#Write Your Own Adventure

[sanguinifex]

You gotta read and watch some old books and films that aren’t 100% modern politically correct. I’m not saying you should agree with everything in them but you need to learn where genres came from to understand what those genres are doing today and where media deconstructing old tropes is coming from.

Also, more often than you might think, they’re not actually promoting bigotry so much as “didn’t consider all the implications of something” or just used words that were polite then but considered offensive now.

Kill the censor in your head.

[trickstersaint]

i want to introduce you all to a project that is very close to my heart... or lack of one. anyway. for anyone who has ever wanted to play a poem. i'd like you to meet aromanticism

(link opens itch.io - she'll run on html in your browser! please be nice to her!)

[circuseyesofgod-if]

DEMO (prologue) | my substack (for free, non-IF writing), KOFI 🎈🎠 Circus : Eyes of God is a horror interactive fiction story with dark fantastical elements. It is written with an 18+ audience in mind due to heavy themes and topics such as body horror, non consensual use of drugs, swearing, violence, sexual content etc.

The Circus doesn’t come in town often. Never, really. Only when it needs to be fed.

On the outskirts of a decaying town, a mysterious circus arrives overnight. It seductively whispers of never-seen-before acts, and ardently promises healing for those that are desperate enough to bind themselves to the Circus as performers.

That sounds right up your alley, doesn’t it? Well, They know what happened to you as a child, why you keep your face hidden from the world. You remember too, don’t you? The darkness, the shadows, a voice as old as time asking you to follow it, and clawing at your face when you refused.

They think that you have kept your sweet face hidden under those veils for long enough. They will heal you, they will heal your scars. They will let you take the veils off. But They won’t do it out of the kindness of Their heart, no. You must give Them something in return. They want to know—what are you willing to sacrifice for it, for taking your veils off? For healing? For beauty?

You just need to whisper it, and They will give it to you. They will know. Because the Eyes of God are always watching.

Customizable MC (including name, gender, pronouns, sexuality, physical appearance, personality etc).

Create relationships with one of three eclectic characters : one male, one female, one … fish? mermaid? siren? oh, come on!

Hone your contortionist skills to perfection. Remember, you have to put on a good show! Otherwise, They will have to pay you a visit.

Lots of uncanny masks and always-smiling faces, too many mirrors, and … wait, is that guy juggling with an eyeball?

Discover the secret of the Circus and the secret of your childhood incident. Could they be connected?

H̸̬̖͔̮̻͉̪̲̾̌̋̽̿̾̿̕͘E̴̯̥͕̓A̸̡̺̳̮̫̬͊̀̉̑́̈ͅL̷̡̡̛̺̄̈́̽̈́̎̀̋ ̶̢͎̪̘̹̱͊̔́͜Ḫ̷̩̼͚̤͂Ḗ̸̙̰̭̲͖̯̪̝̬̯̉̎̈́A̷̖͙͎̘̱̣͇̱̒̄̅̅͘L̸͔̟̮̣͘ ̸̛̫͎͇͚͚̪͇̞̋͌̆͠͝ͅH̴̛͚́̔̀̕Ẹ̶̣͙̪̖̀͆̅̍̉̋͆̃̚͠A̶̱̙̽̂͐͑̑͜L̴̛̖͌̀̆̈́̓̏̉

THE RINGLEADER — Pharo's face is the first one you see as you step inside the Circus, lit by bright and colorful lights. He doesn't need all that, though. His skin dark, his teeth sharp — it's all gleaming on its own, glitching, barely holding Pharo at the seams. He sees all, he knows all. And his smile gets wider and wider with each secret he learns.

THE BURLESQUE DANCER - Odessa's red lips, with a cigarette between them always, ache with demands every time she opens her mouth. Yet no one is able to keep their eyes off of her when she is on stage, moving like water on land and between thin and hanging fabrics. Odessa doesn't seem keen on talking about anything before the Circus, but she will make sure to get you talking about it soon enough.

THE ATTRACTION - Vesper is the newest addition to the Circus, one that has never been seen before. Or you haven't seen anything like it, at least. Vesper is quiet, almost unnervingly so. The tail and gills and twisted arms with sickly green-grey skin are to make a profitable attraction for sure. Just ... don't ever lift up its tank's lid.

ros details.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

I don't understand why people who hate WFA have to be annoying about it every single week. Like, okay, you don't like it, it's absolutely fair, to each their own, but stop fucking hateposting already

[mylittleredgirl]

controversial opinion, but i love second-person pov in fic. in this case, i specifically don't mean x-reader; that seems like a different kind of story that scratches another itch.

i want you to be a fully-fledged character, familiar, recognizable. the thing i love about second-person is not that it inserts me into the story as a reader, but that it inserts the narrator as this omniscient, invisible, inescapable force.

in present or future tense -- you do this; you will do this -- the repeated you becomes a back beat of inevitability. the character is being moved from page to page by the voice of god, and we can see god's shadow on the wall. the you is so bound by the constraints of their own character, their own nature, that they could never have chosen another path. it creates an undertone of horror in any genre for me. the story is that there could be no story other than the one the narrator chooses to tell.

[thebarontheabyss]

The Abyss Beckons Once More.

The Bar on the Abyss 2.0 Update is Here!

Start your afterlife anew with new mechanics, expanded content, and deeper choices that will shape your MC's journey in the Abyss and beyond.

READ HERE

What’s New in 2.0?

50K+ Words of New Content!

Choose Your Grief Path: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, or Acceptance—select the emotional journey that fits your MC and explore how it shapes their afterlife.

36 Career Backgrounds: Deepen your backstory with various career paths that unlock additional choices and provide unique perspectives on events unfolding around you.

A New And Improved Skill System!

Your Spirit Gift: Choose from six mythical artifacts that enhance your abilities and open new ways to approach challenges.

Detailed Death Choices: Define the circumstances of your character’s death—was it a tragic accident, a deliberate act, or something darker?

Bug Fixes and Improvements: Enjoy a smoother reading experience with numerous bug fixes, text-flow improvements, and better formatting.

How You Can Help

Thank you for reading The Bar on the Abyss, I’d love your thoughts on the new update!

Your feedback is more important than ever— suggestions for more choices, ideas for how your character should react, and thoughts on the latest content; I’m all ears and eyes, like some biblically accurate angel!

Based on your feedback, this update will continue to evolve, with a few “patches” while I work on the next chapter.

So don’t be shy—I want to hear both the good and the bad!

I’m so proud to have brought this update to life. This year has been so hard, but writing this game and connecting with all of you has been truly the best experience.

Thank you for reading The Bar on the Abyss and sharing this eternal journey with me. I wouldn’t change a thing.

See you in the Abyss!

[dirigibleplumbing]

my 15x18 choose your own adventure fic is nearly halfway done! I'm hoping to post part 1 sometime in the next week or so. in the meantime, here's the cover! there's even a back cover, too.

[itscontinental]

Q #830 (top) Q #947 (bottom)

[ifredactedbureau]

Redacted: Ground Zero

IF inspired by Contro (2019), SCP Foundation, X-files

Demo: PROLOGUE

In the aftermath of World War II, a classified mission pulls you into the shadowy remnants of a conflict no one dares to acknowledge. Whispers of rogue Nazi scientists and reality-warping experiments have surfaced, threatening to plunge Europe—and perhaps the world—into chaos once more. As an MI5 field agent, you’re tasked with uncovering the truth buried beneath layers of secrecy, lies, and betrayal.

Every lead points toward Projekt Schwarzfeld and the catastrophic events of Threshold Zero, a forgotten chapter of the war that defies explanation. But some secrets were never meant to be unearthed. As you navigate a labyrinth of conspiracy, forbidden technology, and fractured reality, you’ll confront forces that question the limits of human understanding—and the cost of wielding power beyond comprehension.

Redacted: Ground Zero is a story of espionage, moral dilemmas, and the unraveling of truths hidden in the shadows of history. Will you rise to the challenge, or will the truth consume you?

• Master anomalies and adapt your skills. Harness strange, reality-defying abilities tied to anomalies—whether it’s manipulating probability, stepping through dimensions, or stabilizing reality itself. Unlock and refine these abilities as you uncover their true potential.. • Investigate a fractured world. Explore sites of catastrophic anomalies, from the eerie remnants of Threshold Zero in the Bavarian Alps to the clandestine Red Academy in Siberia. Encounter twisted phenomena, uncover hidden truths, and decide what to do with what you find. • Make critical, world-altering choices. Will you prioritize saving your team, containing anomalies, or acquiring forbidden knowledge for the Bureau? Each decision changes the relationships you build, the missions you undertake, and the fate of Baseline Reality. • Face enemies born of anomaly experimentation. Encounter Die Gebrochenen—the Fractured—twisted results of Nazi experiments with anomalies. Face other rogue forces, like defectors, rival nations, or anomaly-enhanced mercenaries seeking control of forbidden power. • Navigate a morally gray world. Decide where your loyalty lies—with the Bureau, with humanity, or with yourself. Will you uphold the fragile stability of reality or risk everything for greater power and knowledge? • Fall in love—or not. Form deep connections with up to four romantic options, from an idealistic scientist to a cynical spy. Your choices in love will offer new strengths—or dangerous distractions—in the face of looming threats.

Love Interests

Charlie Hayes (he/him or she/her) : The Bold Truth-Seeker “The truth isn’t pretty, it isn’t safe, and it sure as hell isn’t kind—but if I don’t drag it into the light, who will?” • A resourceful American journalist working undercover to investigate Nazi remnants and their experiments. • Bold, witty, and fiercely independent, Charlie thrives on uncovering the truth, often bending the rules to get the story. Their adventurous spirit hides a vulnerability stemming from personal losses during the war.

Theo Adler (he/him): The Haunted Genius “Knowledge doesn’t absolve you of guilt—it sharpens it, until every answer feels like a blade at your throat.” •A German defector and former scientist of Projekt Schwarzfeld. Now a reluctant informant for the Bureau. •Quiet, intelligent, and burdened by guilt, Theo is a man trying to atone for his past. His insights into anomalies are invaluable, but he struggles with his identity and the weight of his actions during the war

Eleanor “Ellie” Blackwood (she/her): The Steadfast Operative “You don’t look back in this line of work—not at the enemy, not at your mistakes, and definitely not at the people you couldn’t save.” • A British SOE operative and expert infiltrator now reassigned to the Bureau’s task force. • Calm, disciplined, and focused, Ellie is a consummate professional. Beneath her composed exterior lies a fierce loyalty to those she trusts and a fear of failure that drives her to overextend herself.

Damien Laurent (he/they): The Enigmatic Opportunist “Morality is a luxury for those who’ve never had to bargain with the devil—and I’ve shaken his hand more times than I care to count.” • A French art dealer with connections to the black market and underground resistance networks. • Charismatic, flirtatious, and morally ambiguous, Damien is a master of navigating high society and shady dealings. They keep their true intentions hidden behind charm and wit

[navybrat817]

Calgon, Take Me Away

Pairing: Reader's Choice

Word Count: 900

Warnings: None really. Reader is just done with some parts of adulting. 😂

A/N: We know @biteofcherry , @bucks-and-noble , and others love to do Choose Your Babe and similar variations. With the next couple of weeks being busy, busy, busy, I just want someone to be like Calgon and take me away. 😌

It was an average day as you had lunch with a friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. Both of you took turns trading topics of discussion. Work naturally came up, which made you think of money and relationships. How broke you were. Lonely. Exhausted. You couldn't hold it in.

“You know what? I’m sick of my job. I wish I could just quit,” you said, narrowing your eyes when your friend giggled. “I’m serious. I’m tired of it. I work my ass off, but I'm not going anywhere. I don't feel accomplished when I’m done at the end of the day and I dread hearing my alarm because it’s just another day of having to push through it. But I can't quit because I have to pay my bills. And I'm tired of being tired.”

Even saying the words wore you out.

She asked once your rant was over, “What’s the solution then?”

“I wish I knew,” you answered. You couldn't exactly quit without a plan in place. “If someone could just... I don't know, take me away, it would solve my problem.”

“Take you away?” She raised an eyebrow when you nodded. “How would that solve your problem? Sure, someone takes you away for a bit, but you’d have to go right back to work after your vacation because you'd still have bills. That or you'd have to find another job if you're gone for too long.”

“No, because it wouldn't be a vacation. It would be something more permanent,” you said, a dreamy look taking over your expression. “He would decide my new job is just taking care of myself. And taking care of him, of course.”

She blinked. It sounded crazy to your own ears, but you meant it. “So, you'd be a housewife?”

“Sort of. I guess? Housewife, sugar baby, whatever he needs.” She stared as you paused to take a drink. “He'd let me have hobbies because he wants me to be happy, but I wouldn't have to stress about a job I hate and I'd actually sleep and feel rested when I wake up. I wouldn't have to worry about anything.”

“A guy like that is probably married or a serial dater.”

“This one wouldn't be. He’d be devoted to me,” you said before you corrected yourself. “We’d be devoted to each other.”

Your friend playfully rolled her eyes. “And you think some guy is just going to show up and decide, 'Yeah! I'll make her my little housewife or sugar baby or whatever and I’ll be faithful and worship her!' Really?”

Your head hung for a moment. “A girl can dream, okay?”

“Look. You don't actually want that. You just hate your job right now. Maybe you'll find something else and it'll get better.”

“I've tried finding something else,” you reminded her, doing your best not to whine. “I've been trying for months and the light at the end of the tunnel is only getting further away.”

“Well, not to shit on your dream, but no one is going to show up and take you away,” she said, finishing the rest of her drink. She was being logical, of course, but why couldn't she let you fantasize for a moment? “That's reality. It sucks, I know.”

You deflated a bit and pushed the remainder of your food around your plate. You shouldn't have said anything. “It would still be nice if someone did,” you muttered.

But it was a dream, nothing more.

Someone clearing their throat at the table beside you pulled you from your thoughts. You gasped when you looked his way. He was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. “Sorry for interrupting, but what’s your name?”

You shrugged at your friend before you answered him.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he smiled, making your cheeks feel hot. “I couldn't help but overhear your problem. I think I can help if you're serious.”

Your friend's eyes were as large as saucers, no doubt noticing just how hot he was. “Wait. Really?” You asked.

This gorgeous man heard everything you said and wanted to make your fantasy a reality?

Your heart fluttered when he smiled more. “Really.”

“You're fucking with her right?” Your friend scoffed. “You thought it'd be a funny joke to say that? That's pretty fucked up. You should mind your own business.”

His gaze flickered toward her. “And I think it's pretty fucked up that this beautiful gem is on the verge of tears because she's unhappy and you'd rather roll your eyes and brush off her feelings,” he said, directing his gaze back at you once he finished.

Both of you gasped, you from shock that he defended you and her from offense. “That. That's not what I did!” She argued.

“She’s just trying to keep my feet on the ground,” you said to keep the peace. There was no reason to make a scene.

He softly smiled. “Well, I'd like to pay for your meal, if you'll let me,” he said, flagging the server down before he leaned over to hand you a business card with a wink. There was no ring on his ring finger, which was a good sign. “And I really can help you with your problem. So, if you're interested, call me.”

You glanced at the card in your hand and ran your thumb along the name…

Whose name is it?

Well. Who is it, lovelies? Love and thanks for playing! ❤️

[nepttunnee]

idk i felt like it

[fuzzygoblin]

Aziraphale and Crowley’s Spooktacular Adventure!

The Spooky Choose Your Own Adventure features works from 30 r/GoodOmen’sAfterDark Writers and Artists. This collaborative *Effort* is months in the making and includes over 50 unique stories for readers to explore. We have something for everyone! There's spookiness, horror, feelings, smut (OK, there's a *lot* of smut) and so many endings! Bad Endings, Sad Endings, Funny Endings and lots and lots of Happy Endings. Sit back, strip off, relax, strap ~~on~~ in, lube up and get ready for a Spooktacular Halloween Adventure!

Excerpt

It was a dark and foggy night. The Bentley’s headlights cast long shadows across the withered trees as the car sped along the winding road. They’d been driving for quite some time, several hours at least. The Bentley’s boot was full of new acquisitions from a particularly lucrative estate auction. Aziraphale had even managed to secure a copy of ‘Magia Naturalis’ with only the assistance of a very minor, some would perhaps say frivolous, miracle. Crowley remained sceptical of Aziraphale’s motives; he worried that the angel was looking to restart his magic act.   The terrain became less familiar the longer Crowley drove.   “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Aziraphale said from the passenger seat.   “I don’t get lost, angel,” Crowley snapped, glancing down at his phone to see a complete lack of any signal. He couldn’t help but notice the date though. “31st of October, of course it’s bloody Halloween.”   “All Hallows Eve… we are lost on the spookiest night of the year!” Aziraphale huffed, holding on for dear life as the car jerked to the left around a sharp bend in the road. Aziraphale’s corporation lurched into Crowley with an audible oof.   The blur of trees suddenly stopped and revealed a dark expanse. Up ahead, a tiny golden light stood out amidst the sea of black. As the Bentley’s engine roared down the road, the headlights illuminated a lone manor house.   “Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice suddenly urgent. “Stop the car!”

Continue reading here

With thanks to our writers and artists!

@onedappercat

@theonewiththeshippinggoogles

@riverstyx125

@doonarose

@dbacklot99

Puddinpocalypse

@janara7

@nosferatini

@mageofthepeople

@groovynightstrawberry

Blue_Rose_1066

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754

@goatmeal-craisin

@theravenmuse

sensiblesquirrels

Noorose93

@pineappleonbread

@tawnyontumblr

@isiaiowin

@ad-astrah

@nightshiftcaffiene

The Cortex

@kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon

@the-ineffable-dance

Glitteringrock

@fuzzygoblin

@orangejuiceinmyshoe

@ineffablecrankshaft

@c0smicdisaster

And to our amazing beta readers!

@seraphcrowley

@totheendtimes

@moderndayklutz

Noorose93

@theonewiththeshippinggoogles

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754

Glitteringrock

@spectrallydistracted

@ireallyneedmoretea

@smitten-like-anything

The Cortex

Thanks to the wonderful @goodomensafterdark for making this collaboration possible! Enjoy the companion Bingo Card and reblog with what you've found on your journey!

[salty-an-disco]

This is the story of a man named– wait… you’re not Stanley! And this isn’t–

Hmmm. Well, this is awkward. Wouldn’t you know about a man named Stanley? Works in an office, likes to push buttons– No?

Oh, well, while this isn’t my usual script, it does seem that there is a story to be found here. Isn’t that nice? Oh, and would you look at that– It seems like you’re the hero of it! How fun!

OK, let’s see–

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the ending of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.

You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it’ll be the end of the world.

Oooohh, concise, but immediately intriguing. With a nice twist of expected roles. I like it!

[curioscurio]

Markiplier Werewolf Adventure Part 3

You manage to shove your shirt over your head just in time to hide your identity from the crowd of rabid accordion enthusiasts. No one can know that your transform into Markiplier once a month; ESPECIALLY not all these souls who only came to see the unexpected savant they call The Accordion Wizard. You realize that the shirt mask actually helped muffle the wall of screaming adorations a little, and decide that this was obviously the best choice. Finally, you can shred on your expandable keyboard thing like you’ve never shredded before. Accord like no one else before.

Around halfway through the concert, you pass out due to lack of oxygen from the cotton shirt obstructing your air-thirsty mouth hole.

You groggily wake up to the sight of a relieved looking stage medic, and known accordion enthusiast and tri-co-host of hit Spotify podcast Distractible, Wade Lordminion777. The world is still spinning, but you know that you’re fucked. Wade is one of Markipliers closest friends.

One of Marks most trusted advisors has now seen your dark secret, and will surely hand you over to the authorities for identity fraud. You have definitely committed identity fraud a good amount of times over the past few months.

“Mark!” Wade cries out in relief. “You’re okay!”

You nod, still too stunned to speak, and wonder how on earth this man got backstage.

“What are you doing here?” You gasp out. The medic is asking for your autograph, but you shove him away and tell him you saw some clarinet players doing ecstasy and chewing eucalyptus leaves over by the lemonade tent.

“What do you mean, Mark? You’re the one who gave me the tickets to this concert… Are you sure you’re not having a stroke? Eleven straight hours of nonstop accordion playing may be unhealthy for your delicate body.” Wade asks.

Everything comes rushing back to you. You didn’t just play for half an hour and then pass out. You played for three hours, took some ecstasy, chewed on some eucalyptus leaves, had some kind of reaction, smoked from 3 different bongs that all felt like something other than weed, and proceeded to play accordion for another 8 hours.

In the back of your stupid head, you feel an inappropriate sense of pride over the fact that you managed to keep your face covered the entire time. What a great fucking night you had.

But Wade is still here. He must have been a true fan of the anonymous Accordion Wizard to have stayed this long by your side.

“Why didn’t you tell me that YOU were The Wizard? We could have turned this into a sponsored event.” Wade asks with a pout.

“Funny story…” You begin to think of something really clever to get you out of the situation, but the voice that just left your mouth wasn’t the sultry, low-frequency baritone of one Mark Fishbach. That was your original voice.

The pain hits again, this time beginning from your abused thrussy as it begins to rearrange every atom in your body. You try to scramble away, pathetically cover your gurgling skin with your tattered shirt, but it’s useless. You have to run. You can’t let this man see who you really are. You scramble up and lurch towards the exit.

Unfortunately, you trip over your own accordion, and fall into a pile of mic stands.

One by one, the mic stands begin to fall like dominoes on top of your bruised and abused body. You’re trying to block some of them, but the pain is so intense that you have no choice but to lay on the ground and let this happen. It looks really pathetic, and sad accordion noises putter out with every thwack.

As the transformation ends, you come back to yourself. Wade is staring at you. He just saw your body transform from Markiplier into a random stranger. What do you say?

[five-rivers]

This is a poll fic set in my Kingdom of Fish series!

.

“Convince us,” said Mom, leaning forward over the remains of dinner.  

“Um, what?” said Danny, leaning back.  “What do you mean?”

Mom made a circular motion with one hand.  “Next time you go out to take readings, you want to go explore somewhere new.  We want you to stay in the areas you already know.  This is all about continuing our research, so convince us.  Why should we let you go somewhere else?”

All three of them knew that ‘let’ was a polite fiction.  Once Danny was in the Ghost Zone, he could go wherever he wanted, and his parents wouldn’t be able to stop him.  He’d also demonstrated his ability to get into the Ghost Zone even when his parents had him locked out of the portal controls.  He didn’t need permission.

However, his eyes still nervously slid over to Dad, who nodded encouragingly.  Danny wanted that permission.  He opened his mouth to speak–

“Pick one place to argue about,” said Mom, interrupting.  “One place.  Not a whole list.”Well.  That made things harder.  There were a lot of places he wanted to go, but maybe he could narrow it down to just a few choices…

[mychemicalrachel]

THE LONGEST NIGHT

part one!!!!

Part Two.

The not-prostitute's name was Parrish and he had the prettiest face Ronan had ever seen, coupled with the most obnoxious demeanor. It began as stolen glances from across the cell while Parrish– at least that's what they called him when they brought him in and tossed him in holding– reiterated again and again and again that he, unlike these other hardened criminals, did not belong here. Ronan was pretty sure he was in love, if not with Parrish then at least with his smile. It was a nice smile, almost as nice as his scowl.

“Racing,” Ronan said. “Got caught doing 110 in a 55.”

“That's fast,” Parrish remarked and Ronan was certain he looked at his mouth when he did. Then he sucked his teeth. “Too bad you still lost.”

A startled laugh pushed its way up Ronan's throat. This Parrish guy was an asshole. Ronan looked at his mouth again. Perfectly curved cupid's bow, straight teeth, slightly pointed canines that would leave delicious marks on Ronan's skin. “Who says I lost?”

“You're here,” Parrish said. “Which means you were slow enough to get caught.”

He laughed again and Parrish smiled. Ronan would throw a thousand races just to see that smile again, which was an insane thing to think when they’d just met. They didn’t know one another, and yet Ronan felt like they had been destined to meet. Maybe in another life, they were soulmates, bound together by true love, fated to find each other in every life after.

The Catholic in Ronan winced. It was too fucking late to be considering the possibility of reincarnation and the merits of meeting his soulmate in a jail cell. And yet, the blue of Parrish’s eyes had captivated him, struck him down like a bolt of lightning, and reinvigorated him in a way Ronan didn’t know was possible. Hell, he didn’t even know Parrish’s first name. He wondered what that said about his standards.

“What if we got out of here,” Ronan said, his voice low so Parrish had to lean closer to hear, “and then I show you how fast I can really go.”

“Yeah,” Parrish said. “Yeah. I’ll tell you what, man–”

“Ronan,” he offered, “Lynch.”

“Well, Lynch. If you can get me out of here, I’ll go anywhere you’d like.”

Just the thing Ronan wanted to hear. He slapped his hand down on Parrish’s knee when he stood up. A long time ago, when he’d spent his first night sleeping off a hangover in a cell, he expected the bars to be cold. Now Ronan knew that the metal sucked up all the heat in the room, the heavy snores from the guard and the sighs of the prisoners, holding it captive, so hot it could almost burn. Grabbing onto the bars, Ronan shook them until they ratted.

“Yo, Chuck!” he yelled. “Chucky, my man! Lemme out of this shithole!”

Across the room, the chair under Deputy Dumbass creaked. He groaned when he stood up. “Chrissake, Lynch,” he said. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Let me out now and I promise I’ll never call you Chucky again.”

“Oh, you promise, do you?” Chucky raised a dubious eyebrow. He was willing to play along, even if he knew it was a promise Ronan could never keep.

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t no goddamn boy scout. Back up.”

Ronan backed up. The cell wasn’t very big. Henrietta didn’t need a huge department when most of the local crime was confined to speeding and bar fights. The guys in here were regulars– Ronan saw them more than he saw his own family. They weren’t talkers and they didn’t ask questions, so Ronan enjoyed their company– until he didn’t.

Chucky unlocked the door and swung it open, letting Ronan step out.

“Go,” he gestured with the ring of keys. “Get, before I change my mind.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Ronan stopped. “But I want to take him with me.”

Looking back in the direction Ronan’s slender finger pointed, Chucky frowned. “Can’t do that,” he said. “Gotta see a judge first. Picked that one up on a count of solicitation–”

Huh. So Parrish had been telling the truth about that.

“Come on, Chuck,” Ronan said. He looked again at Parrish, the innocence in his wide eyes, the dirty khaki pants. He looked like he should’ve been in a pamphlet for community college, not sitting awkwardly between two dudes who looked like they’d escaped a ZZ Top cover band. “Look at him and tell me he’s a motherfucking hooker.”

“Can’t judge a book by its cover,” Chuck said.

“Chucky. He’s wearing a sweater vest. You ever seen a prostitute in a sweater vest?”

Chucky considered it. It was possible, of course, if he had been soliciting a very niche group of individuals. Eventually, he sighed. “If I let him go, will you get out of my office faster?”

“You won’t even see me leave.”

He groaned some more, but gestured for Parrish to get up. He pointed a finger at Ronan, threatening, “Do not make me regret this, Lynch. Keep your nose clean. And keep his clean while you're at it.”

But Ronan had already grabbed Parrish by the wrist, dragging him toward the door, gone before Chuck could change his mind.

Parrish, to Ronan’s surprise, followed quietly until they got to the parking lot. By the time they reached the BMW, parked illegally in a handicap space, Parrish had slowed, then stopped, seemingly trying to gather his wits.

“Uh,” he said eloquently, “what the hell just happened?”

Ronan raised his arms, motioning to the car and the mostly vacant lot around them. “I just got you out.”

“Yeah. How? Did you bribe a cop?”

Bribery didn’t work on cops around here. Too many obnoxious rich kids more than willing to pay off the local fuzz. Unfortunately, money did not buy everything, but it did help.

“My brother bailed me out hours ago. So about that ride…”

“Hmm, no,” Parrish waved his hand, like he was attempting to erase Ronan. “Go back. What do you mean your brother already bailed you out? You were free to go anytime you wanted and you just… didn't?”

“Sleeping in a cell beat the alternative,” Ronan unlocked the car with the keys he swiped off Chuck's desk. “Going home meant I had to listen to my brother bitch.”

“What kind of psychopath would rather take a nap in a jail cell rather than just talk to their own brother?”

“It's not about being a psychopath,” he explained. “It's the fact that I got caught, remember? And my brother is the asshole who was faster than me. Anyways,” Ronan climbed into the BMW, starting the engine. Through the open passenger window, he looked at Parrish. Even in the dark, with an incredulous look painted on his pretty features, he was a sight to behold. “Night's not getting any younger, Parrish. You coming or not?”

He didn't know what the plan was if Parrish said no. He'd hitchhike back to his car, allegedly broke down in the middle of nowhere, and Ronan would kill time driving in circles before making his way back home.

In the end, he didn't have to find out.

“My mother taught me it wasn't safe to get into cars with strangers,” Parrish said, though his lips turned up, curled with blatant, unmistakable flirtation. He was enjoying this game just as much as Ronan. “How do I know you're not a serial killer?”

He could turn it around and ask the same question, but he knew that he would probably go anyway even if Parrish did turn out to be a serial killer. Ronan’s answering grin was razor sharp, dangerous and delicious and charming. “I guess you'll just have to trust me.”

Parrish pretended to think about it a second more before opening the door and climbing in.