#Write Your Own Adventure

[petrifact]

Write Your Own Adventure Lesson 8: Writing an Introduction

Yeah, so, as you might guess, the activity for this lesson was to write the introduction to your adventure. I'm not going to post my whole adventure here, of course, but I'll post relatively short sections that pertain to specific activities, and that includes the introduction. This introduction is not finalized, however, and may change—in fact, some of it has already changed, but here's what I initially wrote (in this case the bits in square brackets were there in the original and are not additions made at the time I'm posting it to Tumblr):

The Cult of the Shard presents an adventure set in the village of Ten Spear in the world of Glorantha. The book is divided into two main parts. The first part, from pages @@ to @@, details the village of Ten Spear, including @@ important residents. The second part, from pages @@ to @@, comprises the adventure in which the PCs stop a murder spree and possibly expose a fraudulent cult leader who claims to have a piece of an ancient mountain of mythic significance. Following that on page @@ is an appendix suggesting other adventure seeds you can use in the town of Ten Spear if you want to have the PCs spend more time there after finishing the adventure. You are, of course, free to use one part of the book without the other. You can have the PCs visit Ten Spear and use the information in the first half of the book without bringing in the Cult of the Spear. Conversely, you can transplant the adventure into a different settlement and use the second half of the book without using the description of the village in the first half. For that matter, feel free to change anything you want about either the village or the adventure, or both. As is so frequently stated in RuneQuest materials, your Glorantha may vary. Acknowledgments This adventure was written as part of the Write Your First Adventure workshop run by the Storytelling Collective, http://www.storytellingcollective.com. I’d been wanting to write my own adventures and supplements for many years and had a lot of projects I’d started but hadn’t finished, and when I found out about the workshop through an email from Chaosium, I figured maybe the structure and deadlines of the workshop would give me the impetus I needed to actually finish and publish something. If you’re reading this [as part of a finished product], then apparently it worked. Thanks are also due to the posters at the Chaosium forms at https://basicroleplaying.org, who were very helpful in answering questions I had about RuneQuest and Glorantha. BOX: If you want to see what else I’m working on, you can follow my Tumblr blog at petrifact.tumblr.com and/or my website at petrifact.com [Note that I don’t actually have the site set up at the time I’m writing this, but I should have something there by the time this is published.] CENTERED AT BOTTOM: RUNEQUEST is a trademark of Moon Design Publications and is used with their permission via the OBS Community Content program. For more information please visit Chaosium’s website: www.chaosium.com The Chaosium and RUNEQUEST Logos are used under license.

Since there were two main parts to the adventure, the village description and the scenario itself, I went ahead and wrote introductions to those too. For the village description (again, this is no longer accurate, since the adventure is no longer set in Ten Spear, but here's what I initially wrote):

THE VILLAGE OF TEN SPEAR:

Ten Spear is the main village of the Lonendi clan of the Lismelder tribe. While not within the territory of the Colymar tribe, the default tribe of adventurers from Sartar, it’s very close; the Lismelder tribe lands are just west of the Colymar, southeast of the Upland Marsh.

HISTORY:

The Lismelder tribe is one of the newer tribes of Sartar, founded in the 1350s when a splinter group broke off from the Malani tribe and left the Arfritha Vale to take root west of the Starfire Ridge. While there had been tension between the Malani and Colymar tribes, the Lismelder and Colymar became fast allies, and embarked in 1380 on a joint expedition to claim new territory to the south, along the lower reaches of the Stream. This area was already claimed by the Durulz and other Beast Men, whom the tribal alliance drove out in a conflict now called the Beastmen Wars. The Lismelder and Colymar tribes divvied up this fertile new area between them, and began to build villages and establish farms there.

The invaders’ victory was short-lived. They had beaten the Beast Men, but a new, fell enemy arose in the form of hordes of undead that shambled out of the Upland Marsh under the direction of the sinister Delecti the Necromancer. The apparently inexhaustible forces of the dead ravaged the Lismelder lands, setting fire to their settlements and slaughtering their people, only to raise them to undeath to fight their former friends. Help came in the form of the celebrated warrior chieftain Kurash Varn of the Sambari tribe of Roundstone, who led a strike force deep into the marsh to strike at the dread Necromancer himself. But the vengeful ducks, still smarting at their expulsion from their homeland, ambushed Varn and took him captive. When Varn was released to the tribes—sans his arms—, he passed along a message the ducks had given him: that only the ducks could stop the undead, and that they would do so only if they were restored to their lands. Divinations confirmed the truth of these words, and the deal was struck. The Colymar who had settled in Duck Vale paid the Durulz compensation and returned to their own heartland, but the Lismelder stayed in the area but placed themselves under the ducks’ protection. Since then, the Colymar still harbor a grudge against the ducks, but under the Humakti hero Indrodar Greydog the Lismelder built a close and cordial relationship with their erstwhile enemies, and today the Lismelder are considered good friends of the ducks, and to a lesser extent of other Beast Men. The foul forces of Delecti continue to be a plague on the lands, but working together the Lismelder and the ducks have been able to hold them off and prevent them from further expanding the corrupted marsh.

The Lonendi clan and the village of Ten Spear have their origin in the year 1412. Word came to the Lismelder leaders that the undead were about to encroach upon an old centaur burial ground between the Sword and Crescent Rivers. [@@Check—couldn’t find a name for the southern river so I decided on one, but will keep looking] If the undead took over this area, not only would this be a great insult to the centaurs and their ancestors, but the reanimated centaur remains could be potent new recruits for Delecti the Necromancer. Both to cement the Lismeldi’s alliance with the Beast Men and to prevent the strengthening of the undead legions, a young Lismeldi warrior named Lonendi volunteered to lead a small group to establish a presence near the centaur burial grounds and protect it from the walking dead.

Despite the proximity of the swamp, the area turned out to be pleasant and fruitful, with fresh springs, blackberry bushes, and copses of oak, willow, and chestnut trees. But almost no sooner did Lonendi and his companions build a fort there than an army of undead was upon them. There were not only zombies and skeletons, and unique stitched horrors of the Necromancer’s depraved design, but Dancers of Darkness carrying twisted magical spears. The Lismelder had seen those spears in action before, and knew what they represented: at the end of a powerful terpsichorean ritual, the Dancers would plant the spears in the ground, and the land around the spears would swiftly flood and become a part of the Marsh. Clearly the centaurs’ fears had been justified—Delecti the Necromancer had every intention of adding this area to his domain.

It was a hard battle, and much life was lost, but Lonendi and his comrades in arms managed to fight back the undead hordes and prevent the annexation of the burial grounds into the Marsh. In the wake of the battle, the inhabitants of the fortress gathered the magical spears of the defeated Dancers of Darkness, and, after suitable purification rituals to ensure that no taint of Delecti’s evil magic remained within them, they erected the spears as trophies to show their defiance of the Necromancer. Ten spears were recovered in total, and so the stockade came to be called Ten Spear Fort—and as later more Lismeldi settled in the area, Ten Spear became the name of the village that grew around it. The hero Lonendi, as the commander of the warriors who had repelled the undead onslaught, was given the epithet Lonendi Tenspear. Those who made their home in Ten Spear now looked to Lonendi as their guide and leader, and so he became the founder and chieftain of a new clan. The clan initially took the name of the Willow Clan, after the trees that were so numerous in their home village, but more commonly was called after its chieftain: the Lonendi Clan.

Today, the old Ten Spear Fort still stands, still decorated with the captured and cleansed spears of the Dancers of Darkness, but it’s at the center of a thriving village. (The centaurs are unbothered by humans living in their old burial grounds as long as the place doesn’t fall under the Necromancer’s control.) The rotting horrors of Delecti the Necromancer are still a serious concern, but the village is well fortified against them, and its people manage to live their lives in the shadow of the dread Marsh.

POPULATION:

The population of Ten Spear is about 400, of which just over half are members of the Lonendi clan. Of the remainder, about 75 belong to other clans of the Lismelder tribe; some 60 are members of other tribes; there are 20 or so outsiders from farther afield; and the rest are Beast Men, mostly Durulz. About 225 of the village’s residents are adults; the rest are children.

Because of its proximity to the Upland Marsh and the frequent attacks by the undead, Ten Spear has a disproportionate number of warriors, numbering almost 40. Not counting the clan leader, who as usual is also the Chief Priest of Orlanth, there are ten priests of various gods in Ten Spear. The village’s residents also include about 80 farmers; 60 herders and hunters; 30 craftsmen; and 35 slaves.

(These numbers do not include the cultists of the Shard who recently moved into the village; see page @@.)

And for the scenario (here's the point at which I decided it was about time I finally decided on names for my villains):

The Cult of the Shard

This scenario is intended for four to six adventurers still early in their career. If you want to create new starting characters for this adventure, you may want to consider making them members of the Lismelder tribe. (As described on page 108 of the RUNEQUEST: ROLEPLAYING IN GLORANTHA core book, Lismelder characters are created like other Sartarites with the amendment that they have the passion Hate (Undead) at 60%, or add 10% to this passion if they already have it from another source.) However, characters from the Colymar tribe or other nearby tribes can just as easily get involved in the adventure, as can outsiders from other regions who might have reason to pass through western Sartar.

This scenario is open-ended and has many possible routes to success, so almost any group of adventurers should be able to complete it. It may be helpful for at least one adventurer to be an assistant shaman or to otherwise be able to detect and communicate with spirits, but it’s not required. Certain passions might present complications, most notably Hate (Lismelder Tribe) and Hate (Beast Men). Adventurers with these passions may still be able to complete the scenario, but may have some roleplaying challenges.

GAMEMASTER BACKGROUND

For years Deradi Onehanded had made his living through tweedling and trickery, wandering Sartar swindling people out of enough goods and valuables to support his lifestyle. When he happened upon a stone of unusual luster and appearance, he had an idea for what he thought might be his most successful scam yet. He decided to pass the stone off as a shard from the summit of the Spike, the primeval mountain that was said to have been the anchor of reality, and that was shattered during the Great Darkness—and pass himself off as a hero who had been entrusted with this sacred relic and was entrusted to gather worshippers to honor it.

Deradi’s scheme had some success, and he managed to gather a small cult around himself and his shard. In the absence of a clear claimant to the throne of Sartar, people were looking for something to believe in, and that was what he provided. His cult was small, but devoted enough to provide for his needs, and that was all Deradi really wanted. He was not an ambitious man, and if he had a few faithful devotees who would bring him enough income to let him live comfortably, that was enough to satisfy him. Left to his own devices, that was probably as far as his con would have gone.

But things changed when he met a woman named Asratha of Wark. Asratha was an enthusiastic student of history, and was obsessed with what she saw as Sartar’s strength and power in its earlier age—before the Lunar conquest. But Sartar, she thought, had lost its way and become weak; it had thrown off its Lunar yoke, but it was still divided and directionless. Given the strong leadership it deserves, Sartar could rise to match and exceed its former glory, and perhaps even expand to an empire to rival that of the Red Emperor. And with Deradi’s glib tongue and gift of manipulation, she thought she could guide him into becoming that leader—or rather, into becoming a figurehead while she wielded the true power behind the throne. Asratha was skilled with magic, and she bound an ancient spirit into Deradi’s stone, the spirit of a Beast Man from the Second Age, of a now extinct species. With the help of this spirit, now Deradi could work wonders that would make his claims of the shard’s supernatural nature all the more convincing. With these demonstrations of the shard’s power, the growth of Deradi’s cult accelerated. Able to indulge in luxuries he could never previously afford, Deradi was content with this state of affairs, and was happy to let Asratha take care of logistics and administration. In time the cult grew enough that Deradi thought it needed a base of operations: it was time to build a temple for the shard. For the location of the temple, he settled on a town in the territory of the Lismelder tribe, just large enough to have the amenities he required but sufficiently removed from major trade routes to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention: the village of Ten Spear.

Current Events

This scenario is assumed to take place in Earth Season 1625, shortly after the Dragonrise. There’s little to tie it to a specific time, however, and with little modification the Gamemaster should be able to move it to an earlier or later time if they prefer.

By now Deradi and his cult have built their temple in Ten Spear, and a few of his cultists have moved into the city. Besides Deradi and Asratha, there are six cultists living at the temple, three of which are devotees who accompanied him to Ten Spears and three of which are local converts he made in the village. Another dozen believers in the cult live in the village, eight that arrived with Deradi and four local converts, but they are “lay members” of lesser fervor.

Unfortunately, one of the new converts, a Humakti named Ketrin Olmedar’s Son, has become so zealous in his devotion that he has come to see anyone who stands in the way of the cult as an enemy that deserves elimination—and has taken it upon himself to carry out that task. He has already murdered a few people he saw as foes of the cult, and has other targets in mind he may kill if he is not stopped. Ketrin’s deeds are done on his own initiative without the sanction of the cult leadership, and neither Deradi nor Asratha is aware of what he’s doing—certainly the murders have attracted attention, but only Ketrin knows that he is responsible, and nobody else knows for sure that the deaths have any connection to the cult, though certainly some may have suspicions.

INVOLVING THE ADVENTURERS

If you’re creating new adventurers for this adventure, they could be residents of Ten Spear, and so have seen firsthand the rise of the Cult of the Shard and perhaps become suspicious of it. They may also be drawn into events from the murders, especially if they knew one of the victims. If they’re not native to Ten Spear, they may be brought here because a friend or relative has joined the Cult of the Shard, and the characters want to investigate the cult for themselves to see what their kinsman has gotten into. Alternatively, if the characters are already somewhat established adventurers who have made a reputation for themselves, it’s possible that the chieftain of the Lonendi may reach out to them for help stopping the murders, or perhaps just investigating the cult.

It’s also possible that the PCs are just visiting Ten Spear for some other reason and hear about the murders or the cult, although Ten Spear does not lie on a major trade route and doesn’t get a lot of travel. Still, depending on their background and proclivities, the adventurers could be there visiting an acquaintance, out of curiosity about the centaur burial ground, or perhaps just to sample the local beer.

So, remember how the workshop recommended the scope of the adventure be limited to about 3,500 words? My introduction alone (well, the combination of my three introductions) is almost 3,000 words long. Yeah, I think I'm going pretty far over the 3,500-word goal. Like I said, I tend to get carried away...

[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.

[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.

[orobty]

Let them be sofftttt

[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)

[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! ❤️

[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

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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!

[the-modern-typewriter]

This is a continuation of the poll story. All winning bits so far included below.

The sands devoured the landscape in every direction, a gaping yawn of yellows and reds. The protagonist's throat scorched dry. The last drops of their water bottle had been drained two hours ago.

They staggered another step forward on the dunes, squeezing their eyes shut against the breeze that somehow did nothing to alleviate the heat. They raised a hand to shield their face.

When they opened their eyes again, the antagonist stood in front of them. They looked as cool as ever, untouched by blistering day or the surprisingly freezing night.

"How is your great escape going?" the antagonist asked. They flicked their fingers, magic summoning a sweet pool of water into the inviting cup of their palm. "Are you ready to come home yet, darling?"

The protagonist's breath caught.

"Do you really think?" The antagonist stepped closer, holding their watery hand up to the protagonist's lips. "That distance alone will be enough to shatter the connection between us? This is silly. You know I don't like to see you suffer."

The protagonist let the antagonist feed them a drop of water. A moment of weakness, perhaps. Or maybe just the familiarity of them, of the bond rattling in their chest. The thirst and the hunger.

"Then close your eyes, love," they replied. "Look away and you won't have to."

The antagonist snorted. Their hand moved, swiftly, to cup the nape of the protagonist's neck.

"As if I've ever been able to keep my eyes off you from the moment we met."

It was idiotic, but the protagonist still smiled at that. Pained. Heart-punched.

Even with all the miles upon miles between them, the protagonist felt the touch like something real. Solid. Like the antagonist could always step through time and space and be there, so long as they were twined together.

The protagonist forced themselves to pull back.

If they let themselves linger too long, they really would go back.

Home.

It would be so much easier if it didn't still feel like that was what it was.

The antagonist's expression hardened, at the distance, the quiet refusal. At least, they tried. "I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to send legions after you. You deserve better than to be hunted like a common criminal."

"Like a prized stag."

The antagonist swallowed, but didn't protest.

The protagonist shrugged, as if it were really that easy. "Then don't hunt me. I've already escaped. Let me go."

"I don't want to," the antagonist said, with a dreadful tenderness. "But I will."

The protagonist sucked in a sharp breath, even if they had already suspected as much.

"You know I'll catch you," the antagonist pressed. "Do you think this desert and all the shifting sands of the world would be enough to hide you from me? Do you think there's anywhere you can run where I can't follow?"

"No," the protagonist said. "But I bet I can get to where I'm going first."

The antagonist's jaw clenched. "This is a courtesy," they said. "Run fast. Run hard. Because when I catch you, you will never run again."

And then they vanished, like they'd never been there at all.

There were very few ways to break a soulmate bond. Such things were designed to last forever after all. The protagonist staggered their way across the desert until they reached the oasis.

It sounded nice, a little like paradise. The oasis. But the waters of the forbidden oasis were a dangerous thing; they changed a person, lured them in, took them if they could.

The pool before them was perfectly clear, beautifully blue, and yet it was a chasm, falling deep down into the sand until the light could no longer illuminate the water. Sloping trees provided a whisper of shade against the scorching sun and biting winds. Soft mounds of impossible moss and wildflowers invited any weary traveler to be welcome, sit, rest and stay a while.

The protagonist fell to their knees by the edge of the water.

Option A

The antagonist appeared next to them. It wasn't a surprise, but the protagonist still felt their heart beat a little faster.

"Where are your legions now?" the protagonist asked. "Your hunters and your cages? You're too late. I said you would be."

"Is being mine so terrible that you would rather die?" The antagonist returned. "Don't do it."

"I might not die."

"Please."

That, somehow, was a surprise. That single soft broken word.

Option B:

The antagonist found them - the protagonist wasn't sure how long later. Everything in them hurt like someone had scooped their heart out of their chest, diced it, and shoved the ruined pieces back inside in all the wrong order.

They had a vague approximation of a heart. They had a wound.

So why could they still see the antagonist? The phantom should have been impossible. They had sacrificed so much to be free. Too much, maybe.

The antagonist crouched down with a pitying sigh, stroking their fingers through the protagonist's hair. A wretched sob caught in the protagonist's throat and they lilted in.

There was no soul-comfort. No completion. No fuzzing bond. No...

The antagonist was really there.

The protagonist gasped, eyes that had eased closed snapping open once more. They struggled to force their pained body upright.

The antagonist's fingers tightened on their throat in an instant, considering.

"You really did it," the antagonist murmured. "I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. Tell me." They pressed a hand, nails digging in, where the protagonist's heart technically still was. "What do you imagine I'm going to do with you now?"

Option C:

Figures danced, miraged, in the reflection of the water. Memories swam before the protagonist's eyes.

The first time they had met the antagonist, when everything had just felt so right. A hand reaching out for them, drawing them close across a dance hall, never quite letting go since.

The protagonist trailed their fingers across the surface, shattering the past in a thousand ripples. They leaned in, raw want and terror, as they cupped the water in their palms.

The next moment, figures dropped from the trees. They leapt upon the protagonist in an instant, hands rough and cruel as they dragged them away from the pool and all its complicated promises.

The antagonist appeared in front of them, no tenderness left. No thing just for the two of them.

"You're right, of course," the antagonist said. "I can't get to where you're going faster than you can. But did you really think I would not guard against this possibility? Do you think I would underestimate you so? Understand you so poorly?"

The protagonist gasped, choking out a breath as a boot slammed into their gut.

"This is a trap," they managed. "You -"

"You should have ran." The antagonist blurred in and out of their vision. "You should have kept running, and running, never stopping, instead of trying to do this. Then maybe, just maybe, you could have won."

[nepttunnee]

idk i felt like it

[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!

[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.