same place you left me, Ramsford, with Beaumonts." Leo tried to keep his voice calm.

"But why the guards?"

"I.. we… we might have a situation here." He fumbled.

"Spill it already, will you?"

"There is a fog here and we don't know who spread it but everyone is acting weird."

"Exactly in what way are they acting weird?"

"They are.. they are all making out."

"What are they making?"

"I mean, they are…all undressed and ….lustful." Leo was the infamous playboy but when it came to his father, he was finding it difficult to discuss the matter.

"Why are you talking in jumbled words? What do you think? You were born from an egg? Can't you just use the right word?"

"Sex. They are involved in a sexual frenzy." Leo blurted.

"Dammit!" Constantine cursed under his breath. "You have been attacked by Shagging Smog."

"A what?"

"It's kind of a sex pollen, you fool."

" How do you…?" Leo couldn't understand how his father knew the details.

"Where do you get that playboy streak son? Been there, done it all, my child." Constantine smirked over the phone. "Catch hold of your brother and Beaumont boys. They can help you. "

"How?" Leo uttered in a confused state.

"It affects a person only once. The smog cannot alter your mood on a second exposure. Also, it changes genetics. So, you, Liam and the Beaumont boys remain unaffected."

"You mean you and Duke Barthelemy?" Leo tried to comprehend.

"Yes," Constantine rolled his eyes. "we both have had an exposure to that stupid chemical once. So Max and Bertrand are also immune.

" But Bert was.. " Leo's voice trailed away, figuring out what he was about to reveal about Bert and Drake.

"What about Bertrand?"

"Nothing. I will find him. He is somewhere here." Leo tried to dissipate the urgency.

Constantine let out a deep sigh. "Collect the boys. I am coming there."

Round Robin Readers list:

@tessa-liam @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @secretaryunpaid @squid-princess-teach-swallow @kristinamae093 @fearyrain @petiteboheme

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[robthegoodfellow]

See, it had all started right before Christmas break, at the end of the Gatsby unit in his English class. Billy had gotten a real kick out of the story, which had been mercifully short and jam-packed with… well, it was gay as shit, basically—to the point where he’d tormented Harrington one afternoon reading select passages aloud, really dialing up the loaded phrases.

“Question for ya,” he’d said, sprawled on Harrington’s bed—his favorite place for half-assing any homework—or really his favorite place, period. He skimmed the paragraph, plucking choice words, glanced up where Harrington was propped against the headboard, eying him placidly over his History notes. “What would you think if you heard me describe an old buddy as ‘sturdy… dominant… leaning aggressively forward…’?”

Billy rolled and crawled into his lap—leaned forward with as much sturdy dominance as he could muster. Ignoring how his audience had snapped to attention, he cleared his throat, stuck the book between their faces, and continued, voice comically husky:

“…Or if I said the guy’s body had ‘enormous power’ that ‘seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing—’” As he read, Billy had reached down between them with his free hand, rubbed until Harrington was himself straining the zipper of his jeans. “‘—and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved…’?” A whine as Billy abandoned his ministrations below to trail up Harrington’s torso, caressing his collarbone, the meat of his shoulder, and finished: “‘It was a body capable of enormous leverage—’”

Planting his feet, Harrington arced his pelvis off the bed and Billy toppled over, snickering. In a blink, he was bowled onto his back, grinning up into a smug face.

“I’d think you wanted to fuck him,” Harrington said, and slotted their hips together, grinding where they were both hard.

“Right?” Billy panted. He weakly swatted Harrington’s head with the book he’d somehow kept hold of. “Man, I haven’t even gotten to the part where he fucks this random photographer guy—or when he describes Gatsby’s car and it’s just—it’s just—”

Harrington had sat up, hands tugging at their jeans, trying to get them undone. Rather than help, Billy raised the book above him and leafed forward a bit. “Hold on… I’ll find it…”

“You are such a little shit,” Harrington muttered.

Billy feigned distraction. “I swear, it was right after…”

Harrington had them unbuttoned and unzipped when Billy flipped to the scene.

“Here it is!” He cleared his throat and deigned to lift his ass so Harrington could drag his jeans and briefs down around his thighs. “So Gatsby’s ‘balancing himself on the dashboard’ of this huge car—picture it just jutting out from his crotch, okay? And then Nick’s all randy about it—saying how the car’s ‘swollen here and there in its monstrous length—’”

The book was snatched away and sent sailing off the bed, then Billy’s bookless fingers were anointed with the preferred dollop of lotion and drawn down to Harrington’s dick. No instructions necessary.

“Am I nuts?” he demanded, grunting as Harrington reciprocated. “Like—that car is a—” He gasped as Harrington upped the pace. “—a fucking… monster cock—a la verga—”

“Billy,” Harrington said, tightly, though he seemed on the verge of laughter. “Can we… focus on our actual cocks for a sec?”

That earned him an obnoxious smirk and slow, lingering stroke. “Damn, babe,” he said, admiring. “You held out way longer than expected.”

The ohmygodIhateyousomuch was mumbled directly against his lips, but he was smiling—Billy knew because he kissed teeth a moment before Harrington adjusted, and then he was pulling Harrington down, sucking tongue until they’d made a mess of their hands.

So anyway, that had got him thinking, and when it came time to write an essay, he’d rolled the dice and composed an unwieldy manifesto on Nick’s latent queerness. He’d had to look up all kinds of fancy words for gay and dick—homoeroticism and phallic had heavily featured—and maybe it was because this was the first time he’d ever felt personally invested in a writing assignment, but what had started out as a bit of a joke topic had morphed into… something else. Something he really meant. Nick was repressed as fuck and it had fucked him up.

He hadn’t run it by Pendergast—aside from the mere thought making him want to set himself on fire, he figured it wasn’t necessary; she’d given them a list of possible prompts, and the last one amounted to Choose Your Own Adventure. Plus, she’d gotten up on a soapbox at the start of the year, banging on in her twangy accent about how their approved booklist was too “narrow”—got as close as she could to calling it too white, too male, too straight without outright saying it. So… odds were good she wouldn’t read it and march him straight to the counselor or something.

Despite his best intentions, though, he’d almost thrown in the towel toward the end, when he’d been trying to transcribe his pencil draft into the final and the ink kept smearing—pens just weren’t fucking made for poor left-handed schmucks. When Harrington had seen him about ready to rip the draft in half, he’d spirited Billy into an austere office and sat him in front of some space-age looking contraption that purported to be a typewriter—shown him how to feed paper through, how to backtrack and correct any errors, stamping them out of existence, and told him to take his time.

And Billy had used a typewriter before—even endured a typing class freshman year—but that had been on a dime a dozen Smith-Corona electric, tacky from countless fingers before him, not an… IBM Selectric III, which he’d never even heard of, but assumed must be the best money could buy. It had a matte grey chassis with black squared keys, and when he tentatively pressed the B, a whirring, mechanical flutter conjured the letter on the page in a flash, like the machine had already known what symbol he wanted—hadn’t known to capitalize it, though. Leaning back and forth to peer over the edge of the chassis, where the arms of each key would usually fly out to strike, he watched as, for every letter of his name, a magic silver golf ball encrusted with the building blocks of language—the alphabet, punctuation, numbers 0-9—pivoted and spun, laying down each item with a crisp clatter that was weirdly spine-tingling.

billy Hargove

Eh, one missed capital was no biggie.

He’d started off slow, afraid of making more mistakes, not trusting himself to correctly deploy the corrector, but a couple sentences in, he was grooving—and god, the staccato whirr of those keys was damn satisfying.

He only knew he’d been at it awhile when a tension headache, that old friend, began to pulse at his temples and build behind his brow. Not enough to derail him, though—he lay down the final period with a flourish, yanked out the last page, and helped himself to the stapler.

After he’d turned it in, he’d kinda forgotten about it, too busy dreading Christmas break and all the “family time” it would entail. He wouldn’t even have the castle as his usual retreat, since Harrington’s folks were already back for the holiday, hosting a horde of his mother’s family at the country home until the whole brigade left for a New Year’s soiree in the Windy City.

So he’d perked up when Pendergast started wandering the room, handing the essays back, reminding them to actually read her comments if they hoped to improve next time—only she got to the bottom of the stack and… no essay for Billy. She hadn’t seemed to notice, but—

Then he freaked out a bit. Was she planning to hold him back after class, or—fuck—hoping to talk to him about it? Maybe he’d read her totally wrong and she was gonna march him to counselling after all. Or give him a detention for submitting something she found distasteful. Vulgar.

Of course, maybe she’d… lost it? He really hoped so, because he’d rather take an unjust zero than chat with her about the essay at all. Never should have written the fucking thing in the first place—such an idiot.

He snuck glances at Pendergast all period, but even when they made eye contact once, she hadn’t frowned or given any indication of her intentions… She was either one cool customer or genuinely as scatterbrained as she seemed on the surface and had just—yeah, lost it.

At the lunch bell, Billy had no recollection of what had transpired in class, too swept up in anxious speculation. He wanted to make a break for the door, but if she uttered a word about his topic with anyone else around he’d never hear the end of it. He’d bolt when the coast was clear and pray she wouldn’t call his name.

“Hey,” someone said, close by his ear, and Billy leapt in his seat, knees knocking the underside of his desk. He whirled, venom on his tongue, only to find a roll of papers shoved in his face, brandished by that girl with the brown bob who sat behind him, and who was now crossing her arms in defense at his reaction.

“Whoa!” she said, grinning wryly with big goofy teeth. “Easy. I come in peace.”

“In pieces,” he muttered, turning to sit sideways in his desk to level her a glare.

“Yes, you’re very scary,” she agreed. “So I really hope you won’t murder me for—um…” She tapped the scroll on his shoulder. “…reading this.”

Billy snatched the papers, his stomach seizing—already knew what he’d see when he unrolled the coiled pages, and yep—there it was: billy Hargrove in blocky typeface in the top left corner.

“Congrats?” the chick said, tentatively. “You got an A.”

The small part of Billy that wasn’t flipping his shit wondered how that was possible—the first page alone was littered with red marks correcting his grammar, scolding him for informal turns of phrase—but all that was a murmur compared to the tirade raging in his mind, listing haphazard means to ensure the nosy bitch wouldn’t dare use this against him.

He half-heard her babbled explanation: “Sorry—I know I shouldn’t have. It was just that the staple on yours got snagged on mine, and then I saw the title and I thought it was just you being a dumb jerk but then I realized it wasn’t—”

The title in question: Character Analysis of Nick Carragay. He’d been torn between that and Nick Wants Dick, but decided he was already pushing the envelope enough.

Billy swept the area, saw it was almost empty—only Pendergast remained, busy erasing the chalkboard. He let his eyes and tone go flat like Neil’s, and turned back to the threat. “Here’s how this is gonna go,” he said, slow and quiet. “You tell a fucking soul, and I’ll—”

“Shit, that’s unsettling,” she interrupted, gaze skittering over his blank face, the thin veneer of a lax posture that belied winding tension, spring-loaded. He blinked when she snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Stop that. I’m not gonna say anything—not that I’d assume anything.” She peered around him at their teacher on the far side of the room, then leaned back in and whispered, “Though if I were to assume something, and that assumption was correct, it’d be fine, because—uh…” Wincing, she eyed Billy a moment—whose expression had gone slack for a whole different reason—then barreled on: “Because… me, too?”

Billy was so overwhelmed by the onslaught of implications that all he could manage was, “What?”

The girl raised her brows, nodding meaningfully. “Mine would’ve been about Jordan Baker, if I had the guts.”

“Hurry up, you two,” called Pendergast. “I’d like to get to lunch sometime this century.”

They gathered their things—well, the girl did. Billy had a policy against backpacks, so all he had was the crumpled essay and the next book they were doing, this play called The Crucible. He’d read something by the same guy at his old school—Death of a Salesman—which had been pretty good.

They stopped just outside the door, and Billy looked down at the essay, then fumbled to flip to the last page. The grade was circled at the bottom, with a note: Nuanced and daring interpretation only hampered by poor mechanics and some less than academic wording at times. Overall, excellent work.

“I can’t believe she gave me an A,” he said with a snort, and the girl giggled, high and unhinged.

“Oh, I can.”

At his questioning glance, she hesitated, then darted her attention up and down the mostly deserted hallway and motioned him toward the Arts wing. Utterly at a loss, but undeniably intrigued, Billy followed at a safe distance. He was starting to think that, of the two of them, he wasn’t actually the dangerous one.

Which tracked, given his lived experience with lesbians thus far.

She had a funny stomping gait in the ankle boots, a bit at odds with her Molly Ringwald look—a brown tee shirt under a knee-length purple dress under a droopy wool cardigan—and very much undermining the cloak-and-dagger vibe she was going for. Their destination, apparently, was the back riser of the music room, surrounded by empty chairs and gleaming instruments. She’d been clutching a rectangular case ever since Pendergast threw them out, and when she settled beside Billy, she rested it on her lap before taking a slow, composing breath.

“What I am about to show you has weighed on my conscience for months, but since we’ve jumped into the deep end vis-à-vis our true selves, I assume I can trust you with this.”

Okay, so she was… one hundred percent a theater kid. Billy cleared his throat, tried to school his face into something appropriately solemn. “Uh—uh huh.”

Girl was nuts, but he for sure wanted to know whatever freaky business she was hiding. Was it a sex thing? His lip curled in appalled conjecture as he eyed the case. A sex… instrument thing?

Oblivious to his lurid musing, she flipped open the clasps and lifted the lid, revealing—a trumpet. He didn’t think it was a sex trumpet.

“The reason I’m not surprised that Pendy loved your little gay thesis—is this.” Prying back the loose corner of the crushed velvet lining, she extracted a thick sheaf of papers, stapled along one side like a book. Billy reached for it, but she held it aloft, a deranged glint in her eyes. “If you choose to look upon this, you can’t unsee it. You can’t unknow it. And you can’t tell anyone—”

“Jesus Christ, will you just—” Billy snatched it out of her hand with a huff. He must have swallowed a super-magnet that only attracted weirdos and conspiracies—but surely, surely what she was peddling couldn’t compare to the revelations this goddamned town had already dumped on him.

Slumping down in his folding chair, Billy flicked the papers to stand straight in his lap, looked down—and squinted, confused.

The entire front page was this… stylized line drawing—sort of art nouveau?—a mid-shot of two dudes in a distinctly sexual embrace against a background of roses the size of dinner plates. One guy had walked right off the cover of a bodice ripper—wavy mane and one of those drapey shirts unbuttoned to bare a tasteful tit, eyes closed, lips lustfully parted—only he was the one being bodice-ripped, by a Dracula type with a helmet of glossy dark hair, black high-collared cape and… pointy elf ears. He was vaguely familiar, but Billy was too sidetracked by the way Dracula was licking the other guy’s neck, thumbing his nipple, to place him.

When he didn’t say anything, the girl coughed nervously, then asked, “Have you—ever watched Star Trek?”

Right, right—that’s where he’d seen Dracula before. “Just one of the movies, in middle school.” He tapped the pointy ears. “Recognize him—Spock?”

“This is not Spock as you’ve ever seen him,” she intoned.

He flipped the packet open, expecting more art, but instead found a detached printout tucked ahead of a title page that declared it OUT OF BOUNDS and listed a table of contents: When Dreams Come True… Not Quite Enough… Bed of Silence… The Hustler. The loose page offered a different kind of list—a checklist.

Underneath the heading I BOUGHT THIS ZINE BECAUSE were a range of options, a few of which had him muttering awe-struck what the fucks as he read.

I wanted something to hide from my mother.

K/S zines are scarcer than hairs on Kirk’s chest.

I’m horny.

It’s been too long since I’ve been horny.

My library card to the Blueboy Library was revoked.

I need a typo fix.

I’m a connoisseur of filth.

I need something to confess.

I wanted to see if it would make it through customs.

I love bad grammer [sic], misspelling, and misplaced punctuation.

I collect four letter words.

It was cheaper than the Joys of Gay Sex.

I didn’t meet the requirements to receive Code 7.

I couldn’t afford to go to San Francisco.

I’m a secret investigator for the Moral Majority.

I’m too shy to go to X-rated movies.

I like Mary Jim and Mary Spock stories.

I wanted a zine with no Bones about it.

I don’t believe in the K/S premise–I just love to read it.

He jerked his head up and found the girl already staring with bated breath, awaiting his response. Billy looked back down, bent the pages and let their edges thwip past his thumb like a flip book. It was one hundred and fifty plus pages of text, of…

“Is all this just…?”

She sucked her lips between her teeth and nodded, wide-eyed.

“But how…?” Billy tried. “Where did you even—?”

“I stole it,” she burst out, with the air of someone unburdening themselves at last. “I stole it from Pendergast’s desk the first week of school.” She buried her face in her hands, wheezing a hysterical, guilt-ridden giggle. “I swear I almost killed the poor woman—when she realized it was missing, she went around with this… this hunted look for weeks, like she was just waiting to be blackmailed, or fired, or…”

She peeked at Billy pleadingly over her fingers, as though he could absolve her of her sins. “I didn’t even know what I had when I took it. I just thought she was interesting and wanted to snoop on what she was reading—she kept making all these super liberal comments but she’s from Texas, and I know I shouldn’t stereotype but they make all our textbooks—did you know that?—and it really shows. And every day I noticed her pulling a different book from her desk, like she was blasting through a novel a night, and so during lunch that Friday I snuck into her room and…”

Her gaze dropped to the burgled contraband in Billy’s lap.

“I’ve read it over and over,” she confessed, unfocused. “I don’t know why I’m so into it, because it’s all dicks all the time—but it’s fucking hot. And kind of ridiculous—like purple prose up the wazoo.” She blinked. “No pun intended. And some of it’s really twisted... but…”

Absolutely nothing in Billy’s life had prepared him for this. But again—what else was new. He coughed a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” she insisted, dead serious. “I don’t want to make any trouble for her—or me,” she added, with a grimace.

He nodded, quick and firm, then bit his lip.

“Can I—uh…?” he trailed off, gesturing between the stolen goods and himself.

She narrowed her eyes. “Only if you promise to guard it with your life—and return it in the exact same condition.” Making an X with her arms, she elucidated: “NO spooge stains.”

Billy busted a gut—this chick was something else. When he’d recovered, she was scanning him head to toe, unfazed and unimpressed.

“Are you planning to hide it up your ass, you bagless lunatic? Because that would also violate our terms.”

In the end, she’d tucked the zine back into her case and escorted him to his car, where he hid it under the driver’s seat. On the way, she benevolently gave him half of her turkey on rye, and he wolfed it down.

So that was how he met Robin Buckley.

next snippet or full chapter (sry, fic is WIP)

[canthandlethishit]

is there any fic where dick snaps (at a villain or sth) and the bats witness it and like idk shit goes down

[scottsummersbingo]

Scott Summers Bingo is proud to present our very first round robin fanfic collaboration now up on AO3. For our first time giving it a go we think it turned out really great. Thanks to everyone who participated on this one! It was a lot of fun!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Logan/Scott Summers Characters: Scott Summers, Logan (X-Men), Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bobby Drake, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Loki, Wanda Maximoff Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Grief/Mourning, Team Bonding, Friendship, Healing, Light Angst, Avengers - Freeform, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff Series: Part 1 of Scott Summers Bingo Round Robin

Summary: It’s been a while since Jean’s passing and Scott is struggling with what it means to move forward with life after love. Where will the journey to healing take him? It’s up to you! Have fun being creative with this!

[kedreeva]

ST prompt: Feral vampire!eddie happens upon unsuspecting Steve your honor i love them [not in ANY WAY PRIVATE]

(My askbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous Prompts)

Steve steps carefully toward the dark figure hunched over the dying deer on the roadside. Whatever it is, whatever monster had come through whatever gate had formed, it hasn’t heard him stop his car, or fetch his bat, and it doesn’t hear his approach now. It is feeding, or at least Steve assumes it is feeding judging by the quiet, wet noises emanating from that direction. It doesn’t appear to be taking flesh, though, not moving from its place by the deer’s head. And, he realizes as he gets close in the dark, it is wearing clothes.

God, please don’t let it be eating brains, he thinks as he begins to take a stance to strike. He really does not want to deal with zombies. That just seems too far over the line.

The monster freezes just as Steve raises the bat fully, but it doesn’t turn in time to stop the blow, only to take it to the shoulder instead of the head. Steve swings hard enough to send it tumbling, but it doesn’t even fully sprawl on the ground before it is up again, sending Steve dancing to the side to keep it from connecting when it lunges forward.

He swings the bat again, but this time the monster catches it in one hand, and despite Steve’s firm grip, the bat goes flying when the monster rips it out of his grasp. It clatters on the street a few yards away and Steve has enough time to consider bolting after it before the monster hisses, and Steve finally catches sight of its face.

His belly flips and drops, his heart skipping several beats in recognition.

Eddie.

It's been three months and his expression is twisted into a snarl, eyes as red as the slash of blood across his mouth, but it's Eddie. Steve's heart punches the breath out of him as it jumps to his throat, strangling any words he might have said. Eddie was dead. They'd left Eddie for dead when they'd fled the Upside Down.

"How-" he starts, and then his eyes meet Eddie's crimson ones, and he feels himself go lax, mind slicking comfortably blank. He stares, eyes hooded, into Eddie's crimson eyes, and he feels... right.

When he feels the urge to lift his chin, to tip his head and expose his throat, he doesn't question it. He just does it. Eddie won't hurt him.

Eddie's eyes stay locked on his, wary, as if he doesn't recognize Steve. Some part of Steve wants to remind him, to call him by his name and see the light in his eyes, misses the deep brown of them. He wants to reach out, ask where he's been, tell him he's sorry they left. All he can do is wait, enthralled, as Eddie moves in closer, searching Steve's face for something.

When Eddie's lips part, Steve thinks maybe he will finally say something, but then he catches the white glint of sharp eyeteeth in the dark, and his heart beats faster. Not human. Eddie's not human. Monster. Vampire. His mind bucks against the realization. He wants to stand still, be good, obey the look in Eddie's eyes, but he fights monsters. He- he'd pulled over to fight a monster. He'd swung a bat at Eddie.

He doesn't know if it's Eddie or the monster that steps into his space and looks him over, eyes ticking to the pulse point below his ear. He doesn't know which one leans in, breath feathering over his throat. Steve doesn't tense, even though he wants to, even though he should. He can't. Eddie could tear his throat out with the clawed fingers he brings up and runs lightly under Steve's jaw, and Steve would let him.

"Eddie..." The words quivers as badly as Steve should be, but it gives Eddie pause. He doesn't pull back, but he doesn't bite, either. Just stands, chest-to-chest with Steve, lips close enough Steve can feel the chill of them.

The iron control eases a little, enough for Steve's breath to come a little faster, enough for him to twitch a hand up. He doesn't try to push Eddie away, doesn't try to protect himself. He just brushes his fingers against Eddie's, index finger catching on Eddie's enough to connect them.

"Please," he murmurs, not quite sure what he's asking for, but when Eddie's lips finally brush against his skin, the tightening of Steve's belly isn't entirely unpleasant. It's not all fear.

Eddie stays there, one finger twined with Steve's, lips against his neck, breathing shaky as if he's the one being held down, pinned by Steve's control. He makes a soft noise, pained, and Steve's eyes slip closed as his belly flips over, skin tingling. He knows what he wants to ask for, even if he cannot get the words out anymore.

"...Steve."

The single word shivers over his pulse and Steve lets out a shaky breath. He cannot confirm it, cannot say any of the words trapped in his chest while Eddie has hold of his mind.

Eddie recognizes him.

Eddie does, not the monster.

Eddie jerks backward, stumbling back from Steve. "Sorry," he rasps, eyes no longer glowing with red. There's brown around the edges, darkening them. He looks Steve over as if he's just stumbled upon a crime scene, and backs away another step. "Sorry.

Steve wants to follow him when he leaves, but he cannot move, cannot call after him. Can't stop him. All he can do is stand there, waiting out the hold of the thrall until it fades and the exhaustion sets in. His knees give as soon as that happens and he barks his knees as he catches himself, breathing hard.

"What the fuck," he asks the empty night. Eddie is alive. He's alive and he's back, and he's a monster. A vampire, Steve thinks.

He brings a hand up to touch the smear of blood on his neck, left by Eddie's lips. His own skin remains unbroken. Eddie hadn't hurt him, so maybe there is still a chance. Maybe they can still save him.

He scrabbles to his feet and snatches up his bat from where Eddie had tossed him, and practically throws himself into his car. They're going to need a plan.

(on AO3)